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animasola86 · 9 months

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The Ghost under the Table (Part 2)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: nsfw! mdni! public oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, not historically accurate*

(*she's wearing panties, no bloomers, bottomless or not, or whatever else they were wearing back then, please, this is just smut, let her wear panties!)

Synopsis: Someone wants to return the favor (another more explicit smut writing exercise)

WARNING: This is Sebastian Sallow staring into your soul hole YOU-KNOW-WHAT! If you're okay with that, keep reading! If not, please, save yourself and your innocence (mine's long gone, though)!

(Also available on AO3!)

(Read Part 1 here)

You had just settled into your chair at the table in the very quiet library, your books in front of you and an apple in your hand that you had sneaked past Madam Scribner – when you felt something brush against your leg.

The shriek you issued echoed loudly through the room and earned you a stern clearing of the throat from the librarian, all the way from the other side of the hall. And while you shrieked, you kicked your leg forwards out of reflex and hit something warm and solid.

“Careful,” you heard a very familiar voice from just beneath the table. You stared and leaned back in your chair to try and see what the hell was going on down there, when something gripped your thigh and made you freeze. “Try being a little bit more inconspicuous, why don't you?” Sebastian whisper-hissed at you and even though you couldn't see him, you knew he was smirking at you.

“What are you doing?” you whispered back, trying so hard not to tilt your body and look under the table as you fidgeted with the apple nervously.

“Returning the favour, love,” he said quietly and then you felt him move closer, his hands gliding over your thighs upwards. And all at once you felt your blood rushing into your head. You gasped slightly and shook your head fiercely.

“No, you can't!” you hissed, feeling your legs trembling already. “Not here!”

“You didn't seem to have a problem with putting me on the spot, remember?” he whispered. “I think it's only fair...”

“Sebastian!” you urged in a desperate whisper and looked around nervously. You could see several other students sitting nearby, all focused on their books, but if you could see them, they could see you too – and they only had to look up. And they would look up, you were absolutely certain about that, because in contrast to Sebastian (who had been so good at hiding his noises and emotions when you had had the glorious idea to surprise him with a fucking blow job in the middle of the library), you would not be able to hide anything if he started to touch you.

You knew that from past experiences.

In your two years of dating, you had learned just how sensitive you were to him. Anything of him, his touches, his kisses, his voice, the way he held you in his arms, the way he whispered into your ear, the way he grabbed you and made you his, you just couldn't resist. You still managed to make out in public countless times, but only because once you started getting vocal, he would muffle your sounds by kissing you disarmingly – and with him now under the table, cloaked under the Disillusionment charm no less, you had no chance of keeping your noises down. You just knew it.

You swallowed hard and pressed your thighs together in an attempt to keep him away. You knew it wasn't fair to deny him this after what you had done to him, but you just didn't trust yourself at this point. Your breaths became shallow quickly. After putting the apple down, you felt around and grabbed the hands holding your thighs.

“Please, let's just go somewhere more... private,” you pleaded with him.

“Not going to happen,” he said quietly. “An eye for an eye, right?”

“But what if I can't keep it down?” you voiced your concerns.

“You have to learn this at some point, don't you?” he whispered gently. “I believe in you.”

His words hit their mark as usual. How could you ever say no to him when he talked like this? You inhaled deeply and looked around once more, before relaxing in your chair a little bit. It was a hot spring day and you had decided to wear your shorter skirt and stockings instead of tights – which now seemed as if you had been waiting for this exact situation to happen, when in fact it had slipped your mind entirely that he might pay back your services.

But Sebastian was all for equality.

“Why don't you go back to your book and let me do my thing, hmm?” you heard him whisper as his palms went up and down your thighs.

“I'll try...” you murmured and moved your hands to grab the heavy tome in front of you. They were shaking badly.

As your fingers closed around the book and flipped it open, his fingers slipped beneath your skirt and pushed it up your trembling thighs. The feeling was so much more intense when you couldn't see him. Your heart started to beat right out of your chest. Your eyes landed on the writing in front of you, but you couldn't see a single word nor letter. All you could focus on where the light and gentle touches of the boy under the table.

He had pushed up your skirt now, tracing the hem of your panties, his fingertips brushed over fabric and skin, and you felt your stomach tensing up. You bit your lip and stared down at the book, breathing through your nose to control the turmoil within. Your knees were pressed against his chest as he worked his arms around your thighs – that were still very much clamped shut. He took his sweet time with you, really easing you into it, building the tension within with every stroke of his hand.

When you closed your eyes at one point, you felt him grip your knees firmly and it didn't take any resistance after all to open your legs for him. You heard him shuffling under the table as he moved closer and settled right between your thighs. Out of reflex you pressed them against his upper arms, holding him in place. A soft chuckle came from him.

“So eager, eh?” he whispered while his invisible hands moved up and grabbed your waist, pulling you a little closer to him.

As you slid down your chair, you opened your eyes and looked down. Of course you couldn't see him and you really wondered how he had been able to look directly at you while you had been under the Cloaking charm, when you had absolutely no idea where his eyes were. You gingerly lowered your hands and felt around until your fingertips brushed against his messy hair. You followed the curve of his head downwards, then traced the side of his face carefully. When your fingers explored his cheeks and ghosted over his lips, you could feel him smile.

“I wish... I could see you...” you whispered barely audible.

To your utter surprise, he followed your wish and became visible right between your hands as he lifted the charm. You gasped softly, seeing his head so close to your stomach. He smiled – and you could see him do so – his brown eyes sparkling. Yet as much as you had wanted this, you realized how dangerous it was.

“Wait, what if someone sees you here?” you whispered urgently, looking around.

“No one will suspect a thing... if you keep quiet,” he said under his breath and gave you a disarming smirk.

You swallowed at his words. Then you nodded slowly and moved your hands to grip the armrests, watching him nestling between your legs. His eyes stayed on you as he leaned away and pressed his lips gently against your inner thigh. You couldn't help but flinch a little, even though you had seen it coming. His warm breath ghosted your skin and made you shiver deeply. As his hands traced around the curves of your legs all the way down to the back of your knees, you inhaled sharply.

“No tickling!” you hissed at him and saw him smirking widely. “That's not fair!”

He knew how sensitive you were and that information was both a blessing and a curse in the hands of Sebastian Sallow. You looked at him with pleading eyes and indeed he removed his hands from the hollow of your knees and brought them up to hook his fingers around the upper hem of your panties. You were not sure that would make it any easier to keep your noises down.

Instead of pulling down the fabric, his fingers skimmed the edge of the fabric all the way around your hips to your lower back, before gently feeling around and cupping your butt cheeks, pushing you upwards in your chair a little. You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, and sure enough he moved his hands back around to slide down the outside of your thighs. His touches were excruciatingly slow and each of them caused you to breathe heavier.

He could have just fingered you like you had blown him, but no, he had to make a bloody show out of it as usual. Not that you were complaining, you really enjoyed his way of easing you into it, because at one point he would just snap and turn into this impatiently ravaging and passionately raging animal that you loved with all your being. He always put your pleasure before his and once you were a trembling mess, only then would he indulge in his own desires and let it all out, leaving you an even bigger trembling mess afterwards.

And with that knowledge in mind, you were really concerned about what might happen once he started his work on the more sensitive parts of your body. There was no way you could be seen like that, not in public, not in the sanctuary of this library. So you had to really force yourself to keep it down – and you knew it would be the toughest challenge yet.

His mouth was moving along the inside of your thigh now, gently kissing the soft skin, and you breathed deeply as you chewed on your lips. Before his face came close to the heat already radiating beneath the fabric of your underwear, he leaned back and looked at you, tilting his head with a smirk. You watched him closely, your eyes wandering over his face, drawing imaginary lines between his freckles.

You held his gaze and you didn't even notice him raising his hand until his fingers pressed firmly against your heat. A sudden whimper escaped you and you quickly put a hand on your mouth. You could feel him slide his fingertips teasingly against your panties, right between your folds, soaking up the wetness beyond. It really didn't take long for you to get aroused when you were with him. There was just something about him that instantly activated the waterworks down there.

You inhaled deeply and bit your lip, before looking around the room once more. The other students were still nose deep in their books and there was no movement about. It seemed safe – for now. When you looked back down between your legs, Sebastian was moving his hand upwards and drew slow circles around the bundle of nerves atop your slit. You flinched as the sensation hit you like an oncoming train. At least you didn't whimper this time.

You gripped the armrests again and focused on breathing slowly, in and out, in and out, just like the movement of his fingers as he simultaneously teased your clit and your folds through the damp fabric of your underwear. And all you wanted was to squirm and scream and relish in the pleasure, but you had to hold it down and it caused your entire body to shake under the sheer pressure of it.

He watched you fight your little fight against yourself. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly, but you quickly shook your head. He nodded and continued the motions of his fingers with a smile on his lips, before he pressed them against your thigh again, slowly moving his head closer to your midst as he showered your skin with soft little kisses. You inhaled deeply and closed your eyes, leaning back in your chair, trying to relax.

But then you could feel his tongue poking at the sensitive skin where your thighs met the lower hem of your underwear and you exhaled against the whimper starting to form in your throat. His tongue was warm and wet and tickled you more than you had anticipated. He kept going, tracing the fabric downwards, leaving a burning film of saliva on your skin. You could feel his warm breath right against your wetness, despite the thin layer of fabric still in between.

He lowered his hands and replaced them with the tip of his nose as he moved his face slightly upwards, pressing it firmly against your panties – and then he inhaled deeply and you couldn't help but squirm in your seat, your thighs pressing tighter against him. Your face felt so incredibly warm, you were afraid it would melt right off your skull. With your hands on your cheeks, breathing heavily behind them, you felt the tension in your stomach grow with every passing heartbeat.

You could feel him chuckle against you, his low voice vibrating right through your core, and it only increased the shudder running through your body. He knew how much you liked his voice and what it did to you, and he would often use that to his advantage while it left you a whimpering shell of a person at most times. And even today, despite the risqué setting, he did just that as he started to hum against your folds, his mouth so close to the damp fabric and you could only imagine what it would be like if your damn panties weren't in the way, that hum would have pushed you right over the edge. (But why would have? You knew he wasn't done with you yet...)

In response to his dirty attempt to coax those moans out of you, you bucked your hips against him and saw him leaning back again, smirking up at you with dark eyes. You stared at him with your chest rising and falling fast, your breasts firm and tender behind the constraints of your shirt. Before you could gather your thoughts again, his hands had moved towards your hips and even though he had taken his time with you before, the way he was now pushing and pulling down your underwear was almost close to desperate.

You were barely able to raise your rear off the chair a bit for him to pull them down and then suddenly he had moved them over your knees and all the way down to your feet. You didn't even fully register that you were now pantyless on a chair in the library – that's how fast he got them off of you. When he picked them up and balled them in his hand, you blinked slowly. “I think I'm going to keep these for now,” he whispered – and only then did you realize what he meant.

Your face grew even hotter and he gave you a wink that made it so much worse. Your breaths became shallow, either from indignation or in anticipation of what was to come. Or perhaps embarrassment as he started to move closer once more, settling between your thighs, his eyes fixed on what he had just uncovered. You felt yourself squirming under his gaze, but he only grabbed your thighs and held you still, issuing a comforting “Shh!” as he kept looking at every inch of your exposed skin.

You'd never really liked it when he'd looked at you so closely, yet he would always assure you that he thought you were beautiful, all of you, and the more he told you that the more accepting you became of the fact. If he liked what he saw, then why not let him look, right? His eyes wandered up towards your face eventually and you could see a tiny splash of red on his cheeks, which in turn made you smile. He gave you a smirk and then moved his hand up, gently placing his palm on your lower stomach, slowly inching it closer to where you wanted him to touch you.

You inhaled deeply and held your breath, watching him intently as he slid the heel of his hand downwards against your most tender spot, carefully pressing against it. Your hips twitched in response, but you kept the noises down. He moved his palm in circles over your sensitive skin, observing every tiny reaction, from the furrowing of your brows, to the trembling of your lips and the needy, almost desperate look in your eyes. He saw it all and he catered to your desire by extending his thumb slowly before pressing it right on top of the throbbing bundle of nerves.

You sat up straighter and definitely had to fight back a moan by then, almost choking on the noise as you stared into his amused face. Your hands grabbed the armrests of your chair, and you were breathing so heavily, you were more than grateful that all other students were so fixated on their studies instead of noticing the shaking frame of a girl, who might just hold back laughter from all they knew, when in reality she was fighting the urge to scream.

Because he wouldn't just press his thumb against your clit, he started drawing circles around it, pushing past the folds, teasing it more and more. You pressed your lips together and arched your back (the creak of your chair echoing through the quiet room), your thighs twitching uncontrollably with every stroke of his thumb. The whimpers were ready to spill, but you forced them down by swallowing hard. Closing your eyes, however, wasn't the best idea.

Because now you felt his movements even more, and when he stopped massaging your nub, his finger slid down between your soft folds, right into your wetness, the slight squelching sound so loud in your ears, you had to open your eyes again and look around in fear of anyone having heard that.

But no one had and you looked down at the boy between your thighs, who was really focused on what he was doing. His index finger moved up and down your slick slit, you were so wet it was almost embarrassing. Yet that made it easier for him to move his fingertips towards your entrance and when he pushed one finger against you, he slipped in right away and you felt your walls clenching against the intrusion and your body quivering.

You had always admired his hands: long slender fingers, veins and tendons protruding just beneath the skin, shifting with every bending of his joints, his touches soft despite the slightly calloused skin. And the way he moved them, especially against and inside you, had always made your knees buckle. Luckily you were already sitting.

Your breaths became louder as he slowly worked his finger deeper, then started pumping it in and out, keeping it rather straight, until he did curl it and that tiny movement caused you to push against the table and scrape your chair backwards. You froze immediately – as did he. Your eyes moved around the room in panic, but no one cared about the sudden noise. When you looked back at Sebastian, he was also a little shaken, but quickly recovered and gave you a teasing smirk, before resuming the movement of his finger.

His free hand grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the chair. He withdrew his finger after a moment, giving you the illusion that it was okay to relax, but then he pushed it back in and with it another finger that slipped inside just as easily. You gasped quietly and felt your walls clench around him once more as he pushed against them lightly, gently exploring your tight channel.

You breathed loudly through your nose and bit your lip, trying so hard not to get vocal, even though it was all you could think about. Your stomach tensed viciously as he started moving his fingers in and out, slowly at first, then quickly picking up the pace – and you could hear the noises of his movements as he sank deep into your slick over and over again. And it only got worse when he leaned his head closer, his breath hitting your sensitive skin, before he pressed his mouth firmly over your clit.

You inhaled sharply, your lips shut tightly, your entire body squirming and shaking against the sensations as he started swirling his tongue against your tender nub, licking and teasing it, poking and sucking on it – all the while his fingers kept pumping into your slit with more and more force. With your eyes squeezed shut, you took a shuddering breath and another one and then you were whimpering soundlessly, as he pushed you closer and closer towards the edge. And you were so close too.

Your walls clenched around him with every thrust of his fingers, your legs were twitching completely out of control now, to the point that they were either pushing against his shoulders or stomping harder and harder onto the ground – but you were past worrying about anyone hearing you now. You didn't care any more. He, on the other hand, did still seem to mind and with two quick shrugs he pulled your legs into the air and onto his shoulders, and you wrapped them tighter around his neck out of reflex, really burying his head between your thighs now.

You heard (and felt) him groan against you as he kept licking and sucking your clit while pumping his fingers into you, until all of a sudden he wasn't any more. He pulled his fingers out with a wet plop and leaned back and left your throbbing nub unattended as well, only to smack his mouth firmly between your wet folds, sinking deep into your slick, before you felt his tongue poking at your entrance.

You let out a real whimper this time and inhaled sharply to try your best at keeping it down at least a little bit, as your hands grabbed onto his hair under the table forcefully. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your entire body was shaking and quivering, and he just kept going. He was lapping at your wetness, swiping his tongue up and down your lower lips – and then he had the audacity to hum again. You arched your head back and groaned soundlessly as you bit down on your tongue.

His humming vibrated through you, causing every muscle to contract, and while your body spiralled upwards and beyond, closer to your release, as pleasure gnawed at every single fibre of your being, you felt his tongue slipping past your entrance and as deep inside as possible, with his face properly buried in your wetness. You felt him push it against your walls, until he started pumping it in and out fast, while simultaneously hollowing his cheeks to suck at your flesh.

You felt completely overwhelmed at this point and were barely able to hold yourself in the chair, if it wasn't for your legs wrapped around his neck, holding you in place. Your breaths were erratic, yet no air seemed to find its way past your throat any more as you felt more and more light-headed. And still he kept going and it was when he pressed his fingers against your clit again, forcefully rubbing it faster and harder, that you've had enough. You had to press a hand on your mouth as your release washed over you like a fucking tsunami.

There were stars dancing behind your eyelids that were quickly engulfed by the brightest light you had ever seen. You felt like you were floating. Without any control over your quivering body any more, you bucked your hips against his face, causing him to groan, and as your body grew rigid, you felt him shake beneath your twitching legs, before he leaned back, coughing quietly. You felt his hot breath, almost as fast as yours, on your sensitive skin.

Somehow you were able to open your eyes again and when you looked at him you noticed that his entire face was glistening. He raised an eyebrow when he met your gaze and you felt your cheeks burning up as you realized that he was covered in your wetness. You unhooked your legs from around his neck and put them back on the ground, even though they were still twitching badly, and sat up slightly in the chair again, before your hands found his face under the table and started wiping at his cheeks with an apologetic smile.

“Don't worry about it,” he whispered and watched you closely.

But you kept stroking his face gently while he started licking his lips, until your fingers brushed over his mouth and he kissed them softly, holding your gaze.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked quietly, holding your hand close to his face.

You nodded silently, captivated by his gaze, before you forced yourself to look around. “And apparently no one else noticed the train wreck you turned me into,” you added with a smirk. Unless they had enjoyed the show quietly watching, you couldn't be sure – and frankly, you didn't care either. Your gaze wandered over the table and stopped as you saw the red apple on it. You smirked to yourself and grabbed it with your free hand.

“Here, you've earned this!” you whispered and held the apple out to him. He smirked back and picked it off your palm, rolling it between his fingers – before he grabbed it and pressed it tightly against your still slightly twitching wet folds.

You gasped in surprise and shame, your cheeks warming up yet again, as you watched him lick your slick off the apple before he bit into it with a loud crunch.

“Thanks,” he said with his mouth full and gave you a wink.

You shook your head and laughed silently, leaning back in your chair. He kept eating the apple while his free hand moved to pull down your skirt again, patting it gently as he moved back from between your legs, courteously pushing your knees back together. You saw him drawing his wand and before he vanished under the Disillusionment charm once more, he smiled at you.

“By the way, your panties are mine now,” he said quietly and pushed the balled up fabric into his pocket. “Thanks for the taste,” he added and gave you yet another wink that left you rather speechless. Before you could respond in any way, he cast the spell and vanished in front of your eyes.

His hand brushed your knee and then he was gone again. You remained sitting on the chair, dripping wet and shaking, but without a care in the world.

NOTES:

I once again tried my hand at writing more explicit smut (I'm still learning, so bear with me) and yet I couldn't bring myself to write cunt or pussy, I just hate (using) these words. I can't help it, it's not working for me. So I hope you enjoyed my many attempts at naming the thing.

Again I used the amazing Smut Thesaurus by @prurientpuddlejumper and also The Smut Writer’s Dictionary by @maybeeatspaghetti - so useful!

By the way, I included the apple because of @dingdongdick's Sebastian x Apple screenshots. I mean look at how he eats that fucking thing! How could I not >_>

The Ghost under the Table (Part 1 and Part 2)

The Ghosts on the Table (Part 1 and Part 2)

Pictures credit:

(Disclaimer: I am a hoarder of screenshots! And unfortunately I did not mark whose screenshots I "borrowed". So please, accept a list of my favorite screenshot providers of this fandom! <3 If you recognize your screen and are not on the list, please tell me, I'll add you right away!)

@dingdongdick

@phinik

@hogwartslegacypics

@deathlysallows

@purindaimaou

@sinty2ek

@shadesofgaunt

Thank you all (again) for your continuous services to fuelling our Sebastian obsession! I salute you!

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #smut #there is smut here #have I mentioned this is smut #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x fmc #hogwarts legacy reader insert #sebastian sallow reader insert #reader insert #f!reader #fanfic

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auspicioustidings · 7 months

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The War Duke

Blue Blood Part 2

Summary: Continuation of the Wild Prince. You awaken the next day wondering what the future holds.

Words: 3.4k

CW: Mentions of abuse, smut

You dreamt of the Prince. In your dream your eyes were open and you could watch what he had done to you in the bath tub, see the heaving of your breasts as your breath quickened. In this dream you saw the glow of your skin and the dilation of your pupils and you found you thought yourself beautiful like that.

There was an ache in you when you awoke. It was intense like it had been the night before, some coiled thing in your belly roiling to be snapped taught. You felt the thrill of doing something you knew to be wrong as you trailed gentle fingers down your body for the first time, pulling up your nightgown to give you access to that place the Prince had touched.

This was wrong you thought as you experimented with how hard to touch yourself. It was a sin you thought as your fingers soon found they glided easily with your growing wetness. Your father would find some way to punish you for your wickedness. He would order a stop to your meals or douse the fire in your chambers for a week of cold nights or he would make you kneel in rice for hours until all you wanted was to be obedient and never have to feel the sting of those grains on flesh again.

You felt the coil shrivel within you, the burning of shame overtaking any pleasure you may have been able to give yourself. You could not have said no to a Prince of this Kingdom, that was no sin. What was sinful was that you hadn't even thought to try. He had been warm and then aggressive and then gentle and the sudden changes in his passions had been exciting. The idea that perhaps such emotions had come from you made you feel as you thought drunkness must have felt, giddy and flushed.

The shame began to rise like bile. How ridiculous a thought, that someone of his stature would feel such heights of emotion for you. You did not know much, but knew enough that what had transpired had been intimate beyond what was proper. Was it merely dominance of a conquered foe he had been exercising?

Although you felt disinclined to do so you got out of the soft warmth of the bed and readied yourself with shaking hands. You must find out what had become of your father and the now fallen Kingdom. You had met the King once when you were younger and were in no hurry to do so again, remembering how his hand had left a bruise on your hip from how he had squeezed it while asking for more wine. But it was still your homeland, still your responsibility. If what the Prince had said was true, your responsibility would be not just to your father's lands but those of the whole territory now. You had never strayed beyond your own castle grounds until you had been brought here and had not thought it strange before. Now you felt ill at ease, like a whole world of critical knowledge had been kept from you.

When it came time to brush your hair, again a task that you had not done yourself until a month ago, you found that you felt the pain was deserved from pulling the bristles roughly through the strands. You pulled harder and harder, tears welling at the sting. A whole month and not once had you thought to ask for a book or a tutor, something to learn anything about this place. A whole lifetime and you would not even be able to point out the neighbouring Earldoms, Marches and Counties to your fathers Duchy on a map. Useless, wicked thing.

"There now, none of that."

You were shaking, new voice the only thing that broke you out of your dissociation. Your eyes focused again, seeing that you had tears streaking down your face in the mirror. There was a hand on yours, stopping your brush strokes. The man it belonged to was older and had such a bearing of quiet confidence that it soothed you somewhat. Never had you seen a man with such solidity about him, such a safe and strong aura.

"Here, let me" he said with the firm gentility one might use to calm a scared animal, pulling the brush from your hand to tenderly run it through your hair.

You stared at him through the mirror, watching how he focused on the task at hand. Slowly you came fully back to yourself, fully back to being human. His clothes were that of a solider, hands rough. And yet here he was brushing through your hair like no more than a ladies maid. You screwed your courage tight.

"Who are you?"

"Good, there you are. Was worried you had forgotten how to sing little birdie. My name is John Price, I believe you've heard of me" he replied with a wry smile, the brush set down now that your hair was soft and untangled.

