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wolferine · 3 years

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Unforgivable - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word count: 2413

Part 2

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife @user19422004 @zoldszemulany56

You sit alone on a park bench, wearing a heavy black backpack filled with Hammer’s latest invention. He’s here too, more than a mile away, watching you from the shadows. Your task is to do all the talking and distracting; Hammer wants to take the kill shot. You don’t really care, as long as Tony Stark dies for what he did to Natasha.

At midnight exactly, Tony walks up to you, wearing a hoodie, jeans, and his signature sunglasses. However, you know from experience that Jarvis is inside the sunglasses, providing him with information about you and his surroundings.

“It’s a little late to be wearing sunglasses, isn’t it, Stark?” you say, standing up. Hammer lined your backpack with lead so Jarvis can’t see into it, but you’re still nervous.

“You know I have astigmatism,” he says.

“I don’t really care,” you respond. “Take them off.”

He doesn’t need a second warning.

“So, what’s up with you, Y/N?” Tony pockets the sunglasses. “Where have you been lurking all this time?” He stops about ten feet in front of you.

“Just…working through some things,” you reply.

“For six months?” Tony scoffs. “We waited for you to come back.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.” Your jaw clenches. “But for you, Stark? I’d make an exception any day of the week.”

“What’s up with all the theatrics tonight, huh? Would’ve been a lot simpler to have this chat at the Tower,” Tony says.

“I’m not an Avenger anymore.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” you snap, trying not to let your impatience show. You’re waiting for Hammer’s signal, but he seems to want to take his time. Your eyes drift to the glowing blue arc reactor in the center of Tony’s chest and you put your right hand in your pocket casually.

“Just spit it out, Y/N. Why am I here?”

“You’re here to die, Stark.”

“Well, have at it.” He opens his arms tauntingly and you tense, ready to tackle him to the ground and beat his head inside out.

“You killed Natasha,” you snarl, and his expression changes. But you don’t have time to process it, because suddenly, the watch on your wrist vibrates.

Hammer’s signal.

You take your hand out of your pocket, now holding onto a tiny sensor disk, which you throw at Tony’s chest. It latches onto his arc reactor and powers it down instantly, preventing him from activating his Iron Man suit.

Then you dive to the ground, because Hammer starts blasting away with his rifle.

Tony catches a few bullets in his chest and legs, unable to react to both threats at the same time. He falls onto his back, blood pooling around his body as he gasps for air. You activate Hammer’s suit, which tears out of your backpack, covering your torso and limbs in a thin layer of metal armor.

You climb to your feet, your helmet snapping over your head, and charge towards Tony. But something—or someone—completely blindsides you, sending you skidding in the direction of the carousel.

It looks like a variation of Iron Man, although the suit is smaller and more feminine. The colors are black and red, evoking a pang of familiarity in your chest. You stand again, an eight-inch blade shooting out of your right wrist, and you beckon the Iron Woman (?) to come at you.

She does, but when you swing your blade at her, she blocks it and punches you so hard in the chest you fly back into the carousel and knock a horse completely off its pole. You’re pretty sure you cracked a rib as your breathing sends a stabbing pain up your side. You hang onto a bench to get up, and suddenly the carousel comes to life, lights flashing and music crackling through the speakers.

You’re transported back to the day you were last here with Natasha, when you asked her to be your girlfriend.

Both of your horses are out of sync. When she goes up, you go down, and neither of you can stop laughing. You’re pretty sure you’re the oldest adults on the carousel without kids, but you don’t care.

The way her hair effortlessly blows in the wind and the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs lights up your heart, and you still can’t believe she chose you over everyone else in the world. You’ve never been so in love with another human being before, and you don’t think there will ever be another like her.

When the rides end, you take her hand and lead her to an empty patch of grass in the shade of a tree.

“Natasha, will you go out with me?” you ask, your voice trembling. She nods and brushes her fingers over your cheek. “I promise to keep you safe and love you every day for the rest of my life—”

“Calm down, it’s not a marriage proposal.” Natasha laughs as you sweep her off her feet. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Just preparing.” You kiss her and feel her smile against your lips. You’ve never been happier.

You’re so stuck in your head you don’t even notice the Iron Woman coming after you until she punches you in the face. You stagger back, stunned, as she punches you several more times. The face of your helmet snaps off and you feel your nose bleeding. You slash out with your blade wildly, forcing the Iron Woman to back off.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman says, and you don’t even care how she knows your name, “You need to stop.”

“Get out of my way.” When you leap towards her, she lifts her foot and kicks you in the chest. You somersault backwards, head over heels, as she retreats. The rotating platform of the carousel does nothing to help your balance and the lights and noise distract your focus. You crouch behind a stationary horse, searching for her amongst the painted animals.

You break the blade off your wrist, poised to throw like a javelin. When the Iron Woman pops out from behind a black horse, you bring your arm back to throw the blade, but she fires from her gun before you can. The bullet bounces off a pole and buries itself in your left cheek.

The pain is like a branding iron as you scream and fall to your knees, the blade slipping out of your fingers. Blood pours out of your mouth, the taste of metal coating your tongue as you gingerly reach in to swipe the burning chunk of lead over your teeth. You finally spit the bullet out, but the pain persists.

The Iron Woman holsters her gun and approaches you, thinking you’re too distracted to notice. But you do, another blade flicking out of your left wrist and you ram it into her thigh as hard as you can. The blade crunches through the plates of her armor, but she elicits no reaction to being stabbed.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman repeats.

“Just die already!” you scream, withdrawing the blade and trying to stab her again.

The Iron Woman’s helmet slides back and you freeze when you see her face.

It’s Natasha.

Immediately, your anger melts into confusion and happiness.

“H-How…How is this possible?” you stammer, more blood spilling from your lips. “T-They…They told me you died.”

“No.” Natasha shakes her head, kneeling to your level. “But you never came back for me.”

“Because I hurt you—” Hammer had said she was dead, and that Tony—no—you—had killed her.

“I forgive you, Y/N. For all of it.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” You stumble back, tears and blood mixing on your face.

“Please come back to me, Y/N,” Natasha begs, as your head spins from the turn of events. “I still love you.”

Suddenly, it’s like all of Hammer’s training reverses. Tony was never the one responsible for harming Natasha—you were. And now Tony’s bleeding to death, which was again, your fault. You won’t let this rest on your conscience. You’ve done enough damage and now it’s time to redeem yourself, as little as you can.

“This is all Justin Hammer’s doing,” you say, letting Natasha pull you to your feet. “He’s had me kidnapped for the past six months. He thought I would be able to help him kill Tony, but he’s not going to be successful anymore. Because you weren’t part of the plan.”

Natasha smiles and you feel your heart melt. Whether or not she’ll take you back, you owe this to her.

“He’s about a mile out, west from here. He has no guards—arrogant bastard—it’s just him and his rifle. You go get him and I’ll get Tony,” you say. Natasha nods and flies off. For a moment, you’re filled with jealousy over her suit. How come Tony never made you one?

You make your way off the carousel and find Tony still on the ground. You check his pulse. It’s weak, but there.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” you say, as a spray of bullet rips through the ground. You grab his arms and pull him to take cover under a bench.

“Y/N?” he mumbles.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No…” Tony says, grabbing your hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was a complete asshole to you that day—”

“No, I’m the one who tried to shoot you, for God’s sake—” You rip his shirt into ribbons to wad up against the wounds in his chest and legs. “You’re gonna be okay,” you promise. “It’s Justin Hammer who’s behind all of this.”

“I recognized his work from your suit,” Tony gasps. “It looks like shit.”

“You can tell him that yourself.” You find yourself smiling despite the circumstances. “He wanted my help to end his ultimate rival. He manipulated me into thinking that Natasha was dead and that you were the reason for it—” You pause. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“It was the least I could do for you.”