Duke John Price, the War Duke. They said he was a demon on the battlefield, that he commanded monsters as others would men. The smaller Kingdoms offered up their Princesses in their dozens to him, but he remained a Bachelor. You had heard rumours that he was demonic, that no woman would be able to stand in his presence without burning from terror. He razed whole Kingdoms to the ground and left only enough alive for his Druid to sacrifice to a hungry God. Perhaps you were only seeing a distortion through the mirror. Perhaps if you turned to look at him properly you would turn to ash.

"Are you scared of me Duchess?"

"I... the Western Kingdom. The Prince said it had been taken."

"Gaz spoke truth."

"My father?"

"Alive. He surrendered quickly, betrayed his fellow countrymen" Price said, not doing anything to conceal his contempt for the man.

To betray your country like that was the act of a coward. But then the man had also been quick to offer up his only daughter to a bastard soldier reputed to be a monster behind the mask. Ghost had immediately denied the offer until Price had intervened. A tiny Kingdom the Western lands may have been, but a Duchess was still a Duchess. With no male siblings her husband would inherit the Duchy and title that went with it. They had been trying to get a title on Ghost for years against his wishes. He suffered greatly for this Kingdom, was the best solider that it had and a good man. It was ridiculous that the circumstances of his birth meant he would never own lands or receive the honours he was due. The Queen was ruthless about it, ensuring he could not even attend celebrations due to his common blood.

He knew it was pettiness on her part, still so bitter over Gaz being legitimised that she sought to hurt him through those he loved. She could do nothing to him as a Duke and she certainly could not keep Johnny from celebrations, a Druid from the Northern isles was a dangerous thing that not even she would seek to destroy. But some wretched bastard of her own lands she could inflict indignity after indignity on without consequence.

It was a marriage far below someone of your rank, small Kingdom or not. The fact that your father eagerly offered you up was an insult to you, a marriage like this being something that would mark you as undesirable. Price had assumed perhaps you were broken in some way or that you had faced some unforgivable scandal. Neither would excuse such a move on your father's part in his eyes. He knew that Simon Riley was a good man, but surely your father did not. And he had offered you as sacrifice anyway.

Marked undesirable or not, a marriage to Ghost would make you happier than whoever else your father would offer you to for military aid. At the time Price had not met you yet and even then he felt his protective instinct kick in at the thought of you sold to some brutal warlord in the mountains. So he made the deal against Ghost's protests. Simon Riley would become a Duke and his Duchess would be protected and that was that.

"He said he was married, that she is with child."

"Did you meet her?"

"No, is she...?"

"She is alive and well Duchess. Our Druid declared the marriage void under the eyes of the Gods. She is very young, and we have betrothed her to one of our best soldiers. He will treat the child as his own when they come."

You felt a flash of something foreign. Anger. It was anger. Anger at how casually this woman you did not know had been taken and given over to some stranger. Like you had been. It ran through your blood and made you invincible, turning and standing quickly to look at the War Duke who could burn women to cinders with just his presence. He was tall and it did not matter to you then. Let him be tall. Let him tower over you. You were not afraid.

"Just another bounty of your war then? Allowed to survive the burning of her home so that a man could be rewarded with a new trinket?"

You didn't know where this bite had been living all of these years. You had not once raised your voice to anyone before last month, least of all a man of ranking. You were braced for him to hit you as your father had at this behaviour, readying yourself and being disappointed that you still flinched when his hand raised. Only the hit never came, his hand only landing softly on your cheek to caress your face.

"I will not deny that it is common for men to be rewarded wives for war. The woman was not of noble blood and she was terrified of your father, that was clear. The soldier she will marry is a good man, gentle and full of adoration for her. Whether or not it is right is not as important to me as whether or not the end result is justified."

Your anger didn't have anywhere to go, his words flowing like honey against your rough edges. There was something of that coil again, waking blearily in your stomach. It would not do to feel like this every time a man touched you, you needed to stop looking at him and compose yourself.

"Let's go Duchess, time to show you around the grounds."

Price thought you a more dangerous thing than he had accounted for, so easily soothed and eager for affection that his mind wandered to all the ways it would be so easy to make you soft and pliant. The images his imagination conjured were enough to make his self-control take over and get you out of this room so you were not alone together.

The thought lingered that you would likely taste sweet.

You could not look the Prince in the eye and it irritated you that it seemed to cause him no end of amusement. Duke Price had escorted you around the castle and you had eagerly tried to take account of everything, determined to not make the same mistakes you had been. You had run into Prince Garrick on the ramparts, Price taking you out onto them to give you a full view of the landscape around you and of the training grounds far below.

You thought you handled yourself well, greeting him properly and keeping your eyes down. He had only replied with a laugh that he thought you were close enough to drop the title now, although he would be fine if you wanted to call him Sir. It had made you blush horribly, not used to men flirting with you. The Duke had smacked the Prince in the back of the head after he continued his teasing and you had been frozen in shock, completely disbelieving as the Prince only pouted and apologized. He was the King's son and he would let a Duke act in such a manner? It was against everything you had seen in your homeland, so used to lines of authority being something to use as weapons.

You felt a little unsettled at their easy companionship, yearning for the same. So to avoid looking you cast your eyes to the training grounds below. Price and Kyle turned to you when you gasped sharply. There was a man with a half shaved head, only clothed in tartan fabric. It was then that you knew that Blood Druid was not just a title meant to scare. He was from the Northern Isles. You were petrified instantly.

The Prince took up residence right behind your left shoulder, bending slightly so he could speak quietly into your ear.

"You know they say the men from the Northern Isles mate with wolves and drink the blood of their enemies."

You shivered, having heard that and much worse about their savage ways. Why was everyone around him acting like it was safe to be there? They were laughing at something he had said, bodies relaxed.

"He's going to be overseeing your wedding vows you know."

You snapped your head around, looking at the Prince and his eager grin with horror. Druids from the North worshipped old Gods, Gods who did not let any reward come unearned. You had heard how their weddings were blood soaked affairs, brides hunted for sport and left half dead. Grooms drinking the blood from their torn flesh and howling to the moon.

The Prince only chuckled at your expression, planting a soft kiss to your throat that tinged the sourness of your fear with the heat of something else entirely. The Duke took up a post on your right side, hot hand resting on the small of your back and burning through your clothing.

"Calm Duchess, Gaz is only teasing you," he said, his own voice sympathetic but with the same undercurrent of amusement. "His name is John MacTavish. He won't hurt you in any way that doesn't serve a greater end for you. Nobody here will."

How could you be calm? The Prince was gently moving your head back to the front, making you look down at the Druid and giving him space to brush your hair to one side of your throat leaving the skin on his side bare and enticing. When his teeth dragged lightly against your skin you thought you might die, a high whine leaving you and your hands going to grip the low stone wall in front of you for support.

The hand at the small of your back was tense before the Duke bit off a curse. He leaned to speak into your ear, his voice lower and more aggressive than before.

"You're going to stay quiet Duchess, can't have the whole castle guard rushing out to see what the problem is can we?"

Prince Garrick laughed and left your throat alone, instead now standing respectfully by your side with a hand discreetly looped around your waist to keep you still where you were. There was movement, the thud of knees hitting the ground beneath your feet. The Duke had went to his knees, the Prince pulling you back slightly to give him room to get in front of you.

Your body flushed and your nerves set on fire at the image below you, this Duke on his knees in front of you and looking up at you with a grin that felt animalistic. He was hidden by the wall from any eyes looking up from below which made it all feel even more dangerous.

"Eyes on MacTavish Duchess, you keep looking down at Price and everyone is going to know what's going on."

You snapped your eyes back to the Druid, watching how his back moved as he stretched. Oh Gods, the Duke was under your skirts now, breath hot at your core.

"Deep breath Duchess" the Prince said.

"I don't-"

You could not finish your sentence, not even sure you could identify what you had been going to say. All you could think of now was the wet tongue lapping at that bundle of nerves you had tried touching that morning. Your blood was singing.

"Gods I- oh!"

"Didn't he tell you to be quiet? Come on now, be a good girl and take it. If you keep crying out like that he'll stop."

You bit your lip and made a small noise of protest. It had been horrible this morning, feeling yourself climb so close to the top of that mountain only to come crashing down before the peak. This was far more intense, this mountain far higher. If you could not see the view from the summit, you thought you might die.

The texture of a tongue against you was not what you had expected, it was rougher, wetter. The Duke was so precise that you thought he must be practiced and the thought made you shiver. His hands were gripping your thighs firmly and you almost wanted him to grip you tighter, give you some sort of pain to make the pleasure less overwhelming.

Anytime he felt you tense, ready for the inevitable, he would slow. It was maddening. You wanted to cry when he teased your entrance with his tongue after slowing again, your insides clenching hard at the promise of something to fill you. He would kill you. He would kill you and the Prince was by your side watching you with fond amusement rather than doing anything to help.

Kyle watched as mumbled begging finally started to spill from your lips. You were doing such a good job being quiet and keeping your eyes forward, the threat of Price stopping enough to make you obey him. Even now as a flurry of pleases came from you, your crying was soft on the air, barely above a whisper. Fuck it made him hard again even after having cum in his hand barely 5 minutes before meeting up with you and Price, easily conjuring the image of you in the bath tub to get him there. Ghost was going to be mad about you. Already was if his reaction to the cut on your face that first day had been anything to go by.

He watched as your eyes widened and followed your gaze to see Johnny grinning up at you, sharp incisors making him look more beast than man. Kyle felt a sick satisfaction at the knowledge that he would know exactly what was happening on the ramparts. Johnny had a knack for always knowing.

Price felt you tense again, knowing this time it wasn't fully from him sloppily eating you out. He was usually much more refined than this, but you tasted even better than he had imagined you would and it sent him into a frenzy. It was only that self-control that let him edge you instead of just wringing orgasm after orgasm from you. If what they suspected was true then you had only been touched for the first time last night, they would have to build up to that.

His efforts weren't in vain, you were so wet now, dripping and soaking his beard. He was surprised it had taken his Druid so long to look up at you, that being the only reason he could think for the tension in your muscles now. He had seen how terrified you were of him and had scolded himself for part way finding it erotic to see you so helpless. He would make up for it though, giving you something positive to associate with Johnny so you wouldn't be as scared. He sucked hard at your clit.

For his part, Johnny enjoyed watching you cum. Even from this distance he could see your pupils completely blow out, your legs give way so that Gaz was the only thing holding you up. Got him half hard under the kilt, but then when wasn't he? He howled with laughter when Price emerged, dragging the back of his hand against his mouth in an attempt to clean himself up.

"What the fuck are you laughing at Johnny?"

He looked to the shadow in the doorway with a grin, waving at the wrecked Duchess on the ramparts before heading into the castle proper.

"Wisnae laughin' at anythin' in particular Si, just thinking that whit's fur ye'll no go by ye."

"English MacTavish."

He only laughed again.

#cod #cod au #tf 141 x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #mhairiwrites #pls be nice I am really not confident about this one at all #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader

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daughterofcain-67 · 24 days

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊 (𝔭𝔱.1)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: (Right after Season 10 Episode 4) Sam and Dean have recently resumed hunting again after taking a short hiatus, then a phone call from Jody Mills peaks their interest and they want to make sure she’s alright. Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of adjusting to your new life, unfortunately your old life has a funny way of effecting you as a human.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: graphic implications and imagery of gore, violence, blood, mostly canon level but may not be suitable for all audiences.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the first chapter of a sequel to Raised in Blood, an MOC!Dean x Daughter of Cain/Demon reader fic. If you have not read that fanfiction first I suggest you do to understand what is happening in this first chapter and how Dean and the reader know each other. I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Previously…

“You aren’t staying.. are you?” Dean asked softly.

“You know that I can’t…”

“Y/N, those things I said.. None of that was all me. Being a demon changed almost everything about me. Honestly I don’t even think before I turned you and I even had a chance to really learn about each other.”

“Then how much of it really was you, Dean? Tell me? Was it the sleeping around with other girls? Was it the anger you felt when I was trying to look out for you? What was it?”

“That night was real… the moments before the battle with station were real when you were telling me about what the mark would do to me, those were real. When I thanked you for staying when Sam and I were split up, that was real.”

You shook your head. “It may have been real for a moment. But like you said, you and I didn’t have the time to really learn. All of this has been nothing but a scrambled mess and there was nothing solid for us.”

“If you go out there, it will be a lot more dangerous. You’re human now and there’s a lot more than just the First Blade that can kill you now.” Dean said, and you could detect the very same thing that he argued with you about - worry.

“Dean? I’ll be okay. I’ve had several centuries if not millennia of experience in combat. Plus I have this.” You said an you held out your arm. “You know it won’t let me die.”

You saw Dean frown for a moment and you sighed before you took a hand of his.

“I have to leave, Dean. I told your brother that I would help you with your mark. I’ve not been much help before you became a demon throughout this entire journey. You’re still stuck with the mark, and the cycle will continue for you if we can’t friend a way to free you from the burden. Now that you’re free from being a demon, it’s time to finally hold up my end of the bargain and see what I can do.”

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. Then he took one of your hands. Then he handed you his favorite pistol. He didn’t mind so much parting with it oddly enough. Especially when they had their own arsenal at the bunker.

“If I don’t see you again.. keep this. I know we may not have had the best time but… I do want you to have at least something good from this ordeal.”

You nodded as you started to go up the stairs where you saw Sam drinking some coffee. He deserved some downtime after a long several months of looking for Dean.

You walked over to Sam and you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Look into the Book of the Damned.”

Now

Struggling to catch his breath while running as fast as his legs could carry him, Mikey was running as if his life depended on it. Mostly because it did depend on it .

Mikey had come across a lot of hunters in his day as a vampire but he had never seen anything this gruesome. He’d never seen someone act so ruthless, no one that refused to listen to reason. Never in his several decades of living as a vampire had he been so petrified. He was lucky he was even alive in this very moment.

He remembered the last few hours and he didn’t understand how things lead up to this. He had just gotten off work at a factory around midnight since work had started night shifts. He was hungry and it was easier for him to feed at night, naturally. But his nest had just had a big haul of animal load so he was just planning on returning home rather than being risky by going to a farm outside of town.

Besides, they had their own farm after all, he just needed to get home first. And finally, he did.

As Mikey returned to his ‘family’s’ farm, however, he caught the scent of something unfamiliar. Something human.

He thought that one human was no big deal. That the other fangs would be able to get this human taken care of especially if it was a hunter. They didn’t need any kind of trouble on their hands.

But instead, Mikey saw something that completely terrified him.

Outside of the house there were the bodies of his friends, Shane and Rory. They were headless, a sure sign that a hunter must’ve been there. But it was behind just a simple beheading. Mikey looked at the two corpses and saw several stab wounds to their chest. Mikey could smell dead man’s blood and he knew they must’ve been poisoned. Then, to the side, he saw an axe beside his two deceased friends, the blade was bloody.

Mikey thought it was a bit of overkill even for a hunter, but at least his friends seemed to have put up some kind of fight. Still, seeing Rory and Shane in this state made Mikey go queasy.

As Mikey walked further into the home he walked into a living room splattered with blood as if it had been some kind of horror scene. More of his friends, his family, were practically butchered inhumanely. Heads and bodies were severed, the furniture in disarray. But then Mikey could hear the commotion coming from upstairs.

With a gulp, Mikey made his way up the stairs and he saw a figure wearing a black hooded jacket. The figure seemed to look like a woman, so he was shocked that she seemed to be the only human in the house. He thought the nest was more than capable of handling one human, especially one that seemed so small as this person seemed to be.

But the moment that Mikey saw this human take her knife that looked liked it was dipped in dead man’s blood and the killer stabbed the leader in the beach so many times. Rather than killing the leader in one blow with a machete or an axe, this death seemed to take longer as the human stabbed his leader’s neck repeatedly until he was fully decapitated. The scene made Mikey want to vomit.

As he took a step backward, the floor creaked and that was his giveaway. He saw a pair of darkened, vicious eyes of a killer looking back at him. And that was when Mikey took off.

Mikey feared for his life and hoped he wouldn’t be found by this killer, but he was severely mistaken.

The roar of a motorcycle’s engine echoed through the forest and he heard a gunshot. The next thing he knew, Mikey fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder and he felt this intense pain, burning and he knew it was dead man’s blood. This hunter had come more than prepared.

As Mikey knelt on the ground, trying to find some sort of stick or something to dig the bullet out of his shoulder he heard the motorcycle come to a stop. Then he heard footsteps coming up behind him. When Mikey looked up, he saw the hunter standing over him, this time with a machete in her hand.

“I think I’ve had my fill for the night.”

That was the last thing Mikey heard before his head was severed off his shoulders, freeing him from this horrific nightmare.

Dean found himself in some large house, two stories, as if it belonged to some blue-collar respectable family. There were toys scattered about, trains and race cars and some of those mega blocks.

The pictures on the walls revealed that a family of four lived here. Husband and wife, and their two sons but they must’ve had a little girl on the way as one of the photos indicated some sort of baby shower. It seemed to be a sweet little family, at that only made the situation even more tragic.

As Dean desperately searched around the house to see if there were any survivors, he realized he was too late.

He peeked into the childrens’ room and saw they had been brutally murdered. Their little intestines splayed out of the boys’ bodies as they laid in a pool of their mixed blood. Then Dean ran into the master bedroom and saw that the married couple were nothing but a couple of corpses lying together on their bed. Their bodies mutilated much like the two boys.

As Dean searched the house for any sign of a monster, demon, or any other unnatural intruder. But as he looked he caught a glimpse of a masculine figure running past the hall. When Dean chased after it through, he came across a mirror and saw an image of himself with a sickening grin.

“Oh what the Hell is this?” Dean said, not having the time for these games but then a voice spoke, one that was his own and yet it wasn’t Dean speaking himself.

“Don’t you get it? You did this.” The demon said in the mirror and his eyes turned black.

“What? No i didn’t. I was on a hunt! Something else killed this family.” Dean argued and the demon version of himself smirked.

“Look down at your hands.” The vile thing insisted.

Dean hesitated before he lifted his hands from his sides so he could look down at them and sure enough, they were covered in blood. The same blood that belonged to this poor innocent family.

“No… I won’t go dark side again. I won’t let it happen.” Dean swore as he started to wipe the blood on the sleeves of his jacket, but the demon laughed almost maniacally.

“You can’t stop it. You accepted this curse, now you have to live with it. And you don’t even have anyone that can help you through it anymore.” The demon said and Dean instantly knew who he was talking about.

“How do you know she’s not in danger now? Maybe the mark will kill her if she hasn’t given into the mark’s urges yet. Maybe she’ll turn into a demon all over again because you didn’t urge her to stay.” The demon taunted.

“She will fall into the same darkness as you will. And there will be nothing either of you can do to stop it.”

Dean woke up in a cold sweat and it felt like his arm was being engulfed in flames. He had yet another nightmare, but he was no longer surprised at getting those anymore. He looked around his surroundings and realized he was in some low quality hotel room, remembering he and Sam had just completed a werewolf case.

The weird thing was the case nightmare Dean woke up from had nothing to do with this werewolf case. But the dream still felt all too real.

Ever since you left for whatever your reasons were, Dean started having nightmares about losing that control. He didn’t want to go down that demonic path again, couldn’t stomach the thought of it. He didn’t want to harm anymore people than he already did when he was a demon. The whole point of this job was to save people after all, yet Dean genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he saved someone’s life.

“You okay, Dean?” Dean heard his brother ask.

Dean lifted his head and saw Sam was already up and about. From the looks of it he had taken his shower- must’ve finished his morning run already.

“How long have you been up?” Dean asked and sat up with a groan.

“Since about five this morning. Early bird catches the worm you know.” Sam advised and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Whoever made up that bullshit can kiss my ass.”

Sam only laughed at his brother’s grumpy words but he couldn’t help but notice the was Dean put a hand over the mark. It had been six weeks since you had left and it didn’t look like it was for the better. Not on Dean’s part anyway. They had taken those several weeks and decided to take a little break from hunting up until this point.

“By the way… I got a call from Jody.” Sam said, trying to think of some way to distract Dean for a moment. He heard Dean let out a hum and took it as a sign to continue.

“She said that there was some sort of indescribable killings going on where she’s at. She doesn’t think it’s a demon, vampire, werewolf or something basic like that otherwise she would have it handled.” Sam disclosed and Dean lifted his head.

“How indescribable are we talking? It might not even be our kind of thing. What makes you think Jody needs our help with it?” Dean questioned with a hint of skepticism.

“Well… from what she said it looked like a massacre. We’re talking severed heads and from what she said the vics seemed to be vampires. But the way they were killed, she didn’t sound so sure if it was just a hunter going overboard or if it’s a creature with a vendetta and a heaping load of bloodlust.” Sam explained

“Well I guess we’d better be on our way. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve seen her.” Dean agreed as he swung his legs over the side of the hotel mattress.

Sam watched as his brother gathered his belongings and he still wondered if Dean was really okay. Was the mark still continuing to bother him more than he let on? Of course it must’ve been. It was Dean! He wasn’t exactly known for sharing his burdens, and in the moments he did share, it was after Sam practically pried them out of him.

Still, Sam had to take your words to heart when you told him to look into what’s known as The Book of the Damned. But so far he was coming up with nothing, and in truth he wasn’t even sure where he should look first. It sounded like some sort of spell book, so maybe Crowley would know something about it, or maybe if they had a stroke of luck they would come across a witch that would know something about the book.

Sam still had some concerns about Dean hunting too. He knew Dean had been itching to get back into the hunting game again and Sam was initially hesitant about letting him on this case when it came to Kate. Dean had already almost killed Kate before they discovered she wasn’t the only werewolf on the case. Sam noticed that Dean seemed almost willing to do whatever he could to kill the werewolves and ignore the grey areas. At least that was the initial before Sam managed to talk Dean down and sort of negotiate with him at least for this case.

“Hey, if this thing with Jody ends up being something bigger than we think it is… maybe we should go back to the bunker. In the end it really could be nothing. But there’s always that slim chance.” Sam spoke.

Dean opened the door but when he heard his brother speaking, he turned around, “What, and leave Jody hangin’ like that? Hell no. We find out what the Hell is going on and we get it taken care of before something happens to Jody if she gets wrapped up in something worse than just a crazy hunter.”

Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line as he followed Dean out of the door and they began their drive to meet up with their friend.

Dean started the ignition of the Impala and of course the speakers blared the classic rock he listened to all the time despite Sam’s protests. As they drove, Dean tried his best to just focus on the road but his mind started to wander off again to that nightmare.

“Dean… on the hunt, on one of those drives… I know that you don’t really want to talk much about the mark and it’s hard for you to cope with, but you said that some parts of it were embarrassing. Do you still remember everything when you were a demon? You said the whole getting along with Crowley thing was embarrassing but… but what about…”

“Y/N?” Dean asked, knowing that Sam must’ve been itching to bring you up for the longest time, even though he was dreading it.

“Yeah. Y/N… are you ashamed of her or something? Like you are about your time with Crowley?”

Dean began to remember the night in Montana. He remembered the night you were initially trying to convince him to be partnered up with Crowley. A part of him wanted to be mad at you for getting him wrapped up with Crowley in the first place. That night started off as a negotiation tactic but he still remembered how you made it to where the mark didn’t hurt as much, remembered how you soothed it. He remembered your mixed feelings about the negotiations and he remembered that he was the one that told you to relax and it lead you to a night Dean would never forget, even if it would end up being nothing but a fling for you.

Then Dean began to remember the day you betrayed him, or at least the demon he became. He remembered the urge he had to kill you because of the hurt he felt because of what you had done. But now that he was human again, he knew you were only trying to help him out, do what was best so he wouldn’t get himself even deeper into trouble. Then there was the night in the bunker when he was chasing both you and Sam. He remembered all of the awful things he said to you out of his hurt.

But the moment he saw how much pain you were in, after he finally became human again, it killed Dean to see you going through that immense amount of pain. He remembered the tears of blood streaming from your eyes in the transition as he urged you to let go of everything that happened in those several months you spent together. Dean had to admit that he hated seeing you in such a condition but once you were human, he was glad it was over for you.

Ever since Dean changed back to being a human though, he tried not to think too much about what happened. He tried not to think so much about the attachment he had to you, and he told himself that he only felt the way that he did because of the stupid mark on his arm. He told himself that the moment he and Sam found a way to get rid of it, whatever he felt for you would finally go away. But despite what he told himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were okay, wonder if you were safe, if her were learning how to take care of yourself now that you were human.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice broke his train of thought and he tried to remember the question.

“No, I’m not embarrassed with what happened with her.” Dean said, hoping Sam would drop this sooner rather than later.

“Do you still think about her?” Sam continued.

“I try not to. After she left, I figure it’s better to just forget about her. As much as I can anyway. She doesn’t want anything to do with us anyway, isn’t that why she left?” Dean reminded.

“I don’t know about that…” Sam muttered to himself and Dean rolled his eyes before he turned up the radio.

Several hours went by and they finally made it to South Dakota and the two brothers made it to the sheriff’s office. Naturally the two of them were dressed in their monkey suits and Dean was the first to walk through the doors. Sheriff Mills as already inside and one of the officers gave her a little nudge and the woman glanced over just to see both Sam and Dean there.

She smiled at the both of them and started walking in their direction before greeting them.

“Hey there, Boys. Good to see you the both of you.” She grinned and hugged the both of them.

“Hey Jody.” Dean smiled and she pulled away before she handed Dean the file she was holding in her hands.

“These are pictures that CSI took when they got to the scene. They’re kind of gruesome.” She warned.

“We see gruesome stuff every day. I think we can handle it.” Sam commented as Dean opened up the file. Quickly, Sam took back his words when he saw the photos.

“Holy cow-“ Dean said as he looked at all of the bodies with the severed heads, the stab wounds. It was like a blood bath. A horror scene really, even for him to look at.

“When did this happen?” Sam asked as he looked at the sheriff once again.

“A couple of nights ago. No one was left alive. But from what I’m understanding when I looked at some of the bodies, they had fangs. Obviously the coroner didn’t know to look for something like that. Either way, this kind of thing is malicious and I didn’t know who to call other than the two of you. Is there any way a monster did this? I’d hate to think a hunter did this to such an extreme.”

“I’m not too sure of any hunters that would go to such an extreme, Jody. Dean and I will look into the case and see if they had some kind of enemies. Did any of these people have enemies? I mean other than hunters of course.” Sam said and Jodi shrugged.

“They seemed to be fairly normal. I didn’t even think they were vampires. They were pretty civil, kept a low profile. I know they never murdered anyone, must’ve used animal blood to live off of since we hadn’t heard of any murders until now. They were on a farm after all so it’s not like they were stealing animals from another person’s farm. They seemed self sufficient and didn’t cause problems for the community. That’s why I was shocked when I found out that the whole farm was nothing but a vampire nest. I haven’t made any connections to see who would have been their enemies.” Jody sighed.

Dean continued to look at the pictures. He had never heard of a hunter going ballistic like this, well maybe other than himself. But then he thought about the dreams he had. What if you had something to do with this? What if the mark as affecting you and you fell sooner than you thought you would. Maybe you couldn’t handle the side effects as a human.

Dean’s jaw tightened as he closed the file and looked at Sam and Jody as they talked, “What about outside of town? Have there been any suspicious newcomers that you can think of? Any businesses outside of town that your victim’s may have had any sort of trouble with?”

“I’m still trying to look into it. No newcomers to my knowledge, but as for any businesses like competing farms, I’m not so sure. But not all the family members worked on the farm. Some of them had other careers and we’re looking into other branches or businesses that may have been rubbed the wrong way by one of the family members.”

“Let Sammy and I handle that part of it. I’m sure you’ve already got enough on your plate as it is, being sheriff and all.” Dean insisted.

“Well, before the two of you go head first into it, why don’t you both come to my place? Have some grub? I’m sure it’s been a long drive.” Jody suggested and Dean smiled a little.

“Sure, we’d appreciate that a lot.” He said and Sam agreed.

Jody told her officers that she was going home and if they needed anything from her, she would be on call. With that, Sam and Dean left with Jodi and they followed her back to her home.

Once the three of them pulled up and got out of their cars, they made it to the front door and Jody unlocked the front door and let the two hunters into the house first before she walked in as well and shut the door behind her. There, Alex was lounging on the couch once the three of them walked in.

“Jody, you’re back.” Alex beamed but then she saw both Sam and Dean with her, it was as if her eyes lit up.

Alex got up and she walked over to Jody, “You should have at least given some kind of heads up. I would have made dinner if I knew we were having guests.”

“Don’t worry about it, Alex. Why don’t we just order a pizza or something? Won’t have to worry about dishes or anything.” Jody suggested with a chuckle and Alex just grinned and nodded before she went to the kitchen to make a phone call for the pizza.

“Hey, Jody? Is it alright if I get our normal clothes so Sam and I can change out of these Fed suits?” Dean asked and Jody smiled.

“Have at it.” Jody insisted and Dean walked out of the door. Then the woman turned to Sam.

“So… how is he doing? Last I heard he had some mark you told me about?” Jody asked after Dean shut the door to get the flannels.

Sam looked up at Jody and he sighed and nodded a little before he began to speak. “The whole Mark if Cain thing is just this big can of worms we spilt all over the place. So much has happened with him and the damned thing and now I wish he never accepted the mark.”

“Is he still in bad shape?” She asked. Sam shrugged a little.

“Right now it’s kind of hard to tell… Seriously, a lot of unthinkable has happened. Dean and I were helping our friend Castiel look for Metatron but Cas and I were worried about how the mark was affecting Dean. The whole reason he got the damned thing was to kill Metatron but it was starting to get to him. He was quickly becoming more violent and so Cas and I were looking into a person that could help. And we did.”

“Oh yeah? Well who was that?” Jody asked.

“Well, her name is Y/N. She uh… She also has the mark because she is the direct descendant of Cain, his daughter in fact.” Sam explained and Jody’s eyes went wide.

“Cain? As in Cain and Abel? And he has a daughter?”

“Yeah… what’s even better was that the last demon Dean killed, Abaddon? That was her mother. But surprisingly she’s the most unusual demon Dean and I have ever met.”

“Seems a little sketchy to me.”

“I don’t blame you for thinking that… but anyways, She was trying to help maintain Dean’s urges in killing, but after a fight with Metatron, Dean… well he died and came back to life as a demon because of the mark.He disappeared with Crowley and Y/N for several months, I think Y/N was mostly there for supervision then things went wrong and Crowley betrayed Dean, he and Y/N had a falling out, so they contacted me and with Castiel’s help we found a cure for Dean and we turned him back into a human.” Sam said.

Jody’s eyes went wide, trying to think of a way to possibly take everything in, “Wow… and what about Y/N?”

“Y/N.. welll shockingly she wanted to be there at the bunker to support Dean and get him back to being human. And once that happened… she asked me to turn her into a human with the same cure. It worked and now she’s human and… well she left.”

“A demon. A demon asked you to make her human? That is weird. Even for the two of you. How do you know she’s trustworthy?”

“Trust me, Jody… If you met her, you may even like her. Even if she was a demon once.” Sam vouched for you.

“And Dean? How is he holding up after being changed into a human again?” She asked and Sam bit his lip a little.

“Honestly I don’t know. He’s on edge but he refuses to talk that much about it. He is a little antsy, when he kills a monster, it’s close to overkill. I think we should have asked Y/N to stay because when she was around, she was sort of like a harness, some sort of way for Dean to direct his urges on the right things at least.”

Jody lifted a brow and crossed one leg over the other as she listened, “Sounds like the two of them had some sort of weird chemistry. How’s Dean holding up with her leaving?”

“He prefers not to talk about it. She’s human now and he’s all about the whole not wanting to get her into more trouble I guess. He’s just in a weird spot I guess. I think he just doesn’t want to go down that dark of a road again.” Sam admitted.

“Yeah… guess I can understand that.” She agreed but then she heard the door open up and Dean walked through.

Dean shut the door behind him and tossed Sam his clothes before Jody directed Dean to the bathroom to go change. Then Jody turned to Sam once more.

“Whatever he’s going through, I think you may need to consider finding her again. A guy like Dean doesn’t deserve to go down that road all over again.”

St. Paul, Minnesota.

You could feel the wind in your hair was your rollerblades carried you through town. You had taken a break from the tattoo career and decided you didn’t want to go back home to Cincinnati. Instead, you were traveling and learning new things. Sure you could have rented or even bought a different mode of transportation and you knew at one point you needed to insider it, but you wanted to explore on foot for a while, see how other people in your condition coped. Be a little nomadic for a while.

For the most part, traveling had been a good enough distraction from what you were deep down. After all, just because you were human now didn’t mean it got rid of all the skeletons in your closet. You still had a cross to bear and you were still trying to find a way to cope with certain urges.

So far you had ridden a train for the first time, which was how you got from Sam and Dean’s bunker to South Dakota, then you decided to hike to Minnesota, which was why you were here. People were interesting to say the least, you were learning a lot about humans. Some were kind, some were not so kind, others were outrageously hateful, and the ones few and far between were like saints.

You continued to skate around but then you could hear some distinct shouting. “Hey, look out!

The next thing you knew you crashed onto the ground but rather than feeling the hard concrete of the sidewalk beneath you, you felt something hard beneath cloth. When you opened your eyes and looked down, you realized you crashed into a man.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed and you got off him and tried to get up without rolling over his fingers or toes.

“Oh no, it’s fine. Accidents happen all the time.” The stranger said as he got up and dusted himself off and he looked at you. You were shorter than him even with the skates and he looked down at you.

“Are you alright? You aren’t hurt are you?” You asked, feeling so flushed, embarrassed. Feelings that were new to you but they were happening more often and you found it happened when you weren’t so cautious.

“Trust me, I’m alright.” The man chuckled and smiled at you. His eyes were a deep brown like his hair, he had some stubble but it suited him well. He was cute, you had to admit.

“Again, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” You questioned, honestly feeling so terrible but you were thankful that the man seemed pretty forgiving for the most part.

“Well, I suppose you could… accompany me to dinner tonight? I was on my way to find somewhere to go before I was crashed into.” He smirked, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans and you were stunned he was asking you to dinner, but you supposed it was the least you could do. Plus, you were starting to get hungry. Sometimes it was challenging maintaining a human body when it hungered.

“Well if we’re going out to dinner, don’t you think we should at least know each other’s names?” You questioned and he let out a little chuckle.

“Gotcha. Well, my name’s Ricky. And what might your name be?”

“Y/N.” You replied with a grin and he smiled back at you. It was a charming little grin so you couldn’t complain.

“Y/N… beautiful name. So, do you have some normal shoes to wear if we’re going out to dinner?” Ricky asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my backpack. I just need someplace to sit so I can put them on.” You insisted and Ricky nodded and he walked with you to a bench close by his car. You sat down and started taking off the roller blades. You took your tennis shoes from your backpack and put them on your feet and when you put your roller blades away, you stood up and Ricky started walking with you to the car.

Ricky was a gentleman, at least that was your first impression, and he opened up the car door for you. You thanked him and got inside the car. Then when Ricky started the car, he started driving off.

“So, how long have you been rollerblading?” Ricky asked as he hopped onto the road.

“Not long. Maybe a few weeks. Trying to pick up new hobbies. I’m not really that good, barely know how to use the breaks on these things.” You laughed and Ricky just grinned.

“Hey, it’s good to try something new. And you’ll get better with practice.” He said and you shrugged a little.

“I may pawn these off. Maybe I can get a few bucks off these before I head out of town.”

“Out of town?” Ricky asked, your statement peaking his interest and you nodded a little.

“Yeah… I’m a bit of a traveler.”

“Oh yeah? Where all have you gone?” Ricky continued.

“I’ve just come from South Dakota, hiked from there to here. I’m from Cincinnati but after a falling out with a certain group of people I’m… trying to find myself. So I figure traveling around may be the way to go at least for the time being.” You admitted and Ricky lifted a brow.

“You thought traveling around like some kind of vagabond would be a good idea? You must be awfully brave.” He said, “You know some people think that’s really dangerous. People get killed like that.”

“Trust me, I’m more than capable of handling myself.” You insisted, although you were now hating just what you were capable of. Something about the human conscience.

“I see… well, just be careful. You never know what kind of people are out there.” Ricky advised.

“Thanks for the advice.” You said and Ricky grinned.

“So.. what are you in the mood for? My treat.” He insisted and you glanced over at him.

“But… I’m the one that ran into you, shouldn’t it be my treat?” You said with confusion.

“No, you’re paying me back by being my company, remember?” He reminded you and you smiled.

“Well… I’m not that sure of where to go. I don’t really know of many good places here so your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well, why don’t we try Mexican?” He suggested and you nodded.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You agreed and not long after the decision was made, the two of you found a spot and Ricky parked his car in one of the parking spots. He opened the door for you once more and you thanked him before stepping out of the vehicle.

You and Ricky walked inside and the hostess lead you both to a booth where the two of you sat and continued a conversation. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, for a stranger.

“So, Ricky. What’s a guy like you doing asking strange rollerblading girls out to dinner?” You asked with a little grin and Ricky hummed a little.

“Actually, I’m sort of on a road trip myself with some friends of mine. We’re on our way to New York. I have a friend who’s a Broadway fanatic and he invited me and some other friends to come along. We’re coming from Montana and we stopped here to take a bit of a break from driving.” Ricky explained and you lifted a brow.

“Broadway, huh? What are guys planning on watching?” You asked.

“I think it’s called Little Shop of Horrors? Something about some man eating plant. I don’t think it will be my kind of thing since I’m not really a theatre kind of guy but hey, gives me something to do. It’s New York after all. Not every day you get to go.” He said and you nodded.

“Sounds like a fun adventure. I hope you and your friends have a great time.” You insisted.

“Yeah, me too. We’re headed out tomorrow morning.” He insisted and you hummed a little, but then one of the waiters came by to take your order. When the both of you placed your orders the waiter left yet again.

“So what sort of falling out did you have, if you don’t mind me asking? I mean you couldn’t have just woken up one day and decided to leave everything behind.” You heard Ricky say and you looked down at your drink, stirring the straw around.

“It’s… kind of a long story.” You admitted.

“I’ve got all night, and we may never see each other again so any secrets you’ve got are practically safe with me.” He pointed out and you supposed he was right about that.

“Well… when I lived in Cincinnati I was a tattoo artist. Had my own business and I was doing fine for about four years. Then these couple of guys came to my door and practically changed my life. They were brothers and they needed my help with something for their job. After I did what I could I kind of stuck around and one of them, named Dean, well he got into some serious trouble. He needed some help and I had experience in what he was struggling with and I was trying to make sure he wasn’t digging a grave for himself if he insisted on staying on the path he was on.” You said.

“Path? Was it like a drug problem or something?” He asked.

“Something like that. An addiction of sorts I guess. Anyway, it was killing him in a way but when he finally decided he didn’t want my help, I turned him over to his brother, Sam. After that, Dean was able to get better and things got squared away on his end. Then I decided to leave. For my sake I think it was better if I just left.” You sighed.

“What makes you say that? Was Dean an asshole or something? Did you have some kind of fling or something other complication?” He asked and you let out a bitter chuckle.

“You must be good at guessing… Yeah, we had a fling. It only happened one time, but a few nights before I left completely there was this argument we had and that’s what caused the falling out. He didn’t want my help anymore, so that was when I turned him over to Sam. It was better off that way.” You sighed and Ricky let out a hum.

“You sound like you don’t completely believe that.”

“I do,” You insisted, “but there are times when I wonder if I should have gone back to Ohio. Then again they knew where my shop was and I didn’t exactly want Sam or Dean to find me.”

“Ahh… that.. sort of makes a little sense? I guess?” He said unconvincingly, but that was when Ricky’s phone started ringing.

“Excuse me, I have to take this call.” He said and you nodded in understanding as he excused himself.

Several moments passed by after he excused himself to go outside and you started to grow worried. Had Ricky really ditched you? He seemed like a really nice guy so you hoped that wasn’t the case. But you supposed you could never know with certain strangers. Suddenly, out of nowhere came a bloodcurdling cry.

Someone ran inside and when you looked over, a woman was running through the front door of the restaurant.

“Someone call an ambulance! A man was attacked outside!” She exclaimed.

You stood up and ran out of the door, knowing you weren’t the only one that went to the door to see what happened. However, you were one of the first ones there and you saw Ricky there in a pool of his own blood, his chest ripped open and his intestines were on the ground. You head a few gagging noises and more screams of people that were’t used to seeing such a sight, but you. Scanned the area for anyone suspicious.

Then, you caught a glimpse of someone dressed in black running away. You took it upon yourself to run after the person and they saw you running, chasing them. The culprit started running faster and faster and you picked up your own speed just to follow them down some sort of alley.. When you did, they were cornered.

This person you could tell wasn’t anyone good. You knew they had something to do with Ricky’s death. Something deep inside you was beginning to cloud your mind, as much as you were trying to keep it at bay. The mark on your arm began to burn, giving you that thirst for bloodlust you had been doing so well at maintaining.

You slowly stepped forward, pulling out a knife from your jacket, “Now why would you go and ruin a perfectly good date. He was just a guy on the phone.”

“A wolf’s gotta eat you know. And I’m more than happy to claim seconds.” The creature said as its eyes changed color, fingernails turning to claws, teeth becoming fangs.

When the beast lunged forward, you got cut on your cheek. Of come it stung like Hell but no wasn’t the time to be fascinated by the fact you didn’t heal automatically. You felt that darkness overtake you and you started fighting back despite the werewolf’s inhuman strength and you used the blade, stabbing it in the heart.

It cried out and it fell to the side and you moved to where you were straddling it. You lifted the knife over your head and started stabbing the creature repeatedly in the chest, wanting to make sure it was gone for good.

What made you stop was the voices coming closer, asking if they heard some kind of commotion. You looked down at the blood on your hands, knowing this wouldn’t be good. You collected your composure before you ran off into the night, knowing that this would be an area you couldn’t visit again.

As you were running into the night, the smallest part of you wondered if you made a mistake by leaving Sam and Dean. You wondered if this adjustment would be too much to handle. After all, this was your first kill in weeks, what if things got worse and you found yourself turning into a murderer again? You wondered if you should risk the call.

As you ran through the woods, you found a cabin. You hoped it was abandoned and you rushed towards it. You peeked inside the windows and realized it didn’t look like anyone had been there in a long time. So you went to the back door to see if it was locked and luckily for you, it wasn’t. So you went inside and hoped you could lie low here at least for the night.

You collapsed on the couch and lied there, then you started to think of the feelings you had when you killed the werewolf.

These new feelings you were having were making you feel sick to your stomach at the fact that a part of you, the deepest and darkest part of you enjoyed the kill.

But it wasn’t human. The thing you killed was evil! It would have killed other unsuspecting humans just to eat their hearts. You did what a hunter would do and there was nothing wrong with that! At least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. Just because it was a monster didn’t mean it needed the overkill.

You wondered if that sickening enjoyment was hereditary. You hoped that it wasn’t.

You lifted an arm and rolled up your sleeve to reveal the mark. You hated what it was putting you through, hated the price that came with the mark. You weren’t sure if Sam found any leads on the Book of the Damned but you hoped he would find some clues soon for Dean’s sake. He deserved to be free from this curse.

You, however… you deserved the burden after all you’ve done in your centuries of existence. You deserved the endless Hell.

It wasn’t something you could escape from like you tried to do with the little date with poor Ricky… there would always be monsters out there.

And you were one of them.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @chriszgirl92 @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @deangirl96 @snowayumi @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @blackcherrywhiskey @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

#jensen ackles #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester ff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #mark of cain dean #mark of cain #moc dean #moc!dean

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bloatedandalone04 · 8 months

Text

Greatest Fan of your Life

➪the one where you get your wisdom teeth removed and bradley takes care of you.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of a bad past dental experience, mentions of teeth being removed...because, you know, mentions of blood, anesthesia, use of an iv, mentions of not eating properly, reader is going through it, bradley being the best boyfriend ever, literally wrote this because i just had three of my wisdom teeth removed and needed some comfort

Word Count: 5.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced up at the sign of the best dental office in San Diego. As you read over the sign a couple of times, Bradley reached over from his place behind the wheel and grabbed your hand. “How are you feeling?”

Tearing your eyes off the logo that resembled a tooth, you give him a weary smile. “I’m nervous,” you state the obvious in a quiet voice.

Bradley raised your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it before rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re going to be fine, pretty girl,” he said in hopes to provide you with some much needed comfort. “I’m going to be waiting right here when it’s over, and then we’ll go home and I’ll cater to your every need.”

You give him another smile and lean over to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I like the sound of that,” you murmur and he smiles back before placing another quick kiss to your mouth.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” He asks when he saw you reach for the handle.

“Please,”

And with that one word Bradley was hopping out of the Bronco and grabbing your hand as you both walked up to the door. He could feel just how tense you were and he wished there was something he could do to ease your nerves, even a little bit. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to help you, as having anything done to your mouth, from a filling to a simple clean, made you beyond nervous.

You had never liked the dentist, ever since you were a kid and they had to hold you down while extracting a tooth that was no good. They hadn’t given you enough freezing for it to numb properly, so you felt pretty much everything. Safe to say you never went back to that dentist office.

Maybe that was why you had waited so long to make an appointment to have your wisdom teeth removed. You were told back when you were twenty one that you should get them extracted as soon as possible, but that was ten years ago, and you still hadn’t booked the appointment.

You were fine, for the most part, up until a few weeks ago. You were barely able to chew tough foods because your gums ached beyond words, and you had resorted to drinking shakes to get you through the day. That was fine, until Bradley noticed you had lost a concerning amount of weight due to the lack of actual food you were getting into your body.

He went ahead and booked the appointment for you pretty much instantly after that. He had to sweet talk the lady on the other line, who was insisting that it should be you who was making the appointment, but she eventually gave in when he told her about your fear of the dentist.

Bradley still wasn’t sure how he had gotten away with that, but he was grateful nonetheless, even if you didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day after he informed you of your upcoming extractions.

While you were upset and scared, you were also glad you would be able to go back to eating solid foods in about a week after today.

That positive still didn’t help tune out all the negatives you were feeling.

As you walked up to the front desk of the office, you didn’t loosen your hold on Bradley’s hand once, not even when the lady behind the desk handed you a clipboard with papers you needed to sign since this was your first time in this office.

You both sat in the waiting room, and you were shaking so badly you were afraid your writing was so messy that you’d have to ask for a new page. With a nervous glance up at your boyfriend, he just pressed a kiss to the side of your head and took the clipboard from you, filling out your information for you. Most he knew off by heart, thankfully, and he handed it back to you so you could scribble down your signature at the bottom of the page.

It was only a few minutes after he handed the board back to the lady when your name was called. Bradley could tell that you were beginning to freak out once again, so he took your hand and walked with you over to where the procedure will be done.

“You’re going to be fine,” he assured you, his hands tilting your head up so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “It’ll take an hour at the most, and then we’ll be back home.”

You just nodded and allowed him to kiss your forehead. “I love you,”

“I love you, too,” and he watched as you were guided into the room by the assistant.

You hesitantly sat down on the chair and kept your eyes on the blank wall in front of you. Off to your left were various paintings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at them, despite them probably being there to calm down the patients. You were so nervous, you couldn’t even voice your opinions on the decor of the waiting room. This was by far the most elegant dentist office you had ever seen in your life.

The assistant took a seat next to you and began wiping down your forearm, and you began mentally preparing yourself for the eventual puncture of the IV. “How are we doing?” She asked softly. “Are you nervous?”

You give her a tight smile as she tosses the wipe into the trash can. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only a little bit,” she teased as the Doctor came in. “Your boyfriend mentioned that you have had some pretty tough times in the past regarding previous procedures. I want you to know that you have nothing to be afraid of. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod at her as the Doctor gently picked up the IV. “Hi, Y/n,” he smiled at you. “I’m Doctor Brown.”