“I know she probably won’t want me anyway after all this, but it was good to see her again.”

“She only wants you. It was always you or no one.”

You throw yourself onto Tony when the bullets start again and you feel them bounce off your back and legs. Fortunately, when Hammer made your suit bulletproof, he probably didn’t think it would have to bulletproof against his bullets.

Suddenly, the gunshots stop and the silence is deafening.

When you finally look up, you see Natasha flying over, holding Hammer by the collar.

You don’t even mind when your face splits into a painful smile. “That’s my girl.”

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

Two weeks after Hammer is arrested, Natasha convinces you to come by the Avengers Tower. It’s a strange feeling as you walk in for the first time in over six months. When you left, you’d never thought you’d be back, but here you are. Your only belongings are a single duffel bag with some clothes stuffed inside.

You ride the elevator up to the Avengers’ quarters. You’re a little more wary of the SHIELD agents that pass you, wondering if anyone will double-cross you again, but you remain courteous. You punch in your code to see if it still works and it does, the doors opening.

“Look who’s finally come home.” Tony’s there to greet you and he hugs you tightly.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, still guilty you almost got him killed.

“Good, no thanks to you.”

“Sorry again.”

He waves you off.

“Where’s—” you start, but then you see her. She comes around the corner in a wheelchair. Your heart drops to your feet.

“Things have been a little different since you left,” she says. So that’s why she had no reaction when you had stabbed her at the carousel. She has no feeling left in her legs after your bullet pierced her spine.

“Natasha, I’m…I didn’t know. Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” You turn around, but she rolls into your legs and grabs your hand.

“Please stay,” she says. “Like I told you before, I’m not mad.”

“But you have every right to be.”

“Can we talk?”

You nod numbly and let her lead you back to where your shared bedroom with her was. Nothing inside has changed. In fact, your clothes are still hanging in the closet like you’d never left. You sit on your side of the bed.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” Natasha asks.

You shrug. “Call me an asshole for what I did. Tell me you’d never want me back.”

“Okay. You’re an asshole for shooting me and leaving me,” Natasha says without hesitation, and you flinch. But somehow, you find solace in hearing her say the words you’ve played over and over in your head for months. “And yeah, after the whole thing happened, I didn’t think I could ever take you back. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you and told myself if I ever saw you again, I wanted you to know that I forgive you.”

“But I don’t know if I could forgive myself,” you whisper.

“Well, I forgive you, and I think if I can do that, you can, too.” It hurts her to see how much you’ve changed in the past six months. Your face and body are thin from malnourishment and Hammer’s torture. Your eyes are dull and permanently swollen from basically crying every day for six months. Some of your fingers are crooked from not healing correctly and you have scars running up your arms.

She reaches out and touches the puckered mark on your cheek from the bullet. “Besides, we’re kind of even now.”

“Hardly.” You chuckle.

“We can start slow,” Natasha says, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Because I’m not sure what still works down there, anyway.”

You smile, and her heart warms at the sight.

“Can I lie with you?” she asks and you nod, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. You put her down gently and lie next to her. She pulls you close until your foreheads touch and you close your eyes as you breathe in her familiar scent. “Why did you pick the carousel as the meeting place?” she asks.

“I…I don’t know,” you mumble. “For some weird reason, I thought I’d see you again, at least in my memory. But then I did in real life, too.”

“I’m so glad you came back,” Natasha hums, brushing her lips against yours.

“I’m so glad I did, too.”

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AN: The end! :) Fun facts:

-Part 1 was inspired by the scene in X-Men: First Class where Magneto accidentally deflects a bullet into Charles’s spine (which resulted in Charles’s paralysis). -Part 2’s Iron Black Widow suit was inspired by a concept art photo I saw that was cut from Avengers: Endgame. Here’s the link to that post. -Part 3’s carousel scene was inspired by the season 1 finale of Netflix’s Punisher.

Join my taglist for future stories here! Thanks for reading, and until next time...