“Hi,” you nearly whisper back.

He asked you the standard questions, like; are you taking any medication currently, are you a smoker, is there a chance you’re pregnant, when was the last time you had something to eat or drink. All that fun stuff you were barely able to answer.

“I’m going to insert the IV now, okay?” He asked and waited until you gave him verbal consent before gently piercing your skin with the needle. He looked at the fluid bag before sitting down on the other side of you and grabbing gloves. “I hear this is your first time with us, is that correct?”

You nod as he adjusts the chair so you are laying back. “It is,”

“And you have a reliable ride home?”

You nod again. “Yeah, my boyfriend,” you answer, wondering when exactly you were supposed to start feeling sleepy.

The assistant, whose name tag read Alia Clark, grabbed her own gloves as she asked, “What does your boyfriend do?”

“He’s in the navy,” you mumble with a small smile. “He’s an aviator.”

“Oh, wow,” she replied and smiled down at you before checking over your chart. “And what is his name?”

For some reason, that took you a bit longer to answer as you felt your eyes begin to feel heavy. “Bradley,” you were finally able to say. “His name is Bradley, but he also goes by his call sign, Rooster.”

“Rooster, huh?” Doctor Brown hums and you were only able to nod as you felt your eyes close.

“Don’t worry, Y/n,” you hear Alia say. “You will be back with Bradley, or Rooster, in no time.”

And that was all the assurance you needed before you let yourself fall asleep.

Bradley wishes he was able to stay in the room with you, but he knew he couldn’t, so he finally made his way back out to the Bronco once he saw the Doctor enter your room.

Once he was back behind the wheel, he sighed as he had an hour of time to kill.

He had taken the week off work, after informing Mav of your fear of the dentist. The older man seemed to have taken pity on you as he had no problem letting Bradley skip this week to look after you.

As he began to wait, he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to you, knowing you wouldn’t see it or read it until you were back home. You told him beforehand to take your phone away from you until the effects of the IV wore off completely, nervous that you would embarrass yourself if you were to go on it in your drug induced haze.

After typing out a sappy little message, Bradley ended it with a simple red heart before sending it, hearing the buzz of your phone from where it was on the center console.

He debated on whether or not he wanted to stay in the parking lot the whole time, or run out to the store to get some things that would help make the next few days easier for you.

He reluctantly chose the second option, as he knew you wouldn’t want him to leave your side once you were back home.

Bradley drove to the nearest store and bought a few packs of pudding, apple sauce, ginger ale, yogurt and even some more of those shakes you had been living off of, something he was still mad about as he hated the way you turned to practically starving yourself to avoid this appointment, before stopping by the pharmacy to pick up more painkillers.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the smallest bit excited to be the one taking care of you. Usually it was the other way around, with you being the one to look after him every time he returned home from his deployments. Whether that be with making him his favorite foods, giving him some much needed massages or simply just laying with him in bed for a few hours, it all made the welcome home much nicer than it would have been if he was still living alone and single.

This time he got to be the one to look after you, and he couldn’t wait to cater to your every need. He couldn’t wait to spend the whole week with you, even though you would most likely be miserable and uncomfortable due to the pain in your mouth. Still, he would do his best to make things better for you.

Your surgery should be over soon, so with twenty minutes left on the timer he set for himself on his phone, he drove back to the dental office and was back to waiting for you.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go in and wait for you inside, or if they’ll call him to come walk you out, but he decided to go in a bit early, anyway, and wait for you in the waiting room.

Bradley remembered when he got his wisdom teeth removed, back when he was still a teen. He remembered just how uncomfortable he was during the recovery days, and how he didn’t really have anyone to look after him. He got his aunt to drive him there and home, and she stayed with him for a few hours after the surgery, but eventually had to return to her own home.

He had to stick to sucking on popsicles and protein shakes until he was feeling well enough to go back to eating normal food.

He was completely on his own back then, and he’d make sure that wasn’t the case with you.

A few minutes go by, and when he heard the assistant call his name, he paused the latest newscast that he was watching on his phone and pocketed it before standing up. “How is she?” He asked as Alia getsured for the lady behind the desk to ring up the receipt. “How’d it go?”

Alia smiled at his multiple questions as she watched him insert his credit card into the machine. “It went well,” she answered and gave him another smile when he slipped the card back into his wallet and took the receipt from the receptionist. “She’s just resting now, but is able to go home since most of the anesthesia has worn off.”

He nodded and followed her back to where you were. She stepped aside as he entered the room and found you still laying on the chair, your eyes barely open as you stared blankly at the TV that was hung from the ceiling. “Hi, pretty girl,”

At the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you look over and tear up. “I don’t look pretty right now,” you mumble and try to avoid moving the cotton pads that were stuck to either side of your mouth.

Bradley hushed you and quickly walked around the chair so he could press his lips to your forehead. Your mouth and cheeks were swollen, and he could see a bit of blood on your bottom lip, but other than that, he still thought you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. “You do,” he said and grabbed your hand when you reached it out to him, careful to not touch the bandage from where the IV was inserted. “Mouth full of gauze and all.”

“You’re Rooster, I’m assuming?” Doctor Brown asked as he held a few pages of paper in his hand.

“She told you my call sign, huh?” Bradley shook his head while you avoided eye contact with him and instead decided to stare at the wall.

“She was the perfect patient,”

Bradley looked over at you and gently rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. “I believe it,”

Doctor Brown went over what exactly he and Alia did to you, before handing him a small bag that held antibiotics inside. The whole time you remained silent as you tried not to cry in front of the Doctor and assistant, squeezing Bradley’s hand whenever you felt the pain beginning to form.

“She should be okay now,” the Doctor finished with a smile at the two of you. “There should be no more pain from having them in. If there is still a bit of discomfort after about two weeks, come back in and we’ll check up on the healing process.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley answered and gently pulled you up from the chair. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you mutter as he guides you back towards the exit, with him carrying most of your body weight. He led you back out to the Bronco and helped put your seatbelt on before he was getting in on the drivers side.

“I know this will be hard for you to do,” he began, checking you over once more before putting the car in reverse and beginning to back out of the parking space. He puts his right hand on the back of your headrest and gives you a teasing smile before continuing, “But I looked it up and Google says you shouldn’t talk too much. It might interrupt the healing process.”

Despite him really wanting to hear all the odd things you’d say in your daze, he didn’t want you paying the price later by having a sore throat.

You send him a dirty look and raise your brow, as if to say, really?

He just winks at you after taking off his aviators and reaching over to gently place them over your eyes, sacrificing his own in hopes you would appreciate the gesture since you had forgotten your own during your rush to leave this morning. It was nearing the afternoon, so the sun was shining down on the both of you, but he would deal with it to make you more comfortable.

He was right about you appreciating it, as you give him a closed mouth smile, your cheeks puffed out due to the gauze. “Tell you what,” he says as he pulls out onto the main road, his right hand instinctively reaching over to trace random shapes onto the skin of your thigh. He keeps his left one on the wheel as he glances over at you, seeing your eyes already on him from behind the glasses. “Once we get home and you rest for a few hours, maybe we can go out and get milkshakes if you’re feeling up to it. Might help with the soreness.”

You instantly perk up at that and nod, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to your mouth. Bradley held back a laugh at your attempt to kiss the back of his hand, your lips clearly still numb as you couldn’t seem to get them to move properly.

He just gave you a grin when you looked over at him in defeat.

The swelling had gotten worse as the time went on, and your throat was dry beyond words. Bradley had guided you towards the couch as soon as you got home, flipping the TV onto one of your favorite shows and making sure you were comfortable before he was leaving to tidy up the small mess you had made in the bedroom a few hours earlier, when you couldn’t decide what to wear and had thrown multiple articles of clothing onto the floor.

Within minutes he was back at your side, your head resting on his lap as you stared at the screen of the TV. Bradley ran his fingers through your hair as you both watched the show, listening to your uneven breaths as you fought back grunts of pain.

He looked down and gently held your chin in between his fingers, squinting down at you as you opened your mouth. “I think it might be time to change the gauze, baby,” he murmurs and you wince in at the thought of seeing the bloody cotton leave your mouth.

Bradley gently sits you up before reaching over and grabbing the bag from the dentist and pulling out a fresh set of gauze.

After damping them with water, he sets them aside before mumbling a quiet, “Come here,” and he watches as you lean towards him and slowly open your mouth. Bradley caresses your jaw with one hand and uses the other to slowly pull out the bloodied gauze. He does it one by one, murmuring a soft, “I’m sorry,” when he sees the tears form in your eyes. He places both pieces of gauze on the palm of his hand before handing you the clean ones.

He sits with you until you’ve successfully placed the new cotton into your mouth, and then stands up to throw away the blood filled ones.

Once Bradley returns back to the living room, you move over and give him space to sit down before laying your head in his lap again and trying to focus on the show instead of the throbbing in your mouth.

With your head still feeling fuzzy and the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers running through your hair again, you give yourself a bit of relief and fall asleep.

When you woke up alone a few hours later, you noticed that Bradley had left the TV on and had also put your phone on the coffee table beside you. You could hear him doing something in the kitchen as you reached for it, and knowing him, he was probably making something to eat as his stomach was like a bottomless pit.

You sat up with a groan, still a bit groggy from the anesthesia, and unlocked your phone. Instantly, you were met with a couple of texts from your friends and family, and you smiled as you read them.

Mom: I heard from Bradley that it went well and you’re resting now. Call me when you’re feeling up to it. Love you x

Nat: I told you that there was nothing to be scared of. Have fun being stuck with Rooster for a week ;) Text me when you can!

But the one that had you smiling a little bit more was the one from Bradley.

Bradley ♡: I love you, pretty girl. I promise I will be there with you as soon as it’s done. I’m all yours for the next week, and after that.

You send him a heart emoji back, then realize that the gauzes are all soggy in your mouth, and you once again had to hold back a gag as you leaned over to put your phone back down.

When you bite too hard down on your cheek through the cotton, you wince and accidentally drop your phone onto the floor. It landed on the rug with a thud, and you heard the sounds coming from the kitchen stop.

Seconds later Bradley was standing in the doorway to the living room, a cloth in his hands and he was still chewing something as he asked, “Are you okay?”

You give him a thumbs up before pointing down at your phone.

He looks at it and shakes his head as he tosses the cloth back into the kitchen to find later, before crossing the room and picking up the device. “I knew giving you back your phone would be a bad idea,” he teased as he sat down next to you and gently ran his fingers along your still swollen jaw. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged and blinked away the remaining sleep from your eyes. “Dry,” you said and wince at how raspy your voice sounded.

Bradley nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Okay,” as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Do you feel like trying to drink something?”

You look up at him with a small smile. “Milkshake?”

He laughs and kisses your forehead. “We can go get milkshakes,” he says as he gently tugs on your lower lip with his thumb. “But first we need to change those again.”

You groan as he helps remove the stained gauze from your mouth again and wonder how he wasn’t grossed out by holding them in his hand. You supposed he’s seen and done worse, and he’s not exactly new to having your saliva on him.

He uses his free hand to grasp your chin between his fingers and tilts your head so the lamp next to the couch was able to shine somewhat into your mouth. “It doesn’t seem to be bleeding much right now,” he hums and stands up to toss the gauze away. “Do you want to see how it goes without them for a bit? Just until you get something into you. If it starts to bleed again after the shakes, I’ll help you put new ones in.”

You agree instantly, happy to be rid of the uncomfortable cotton for at least a little while. After he throws the used gauze out, he returns back to the living room with his keys and phone in one of his hands, the other free for you to hold as he held it out to you.

He pulls you off the couch and guides you back out to the Bronco, making sure to grab the bag that holds the gauze and meds that you would need to take afterwards. He knew it would be an early night as the medicine would most likely make you sleepy again, and that was why he waited until it was nearing eight before taking you out for milkshakes, so you could go back home and go to bed at a reasonable time.

Bradley couldn’t do much for your discomfort, but he could sure as hell keep your sleep schedule on track.

You leaned your head against the window as he drove into town, your eyes hazy as you listened to his quiet humming of the song that played on the radio. “I like your singing,” you murmur as you look at all the lit up shops that passed by. “You should do it more often.”

Bradley laughed from beside you as he pulled into the drive thru. “I sing all the time for you, baby,”

“I know,” you say and lift your head, looking over at him while he eyed all the flavors to choose from. “But I can never get enough of you, you know that.”

He lifted his hand and ran his knuckles along the bone of your cheek, admiring the way your pretty face looked in the dim lighting of the Bronco. “The feeling is mutual,” he grinned at you when you turned your head to place a kiss to the back of his hand. “What kind are you wanting to get?”

You hum as you lean over the center console, reading over the various flavors. “Strawberry,” you decide and run your nose along the sharp angle of his jaw. “Please.”

After ordering two shakes, and asking for a spoon, Bradley pulled into one of the many available parking spaces. He pulled off the lid of your shake and stuck the plastic spoon in it before handing it over to you.

He watched you carefully as he sipped on his own shake, holding back a laugh at how puffy your face is. Of course, you saw him shift out of the corner of your eye and turn to him with a raised brow. “Sorry,” he grinned and set his shake down in the cup holder. “You look like a chipmunk.”

You just shake your head at him and slurp on the spoon, waiting until the cold substance dripped down your throat before saying, “You’re laughing at me,” you state and hear him snort and cover his mouth. “I’m in pain and you’re laughing at me.”

That just made him laugh harder, and you found yourself smiling at the sound. “I’m sorry,” he says and reaches over to gently caress your swollen cheek. “You still look as hot as ever.”

You roll your eyes and bring another spoonful of the milkshake to your lips. “Liar,”

“I mean it,” he promised, running his fingers over your jaw in a feather light touch before pulling away. “You’re the sexiest chipmunk I’ve ever seen, baby.”

When you laugh loudly, you wince immediately after, and Bradley quickly decides that you’d most definitely be a lot more comfortable at home.

“Alright, I think we should get going. Are you okay to…eat that while I drive?” He asked as he sipped on his chocolate shake. You wave him off and take a much smaller amount on the spoon, knowing that Bradley would go off on you for spilling anything in his precious Bronco, but you also knew he’d wait until after you were feeling better. The thought had a warm feeling spreading all over your body, as did his next words, “Okay, we’ll head home. You should take one of the antibiotics, first.”

You agree, and he holds your shake as you take the pill into your mouth. After rummaging around in the back with his free hand, Bradley hands you a warm water bottle, and he puts a reminder in his head to put the bottle in the fridge once he got home.

“Okay?” He asked when you took back your milkshake.

You nodded and have him a half smile, “It’s probably going to make me tired,”

“I know, that’s a good thing. You should be pretty tired by the time we get back home, and then you can go to bed and sleep off a bit of the pain,” he pointed out as he put the Bronco in reverse. Before he actually started moving, he gave you a serious look. “Do not spill that shake, pretty girl.”

You laugh quietly and give him a side glance as you sipped a bit of the milkshake from the cup.

“I mean it, baby,” he was only half serious in his warning as he started the short ride back home, one hand on the wheel while his other one held his plastic cup. “That cute face will only get you so far.”

You just shake your head and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek that you couldn’t feel yourself do. Your lips were still numb, so you were really trying to be as careful as possible with not spilling your milkshake.

Luckily, you arrived back home without letting a drop hit a single spot in the interior of his Bronco, and Bradley gave you a chocolate tasting kiss as a reward as he led you back up to the house.

Once you were in your room, he helped dress you in one of his shirts and sweats. After concluding that the bleeding had stopped, he decided there was no need to shove move gauze into your mouth, as that would most likely make it start to bleed again.

He pulled back the covers and sat down next to you, smiling down at your emotionless face and tired eyes. “You doing okay?” He asked as he brushed away some of your hair.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, taking his hand in yours and trying to kiss it. He just grinned at your attempt. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Bradley leaned down and kissed your forehead gently. “I always will, you know that,” you nodded as he pulled away and stood up. “Do you want an ice pack for the night? Might help with the swelling.”

After thinking about it, you nod and wait for him to return back into the room with the ice pack. He wrapped it in a dish towel and gently placed it against your jaw before stripping down into just his boxer briefs.

He settles down in bed behind you, hesitant to touch you at the moment in case you needed space. When you just laughed quietly and grabbed his hand so you could wrap his arm around your waist, he inched closer to you and allowed you to rest the ice pack between his shoulder and your jaw. He was glad he put the towel around it, but he also wouldn’t have minded having to feel it unwrapped against his bare shoulder. He’d suck it up for you.

“I love you, pretty girl,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” you mumbled back, snuggling closer to him as the effects of the antibiotics began taking over your body.

As Bradley held you while you slept, he felt glad that he was the one you wanted to look after you. He loved you beyond words and he felt as though this was the beginning of his attempts to even out the balance in your relationship. It was you who constantly looked after him, and though he loved it, he also felt guilty that there weren’t many occasions where he was the one who looked after you.

After spending the day taking care of your every need and being the one person you wanted to see you vulnerable, he decided that after this he would put more effort into showing you how much he appreciated and adored you.

He was ready to move onto a new chapter in his life with you by his side, if the small box tucked away in his box of collectable cards was anything to go by.

All he had to do was hope you’d say yes.

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brainrotdotorg · 11 months

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The skills ranked by how nice they would be to cuddle

Logic: does not know how to un-tense even a little bit. His lack of physical stability makes him difficult to put any of your body weight onto. 2/10.

Encyclopedia: will probably read you something or just read out loud for his own enjoyment while you hold him. So his hands are gonna be occupied by holding the book— but he will always lean his head on yours if you put it on his shoulder, and that’s nice. His palms are a bit clammy anyway. 7/10.

Drama: I feel like he takes all the sheets for himself. And he can tell if you aren’t comfortable, and he’s gonna take it personally. Physically, his texture is lumpy but not unpleasant. 4.9/10

Rhetoric:will talk the whole time. If you listen to one sided political debates as ASMR, this may be a comfortable experience for you. Otherwise, I’m sorry he’s taking up a solid 89% of the bed. 3.4/10

Conceptualization: tries to get creative with it. Who gives a shit about spooning. Let’s invent “the tongs”. Definitely not boring to snuggle up with! 6.7/10 sometimes you don’t need to get experimental with it.

Visual calculus: knows exactly how to make the geometry of your bodies fit together in order to maximize comfort. The light coming off of him can lower down to an ambient dim. Very kissable lips that will give you a gentle smooch goodnight. Look, his eyes are half closed anyway, he wants to relax. Probably actually the best choice! 10/10.

Volition: matter of fact about it. Will stroke your hair until you fall asleep and is very valiant in making you cozy. However the moment you do start sleeping he slips away. 7.5/10 for cuddle experience itself but minus points for leaving : (

Inland empire: the starry bits can be fun to watch like one of those projector lights. Very skinny so not a lot to hold onto. Their heads weird shape means that you’ll have to get interesting with pillow formations but I think it’s worth the effort. 8/10

Empathy: knows exactly how you’re feeling but they feel obligated to listen to your innermost thoughts and opinions that really don’t matter that much, but they insist they want you to be SO comfortable. Dude, I don’t mind that you have sweaty hands. Keep them wrapped around me. 8.7/10

Esprit de corps: officer we’ve got a code 113, snuggle emergency, let me get up in your body gap and wear you like a blanket thank youuuu 9/10

Authority: he has to be big spoon or death. Does not give you the option to get up and turn the light off. No. Stay here and don’t you dare move. 5.2/10 it’s nice that he at least cares.

Suggestion: sure you can snuggle, but he convinces you to be in the position that he really wants to be in. The twisty bits are configured weird and when you figure out how to make it comfy you will not be able to adjust. 4/10

Endurance: will never be the first to get up. Almost turns it into a competition— look man, I’d love to lay with you all day, but I’ve got things to do. Super wide so he can be slept on like a bed though 6.1/10

Pain threshold: OW THERE ARE FUCKING SPIKES!!! Girl I love you but 0/10

Physical Instrument: too much of a jock to display any real tenderness. Holds you like he’s trying to suplex you horizontally. 5.2/10 for the muscle but he’s flexing the whole time.

Electro chemistry: how does it feel to be hugged by a dozen horny pythons? 9/10 if you’re looking to cuddlefuck 3.7/10 if not

Shivers: probably will not be able to fit on your futon. ??/10

Half light: if you can ignore the claws you won’t be able to ignore the teeth. Kicks and thrashes in her sleep. You can feel her heartbeat and it’s really fast. 4.2/10.

Hand/eye coordination: gives you a head rub and a back rub and a shoulder massage and a belly rub and . 9/10

Perception: will absolutely remark on ever sensation coming from you that she is experiencing. I’m glad I smell nice and I feel good and you can hear my breathing. She is also if a smoke machine was a person. 7/10

Reaction speed: speed is not an important component of cuddling. Can’t stop shifting around. Impossible to get comfortable with someone who wants to change positions every two minutes. If the remote falls off the couch, she will catch it. 2.8/10

Savoir Faire: six arms to hold you but he’s not gonna stop talking about his hustler bullshit. No head does make for some innovative cuddling positions though. 5.3/10

Interfacing: he would rather be holding a machine. If you wear anything with buttons or loose threads he’s gonna pull at them. He’s also for sure gonna talk about how ballpoint pens work. Maybe put on some how it’s made to watch in order to keep him entertained. 6.3/10

Composure: take composure’s portrait. Now turn it 90 degrees. That’s how composure cuddles. 1/10

#disco elysium #the skills #the furies

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galebrainrot2024 · 3 months

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Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 12

Oh boy, I am excited about this one. Enjoy it folks. Gale's point of view.

As Gale handed Tav the variety of spices, her expression suggested she was presented with something vile and putrid. Gale couldn’t suppress the chuckle that bubbled from his lips and when she shot him a withering glance, he blushed sheepishly, his lips turning into a lopsided grin. “Sorry - it’s just - if you could have seen your face… you would have thought I was handing you lumps of Myconid flesh to cook.” Gale gazed down at Tav, his chest tightening as she studied each of the bottles carefully. It was endearing, how her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in confusion, trying to deduce what was in each glass.

Gale bit the inside of his lip and sat beside her, resting his fingers over hers on the jar she was holding. He wanted - needed - to chase the rush that clouded his judgement anytime their skin made contact. He had forgotten what it felt like, to touch mortal skin in this way… where there is an undercurrent of things unspoken, where the fabric of one’s DNA shakes with anticipation. It was electric, intoxicating and it was a sensation he had forgotten. One benefit of being mortal, he supposed.

“This is thyme,” he said, fingering the plant and relishing in the warmth of her finger against his. He felt redness flower across his face, betraying his desire despite the innocent topic. “It can be peppery and sweet…” Gale frowned and laughed, pulling his hand back to brush his thumb across his lip. “I’m not sure I’ve ever tried to describe its flavor before. It’s more difficult than I anticipated.”

“Gale admitting a flaw?” Tav said, clutching her chest in mock astonishment. “Mark it in the books.” Was she teasing him? After she had been yelling at him moments ago? Gale shook his head from the whiplash although he found it exciting, curious. Like the unsolvable puzzles that stumped many of their classmates, Gale needed to understand her. He realized despite all their time together, both in youth and at present, he hardly knew anything about her at all.

Gale pursed his lips and felt the desire stir. It provoked him, a budding irritation meshing with something more. Despite his endeavors, the feeling would not be ignored. His brows rose and he let out a low, deliberate laugh and made a light ‘tut’ sound. “It doesn’t happen often, so don’t get too confident alright? You don’t even know what thyme is.” Gale felt his mouth go dry when he saw the red that streaked Tav’s face after he spoke, how she looked up beneath full lashes, her eyes set on his.

My gods.

Perhaps it was the way the fire danced across her skin and hair, or the way she held the glass like it was drow poison. Perhaps it was her sudden vulnerability, or ineptitude with this basic survival skill. Gale’s mind went off on a tangent, bewildered: Seriously, how could she not know how to cook? Anything? Not even an egg? Not a piece of toast? Truly, nothing? With that clever mind of hers? How did she take care of herself? She must have been living off something... she didn’t even try to learn? That can’t possibly be.. I must have learned how to cook my first meal when I was eight, at least… did she try to use the weave, I mean I just…

But the thoughts were simply a distraction from how he felt unsteadied. As if he was asked to stand on one foot and someone pushed him over. It was a surreal experience and felt outside of his body, his face moving towards hers as if by magnetic force. The way her breath hitched as Gale began to lean brought him back to the present and he paused.

He inhaled steadily, his lips parting and pulled his head back from her. “Well…” Gale cleared his throat though his voice was thick with arousal, “it goes well with lemon, rosemary, and it can take a chicken and make it fresh, vibrant even. Erm…” he sighed, the air thick between them and felt almost as if it would materialize as a solid wall.

“Am I interrupting?” Astarion’s caustic voice cut their tension and Tav scooted away from Gale, her eyes flashing to Astarion and then back to Gale. Her brows furrowed softly and her eyes hinted at a deep, unaddressed sadness. Gale felt his heart reach out for hers, begging her to stay with him.

But she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t - he’d given her no reason to.

So when Tav spoke it took him entirely by surprise. “I’m not sure - Gale?” When Tav’s eyes locked with his he felt his stomach implode on itself and he nearly lunged for her lips. He shook his head a little and for the first time in a long while was at a loss for words.

“Ugh,” Astarion said, breaking Gale’s trance. Astarion’s arms waved in front of Gale’s face, as if to test if he were awake. “Hello? Is there a Gale in there I can speak to? Or has the orb fed on that brilliant mind of yours too?”

Gale’s face darkened and his nostrils flared. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern. How generous of you.”

“Pah!” Astarion’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung wide open, a slight smirk on his lips. Gale read the hunter’s gaze in Astarion’s eyes as he walked slowly towards them, one arm hooked across his chest to support the other. He was looking at his nails. “You know, your personality doesn’t do a lot for you, Gale.” Astarion looked down at Gale from his nails, his lips downturned. “I’m surprised a Goddess picked you as a chosen, let alone a lover. You’re as dull as your food is.”

“Hm.” Gale stood, his fingers curling into his palms, his nails biting into the soft flesh. He cupped two fingers around his lips, the other on his hip and took a step towards Astarion, a smug grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward, “Thank you for your feedback. I shall be informing our companions that tonight, you are the chef and if they have any complaints they can take it up with you.”

Gale shot his eyes to Tav who looked mortified, ashamed, and pleading. Gale shook his head almost imperceptibly and headed towards Karlach’s tent.

“The fucking nerve of him…” Gale was shouting, his hands flaying as he paced through the tall grass, arguing with the invisible Astarion. It was late and Gale had dragged Karlach out to seek her counsel. Rather, to rant. As Gale paced wildly, Karlach watched in abject horror and simultaneous glee. Gale knew she was probably getting a kick out of this and would likely try to provoke him further.

“Okay, grandpa, settle down,” she said affectionately but Gale turned and frowned dramatically, pointing a finger. I knew it, he thought.

“This is no time for joking.”

“Actually this is the perfect time for joking.” Gale huffed and Karlach responded with a chuckle. “You need to cool down and I’m just trying to dump some water on those fires there, metaphorically speaking.” She laughed again at her own joke though her voice was kind, “Morbid, but true.”

Gale’s anger was no match for Karlach’s infectious energy. It was difficult to be angry when Karlach was as she was. So earnest and exuding with life. Happy to be alive, and grateful for it, unbothered by what had yet to come. She was not trapped in the endless loop of nostalgia, of what could have been - she lived fully and unapologetically in the present. It was a trap Gale needed desperately. She also shared an intimate understanding with what it meant to be faced with the possibility of death before the tadpoles. Gale couldn’t remember the last time he had a friend like Karlach.

For the matter, he couldn’t recall the last time he had a human friend.

Apart from Elminster, but he hardly counted. The realization struck Gale with a profound sadness and he shuddered involuntarily. “Oh.”

Karlach gave a small head-shake in bewilderment from Gale’s abrupt change in demeanor. “You and her are cut from the same cloth, I’ll tell you that much.”

Gale frowned, crossing his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh my gods…” Karlach laughed harder now, exasperated and tapped a finger against her skull. “What is it about Wizard’s mate? Always needing to tell them the proper answer? Open your eyes, Gale. Not a few hours earlier Tav was crying over that ring I gave you and then maybe an hour later was chatting you up, flirting, laughing at the fireside.”

“She was not flirting.” Gale shot, insistent, and looked down. That couldn’t be true. It was all in Gale’s head, the energy, the sensations - it was because he’d been deprived of human contact for so long, and she evoked such a visceral response in him. He had loved her before he even knew what love felt like. He then returned his gaze, almost hopefully to Karlach. “Was she?”

Karlach sighed dramatically and closed her eyes, sighing and ran her hands over her face. “I can’t do this with you mate, I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” She turned to head back, “I’ve already spelt it out for you, since apparently you are incredibly smart and, I say this with love, incredibly stupid at the same time. Open your eyes, or don’t, but don’t say I didn’t try to tell you. Don’t let jealousy or insecuirty get in your way of a meaningful connection. If you could see what I do… you wouldn’t be asking me these questions. I'd do anything to touch someone again - and you have the possibility of that, and more besides. Don't waste that.”

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3 #bg3 brainrot #gale #gale x tav enemies to lovers #gale x tav fic #bg3 fanfiction

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sammy8d257 · 3 months

Text

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 3)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4740

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, allusions to unhealthy eating habits

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

(BRO I SWEAR I DID NOT MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER. God I'm just happy its finally out now. I can't believe Day 1 is almost 4x the size of Day 0. alkslgjsdkgdls [head in hands] I hope you guys enjoy this!)

= O = o =

It was a little past 2 pm by the time they both were done eating.

King finished last and took the initiative to add their bowls to the pile in the sink. He made a mental note to rinse off the dishes and throw them into the dishwasher later. Turning back towards the table, King watched Purple place the now empty container back into their pink tote. A satisfied smile was on their face and King could feel it mirrored on his own.

"Sooo…" Purple glanced back at him as King spoke. "What now?"

"Now?" The younger stick said as they straightened and fully turned to face the other. "Now it's time to do the second part."

King tilted his head in confusion. "Which is?"

"I'm going to help you clean your house."

"Oh," The orange stick paused, the statement not fully registering. "Wait, you are?"

Purple nodded. "Of course. I can't just leave you to clean your entire house by yourself."

And at that, King just nodded. Really, he should have expected this to be Purple's response. With how dedicated they were to helping him, he should have assumed it would also extend towards his home as well.

"Yeah, okay that's," King stole a glance at the full sink at his back. "That would be nice. Thank you."

A smile so bright, King could have sworn the entire room got lighter, lit Purple's face at his words. After a moment, the younger stick figure coughed into their fist, their expression returning to something more neutral, but King could see the corners of their mouth were turned upwards.

"Right, ahem- So, I was thinking we could start by clearing out the easy stuff first," Purple made a hand wave gesture in the air. "You know, like all those books and stuff on the ground? We should organize those first before we clean anything else."

King nodded slowly as Purple explained their thoughts. Overall, it was a solid plan and a pretty easy one at that. Although the effects of the painkillers have since kicked in, King was still pretty tired and sore from the previous day. And Purple was right. The main room of the house was a mess of failed experiments, boxes, papers, and books. It would need to be cleared out first before any additional cleaning could take place. And really, it wouldn't take that much physical effort to organize through what could be kept and what could be discarded. At most, it would take a bit to gather everything.

With a final nod, King loosely crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "That sounds like a great idea."

Again, a grin broke out on Purple's face and they patted their pink tote once before taking a step towards King.

"Then let's get started."

Armed with a plan, clearing the main room goes incredibly well with various jobs being split between them. While King gathered all the discarded staff prototypes and welding tools, Purple went around the room collecting any easily picked up items. These ranged from small boxes to books to stacks of paper. Luckily for the two of them, objects like the daggers and the welding equipment that were strewn about the floor, were previously stowed away during the time Purple spent under King. The blanket that originally housed the pile of medical supplies was cleared away (King's bed becoming its temporary holding spot) and the piles of metal and books took its place.

From there, the pair set about organizing through their respective piles. The staffs were sorted into reusable scrap metal, sellable scrap metal, and trash. Although Purple had no knowledge of experience in the field, King occasionally asked their opinion on the viability of some metals.

"What do you think about this one?"

"Oh! Um, it's a very nice blue color! If you can't reuse it for anything, maybe you can get more for it because it's pretty?"

"Hmm… Probably not, unfortunately. It's painted aluminum. It might not sell as well but it should still be worth something."

Likewise, from their seat on the floor, Purple sorted through the stacks of books King had collected throughout the year. Originally, Purple had planned to just gather all the books and then place them on the bookshelf for future King to sort through, but upon picking up a book with a very clear library sticker along its spine, a separate pile was quickly formed.

King to his credit, looked incredibly embarrassed as Purple held a library copy of Welding for Dummies in the air.

"In my defense, I forgot I went there."

"Uh huh, and how long have you had these for?"

"Uh-"

"King."

"Only a couple of months-"

"King-"

"-to maybe a year?"

"King! That's a really long time!"

"I know! I know! I mean, hopefully if the book is still fine, we can return it and only have to pay the late fees and not the replacement costs!"

"Hmmm… let's just see how many there are."

By the time both of their original piles were gone and sorted, a couple of hours had passed. The afternoon sun still shone through the window casting the room in a warm glow.

King's pile of sellable scrap was not as large in comparison to his other piles of trash and parts that could be reused in future projects. Those piles contained bits of combined metal that King created in his attempts at making the perfect staff, so it made sense why the scrap yards probably wouldn't buy it from them. Though, despite the sellable pile being smaller, King reassured both Purple and himself that it would be enough to sell for a decent sum of money.

On the other side, Purple ended up with a stack of about 9 returnable and two damaged library books (turns out oil and burn marks are hard to get out of paper). Next to it was another stack of books that King owned and two boxes that Purple used to hold all the research paper found in the room. It was decided that the library books needed to be returned regardless of their physical status and to get their fees paid.

The two of them sat back and took a moment to admire their work.

"Huh, well that wasn't too bad," King remarked, stretching out his back to release some tension. "And it only took us until… 6:30?!"

King's mouth hung open in shock. True to his words, the clock's keys pointed a little past the half hour mark.

"Huh… I guess so," Purple squinted up at the clock before turning towards King. "I'd say it's about dinner time, right?"

The older stick figure blinked, taking a moment to register the other's question before nodding. Despite having eaten hours ago, all the manual labor had worked up an appetite in him.

Purple tapped their chin. "We already finished all the food I brought. So how about you wash up and I can get started on something to eat?"

A noise of protest sounded from King but was almost immediately shushed as Purple stood up. They had a sheepish look on their face.

"Don't worry about it. I like cooking! Plus uh…" Their eyes landed on King's hands and grimaced. "You've been touching metal for the past few hours. I don't think you should be handling food right now."

An embarrassed blush crept up his cheeks. Lightly, King wiped his hands along the bandages on his stomach, only to wince when it left a coppery brown stain.

"Ah."

"Yeah…"

"I should probably go clean myself up."

"It would be for the best."

Purple shot him a small smile as King hissed out a breath and stood up. Turning on his heels, King made his way towards the hallway bathroom as Purple headed towards the kitchen. Once again back in the bathroom, the formerly royal stick took a moment to reassess his bandages. Aside from metallic markings along his midsection, the rest of the wraps looked fine. He figured he probably didn't need to change them yet and instead opted to use a slightly damp paper towel to clean up the residue.

He had just finished his clean up when a call caught his attention.

"Hey uh, King? I think there's a problem."

King frowned. He stepped out of the bathroom door to find Purple poking their head out from the living room archway. They looked nervous but also slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong?" King asked. Purple stared at him, eyes narrowed, as he walked down the hall.

"You don't have any food here," They replied. "Or rather, the only food you have are boxes of instant macaroni and cheese, and ramen packets."

King raised an eyebrow at the younger stick figure's words. "Do you… not like mac and cheese?"

Purple huffed, the frustration growing on their face. "I do, but why are these the only sources of food in your house? You have a half quarter of milk in your fridge but you don't even have any cereal to go with it!"

King shrugged. "I'm not much of a cook."

And Purple sputtered as he sidestepped them to enter the main room.

In all honesty, King didn't really know why Purple was getting so worked up over this. Sure it wasn't ideal, but food was food. The easier it was to make, the easier it was for King to dedicate more time towards his goals. Though that was in the past, right now he was more focused on just getting something to eat.

From behind, Purple caught up with his walk towards the kitchen and fell in step. "Has that all you've been eating?" They asked quietly.

King shrugged again, taking a moment to glance back at the other. Their mouth was a hard line. "I also get takeout a lot."

Purple's face pulled into a scowl.

"What was the last thing you ate?"

King blinked. "Aside from that thing you brought? Um… "

He squinted at the pile of dishes in the sink, trying to remember if the last thing he consumed was cooked or bought. "You know, I don't remember but it was probably ramen."

A hiss of air escaped Purple's mouth as they mumbled something under their breath. After a moment they sighed. "Let's just… order something."

"Alright," King said as he made his way to the kitchen counter.

From one of the drawers, King pulled out various takeout menus. There were menus for pizza, Italian, Mexican, American, and Chinese cuisine, all of which looked worn from use and sporting little golden stars next to specific menu items. He handed them to Purple for them to look over.

"Pick something, I don't really care what you want," he explained, pulling out his phone. "Just let me know what you want and I can order."

The kitchen was quiet after that as Purple shifted over the pamphlets. After a moment, they silently handed the menu for a local Chinese restaurant over to King and told him what they wanted.

One phone call later and an order of vegetable lo mein, sweet and sour chicken, and a side of white rice was set to arrive in 30 minutes.

With that taken care of, King turned back towards Purple. Said stick figure was staring at his fridge with an unreadable look on their face. The orange stick chewed at the inside of his cheek. Was having an understocked fridge that bad? Sure it wasn't ideal but it never really bothered him. He didn't have time to go to the store that often and he was doing fine eating what he had on hand. Caring about food gets a lot harder when it's only yourself you're caring about.

Still, the stare that Purple gave made him uneasy.

"So… um," King said, breaking the awkward silence. "Let's say that I did have ingredients. What would you have made?"

Purple blinked in surprise. They brought a hand up to their chin and hummed.

"It depends on the type of ingredients you had on hand," King watched as they glanced around the kitchen. "Probably would have made something easy on the stomach. Maybe a soup?"

"Oh! Like that porridge thing you brought for lunch?" King asked. A small smile formed on Purple's face.

"Lugaw, it's called lugaw. It's a rice porridge dish," They said softly. "My mom used to make it for me whenever I got sick."

"Aw, that's actually really sweet-" And not for the first time today, King felt like ice water was dumped down his back.

Mom.

He jolted from his spot against the counter. "You're not a desktopper?"

Purple flinched, on guard from the sudden tone change. "What?"

"You're not a desktopper?!" A roaring panic rose in King. "You have a parent?"

"I mean-"

"You were born?!"

Whatever Purple said in reply drowned in the sea of King's racing thoughts. If Purple wasn't a created stick from someone's desktop or from some other media, then that meant they were born. And that meant they had a parent or guardian.

That meant he almost killed someone's kid.

"KING!"

Purple had his arms in a tight grip. They were trying to coax them down from their place at the sides of King's head. Huh, when did they get there…

Just like before, they were gentle in their actions, voice soft and calming even if he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually, panic subsided and all that was left was a hollow numbness in his chest. Purple had settled themself next to him.

"King… are you-"

[DING DONG]

Two pairs of eyes shot up at the sound of the doorbell.

King startled, moving to push himself off of the counter but Purple shook their head.

"The door, the food-" King rasped. Purple only shook their head harder and pushed him towards a kitchen chair.

"Sit," They commanded. "I got it. Where's your wallet?"

King gestured towards the main room. "At my desk. Top left drawer."

The younger nodded. "Okay. Stay here. Focus on your breathing. I'll be right back."

And with that, they turned and hurried out of the kitchen.

Slumping into his seat, he could hear the faint sounds of Purple talking to the delivery guy. King groaned and buried his head into his hands. His mind was a mess of guilt and embarrassment. Guilt over the thought of nearly inflicting the same lonely torment he endured on to an innocent mother, and embarrassment because what the Flash was wrong with him?

Having the occasional breakdown every couple of weeks (or days) was fine but multiple times in one day? That was absurd.

Purple probably thinks I'm a nutcase.

He felt pathetic. But before he could spiral further, Purple strode in with a brown paper bag in hand. King lifted his head to watch as they gently placed it on top of the table. They shot him a glance with a question clearly forming on their lips but King paid them no mind. The smell of noodles and chicken was already distracting him from his previous thoughts.

"I used one of your 20s. The amount was $18.48. The change was $1.52," Purple quietly said and placed King's wallet within his reach. "You can check to see it's all there."

He glanced down at it, taking a moment to gauge Purple's own stare, before picking it up and tossing it onto the counter.

"Thanks," He muttered before turning back to open the bag. The other end of the table was silent as he pulled out the cartons of food and chopsticks. King could feel Purple's eyes on him but he ignored them, instead focusing on arranging the food out on the table. After a moment, he heard Purple sigh and move towards the dish cabinet.

They arrived with two plates, two forks, and a spoon as King finished opening all the takeout containers. They stuck the forks into the lo mein and sweet and sour chicken, and the spoon into the rice. With that they handed King one of the plates and settled into their seat across the table.

It was quiet as the two sticks added food to their plates and it stayed quiet as they began to eat.

King chewed on his chicken as he eyed Purple. The younger stick wasn't looking at him but he could tell that they had something on their mind. He cringed. No doubt Purple was going to ask him about his whole "freakout" over learning they had a parent. He gnawed on his chopstick. He hoped Purple didn't ask him too many questions. Frankly, even he didn't know why he reacted so viscerally and he did not want to explore those feelings at this moment.

From across the table, Purple took in a breath and King mentally prepared himself for the confrontation.

"Do you know of any places that buy scrap metal?"

He blinked. That certainly wasn't what he expected Purple to say. Though, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that the topic of conversation was about the future and not the past. If Purple didn't want to bring up what happened in the last half hour then King was more than happy to sweep it under the rug.

King stuck his chopsticks into his noodles, "There's a few places we can head too. Copper and Steel is the closest one but Mety's has better prices."

Purple nodded. "Which one is closer to the library?"

"None of them are close per say, but C&S is on the same side of town at least," King chewed thoughtfully. "Why? Are you planning on checking some books out?"

"Well no," the younger stick answered. "I just thought that since we'd already be out, we could also get the rest of the errands done at the same time."

King paused, mulling over what Purple suggested. "Hmm… You know, that's not a bad idea. Nice thinking Purple!"

They beamed at him. "Thank you! So it's settled. We'll go to the metal place, the grocery store, and the library."

King nodded along. "Metal, grocery, library… That sounds good- Wait grocery?"

The orange stick looked over to Purple in confusion, second-guessing whether or not he heard them right. Purple, to their credit, held his gaze and blinked almost innocently at him.

"Well you did say we could go run some errands while out," Purple said nonchalantly. "Wouldn't it also make sense to get some groceries?"

King slowly blinked at Purple, taking in that little bit of sleight of hand. A disbelieving smirk formed on his face.

"You sly little stick," King shook their head and chuckled. "Alright, I get it. I need more food in the house. We'll go get some tomorrow."

The grin sent his way could only be described as self-satisfied as the purple stick hummed and took another bite of noodles. King couldn't help the snort of laughter at the younger's action as he shook his head again and continued to eat.

With plans for the next day sorted, the two started chatting about how to continue cleaning. It was decided that King would work on finding some sort of means of transportation to help carry the metal and books for tomorrow. Once that was done, he'd start sweeping the floors. Purple in the meantime, would focus on putting the remaining books onto King's shelf. After that, they would organize the rest of the papers and miscellaneous boxes on the floor for King to look through in the future.

Over food and conversation, the outburst from before slowly slipped from their minds and neither of them were too sad to see it go.

= O = o =

Nearly half an hour later and their Chinese takeout dinner was done. Just like before, King grabbed the used dishes and placed them into the sink while Purple gathered the leftovers and placed them in the fridge. With their meal complete, they made their way to the main room where King rummaged through his storage closet in search of bags big enough to hold pieces of metal. Purple busied themself with reorganizing medical supplies left out on King's bed.

By the time King had found a couple of sturdy yard bags, Purple had deposited the various items into one of the empty boxes from the floor. As he approached them, they carefully scooted the newly christened medical box to the head of the bed by the shelf. From there the pair started going about their assigned tasks to tidy up the main room. They worked in a comfortable silence with only the occasional comment or question interrupting their work flow.

This is nice, King thought to himself. How long had it been since he had another person in his space like this? Sure, Purple was there to help with the Minecraft plan but that felt different. He paused his sweeping to watch them work.

They were short, a whole head shorter than King and that left them on their tip-toes as they slotted some books back on the top shelf. Despite the inconvenience, Purple had a look of determination on their face. It reminded him so much of the antics Gold would get up to…

A feeling akin to fondness bubbled in King's chest and he shook his head to clear it. He turned back to his broom and he continued sweeping.

It was nice to have someone around again.

It wasn't until the sound of an alarm broke the quiet within the house, causing King to jump and Purple to scramble for their blaring phone. With a quick tap on the screen, the room fell back into silence.

King shook his head, a hand on his chest. "What was that?"

Purple, with their phone still in hand, blushed and rubbed at the back of their neck.

"It's my bus alarm," They said sheepishly. "It takes about 10 minutes to get to the nearest bus stop so I set it so I'd have enough time to get there."

"You're leaving?"

They nodded. "It's already almost 9. I'd like to get some sleep for tomorrow."

"For tomorrow? Yeah! That's right! You're coming back tomorrow?" Of course they'd be coming back. A few hours ago they made plans to meet back up the next day but that still didn't stop the hopeful lift in King's voice. If Purple noticed it, they didn't say anything.

"Mmhmm. I promised to help you, didn't I?"

"I mean, yes, but-" He stumbled over his words, a previous concern pushed itself to the front of his mind. "But, you also have to help yourself. Or, at least let me help you too."

The younger stick had started gathering their belongings into their pink tote but stilled at his words. Their eyes darted to meet his before darting down towards the medical box. For a moment, King thought they were going to protest like they did before but after a moment, they sighed and reached to pull out a roll of bandages and a bruise cream tube. They tossed those items into their bag.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"So… I'll see you tomorrow then?" A goodbye posed as a question, a small awkward smile formed on King's face. Purple readjusted the strap on their bag and hauled it over their shoulder.

They locked eyes with King and with a look that could almost be considered fond, replied, "I'll see you in the morning."

Then without a word, Purple turned and left the house, the door closing with a soft click.

A second passed, then two, then three. There King stood, staring at the closed door. Slowly, he turned around to face the rest of the room. It was silent again, but for once, it didn't feel as oppressive as it once did.

Maybe it was because for the first time in a while, the house was clean. Well not clean but it was as organized and tidy as it could be given the circumstances. Maybe it was because of the food King ate. He hadn't eaten that fully in a while. Or maybe it was because he wasn't alone anymore. Sure his house was empty at the moment, but Purple had promised to come back tomorrow morning. Even if they were… weird (and they were, a voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably assess those comments and actions he had filed away) but their help equaled companionship and who was King to complain?

Whatever the reason was at the moment, it was lost on King as he shuffled quietly towards his bed. The events of the day had well and truly begun to hit him. He was tired but it was a good tired. A satisfied tired. One that reminded him of trips spent camping from years ago.

Dimly, he knew he probably should clean himself up before going to sleep. He needed to brush his teeth, wipe the dust off himself, recheck his bandages…

But as soon as he locked eyes with the bed, he knew what his main priority was.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

= o =

Purple pressed their forehead against the bus's window, its coolness doing wonders for easing the tension in their head.