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Threats and Collateral

TITLE: Threats and Collateral CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-Shot AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s reaction to his SO being brought in to the TVA as a way to control him.

RATING: General Audience NOTES/WARNINGS: None

Loki scowled at the contraption around his neck, limiting his power. Looking around the containment area, there were many creatures and beings with similar around their own necks. Since being captured by the TVA, he had been stripped of his armoured clothes and placed in grotesque and frankly uncomfortable attire and given food that he assumed the palace hounds would turn their noses up at.

He was yet to be spoken to by anyone of notable seniority as to what was the counts of which he was being held. They mentioned him altering the timeline but nothing more. He had to wait until he had a trial to know what was going to happen. Or so he thought.

Loki never liked being manhandled, as most beings tended not to, but being grabbed and forcibly handcuffed made him eye those around him carefully. The guards that did so, did it quickly while another man stood back and watched studiously which brought Loki’s attention to him. There was no manner to age the man in front of him, not with where he was, so there was no telling if he could defeat him or not in hand-to-hand combat, though being handcuffed and collared also was to his disadvantage.

“Follow me.”

That was all the man said before turning to walk towards one of the elevators that dotted the walls of the room Loki was in. He had known better than to attempt to go near one before, the singed clothing and black burns on the floor and the unconscious what he assumed to be corpses of different beings telling him to do so without authorisation was not to be recommended.

Though he did not trust the official of the TVA, Loki knew that whatever they wanted, they had no reason to burn him as they would not be so dim as to do so in such a fashion, ergo, he followed sceptically. Passing through the white line on the floor without being harmed and into the metal contraption to bring him to Norns’ knows where in the building.

“I am Mobius M Mobius and you, are Loki.”

“You heard of me, I’m honoured?” Loki eyed him carefully.

“Do you know where I am taking you?”

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”

“No, I’m taking you some place to talk.”

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie talkie.”

Loki eyed the man with utter disgust at the juvenile and irritating manner in which he spoke.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, bringing the two men to a room bare of all objects bar a table, two chairs on opposite sides of it and some stationary equipment.

Mobius indicated for Loki to sit at one side while he sat on the opposite side. “This is the TVA.”

“I know exactly what this place is.” Loki interrupted. “The Time Keepers have built quiet the circus and I see that the clowns are playing their parts to perfection.” “Big metaphor guy. I love it. It makes you sound smart.” “I am smart.” “I know.” “Okay.”

“Okay.” “What do you want from me?”

Mobius replayed the footage of Loki taking the Tesseract and explained how that was not the original timeline and then showed him what his actual timeline was, the events on Asgard with the Aether and the Dark Elves, him taking the throne under the guise of Odin, Odin’s death, the return of Hela, the destruction of Asgard and finally, the less than comfortable scene were Thanos choked him and snapped his neck in one fell swoop. With an unconscious rubbing of his throat, he looked at the agent across from him. “And you want me to help you because?”

“We need your unique Loki perspective.”

“I don’t believe you.” Loki shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you believe anyone. This Loki variant needs to be fixed.”

“But why is it the Loki variant when those misfit Midgardians clearly are the ones that altered time. How was I supposed to know that what I did was altering time when they were the ones altering it?” Loki pointed out. “The breaking of reality was not my doing, but theirs, have them fix it.” “But you don’t want us to do that, not really. Because if we did that, you would have to be imprisoned indefinitely as you are not the true timeline Loki and you know that you will face a less than pleasant end soon. But if you help us, you get to use all these traits you love so dearly to actually do something and not be destroyed. “ “What happens if I help you and fix all of this, let me guess, you’ll imprison me then?” “No, then you will be offered to stay here and work for us and fix mess after mess for…well, who knows how long. Time works a little differently here.”

“So, I help you, I‘m free to work for you, I don’t help you, I sit in uncomfortable clothes waiting to die of old age, which, if I am correct, may never actually happen here?” Loki checked.