They were… content, for lack of a better word. King had a smile on his face when they left so they must have done a good job.

The closest bus stop to their apartment was on West 9th street. Glancing at the screen near the front of the bus, told them they had just turned on off of 5th Avenue. Purple closed their eyes. They had 10 more stops left before they had to get off.

Today went well. Not as smoothly as they had hoped it would but they were always ready to roll with the punches. Maybe they were just rusty when it came to this type of helping.

9 stops left.

A series of giggles and poorly hushed laughter brought Purple out of their thoughts. Cracking an eye open, they watched as a group of nicely dressed stick figures passed by their seat and took some of their own seats near the back. They looked to be around Purple's age and were excitedly discussing a new club that opened up. Purple closed their eyes again, letting their chatter fade into the background.

8 stops left.

King had been right. And that meant Purple had been wrong. But that was fine. Purple was wrong about a lot of things. That just meant they had to try harder to learn what was right for King.

7 stops left.

Today they learned that what they say can come off as condescending, even if that wasn't the original intention. King is more than capable of helping himself. Purple is there to only aid in his recovery and to make things easier. They owed it to him.

6 stops left.

Don't assume to know what's best, even if it worked well with their mother. King is not the same. Similar but not the same. Purple couldn't forget that.

5 stops left.

One of the stick figures for the group had pulled the cord, signaling for the bus to stop. Purple blinked and watched as they filed excitedly off the bus. One stick, lilac in color, met Purple's gaze. They smiled at them, giving a curious but confused stare back before a friend pulled them towards the nightlife. For one brief moment, Purple felt a pang of jealousy.

4 stops left.

They shook that thought out of their head and refocused their eyes out onto the familiar lamp post lit streets. Going out to "party" was not important.

3 stops left.

Two old men climbed onto the bus and sat in the front, quietly chatting about their day. Trying to get friends was not important (at least not yet, a smiling green face flashed across the back of their mind).

2 stops left.

A mother cradling a sleeping toddler walked off the bus. The child snuggled closer as the summer air hit their skin. Helping King was important. And by proxy, so was Purple. The bandages felt tight on their skin.

1 stop left.

The tired stick lifted their head from the window. They had a job to do. Nothing else should matter. They just needed to keep their priorities straight.

Purple pulled the cord and the bus slowed to a stop.

#Sammy8D writes #AvAM In the Week that Follows #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvM fanfic #alan becker #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #animation vs minecraft #avm shorts #avm #King stick figure #the King #AvM King #AvA King #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

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greentrickster · 2 months

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Had the most amazing experience on Saturday. Was dropping off a couple plush mages to the store that sells them for me downtown, because a couple had sold over the past few weeks and I try to be a good supplier.

It only takes a few minutes and I'd already paid for parking, so I decided to linger and look around the shop a bit, because it's a cool place where there's always a chance something new has arrived if you haven't been there for over a week. It's fantastic. If you told me there was some actual magic in this place I'd believe you, and I've been in the employees-only area.

Which is why I was present, leafing curiously through a book on the making of the movie Chicken Run, to hear a guy behind me loudly proclaim, "Forty dollars for this?! I could make this!" I'm aware that the things in this store can be pricy, but also that a lot of the stock is made by local crafters, like me, meaning prices can be a bit higher due to the fact that you're getting something hand-crafted instead of mass-produced. So I turn around to see what he's complaining about.

And this guy is holding a wooden wand that is unique, one-of-a-kind, hand-crafted from solid wood. All things I know at a glance because, as it happens, I'm not the only person in my family who sells stuff at this store... my dad does as well. And he's the one who made that wand.

Now here's the thing. My dad's part of the local woodturner's group, wood turning being a method of carving that involves spinning a chunk of wood on a high-speed lathe while holding a bit of sharp metal against it until it turns into a wand, bowl, cup, vase, what-have-you. It's a highly-skilled craft that requires a lot of practice and and specialized tools, which he picked up after retiring but before going back to work, and he's been practicing and perfecting the required skills for at least fifteen years. If he likes (and he does like), he can get a wooden sphere carved and polished to such a sheen and smoothness that it both reflects the light and feels like plastic, which is highly impressive on a technical scale and extremely disconcerting on a tactile one.

And this guy just said one of his pieces wasn't worth the price on the tag because 'he could do it too.' Which, as any crafter knows, is not the sort of statement fellow crafters make at volume.

Now, I'm a reasonable sort of trickster. As I said, my dad's part of a woodturning group, I'm well-aware that there genuinely are other people in this area who are as skilled as, if not more skilled than, my dad. Maybe he's just a skilled creep or disagrees with the pricing. So I turn to the guy and go, "Oh? It took my dad a couple years to learn how to make those."

To which he smiles at me and asks if I know what kind of wood the wand is made of.

"Purple Heart."

"Wow, you really know your stuff!"

I stare at him for a moment, because 1) Purple Heart wood is literally the easiest wood to identify on the planet because, as the name suggests, it's actually purple, which is a thing woods generally are not. And also 2) he has apparently not grasped that the reason I know this is because my father made the thing he is holding.

I do not say these things. Instead I clue him in on the situation he's in by saying, "Yes, my dad made that wand."

"Oh. Um. Thank-you!" he holds out his hand.

I look at the hand, then at him. "For what?"

"For your dad!"

...

...I do not shake his hand, and I'm beginning to suspect that this guy does, indeed, not have any clue what he's talking about when he said he could make this himself. But I could be wrong. He could just be socially awkward, I get that. So time for the final question. With a polite smile that no customer yet has been able to tell is completely fake, I ask, "Are you part of the local woodturner's group?"

"The what?"

"The local woodturner's group," I repeat, "My dad turned that wand by hand, on a lathe."

Guy, smiling, about to seal his own fate, "Ah. That is a tool I do not have."

Me, also smiling, because he's just proven beyond all shadow of a doubt that no he could not, in fact, make it himself. "Mm. And that's why it costs forty dollars."

You know, he didn't have anything to say to that?

Put a bit of a spring in my step as I left.

#my life #crafting woes #crafting community #vengeance is mine #wood turning #also just to be clear #any lathe worth using is going to set you back WELL past $40 even before you get to the rest of the tools and safety equipment you need #and that's without even getting into the time and material investment it takes to be able to make stuff with them

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shadowcatzone · 8 months

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but i really like xingyue child things, both angst as well as comedy,

One day, xingyue child just randomly stands in the astral express, letter in hand,

And then welt reading the letter like "dear dan heng, please look after [child] for a while, it seems they got into trouble but as of now, i have no time to come and console them myself. Please take care of them, thank you very much. Signed by jing yuan."

Welt: ps. You're gonna love them, they used to be your- i mean, dan fengs child.

Cue dan heng groaning and not immediately liking this random child, but also;

Dan heng: vidyadhara can't get children?

Xingyue child: i followed them home was adopted

But it's okay because the others like the child, but they won't let go of dan heng. (I'm never sure where to set the age. For this one they're maybe a head taller than bailu.)

They have lots of fun, but its also an awfully shy kid (curtesy of trauma) and they're staying overnight. Since welt has experience with kids, the child will sleep in his room. But the child doesn't want to. They shake their head and hold onto dan heng tighter. (They were just reunited with their "father", they're not leaving.)

SO in the end they sleep in the archive. While holding onto dan heng. Who does not sleep, but instead reads a book.

I do not know the premise, but for some reason, blade breaks in. Just levers the door open, manic grin on his face, [here's Johnny Bladie~] enters the room and just. Stands there. For a solid minute with the most conflicted look on his face.

On the other side, the child, lying on dan hengs arm, while he holds a book with the other, looking at blade, terrified-

And they're just staring at each other. Then blade moves and lies down next to the child. Staring at it.

Dan heng: ...what the-

Blade: -shhhh... language. Don't wake the baby.

Meanwhile in the subconscious(tm) dan feng is freaking out "don't fucking cuss near my poor baby you piece of shit what if they fucking hear you"

So dan hengs not getting any sleep, either way, anyways. Blade has no problem falling asleep right then and there. What's dan heng gonna do? Kill him? They both know that doesn't work. And blade leaves like. 10 minutes before the child wakes up, but not before pressing a kiss to their forehead and whispering something nice to them but like, dan heng hears. Vidyadhara ears yk.

Blade: out of five, three must pay the price. You, my child, are not one of them.

Dan heng, looking a little disturbed: what? Why would you say that to a child??

Blade, putting a finger to his lips: it's soothing. Remember, no cursing.

So the child wakes up a bit later, they leave the room and jing yuan is already here. Has been here for an hour and didn't wanna cut into blades parent time. He picks them up and they just let go of dan heng. Like it was never an issue.

Jing yuan: aw, did you have a good time?

Dan heng: n-

Xingyue child: yeah uncle! I slept really well and i dreamt that father and daddy were with me the whole time!

Jing yuan, now lookin mischievously at dan heng: and you?

Dan heng: ...it was alright...

And then dan heng can't sleep for a week at least because every time he has to think about the child. And every single time his fucking heart throbs. (Not because dan feng is laying into it with "oh my poor baby" and "growing up all alone". Nope not at all)

Until after a week blade tries to murder him and he gets so exhausted from the whole spiel that he just. Falls into bed and sleeeeps.

On another note, jing yuan now has dan hengs number saved as 'emergency babysitter #0003'.

#i'm eating gilbird #//xingyue child #honkai star rail #hsr blade #hsr dan heng #hsr dan feng #hsr welt #hsr jing yuan #xingyue #renheng #hsr imagines

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scorpius-major · 1 year

Text

#Just sign here

Ft: Childe and gn!reader

Synopsis: in which you summon a demon to stop your family from nagging you about your dating life

Contains: mentions of demons, contracts, and small amounts of blood (nothing graphic). Reader is genderlly ambiguous, but family members ask when you will get a boyfriend. Slight suggestive gestures but not explicit or forward at all (flirty behavior, physical touches, romantic advances)

wc: 1.7k

Final notes: this was really inspired by the book Sign Here by Claudia Lux. It’s a really good book yall should consider reading it! This is my first time is a while writing a full narrative fanfiction, so chill on me y’all if it’s not that good lmaoo. Depending if I like this I might make it into a full series! I’m experimenting with different povs so idk if this is gonna be my default one or not we’ll see as time goes on!

Family events are never fun. Especially when the hot topic always comes back to your dating life. You wish that for once they would talk about sometime other than when you’ll be bringing a boyfriend home. That one uncle doesn’t even talk about politics anymore.

“So when are you getting a boyfriend?”

“Yknow all your other cousins are engaged right?”

If only they knew a majority of marriages end in divorce. It’s not like you don’t want to be in a relationship, waiting for the right person is a solid move. What happens if you “find the one” prematurely and something terrible happens? Like breaking your heart or cheating on you. So whenever it comes up you just try and change the subject as best you can. The most effective way usually is asking your dad dumb sports questions. Questions that are obvious on the surface, but will get him talking for 10 minutes so you can leave.

You wonder how they haven't caught on yet, but then again your personal love life is none of their business. Getting an actual boyfriend seems like too much work. Paying one of your friends seems like a solid option, but your family already knows all of your friends. There has to be some way to get someone to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Then it clicked.

You remember having seen a really old book in your grandmom’s attic about the occult. Why not just summon a random demon to dupe your extended family into thinking you finally found love? There are many things wrong with that, but running the options through your head it seemed like the simplest. Making a simple blood contract will beat having to meet new people any day.

The instructions were quite clear. Recite a simple incantation after writing your intentions on a blank parchment paper in red ink. All of which had to be performed in a dark room with a mirror on a full moon. The only problem is the only room in your house with a mirror big enough is the bathroom. Hopefully, the demon doesn't mind being summoned into a bathroom.

The only real negative here would be accidentally summoning a malicious spirit that would haunt the house. But then you remembered you live alone. So what if a spirit inhabits your house? It can’t be that hard to ignore it. That was the last piece of encouragement you needed. That demon is getting summoned.

You shoot your mom a text saying how you can’t wait to introduce your boyfriend to the family.

“I think I’m finally ready to introduce him to the family, we’ll be there for the next family dinner.”

The look on her face would have been priceless. Everybody thinks that you don’t have a boyfriend, and while that is correct soon it will be partially correct. The full moon is tonight and dinner is in two days. There was one thought that lingered in the back of your head.

What if the demon doesn’t cooperate with you?

What if it doesn’t want to enter a contract with you? That can’t happen, right?

Worst case scenario you’ll just hire somebody. You make your way to the bathroom, holding the supplies in hand. Candles litter around the sink and you light them before the lights are turned off.

The dull glow illuminates the room just enough so you can see what you’re doing. You pick up the piece of parchment to write down what you want from the demon.

“Allow me to summon a demon here to pretend to be my boyfriend” it’s very straightforward, but it gets the job done. The red ink drips on the paper looking akin to blood. “I hope this works” you murmur to yourself.

The incantation falls from your lips like it’s second nature. A sudden chill drifts through the air. Your bathroom has no windows, so you conclude that something must be going on.

The candles suddenly went out, leaving the room engulfed in darkness. Feeling the temperature drop heavily, you lightly shiver to try to acclimate to the chilly room.

A faint glow can be made out from the corner of the bathroom mirror. Two small blue circles standing directly behind you. The candles flickered on again, leaving you wondering what you just got yourself into. “Startled by candles love? Please, that's the oldest trick in the book” a voice calls out to you. You turn around, facing where the blue light is coming from. The figure gives a slight chuckle, seeing your exasperated state. Warm ginger hair and freckled skin can be made out on the being.

You grasp around the room trying to find the light switch, but before you can find it the lights are turned on already. A slender hand grasps yours, shaking it lightly. “I am the demon Known as Tartaglia, but you can just call me Ajax, sweetie” he shoots you a small wink, giving you just enough time to analyze his figure.

He’s a little taller than you and has to look down slightly. However, he does have this sort of attractive air to him with a small smile present. “So I heard you wanted a demon to pretend to be your boyfriend. It takes guts to summon one of us.” You’re unable to say anything, so you stay silent. You don’t wanna start stuttering and embarrassing yourself. “What’s your name hun?” Ajax breaks the silence, startling you a bit. You didn’t even notice that he had moved you into your living room, sitting you both on the couch. Are you that entranced by him? Sure he was conventionally attractive, but could you fall in love with a demon?

“Are you gonna answer me? I don’t have all day sweetheart” his voice snapping you out of some thoughts. “Oh sorry, my name is-“ he suddenly cuts you off by pressing his finger lightly to your lips. “Never mind honey, I’ll just keep using these cute little names” Ajax’s hand goes to cup your cheek as his other hand you a small tablet. “We stopped using blood contracts years ago. We do everything digitally now” gesturing you to go ahead and sign your name, his hand leaves your cheek and goes to hold around your lower back.

Maybe it’s the touch-starved part of you talking, but part of you wants to lean into his touch more. His hair framed his as he leans into you, frowning slightly at the sight of the unsigned contract. “Just sign here and I’ll give you whatever you want” did they send a flirty demon by accident or did he read your intent?

“I have a quick question.” He hums in response. You place your finger on the tablet getting ready to sign it. “Did you know my intent, or are you just flirty 24/7?” He laughs, not sure if you were serious. You give him a confused look and put the tablet down. “No, we can’t. When we’re being summoned we have no idea what the summoner will ask for”

Ajax’s Demeanor changes into a slightly darker one as he grins. “Well, what did you have in mind sweetheart?” He leans into your ear, using his taller figure as an advantage. You shake your head feeling embarrassed. “It’s a silly reason really” he looks curious now, and his interest peaked.

“I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend so my family will stop bothering me”

“Well that’s not what I was expecting, but I’m interested.

You had a feeling that’s what he was going to say. From his actions and suggestive way of speaking, you speculated he wasn’t gonna say no. You pick up the tablet and don’t bother reading any of the fine print. Normally that’s not a very good idea, but you were desperate. With that, you sign your name at the bottom and hand it back to Ajax.

He takes it from your hands and smiles. “Thanks, hun, now I hope you know you can’t get rid of me now. It says in the fine print” Yup, you should have read it. Now you’re stuck with him for presumably all eternity.

“Any particular reason you resulted to summoning demons to fix this problem?” He was amused, demons probably don’t get many requests like this. “It seemed easy” you replied without a second thought. “Any boyfriendly duties I have to perform for you?” His hand was back around your waist, gripping it lightly. The tablet was gone, and the sun had started to come up. “Well, I do need you to attend this family dinner with me.”

“Seems easy enough, how hard can that be?”

You stand in front of your parent’s door, splitting headache due to the chaos you’re sure is about to ensue. “You remember the story right?” Ajax squeezes your hand lightly as reassurance and gives you a small smile. “Of course, you’ve said it to me a hundred times sweetie” you take a deep breath in and knock on the door with your free hand.

“Oh look who it is! The boyfriend is here too!” Your mom exclaims, and the rest of the family crowds the door. Maybe you should have warned him how large your family is. “Mama stop, that’s embarrassing.” You swat your hand at her and your dad interjects. “Oh nonsense, your mom is just proud of you that’s all!” He laughs. Ajax doesn’t really do much except smile and nod with occasional answers. He left most of the talking to you.

Perhaps he likes the sound of your voice. He does subtle romantic things like resting his hand on your thigh and playing with your hair. You’re getting quite used to him and this dinner is going great. On the plus side your parents seem satisfied, and let you two leave without any quarrels.

“So what do you think?” You turn to him after you leave the house. Ajax grabs both of your hands and holds them tightly in his, smiling.

“I think I’m gonna enjoy being your boyfriend”

“What part of fake did you not understand?”

“Do you want this to be fake?”

Ajax presses a small kiss to your cheek. “I didn’t think so either.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #astronetwrk #childe x reader #genshin x reader #childe genshin x reader #tartagalia x reader #tartaglia x you #genshin impact imagines #childe imagines #tartaglia imagines #genshin imagines

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animehouse-moe · 10 months

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Mobile Suit Gundam - The Witch From Mercury S2 Episode 10: The Woven Path

So two things to start. I apologize for not getting this post out until today, but it was Father's day on Sunday (I'm not a father) so was spending time with family. Secondly, really cool that Ryusuke Tarou did an end card for GWitch. They're a super cool illustrator that has just what you need when you want to see all your favorite characters happy and free of trauma, living it up in the modern day. Their Twitter is full of fun and wholesome illustrations.

Anyways, the episode at hand. A lot going on, a lot of callbacks and references, and a lot of importance pieces. Unsurprisingly, that means a lot to talk about! Well, waste not want not, I'll get started.

If it wasn't already clear, Quiet Zero is a very large piece of religious symbolism coupled with the concepts of life and death, and it's not exactly subtle. The episode starts off with a Gundnode that is placed squarely within the cross that appears on Quiet Zero, evoking comparisons to crucifixion in regards to the sins that innocent Eri is forced to bear.

From the unsuccessful attack on Quiet Zero that brought the Gundnodes out, we bounce around establishing where all the characters begin at this episode. Finding Miorine holed up in her room, the Earth house puttering about getting prepared to follow Suletta into battle, and Suletta herself talking with Elan.

I thought they did a really good job of handling the interaction between this pair, as Suletta sits on the same bench she waited at her Elan for. The current Elan doesn't sit down though, rather he faces away from Suletta. I think it's a nice touch to keep this pair's relationship distant and on different wavelengths, and in part to show this Elan running away from something yet again. It's a great little piece to his character, that thanks to Suletta's words and Norea's book, allows him to see why someone would rally against the fear. For something greater than themselves, something that they want to protect or save.

Skipping ahead a little bit between the buildup, Guel comes to Suletta to offer her a chance at redemption. Just as she did for himself, though this time in the form of a duel.

I think it's great, and I also think it's a solid callback to Utena. I also hear there's a similar scene in an older Gundam series, but I'm a first time watcher (essentially) so I wouldn't have known otherwise. Anyways, choosing fencing as the form of combat was a really great decision on Guel's part. Half ego, half character, he challenges Suletta to a form of duel that can't be fibbed or faked, one that relies on the moment itself rather than careful planning or preparation. He wants to fight Suletta to prove himself, but to also allow Suletta that opportunity. He doesn't want to hold Miorine over her, nor does he want Suletta's pity. He wants to stand alongside her, to be shown to be equals through the purest comparison possible. I love it, I really do. I love how much our little Bob has grown into a man, but truth be told, thanks to that piece towards the end of the episode, I'm scared for him.

Anyways, here's the super smooth fencing sequence.

So, Suletta wins the duel, and with it the chance to talk to Miorine. I think it's very endearing, and like many have said prior to me, does a great job of allowing Miorine to quite literally open her own door. Before that though, she's crushed under the weight of her own actions, unable to move forward. Suletta doesn't offer her mother's hollow words to justify sacrifice, but rather approaches Miorine as someone who shares a terrible burden as well. I could say a lot more, but I'm going to summarize with this: it's the inverse of Suletta's experience at Plant Quetta. It's Suletta reaching out a caring hand to support Miorine through her fear of violence and death that stains her vision red. Suletta herself admits to her actions at Plant Quetta to establish that comparison for this moment.

Through this conversation, she uses a lot of the words that her mother gave her. That she was protecting someone, that it was the right thing to do. She does very well at realizing her mother's grasp on her in her own way, and in experiencing senseless death first hand, comes to understand how terrible it is. And of course, Suletta is a curse breaking machine through this second cour/season, as she continues to reference her mother's words in opposition to them. What I really love is how she's internalized the original phrase, and subconsciously uses it now, in her own ways, to uniquely support and encourage the characters that need it. It changes bit by bit each time we hear it, but it's still there, and it's still Suletta's version.

Suletta does successfully encourage Miorine, and coaxes both a potential death flag and future date out of her once-again fiancé, and we get a really impactful scene of Miorine moving forward to open the door on her own.

While the act is her own, she still has Suletta waiting on the other side to support her. Suletta still extends a hand out to Miorine, like her own mother did back on Plant Quetta. But rather than excusing or justifying Miorine's actions, she's accepting them alongside Miorine, providing a hand to hold onto while she fights onwards. What I really like with this scene is its subtleties. Suletta's hand reaches out further than Miorine's, but despite that action of reaching out, she places her open hand beneath Miorine's to allow Miorine to reach out for Suletta as well, and when Miorine does reach out, there's hesitation at first. And then there's the ending scene of their hands intertwined, where they both appear in the center of the frame without one side greater than the other. Really small details, but I think really important in regards to how the pair are interacting with and approaching each other. It's incredibly cute, and is only further bolstered by the use of a piano rendition of the opening song that punctuates this entire interaction.

With Miorine out of her room, the plan to begin an assault on Quiet Zero can begin, as Suletta climbs into the monster Calibarn to prep.

There's not a whole lot to comment on as Miorine retakes the reins of the Benerit Group, and even pays a visit to Shaddiq prior to the Calibarn testing. The real impactful piece is Miorine during Suletta's permet score testing. Despite the pain that Suletta's in as she climbs the scores, Miorine is the one that pushes her through to success. I think it's really great how much confidence she has in Suletta through this sequence, and that it all melts away when she reaches the needed score.

And with that success, the Earth house bolstered by the Benerit Group sorties to challenge Quiet Zero. It's also here that my panic attack for Bob begins. He's sortied in his own Dilanza when a Schwarzette appears and fires on him, with his own brother piloting. I'm scared for two reasons: the last time Guel fought family in space his father was killed, and his brother is piloting a Gundam. This means only one of two things, Bob dies, or his brother dies. I can just barely bare Guel losing his brother as well, but losing Bob himself would be heart crushing at this point.

Anyways, onto Suletta and Calibarn rallying against Quiet Zero! I really liked this piece because you can tell that Eri is in fact, holding back against her younger sister.

Also, Calibarn is Caliban from Prospero

Yeah, that's on me, I forgot to add it in the last episode where the name was revealed. I was more so irked by the fact that it was the convenient existence of another Gundam, that I completely spaced out on the fact that Calibarn was foretold by the existence of Aerial and Prospera. So yeah, my bad, but GWitch is still holding itself close to Shakespeare's Prospero, with the ideal of bringing Ericht back to life (which is a power that the play version of Prospera does wield).

Anyways, how is Eri holding back? Well, glad you asked! It's pretty clear to see in this one sequence here. The Gundnode has several arms which wield several beam sabers against Suletta and Calibarn's one. Child's play to understand that Eri could have ended the fight then and there, but instead opted for a more even playing field for Suletta. Really nice touch to show the love that Eri still has for Suletta.

And the icing on the cake, Ericht now appearing above her own casket. The whole idea of a cradle existing within her own casket, where she typically resides is a lot, and speaks to Prospera's grief for her lost daughter, so this sequence takes a different approach. Suletta's only ever seen Eri as Aerial (well, she used to, now they're separate), so the concept of her being "dead" doesn't ring true for her.

It's here that we find our episode's end though. Left on a cliffhanger, waiting to discover the fate of many of our characters, and what will become of Suletta and Ericht. Lots of great stuff, and I'm very curious to see if GWitch will stay true to it's Shakespearean roots.

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darlingvernon · 1 year

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you've got mail! | 01.

Author: darlingvernon (prev nonrevblr)

Pairing: Chwe Hansol x Fem Reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, college au, penpal au

Rating: 18+

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 3,527

Description: The concept of Equivalent Exchange is not foreign to you, and since you need Jeonghan to participate in a Social Experiment for your Psych Thesis, you inevitably have to participate in his too. It isn't the walk in the park you thought it would be, especially when your penpal Vernon keeps knocking down the walls that you've built; scratching an itch you couldn't reach.

Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoy!

[3:00pm] thing 1: omg, are you done with the demon yet or what?

Barely thirty seconds have passed since the conclusion of your Psychology Thesis meeting with Professor Park, and Jeonghan — your fellow classmate and best friend — is already acting like you’re running hours behind. Spending most of the meeting trying to convince your Professor to fund your Social Experiment proposal results in a raging headache making itself known and you’re sure that Jeonghan won’t be helping alleviate that anytime soon.

[3:01pm] thing 2: will you chillax? [3:01pm] thing 2: i literally just stepped out of his office [3:02pm] thing 2: the man made me go through hell and back [3:02pm] thing 2: and i’ll be going there and back again at the rate you’re going

Just as you’re about to shove your phone in the back of your jeans pocket, it vibrates in your hand. A part of you wants to ignore him, but the other half doesn’t want to risk getting on his bad side now, considering the fact that you need his help with your research.

[3:02pm] thing 1: ugh, we can both complain about it when you get here [3:03pm] thing 1: don’t forget to stop by the cafe

Rolling your eyes, it should be no surprise that he’s sending you on an errand. Careful to dodge the crowd as you text and walk, you start to head into the opposite direction and make your way towards the campus cafe. Luckily, it’s not that far of a walk — and you currently owe him a favour — otherwise, you would have told him to go fuck himself.

[3:03pm] thing 2: hannie, you’re such an ass [3:04pm] thing 2: i’m not your goddamn secretary

Crossing the threshold of the cafe, phone buzzing in hand once more, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the nth time, because if you do, they’re surely going to roll out of your head. Instead, you choose to take quick deep breaths to calm yourself before viewing his message.

[3:04pm] thing 1: you’re insufferable [3:04pm] thing 1: i’ve already paid for them [3:05pm] thing 2: did i say ass? i meant angel [3:05pm] thing 2: see you soon!

“Is Jeonghan bothering you again?” A familiar voice garners your attention and you laugh because Joshua — the barista at the campus cafe and Jeonghan’s fellow frat brother — knows exactly what you have to put up with. “Why can’t he get his own coffee?”

Sighing, you approach the counter where Joshua has laid out your beverages. “He got done with our Psych meeting first and then he bolted straight to the library to book a study room for us for the rest of the semester,” you reply, shoving your phone in your pocket — successfully, with no interruptions this time — so you can hold the drinks. “So, he’s technically doing me a solid. Speaking of the devil, I better get this to him before he has a meltdown.”

Seeing you grimace at the thought has Joshua snickering and he moves to grab the drinks back from your hands. Confused, you watch as he places them in a cup tray so that you can carry them in one hand. As he hands them back to you, he places a small, brown paper bag in your free hand. “I put your favourite in there.” He winks. “Eat it on your walk over to the library and don’t share any with Jeonghan. It’ll be our secret.”

“You’re always so good to me.” You pretend to cry in front of him. Joshua laughs again before gently ushering you out of the cafe so that you can be on your way, realising that Jeonghan is most likely timing you. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to him, you make your way to where the demon is waiting for you.

The tension quickly disappears from your body as soon as you bite into the freshly baked pastry that Joshua kindly gifted you. You slow down your pace, wishing you could savour its cheesy goodness but the walk from the cafe to the library is short and the last thing you want is to be caught in the act by Jeonghan. So, you have no choice but to scoff down the rest of your snack and continue to your destination.

Once you reach the double doors of the library, you reach for your phone once more, quickly checking your reflection to make sure that there’s no evidence left on your face of what you know Jeonghan will see as the highest form of betrayal. Not paying attention to your surroundings, you find yourself bumping into a firm body that almost knocks you over, if it wasn’t for the strong arms that appear to catch you.

“Oh, that was close,” you sigh in relief, straightening up once you see that the coffees are still intact in your hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. I should’ve been looking at where I was going.”

“No, you’re good,” the guy replies and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s my bad, I was just as distracted as you were but at least, we didn’t spill your drinks.”

“Oh yeah, Jeonghan would kill me and you’ll have to organise my funeral.”

“Oh, you must be Y/N,” he chuckles and your eyebrows raise in question. The guy doesn’t look remotely familiar to you but it’s strange that he happens to know who you are, considering you mostly keep to yourself. “It’d be a damn shame to see you gone so soon after finally meeting you. Oh, and Jeonghan’s still waiting for you in the last room down the study hall.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Laughing, he quickly adds, “Oh, I’m V— very late to class. Shit, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you!”

In a blink of an eye, the stranger is gone, rounding the corner and exiting the library before you can even think about what just transpired. Was he flirting with you? Shrugging, you make your way to the study room where he mentioned Jeonghan is. Finally reaching your destination, you have to fight the urge to burst out laughing at the sight of your best friend banging his head on the desk in frustration.

“Don’t you need the last of your brain cells for your thesis?” You attempt to disguise your laugh with a cough as you sit down across from him.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes before reaching over to collect the coffee that you’re offering. “You’re late,” he states obviously, “and don’t think for a second that I didn’t see you inhaling that cheese and bacon bread on your walk over.”

“Fuck, you’re telling me that I could’ve taken my time with it?”

“I’m saying that you could’ve given me some.”

“Shua said not to share.” You shrug and start unpacking your things, smirking smugly all the while.

“That rat bastard.” Jeonghan feigns his shock and waits until he has your undivided attention before asking about your meeting with Professor Park. “Anyway, how did you go with your proposal?”

“Yeah, it went well and I got the outcome I wanted,” you say, deciding to spare him from all the boring details. “He fought me for it but I got him to fund my social experiment in the end.”

“You need funding for your social experiment?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it later. How did you go?”

Bristling, Jeonghan refrains from ranting, because he knows that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop and he’ll end up wasting more time. “Don’t get me started. We fought too because he said my social experiment was going to be ‘boring’.”

Sipping the last bits of your coffee, you throw it in the trash and ask, “What did you decide for your topic anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he smiles proudly and raises his arms, moving them in tandem when he replies, “‘The Evolution of Social Relationships through Various Mediums’.”

Looking up from your laptop where your research has begun, you question why your professor finds Jeonghan’s topic uninteresting. “What medium were you thinking of using?”

“A penpal.”

“Wow, that is boring.” You snort. “Nobody does penpals or snail mails anymore these days. Are you sure about this?”

Not bothering to look up from his own laptop, he nods. “Yes, this will work. Plus, you’ll be using emails instead of snail mail and I’ll be providing topics for you all to discuss so you don’t even have to try too hard or anything like that.”

The raging headache you managed to keep at bay is now back with a vengeance. Somehow, you feel like you’ve walked into a trap by doing the same course as your best friend. A part of you contemplates not asking him to clarify what he means, in fear that your earlier assumption is correct, but you know that you need to appease him considering you will also be needing him to return the favour. “Jeonghan, when you say ‘you’,” —you shift, sitting back on your chair— “you mean me, don’t you?”

A wide grin appears on his face and if you didn’t know any better, you would think that he has an ulterior motive. “Yes, I do mean you.” He puts you out of your misery. “I need you to participate in my experiment.”

Resigned, you bring your attention back to your research. “Fine, but I need you to participate in mine, in exchange.”

“What’s your thesis on?” He raises an eyebrow in piqued curiosity.

“‘Engagement in and Desire for Romantic and Sexual Relationships in College: Associations with Mental Health’,” you reply with the straightest face you can muster and use the exact same arm movements as he did.

“Y/N, respectfully, what the fuck?” he gapes and you lose it, laughter filling the supposed quiet study room. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you take a deep breath and compose yourself. “Yeah, I was joking. That was good, wasn’t it? Admit it.”

“Har, har. Hilarious,” he deadpans. “I guess you don’t need my help, then?”

“And you don’t need mine?” You challenge him.

Jeonghan puts his hand up to halt the conversation, remembering how competitive you both are, and that neither of you have the time to be having this argument right now. “You still haven’t told me what your thesis is on. How am I supposed to help you?”

“Oh right,” you acquiesce. “My topic is ‘Blind Date: What Influences a Single Social Interaction’.”

Silence fills the room, almost making it seem empty. Sitting across from him, you swear you can see the gears turning in his head. You clear your throat and it snaps him out of his haze. “So, you need me to go on a blind date?”

“Umm…” you trail off, unsure how to answer his question.

“Y/N?”

You wave him off, “a couple…”

“A couple…”

“Five,” you answer as quietly as you can, hoping that Jeonghan doesn’t hear, but you know your chances are slim.

“I’m sorry, did you say five?!” he laughs but there’s no mirth in it.

Wincing, you realise now that you should have thought of a different way to propose the idea to him. But, the deed is done and you know that Jeonghan’s patience is thinning, so you might as well tell him everything now and hope that he still decides to help you.

“Yes, five dates with five different people at five different locations and five different budgets,” you explain. “At the end of each date, I’d like to have a report on everything that happened and what the participants felt from the moment they get ready to after they’ve gone home.”

“So, this is why you need the funding?” He puts the pieces together.

“Yeah, my part time job at the diner won’t be able to cover all these expenses and I doubt that the participants would be willing to fork out the money themselves.”

“You got that right,” he states the obvious. Crossing his arms, he sits back on his seat and regards you carefully. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

The relief you feel instantly eases the tension out of your body. “Really?” you ask, just to make sure.

“Yes, but it comes with a price—”

“Yes, yes I know,” you confirm. “I have to participate in your experiment, too.”

Jeonghan smiles in victory and offers his hand to seal the deal, which you gladly accept. When you think about it, participating in his experiment and having a penpal is definitely a lot easier than what you’ve asked him to do. Of course, the awkwardness and strangeness of it all is inevitable but at least you only have to interact with your chosen partner through a screen. If need be, you can even put on a persona and pretend that you’re somebody else.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan has to physically go out there and meet the five people you’ve organised for him. While he can still put on a persona, it’s something that is more difficult to do in person. Especially for someone who tends to be really honest, like him. The other participants will also know what he looks like and there will always be a chance of running into that person for the remainder of your campus life.

“What’s on your mind?” he questions, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop.

“I feel bad,” you sigh. “I feel like you’ve got the short end of the stick here and I don’t know how else to make it easier for you.”

“You don’t need to feel bad,” he smiles as he types away. “I knew what I was getting into before I said yes. Besides, I promise you that this penpal business isn’t going to be the walk in the park you think it is. I’ll be challenging you as well.”

“Hm, did you have someone in mind already?” you turn your attention back to your own research. “Not someone creepy, I hope?”

“Nah, I’ll probably choose one of my brothers,” he stifles a yawn.

Frowning, you start to list off Jeonghan’s fraternity brothers that you know of or have met. First, there’s the lovely Joshua who works at the cafe but you know him too well, so the chances of him being your penpal are close to, if not, zero. Then, there’s Seungcheol, their unofficial leader, who has joined you and Jeonghan for dinner once or twice. Lastly, there’s Wonwoo, who is in your English Literature class. Considering that there are thirteen members of Sigma Beta Tau, that leaves nine other people to choose from.

“Don’t you have that writer friend?” you ask, remembering a conversation you had with Wonwoo once. “Ji— something? What was his name?”

“A writer friend - okay.” Jeonghan snorts. “No, I am not choosing Jihoon for you. That would make it too easy.”

“But, I only know you, Joshua, Seungcheol and Wonwoo. I don’t know the others?”

“Well, that’s kind of the whole point.”

“The others aren’t creepy, are they?”

The question stuns Jeonghan. “Do you think I’d really be going around calling these people my ‘brothers’ if they were? I mean, they’re idiots, but that’s the worst thing about them.”

Suddenly, you remember the guy that you bumped into when you walked into the library. Creepy isn’t the word you would use to describe him, per se, especially since he looked like a nice enough guy, but it is strange that he happens to know who you are. “Have you told the others about me?” you ask curiously.

“Wouldn’t it be weird if they didn’t know about you?” he answers your question with a question of his own. “You’re my best friend, so that’s a given.”

“Well, don’t I feel terrible now?” you huff, making a mental note to get to know his brothers after you get this damn thesis out of the way. “Anyway, I was just asking because I bumped into one of them on the way in today and—”

“Oh, that’s V— very good actually, you’ve just given me a great idea.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jeonghan pats the back of your hand. “Never you mind, my dear,” he smiles sweetly, but you know better. He has something up his sleeve, you’re sure of it. “By the way, shouldn’t you be doing less talking and more researching? You have a million more things to do than I do.”

Of course, he’s right, so you turn back to your work with a pout. Realising that you need to organise your thoughts, you move your laptop aside and opt to use the good ol’ pen and paper to make a list of what you need to do and in the order that you need to do them in.

First things first, you need to locate five different restaurants with five different price points — keeping the ‘budget’ in mind because even though the Psychology faculty has agreed to fund your social experiment, it’s highly unlikely that you can go and book a three course meal at a Michelin hat restaurant. Five different times. You’ll need to get creative.

Then, you have to book said restaurants in a timely manner, since you need to factor in the time required to analyse your results and write out your thesis. Also, the dates should be spread out enough so that it doesn’t bother everyone else’s schedules too much. Especially Jeonghan, who also needs time to be able to complete his own work.

Finally, you need to create the advert to attract the participants and also their application form so that you can verify them. This includes creating a questionnaire and conducting some sort of interview, ensuring that both parties understand what is expected of them in order for your experiment to be successful.

The next couple of hours blur together and the time to leave approaches. With the application form and questionnaire finished, you can go back to your dorm and shift your focus on designing and completing your advert by tonight. That way, you’ll be able to visit the Student Hub tomorrow to ask them to print it in the next newsletter and post it on the online bulletin board, giving you an early start as much as possible.

Stretching your limbs, you start to pack away your things when you catch Jeonghan slip a piece of paper across the desk towards you. The note contains two things:

Pen Name: Girl Magnetic Email: [email protected]

“What is this?” you ask, shoving the note in your pocket before you misplace it.

“Dummy name and dummy email,” he replies with a shrug and packs the rest of his belongings in his bag before standing up. “That way, your identity remains a secret.”

“Okay, but did I have to be ‘Girl Magnetic’?”

“You should see his name,” Jeonghan snickers while holding the door open for you. “Anyway, I’ll have him contact you with the first topic soon.”

Nodding, you exit the room and remind him to send you a copy of his schedule before going your separate ways. Once you reach your dorm, you only spare yourself a few minutes for some ramen and a comfortable change of clothes before spending the rest of the night glued to your laptop, finishing up the rest of the tasks you’ve set for yourself tonight.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan doesn’t spare anyone a glance when he arrives at the frat house, only stopping once he’s reached his destination — the bedroom of one of his frat brothers. “Remember how you owe me for helping you out with that music project?” he asks as he lies down on a bed that isn’t his.

“Why, hello Vernon. How was your day? Did you make it to class in time after I asked you to bring me the books that I left behind?” Vernon responds sarcastically.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “Answer the question, Hansol.”

Vernon rolls his eyes. “Ugh, yes I remember,” he sighs. “Are you here to collect?”

“I am,” Jeonghan smiles mischievously and shoves a tiny piece of paper towards Vernon that contains two things:

Pen Name: Bands Boy Email: [email protected]

“Am I supposed to understand what this is?” Vernon asks.

“I need you to be a Penpal for my Psychology Thesis Social Experiment.” Jeonghan shrugs.

“Nobody does penpals anymore—”

“Huh, would you look at that? You two are perfect for each other.”

“What are you—”

Jeonghan smiles and claps a hand on Vernon’s shoulders to garner his attention. “Look, I promise that this is going to be easy. I’m even going to provide topics for you guys to discuss so you don’t have to try so hard, okay? It’ll be fine.”

“I’m guessing that I can’t say no?” Vernon calls out after a retreating Jeonghan.

“Definitely not,” Jeonghan answers back as he heads to his room. “I’ll give you the first topic in a couple of weeks.”

As Jeonghan finally settles in his own room, he can’t help but think that things are about to get interesting.

[ Series Master List ] - link to be added later

pls do not copy/repost my work

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frikatilhi · 7 months

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Hello yes yes veri gud, how about Jere doing Bojan's makeup? As in, Jere is so casual and natural about wearing eyeshadow, and wants to help Bojči feel at ease with it, too. (Bojan wants to feel pretty, but he's shy about it).

asdfghjkl thank you thank you

“Do I have to?” asked Bojan.

Jere huffed. “Yes! It’s my birthday.”

“So… what? I have to look the part?” Bojan was trying to sound skeptical, even though the idea of Jere doing his makeup excited him a little. But that was precisely the problem. Getting excited was not allowed on this trip.

Coming to join Jere on his tour for his birthday had been kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Bojan had been on holiday with the band (whose idea was that, really, he wondered now, it’s not like they hadn’t seen each other enough this year), and instead of flying home with them, he had booked last minute tickets to Glasgow. Now they were in Dublin, where Jere was performing the next day, celebrating his 30th birthday. It was just his entourage plus a handful of his friends who had flown in, plus Bojan of course, the party crasher, who had appeared with luggage full of dirty laundry, mostly beach clothes, and no hotel reservation.

“Yes. Have to make you pretty.” Jere was walking him backwards across the room, towards the table where he had just been applying his own eyeliner a moment ago.

Bojan gasped. “So I’m not pretty like this?”

It made Jere laugh. “Not pretty enough for me.”

“Ouch, man!”

Jere sat him down in the chair, turned it sideways from the mirror and pulled another chair for himself. “There. Sit. Stay.”

Being ordered around by Jere was familiar. He was on solid ground like this, at least. Bojan looked at him as he gathered a few things from the table. “Which one?” Jere asked, holding up a few pencils. Bojan figured they were different colors, even though he couldn’t see which. “Black’s fine,” he ventured a guess.

Apparently, that was the right answer, because Jere put all but one of them down on the table and took the cap off of the one left in his hand. He then scooted closer, his legs on both sides of Bojan’s thighs, Bojan’s knees against the edge of Jere’s chair. “Okay, close your eyes,” he said, and Bojan did. Suddenly the room felt quiet, the sounds of the party a little further away, and Bojan felt a rush to his head. The buzz of what little alcohol he’d already consumed went to his cheeks and hummed in his ears.

He felt Jere’s hand on his forehead, his thumb pressing gently under his brow, next to the side of his nose, stretching his lid just a little. Then he was drawing a line on Bojan’s eyelid, on the base of his lashes, carefully, with short strokes. Bojan tried to keep still against the feeling of wanting to escape. Makeup was nothing new, but makeup by Jere? It felt different, off-kilter, it felt queer.

After a while, Jere switched sides, and now his wrist kept touching Bojan’s nose and resting on his cheek as he worked on the other eyelid. Bojan could feel his breath on his face, and a whiff of his aftershave, or deodorant or whatever it was, surrounded him. Bojan reminded himself to keep breathing, in and out, evenly.

“Now, look up,” Jere said, and Bojan opened his eyes, not daring to look at Jere, and darted his eyes upwards. Jere continued drawing on him, along his lower lashes, and Bojan kept staring at the ceiling, fully aware of how Jere now had his hand resting on his exposed neck, thumb along his jaw.

Bojan had been on a journey of sorts, lately. After the summer of feeling weird and grumpy and out of place, and after the week-long rush of adrenalin that had been their Nordic tour, he realised he was actually happier not caring too much about what was proper behaviour or what his actions looked like to other people. He had also been.. experimenting, you could say, finding out new things about himself, late at night on the internet, or more recently, in the showers at the gym after a workout.

And now, the study was done, the results were in, and it turned out his feelings for a certain male friend that had taken over his life and late-night-fantasies in a storm, while totally unique in a way, were also… not. Unique. In a way. Because as Bojan now knew, the part where he had feelings (pantsfeelings) for a man, was, actually, not something restricted to Jere. He was fully capable of appreciating the male form in many formations, be it muscled and strong and dominating, or on the softer side, smooth and cuddly.

If he was completely honest, this was not in any way new information. He should have maybe known for a long time that this was the case, but he hadn’t allowed himself to do so. Not until Jere came along and smashed every inhibition and doubt and excuse he had ever had.

Jere was now smudging the line he had made with his finger. It didn’t seem like a professional way to do it, but Bojan wasn’t about to complain. After going through his lids once more, Jere picked up the pencil again and fortified the lines with it.

Jere surveyed Bojan’s face and turned to the table. “Needs something else,” he said and picked up an eyeshadow palette and a brush. Bojan looked as he surveyed the colours, rolled the brush on one of them, and approached Bojan again. “Close,” he said.

The gentle brushstrokes on Bojan’s eyelids sent shivers down his neck and spine. Jere’s hand that held the palette was on his thigh now, just resting there, keeping him grounded. Jere took his time applying the stuff on him generously, at least that’s what it felt like, and Bojan wanted to fidget, wanted to bounce, but couldn’t concentrate on anything but Jere’s hand.

“Okay… open eyes”, said Jere at last. Bojan blinked slowly, and found Jere’s face close to his own, eyes fixed on his face. Even though it looked like he was looking into Bojan’s eyes, he knew that he was assessing his work. Bojan kept breathing evenly, even though his heart was racing. Under Jere’s intense gaze he felt exposed, vulnerable, like all his thoughts and insecurities and secrets were there, on his face, for Jere to read. Jere’s hand went to his chin and turned his head just a little to look from a different angle, and Bojan let him direct him, first to the other side and then to the other. He avoided Jere’s eyes, let out a little breath. Suddenly he was very aware of Jere’s legs, pressing on either side of his, and his knees, dangerously close to Jere’s crotch, especially when he was leaning forward like that. Jere turned Bojan’s face back towards him, and now he was looking straight into his eyes. Bojan swallowed. He couldn’t hold his gaze, so his eyes flickered from Jere’s eyes to his nose, his lips, down to his throat. Bojan’s own throat was dry, and he licked his lips, nervously, and looked up at Jere again, and panic was rising in him, because he was about to do something colossally stupid.

But then Jere was gone, leaning back, smiling.

“That will do. Look.”

He turned Bojan’s chair towards the mirror, and Bojan looked. It wasn’t as excessive as he had thought. His eyes were lined and the lines were smudged carefully, just enough that it looked dramatic without making him look like a raccoon. His lids were dusted with something dark and sparkly that caught the light when Bojan turned his head.

“It’s.. not bad, actually,” he offered.

Jere beamed. “We should do your nails, too.”

*****

The night was winding down. Bojan was past the peak of his drunkenness, tired but still oddly wired at the same time. He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in a while, but he suspected his makeup was now in ruins. His new appearance had been met with cheers and whistles, and people had been adding stuff to his face all evening. There was plenty of glitter, both on his temples and in his hair, and there are lipstick marks on his neck, he can feel it, probably in different shades of red and green. He’d been passed around the whole night between everyone, from hug to lap to dance to cuddle, he had made out with at least three people, and posed for countless pictures and videos, some of which would probably find their way online, but right now, he was too happy and too tired and too drunk to care.