“Something to that effect.” Loki thought over his options. “I am not interested.” “I thought you might say that.�� Mobius activated his computer screen and clicked on buttons. With how he was doing it, Loki was suspicious that he was not actually typing anything at all but pretending to do so to try and get Loki to change his mind. But after a few moments, the elevator door behind them rung out and opened.

At first, Loki did not care enough to turn around. He suspected it was either someone to forcibly get him to comply, in which case, the ignoring served its purpose of not acknowledging such or it was guards to bring him to holding once more or to his new prison cell, which again, he did not care to acknowledge. But then, he felt the urge to look, especially when he sensed someone looking at him. When he turned, his eyes widened. “What?” He tried to rise from his seat but was pushed back down by a guard that seemed to just appear beside him. He glared angrily at Mobius. “How?” “We knew there was a high probability you would say no, we really needed you to say yes, so we brought a little incentive here for you,” Mobius explained. “I have studied practically every moment of your life. There is one single being in the universe you will willingly do anything for.” He pointed behind Loki. “Your adoptive parents, your adopted brother, sure, you’ll do stuff for them, when it suits. You used to be far more compliant, but then you grew up and realised your brother mattered more. You killed your biological father but her…you would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” “No.” Both answered immediately.

Mobius looked at them both as sat back slightly before pointing to Loki. “He’s the better liar.” “I told him not to do anything stupid and he thwarted that coronation and literally did the most stupid thing possible letting go at the Bifrost, so no, he would not do anything for me.” She glared over at Loki who looked at the table shamefully.

“Yes, there’s enough time for domestic arguments at a later point, but we really need to get started on this.” Mobius focused on the matter at hand again.

“Wait, isn’t bringing her here altering the timeline even more so?” Loki pointed out. “I feel as though there’s a significant case of double-standards going on here.”

“It’s not really affecting the timeline because the timeline is already altered,” Mobius explained boredly.

“How could it possibly not be affecting the timeline when having her being here instead of being where she would actually be is affecting the timeline?” “Because she is integral to getting you to fix the timeline,” Mobius argued. “But she was doing something when you took her, now that is not going to get done and that affects the timeline.” Loki countered.

“We need her here to get you to say yes so you fix the timeline you broke, ergo, she fits this timeline.”

“Wait, I am here because Loki broke a timeline so to fix the timeline he broke, we have to break the one I was in?” She clarified.

“I didn’t break it,” Loki explained. “Thor and his Midgardian friends went back in time because they wanted to change the future but I touched something I was not supposed to touch while they were doing that because their attempts to get it went awry because they are idiots, so technically, they broke the timeline and I am being forced to fix it because it apparently my touching the Tesseract goes against TVA rules but them going back in time and altering the whole future does not.”

“By breaking the timeline I was on, which in itself is a breach of these rules?” She asked in disbelief.

“Exactly,” Loki confirmed.

“No,” Mobius stated a mere nanosecond after.

“It seems like it to me.” She looked at Loki for confirmation. “Me too.” Loki concurred.

“Well, it’s not.” Both looked at Mobius sceptically. “So, you help us and everyone is happy.” Mobius clapped his hands together. “So, let’s get you started as an agent.” Mobius pressed a button and Loki fell through a portal in the floor. Mobius rose to his feet and straightened his jacket boredly. “These men will bring you to the guest rooms.” “I think I rather do something while I wait.” “I don’t think so.” “I wasn’t asking.” She gave a smile that said she would not be dissuaded. “This is a big place, I am sure you can find somewhere for me and good luck trying to control him.” She laughed before walking out of the room.

Mobius sighed. “I immediately regret this decision.” He rose to his feet and went into the elevator. After a few minutes, the doors opened to show Loki looking at him in a shirt, tie, jacket and pants. “That better?”

“It will suffice.” Loki walked in and stood next to him.

Mobius remained looking forward as the elevator moved again. “I just need to grab a few things, and we will begin.”

Loki said nothing in response.

Mobius walked out of the elevator and the door remained open until his return a minute later, in entirely different attire and looking almost as though he had showered. He fiddled with his tie as he walked back in.