He had felt reckless, free, like no-one could touch him or judge him or look down on him. Jere was in the centre of it all, happy and laughing with his friends, and Bojan had felt like he could conquer the world, just like this.

And there was Jere now, in front of him. His resolve to take it easy because he had to perform the next day had crumbled early on, and now he was looking dishevelled and buzzed, and he was grinning.

“Oh baby, look at you. You’re no good to me now,” Jere said with a laugh, taking Bojan under his arm.

“Happy Birthday! Have I told you happy birthday?” Bojan said while clinging to Jere’s side.

“Six and half times, I think.”

“What was the half?”

“You started but someone bite you.”

“Huh. But I haven’t kissed you yet!” Bojan declared, feeling like it’s the best idea he’s ever had.

“You did, right here,” said Jere and pointed to his ear. Bojan leaned closer and squinted.

“Are those… teeth marks?” he asked, a grin spreading to his face.

Jere smiled, as well. “Come on, everybody is leaving. Let’s take you to bed.”

“But…” Bojan wanted to kiss him. Properly, on the mouth, with tongue, leaving no room for excuses or backtracking. And he wanted to do it now, because he didn’t know when he’d ever get so brave, again.

Jere hugged him, tucked Bojan’s face into the crook of his neck. He spoke close to Bojan’s ear. “Hey, let’s save that for… other time. Okei? You need sleep now.”

Bojan felt his resolve dissipating, but at the same time being replaced with something akin to hope. Maybe it was not all or nothing or now or never, tonight. Maybe he’d start living like he was allowed to have things more often. Maybe it would come to something good, something better. The best, even.

“Okay,” he breathed simply against Jere’s neck.

“Okay. Now, let’s wash your face?”

#fanfic #bojere #käärijan #prompt fill

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ggomos-maribat · 19 days

Text

Soul-Stitching: The Heir and the Guardian

Masterlist

Chapter 6: fight and surrender | AO3

CW: the Order of Guardians appearing, mentions of death, wanting to kill, blood, violence, references to childhood abuse and trauma

Damian holds Marinette in his arms for the night as they lie in bed. He'll die first before he lets her go again. There's relief and comfort in burying his nose in her hair and running his thumb over her shoulder.

“The Order rebuilt themselves over the years with the handful left. They want the Guardian, so they're planning to hold Gotham hostage,” Marinette yawns. “Something like that.”

His hold around her tightens. “Why not let us handle it?”

If they do, he'll skin every one of their enemies alive before they can even look at Marinette.

She snorts. “They have a supply of miraculous-adjacents. Mostly brooch ones to help them make a sentimonster army. I don't think you bats and birds can handle that crisis very well.”

“Will you be alright then?” He says softly.

“Mhmm. We have a plan. Are you coming with us?”

Damian thinks for a minute. He doesn't have combat experience with miraculous magic, and Marinette's team seems to have solid chemistry with each other based on what she has told him. If he gets involved, he might just end up interfering.

“I will return to Gotham as well, but I'm not sure how I can help.”

She laughs. “It's not too different from slashing bad guys.”

“I know but what if I disrupt your plan?”

“If I propose that you hold off the Justice League, can you do that?”

“Of course.”

He looks down at her, brushing stray hairs away from her face. Her eyes are closed but she's still tracing her fingers on top of his chest. He never expected to let someone in so easily but this is Marie. She's the one he went through hell with, the one who took blows for his mistakes, the one that has been haunting his dreams since she died.

She has lived her own life in France, even became a hero, and yet she never forgot about him. He's happy she never forgot.

Slowly, Damian moves his head to plant a small kiss on the crown of her head.

---

Marinette stands at the top of Wayne Tower, tugging on her billowing ceremonial robes for the ritual. On the concrete, she traces over an intricate Guardian symbol with chalk, which is to be overlaid with the real material. A transformed Fei stands at her side, one hand over her earpiece.

“Chat says it's a three-kilometer radius,” Fei relays. “Nothing too far out; they're moving as one like you predicted.”

Marinette nods. She sent Adrien to scout around Gotham city and detect the activity of the brooch-adjacents using the Peacock miraculous. Her own power can sense them within a certain limit, but she isn't certain where the Order is scattered. “Let's begin,” she announces, pointing one hand straight upwards at the sky.

Marinette calls upon shell-ter, which manifests a green barrier around a part of the city, capturing the distance of three kilometers. That way, combat is restricted in the city—the civilians (those without miraculous magic) can vacate outwards, but it is untouchable from the outside. Luka and Kagami will survey the barrier's outer perimeter while Adrien and Fei will stay inside and make sure Marinette's untouched during the ritual.

The Cleansing Ritual is something she has picked up from the temple, though the exact method of performing it is something she owes to the previous Guardian's memories. It will break down the Order's defenses first; having the capability to remove miraculous magic from adjacents within its proximity. After eliminating their weapon, she’ll deal with the sentimonsters they have already created.

Fei steps forward to hand her a thick book. “This is all we could find from the temple.”

Marinette glances down. It is an incomplete copy of the Grimoire; nothing too special but it should be enough for the ritual. She was hoping for some spare adjacents but the temple has nothing of the sort anymore. “Thanks, Fei, this will do.”

She summons her cataclysm and crushes the book into heavy ashes, which she uses to trace over the symbol. It glows just faintly, signaling the effectivity, and she settles on the center. The most important thing is that the ritual is not disturbed, or else she’ll have to start all over again.

“I'll stick close by to fend them off,” Fei assures her softly.

“If it comes to worst, just come tell me.”

“But I thought—”

“It doesn't matter. You can interrupt me.” She doesn't know how they made their sentimonsters or if they will be harder to deal with than the creatures they fought before. She only knows that the adjacent-born monsters don’t operate by amok—once they are destroyed, that was that. But Marinette isn't willing to take any chances, especially if her team is in danger.

Marinette wipes her hand on her sleeve. Like Chat, she bears the power of destruction at the tip of her fingers. If she can, she would take the Order out with her own touch, but she obviously can't in that situation, where civilian lives are at stake.

After bidding her goodbyes, Fei leaps away to take her position. From her pocket, Marinette pulls out the thread that is tied to her senti-double's existence. Now, for the distraction.

She crushes it in her palm with the power of destruction.

Damian returns to the cave, breathless. Only two bats seem to be holed up in there, but the youngest Wayne wastes no time starting to explain roughly about Marinette's background.

Tim and Cass look at each other before the former speaks, “We know.”

Damian stops. “You know?”

“Hood and Oracle investigated on their own. They sent in a report to the JL hours ago,” Tim turns to the computer. “Speaking of the JL, they're a mess right now. Apparently, Marinette disappeared from her cell . . .”

“She's here. In Gotham.”

“She's what? ”

“You will not tell Father,” Damian demands. “Send a message to Oracle not to alert the League if she catches her here. There are members of the Order of Guardians attacking tonight, and Marinette will be facing them herself.”

“W—what?” Tim clicks on a screen to see a green barrier materializing over downtown Gotham. “Is this what it is? We should—”

“Do nothing,” says Damian. “They have a plan.”

“Dangerous,” Cass pipes up, frowning.

“It will be more dangerous if we or the Justice League interfere.” Damian shakes his head. “We cannot let them compromise this. Both sides will be operating by magic as well; it's best not to get caught up in it.”

Damian's fingertips are cold, hoping that nobody has alerted Bruce yet. He needs to make them understand that he was desperate—that he was asking not as Robin, but as their brother.

The screen shifts, showing what looks like an army marching down the streets. The sentimonsters have taken every kind of form: human-like, giant crawling insects, mechanical figures, fanged creatures. A collective chill passes over the three as they think that this must be what Paris has endured over the years.

“I sent a word to Babs but . . . are we really sitting here doing nothing?” Tim asks.

Damian purses his lips, remembering Marinette's words to him. “We can help protect the barrier and evacuate civilians. But we must stay out of the fight.”

Cass nods and disappears into the shadows to collect the other vigilantes. Meanwhile, Damian hovers near the screen, swallowing down his worry. They watch through the cameras as a white ring of light radiates from the top of Wayne Tower.

---

Kagami knows a thing or two about being restrained. She has suffered under the tortuous rule of her own mother, forbidden to do this or that, and for years she hasn’t realized just how caged she was. She hasn’t seen a mirror of her own life until she met Adrien, who suffered under the same predicament. Although she is already somewhat free and exploring the world on her own, she knows she can’t forget the memory of her shackles.

So when she first heard about Marinette’s past, she was livid—this is Marinette, the same person who once taught her about freedom and she hadn’t known how much the Guardian suffered in her youth. After Marinette told them, there were things about her that started to make sense: how she’s somehow a natural at fencing despite claiming that she has never touched a foil before, how she sometimes stares too long at her arms, how she knows an akuma is nearby before it becomes fully visible.

That is why Kagami has vowed to become Marinette’s support, like Adrien, Fei and Luka are.

“There are sentimonsters on my side, Ryuko.” Luka’s voice crackles from her earpiece. “Bats incoming too.”

Kagami lowers her sword and scowls at the group of sentimonsters on the street below the ledge she’s perched on. They’re more grotesque than the ones they had in Paris. Marinette has warned them that not all the monsters will be captured inside the barrier, but Kagami didn’t expect that there will be this many of them.

She stares off at the wispy light from inside the barrier. At least there are less of them that can attack Marinette during the ritual.

“On my side as well,” she reports back. “There are many, but I can deal with them.”

“Mmkay, be careful, my aria.”

Kagami jumps down to intercept the bunch trying to claw their way into the barrier. She feels only a bit of resistance while slashing them with her weapon, but she figures that their strength is in numbers. Since they’re made only from brooch-adjacents, they should be weaker than normal sentimonsters. But she can tell they’re still dangerous for anyone who doesn’t wield a miraculous.

She sidesteps and punctures another centipede-like sentimonster. They easily dissolve into nothing as long as her swing is lethal. She can’t quite pinpoint yet where they’re coming from but more hordes are appearing faster than she can eliminate them.

She grits her teeth, debating if she should use the Dragon miraculous’ powers. Transforming into any of the elements can take out many sentimonsters, but using the power too much—though she doesn’t have a time limit anymore—can drain her own energy. If the sentimonsters can easily multiply, that effort is futile.

“Hey kid, need some help?” A voice asks from above her.

Kagami whips around. A vigilante is crouching behind a gargoyle on the building closest to her. His helmet, guns, and leather jacket tells her (if she remembers correctly) that this one is Red Hood.

She ignores him and continues attacking. Meddling bats. Apparently, Marinette has allowed the Robin boy to help them out, but she can’t see how they can be anything more than a liability in the miraculous-driven battle. It seems that Red Hood doesn’t understand this at all and comes down to fight with her.

“Shouldn’t you be rescuing civilians?” Kagami dodges out of the way and decapitates a wolf-like sentimonster.

“That’s all done.” Hood procures a knife from his belt and throws it at another sentimonster . . .

Only for it to bounce and clatter onto the ground.

The vigilante lets out a slew of colorful swears. “Normal weapons don’t work on them?!”

“Obviously.” Kagami rolls her eyes.

“Uhh, then how—” Red Hood stumbles back when one of the monsters pounce on top of him, but Kagami drives her sword into it before it can maul him. Her breaths quicken as she tries to keep up with the pace of their overwhelming strikes.

While she’s jumping from place to place, she keeps an eye on Red Hood who’s now attempting to shoot at the monsters. She notes his agility and swiftness—he’s good enough jumping out of the way and keeping himself uninjured. The only problem is that his attacks aren’t working.

Kagami lets out a deep sigh.

“Here, use this.” She tosses her sword to the vigilante, who catches it with surprise.

“I can use this?” he quizzes. “What about you?”

“I can fight them without my sword.” The important thing is that you can make yourself useful now. “Do not worry about me.”

To prove her point, she activates Water Dragon and transforms into a wave that drowns several sentimonsters at once. She changes from one element to the next, blowing a strong gust of wind and then finishing off another horde with a bout of lightning. Luckily, Red Hood seems to have experience with the sword as he’s able to take down the sentimonsters with the Dragon miraculous weapon.

Kagami leaps up onto a window ledge to get a better look at the situation. The numbers are dwindling, but there are still a lot of them. She glances at the Wayne Tower again. The ritual must be nearly completed—then the miraculous-adjacents can’t be used anymore.

“Hey!”

She turns to see that Red Hood has grappled up to the next ledge.

“Oracle’s asking if she can connect your comms to ours.” Red Hood taps the side of his helmet. “We haven’t told the Bat or the JL either. We’re here to help.”

Kagami wipes off the sweat from her forehead. “I will ask the others.” She turns on her earpiece. “Red Hood is with me. They’re asking—”

“If they can connect to our line.” It’s Fei who answers her. “Yes, I heard. Luka got the same request from Red Robin. I don’t know if we can trust them right now. The ritual—”

“Let them.” Another voice buzzes in.

Kagami inhales sharply. Marinette.

Adrien chimes in. “M’lady. But the ritual—”

“Is finished,” Marinette says. “It’s okay, let them connect. They can help; if you can’t let them borrow your weapons, I give my permission to have them use the miraculi.”

Fei audibly gasps. “What?!”

Kagami surveys the street. They do need the manpower at this time. She knows the vigilantes can easily connect to their comms, since their line can link up normally to non-miraculous ones. The problem is having strangers wield miraculi for the first time.

“It’s okay,” Marinette says gently. “Kagami, Luka, finish off the remaining ones outside the barrier first. Take the vigilantes with you and convene at one location. Fei, please portal to the outside and help them in. Give them any miraculous you see fit—Adrien please help in choosing. I think the Order is nearby—I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“. . . Yes, okay. Fine.”

“Got that, M’lady. Cool, I get to hand out miraculi this time!”

“Copy that.”

“We can meet up at the park,” Kagami suggests. “We’ll finish up in ten.”

She hears a second voice above them—a vigilante clad in blue and black who has begun bantering with Red Hood. “Make that five,” she corrects herself.

---

Fei can tell that Adrien can sense her hesitance. She looks up at him after he takes her hand in his. “You've got the miraculi?” he asks.

She nods, holding up a small satchel where the Miraculous Box is safely kept.

“Are you sure we can trust them?” Her hand hovers the satchel.

“If Marinette trusts them, then we can trust them,” he squeezes her hand. “Anyways, if they try to take the miraculi for themselves we can easily snatch them up again.”

She cannot argue with that logic—they're handing out the miraculi just so that the vigilantes can fight the sentimonsters. They will have no problem using the weapons, but they are inexperienced at handling a miraculous in general. That gap alone will make it easy for them to take back the miraculi if the jewels are not handed back willingly. Not that she hopes it will ever come to that.

Fei carefully takes the glasses from the box and unifies the Prodigious and Horse miraculous to create a portal. She peeks at the swarms of sentimonsters still lingering around the streets below them. “What about . . .?”

“Mari will take care of them,” Adrien— Chat— tells her softly and nudges her forward.

They traverse through the portal, reaching the agreed meetup point outside the barrier. In that moment, a crackle rings from Fei's earpiece, followed by an unfamiliar voice.

“Aha! I've got it,” the voice says. “This is Oracle. Can everyone hear me?”

“I think you are connected to our line now,” Kagami's voice answers.

The group is gathered as agreed. Fei tears her eyes away from them and looks expectantly at Chat Noir, waiting for his instructions about the miraculi. If it were up to her, the miraculi shouldn't be in her care in place of the Guardian; the Parisians know more about the jewels than she can ever read from the Grimoire. But she knows Adrien still has a heavy heart about taking that responsibility, so she trusts him to choose the miraculi to hand off at least.

“Hmm,” Chat taps on his chin with a clawed finger. “Mouse, Bee, Horse, Peacock.”

She freezes. “I'm sorry, the Peacock? ”

“What? We can fight fire with fire in this case, right?”

Fei concedes; the sentimonsters from the real Peacock should be stronger than the adjacent-born ones rampaging in the city. But she's surprised Adrien doesn't seem to have any reservations using it again after it was taken from Hawkmoth.

“Aegis, sorry, but can you switch back to the Snake? I need the Turtle.” Adrien requests Luka, who has donned the Turtle miraculous for the night since his original miraculous offered little in head-on solo combat. Luka complies wordlessly.

Fei watches as Adrien tosses the miraculi one by one, telling the still-puzzled vigilantes that their kwamis will explain everything (and not to worry because he, too, barely received instructions when he first used his own miraculous). The Mouse pendant is handed off to Nightwing; the Horse to Red Hood; the Bee to Black Bat; the Peacock to Red Robin; and the Turtle to Robin.

Fei notices that she, Ryuko, and Viperion share the same curious looks at Chat's choice.

“You don't get it.” He shakes his head. “It's all about the vibes. That's how M'lady used to pick them.”

“Wait, do we even have feathers for the Peacock?” Fei whispers to Chat.

“Ah, right.” Chat smiles widely at Red Robin. “Sorry, you might have to catch pigeons or something.”

Fei looks over the group. “Are you sure the JL won't be stepping in soon? Batman?”

Robin crosses his arms. “Even if he tries, this isn't his Gotham for tonight.”

---

After giving her commands, Marinette jumps down carefully from the tower and onto the surrounding buildings. She keeps her comms on to monitor her team and hears that their line has been connected to the Bats’. Though the ritual was a success, there is still much to clean up in the mess—their goal is to cause minimal damage and keep Gotham as it is, since the restoring power of the Ladybug doesn't apply to adjacent-born sentimonsters.

Hands in her pockets, she drops down on a window ledge. Most of the civilians have been evacuated, and the sentimonsters are more focused on her anyways as if she were a beacon. With a swipe of her hand, she summons the Turtle's barrier and the Tiger's clout to herd the sentimonsters in one place before coming near them to use her Cataclysm.

She clenches her jaw when she feels the presence of the Order coming closer.

She has not regretted killing off the members of the Order when she was taken. The memories of the previous Guardian have become hers after all, so she has relived the futile struggle of the girl and the ‘experiments’ they've done to her in the guise of ‘rituals’. But she dislikes the lack of remorse she feels after killing—it seems hypocritical considering that she's the heroine of Paris.

Marinette walks down the street, sensing the movements of the Order. She shouldn't be complacent about the situation; she doesn't know what the enemies have as an upper hand. On her way, she extends her hand to pulverize the sentimonsters coming at her with just one touch of Cataclysm.

“Marinette, we're inside the barrier. The Bats have their miraculi. We'll start clearing off the sentimonsters,” Fei's voice reports loud and clear from her earpiece.

“Good. Please steer clear of my location,” Marinette replies.

“Okay—”

“Please be careful,” Robin's voice cuts through.

Chat snorts out a laugh. “What he said.”

“I will. Thanks,” she takes a deep breath, ignoring the teasing jabs of the other voices.

She sees the familiar burgundy robes up ahead, shielded by an unmoving line of sentimonsters all in the image of animals: tigers and panthers with glowing eyes; predatory birds hovering above; and oversized wolves. Marinette plants her feet firmly on the ground and holds her knives. These sentimonsters are not like the others; they are made with stronger, more potent adjacents.

“The Guardian,” a raspy voice echoes from down the road.

Marinette's grip tightens on the hilt of her weapon. Those grating voices have followed her in her nightmares for so long, even coming to life in one encounter with Sandboy. Though she has finished off their Tibetan base, there are still some who have escaped and some who have been hiding away in other parts of the world.

The thought of them sickens her to no end.

The sentimonsters lunge forward.

And so does she.

Marinette runs, infusing Destruction into her knives and throwing them at the creatures before they can touch her. Then, she calls on Fetch, from the power of Adoration, to pull back the knives into her hands. The hooded figures are closer now—she sidesteps one sentimonster and jumps over another. She's about to come face to face with the Order when she's suddenly knocked back by one of the wolves.

She grunts while trapping one knife between the sentimonster's sharp jaws to keep it from biting down on her. Its claws have trapped one of her arms, scratching through her skin deeply. Marinette clicks her tongue in annoyance. These ones can fatally injure her, and she's already slowly losing energy.

Finally, she gains the momentum to kick the sentimonster away and open up a portal behind her back to slip through it and escape its hold. She transforms into a large wave of water, followed by a bolt of lightning to kill off the whole pack.

“What misuse of the Guardian's blood,” a voice snarls from behind her.

Marinette catches her breath, turning around with fury in her eyes. Misuse? They talk about misuse when they were the ones who drew her blood for power. They preach so passionately about saving people with the Guardian's blood when they were the ones who handed off the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculi to Ra's al Ghul to abuse.

“You have desecrated the blood of our Guardian!” Another monk cries. “Give back what you've stolen from us!”

“Ungrateful vessel!”

“They should have drained you dry when they had the chance!”

“It was a mistake to bring you back!”

“Murderer!”

“Assassin's dog!”

Marinette shuts her eyes for a second. She keeps a firm grip on her knife and asks coolly, “Why are you mocking me when I am your Guardian?”

“You are an impostor! Give us our Guardian's blood back!” One growls.

“For you to use in your crimes?”

“They are not crimes. We are creating jewels for the protection of humanity.”

Marinette's jaw twitches. The years Paris has suffered under Hawkmoth—they called that protection?

“And yet you keep the jewels for yourself,” she mocks.

“Because there are those more deserving of that power.”

Bullshit. She isn't ignorant of their misdeeds. For so long, adjacents have been circulating around black markets and underground auctions. They were practically using the Guardian as a human factory. As for the real miraculi, they have been given to the most vile identities just like how the Butterfly and Peacock that were thought to be ‘missing’ was given to Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette tries not to let her anger run rampant. There are already many voices coming from her earpiece, both from her team and Gotham’s vigilantes each cursing out the Order—

She gasps, tensing all over.

She hasn't noticed.

The prickly feeling she has felt many times back in Paris.

Marinette looks down on her knife to see that it has changed its appearance. The monks continue talking down at her, but seem to be waiting for something.

“How dare you taint the blood—”

Don't you want to kill them?

“---a worthless—”

It only takes one touch.

Her head is pounding as she tries to blink her vision back to focus.

“The poor soul of our Guardian—”

You've had blood in your hands before. What's a few more victims?

“The poor soul of our Guardian wasted on a killer.”

What will your Master say seeing you this cowardly?

Marinette draws out the knife and kicks it down to the ground, shattering it into pieces. A dark violet aura floats up from it—a remnant of the Butterfly's power. With a shuddering breath, she calms herself down. This is their plan. It's just an adjacent. It's not as powerful as the real thing. They must have had one stored too far from the range of the ritual.

She turns to her enemies—

I am not a killer.

—And forces down her powers—

I am an assassin.

She pounces forward with suppressed miraculous magic and launches attacks at them with her bare hands. Without their miraculi rip-offs to play with, they are mere powerless humans anyway. She kicks and punches, just enough to have them immobilized but never too strong to meet death. She remembers Adrien's words about his father: ‘ death is too merciful of a punishment’.

It's the same for the Order. Death will be too forgiving. Even a slow death. She dodges a loose attempt of a hit and flips one over her back.

The only thing that will destroy them is seeing her being the ‘blight’ to the line of Guardians.

---

Unbeknownst to the miraculous holders and vigilantes, there have been watchers witnessing the attack on Gotham and listening in to Marinette's conversation with the remnants of the Order.

They’ve made a terrible mistake with imprisoning Marinette.

And now they have no right to interfere.

The Justice League observes silently as Marinette brings the Order to its knees, without any trace of magic or weapons. Just her bloodied knuckles and pure strength. They recognize the anguish in her movements—careful and precise as someone born in the League but ferocious like someone delivering vengeance.

Finally, she binds the enemies in ropes just as the last of the sentimonsters are finished off by the rest.

The three founders are particularly tense.

It must be them who will make sure that the Order will meet its justice.

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Taglist: @noisydreamlandkoala

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