“I have to say,” Loki stepped towards him and centred his tie as he spoke. “I think it’s adorable that you think you can manipulate me. I am ten steps ahead of you.” “Is that right?” Mobius barely had a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Oh, it is.” Loki sneered. “Nor can she. Though, I am curious, where is she?” “Gone to dictate to whoever is stuck dealing with her.” Mobius looked straight ahead. “She will be fine.” “She had better, or else,” Loki snarled. “Or else what?” Mobius glanced sideways, no emotion in his voice.

“Or else I am going to burn this place to the ground,” Loki swore with a smile.

#Loki #others #submission #god of mischief #submitted fic #threats and collateral #wolfpawn

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fablesrose · 3 years

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Tell Me a Story 2

Description: With the first interaction with Chuck almost over and done with, Dean and Y/n have to figure out how the heck this is going to work. Some mafia business goes awry, but when has anything gone to plan?

Word count: 4,581 (guys this is over twice as long as the first part, this is ridiculous)

Pairing: cop!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: Moodboard

Warnings: knives, pain, a little blood

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

A/n: Part two also goes with @girl-next-door-writes Bingo challenge! Btw this whole fic is based on me wanting to write the first part of this chapter so there's that too.

“I don’t know sir, I’m not much of a story teller.”

“Come on Dean.”

“Tell me a story.”

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

“Well I’ll do my best.” Dean glanced at me, trying to decide how this would go. “If I remember right sweetheart, you called me?”

“Yeah!” I wracked my brain as quick as I could, “It was a wrong number call. I think I was trying to order take out.” Oh my gosh that was so stupid.

“But with me in a new city, a new job, I wanted to talk for a bit,” Dean squeezed my hand, “we decided to keep in touch and the rest is history!”

Chuck just looked at us for a bit, an unamused look on his face, “You’re right, you aren’t much of a story teller.”

Dean’s finger twitched against my hand, and I had to admit, that in this moment it was comforting. At least I was going to die next to a pretty nice dude.

“But whatever. You guys go claim some territory or something.”

Chuck seemed so complacent that it made a spark of anger ignite inside of me.

“Chuck, we’re not some teenage boy gang that spray paints wall-”

He had advanced towards me and had his hand roughly grabbing the base of my jaw, a few of his fingers pressing into my neck. He was just enough taller than me to wretch my face up painfully. I let out a grunt, but otherwise shut up.

“You are whatever I damn well tell you you are, Starling. Now go claim some territory.” He roughly shoved my face to let go. He quickly fixed his sleeves and patted Dean on the arm, “Sorry for touching the merchandise. You kids have fun now.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the building without a second thought.

There was a moment were nobody moved from the room. In the last few minutes it made it easy to forget that there were more than just Dean and I there. I wasn’t the highest ranking person in the room, but the list got messy sometimes.

“Alright, you heard the man,” I sighed. But still nobody moved, “I said let’s go!”

The members surrounding me rushed from their stationary positions to exit the building. I moved to follow but the tug on my arm reminded me that I was still holding Dean’s hand. I couldn’t decipher the look he had on his face, but it wasn’t a good one.

I gave him a soft nod with a squeeze of the hand before letting go and following the group. I heard his heavy footsteps behind me, but he made no effort in catching up to walk by my side.

“What a guy you got.”

I huffed, “Hello to you too Meg.”

“He’s hot. Ask if he’s got any hot friends he can hook me up with alright? Or you can just let me have him.” She nudged me a little in jest.

“Any other requests, Cockroach?”

She shoved me a bit harder, “Just don’t get in the way of my spray paint.”

I laughed as she ran up to the front of the pack, wanting to pick the spot to throw some paint.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, slouching a bit as I followed the pack, wanting to be in my own thoughts.

A hand wrapping around my shoulders caused me to stiffen and straightened my back. I glanced to my side to find that Dean was the one walking next to me now. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, maybe trying to keep up the front that Chuck gave us. I relaxed a little bit, loosened my jaw, but my posture remained straight.

“You expect someone else?” Dean kept his eyes facing forward, not even glancing in my direction.

I mimicked his expression, “The boys tend to try and get handsy.”

He hummed and patted my shoulder, “So that didn’t go to plan.”

I turned to look at him and waited until he looked at me. I shook my head softly as if to say, “Not now, not here.”

He nodded, just as softly, as if to tell me that he understood.

We walked silently down the streets, just far enough behind the group to be separate, but close enough to see where they were going. I know I said we weren’t a teenage boy gang, but sometimes I did wonder. By their behavior alone, you would think they were some stupid seventeen year olds, roughing each other up, looking for trouble. Fortunately to some, they were intimidating enough from experience for people to not try and mess with them.

By the time Dean and I caught up, Meg had already gotten the spray paint out. She would never admit it to anyone out loud, but she enjoyed this. And she was good at it too. She ordered some of the boys around, some to help her with the graffiti, others to keep watch and to keep people away.

I took a second to think, I was lousy at painting (not that I didn’t try), and I figured this was as good a time as any to talk to Dean. Now the question was how to get alone.

The answer was I had to swallow my pride.

I turned my body towards Dean, one hand at the small of his back, the other gripping the front of his shirt, “Hey guys...” That got their attention. “You’ve got this covered, right?” I bit my lip a little, trying to sell it.

“If you don’t get out of here with him right now, I will shoot you myself,” Benny was leaning against a wall with a bemused smile on his face.

I shot him a wink and grabbed Dean’s hand to pull him away, “Duly noted Gaterson.”

“You sure do know how to pick ‘em lover boy!”

Dean let out a single laugh in response as I dragged him a block away into a secluded ally way.

We walked into a shadowy area to get as much seclusion as possible. I let go of his hand and leaned against the wall. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes which pushed my head against the bricks behind me.

“Starling?”

I sighed, “Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, I just meant what does it mean, why do you have it?”

I lowered my hands to see him leaning on the wall across from me, “Maybe some other time. All you need to know is everyone has nicknames around here.”

He crossed his arms, “So is lover boy my nickname now?”

I huffed out a laugh, “Nah, they’ll call you all sorts of things until something sticks.”

There was a pause. We both knew we were dancing around the real subject I pulled us away for, but I wasn’t sure I knew what to do with it.

“So that didn’t go to plan.” Dean was braver than I was.

“Yeah no shit.” I banged my head against the bricks hard enough to make a sound and tried to dig into the cement with my shoe out of frustration. “To look on the bright side—which I loathe doing by the way—we’re not dead...So there’s that.”

“There is that… Got any suggestions?”

“Why is it that you’re supposed to be the professional and I’m making all the decisions?”

“I don’t know, with your performance and cool composure, I’d say that you’re the professional in this situation.”

I sighed and closed my eyes, “The only thing I can think to do is play along. If it gets too much we can fake a breakup...” This was getting so complicated.

“Fake a breakup? As far as I’m concerned, we’re not actually dating.” I could nearly hear the smirk on his face.

“Really Dean? Really?” He chuckled in response. “Since Chuck already knows that you’re a cop I think the best thing to do is for you to go to work. Be a police officer that’s on the payroll, but be a little more involved.”

“Whatever you say sweetheart.”

I heard voices approaching the ally way that sounded familiar. Then there was a harsh shh to quiet them down.

“Shit,” I looked at Dean, grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer, “You’re gonna have to kiss me.”

I stared at me dumbfoundedly, “What?”

“Look, they think we came over here to make out, if we don’t at least look like we’re making out they’re gonna be suspicious.”

He still looked shocked.

“Shit.” I didn’t want to kiss him on the spot either, so I did the next best thing to make it look like we were making out. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his face down next to my neck slightly angling his body to cover me. The sudden motion caused him to catch himself with his hands against the wall on either side of me.

He wasn’t touching me, but I could feel his startled breathing against my neck. I ran my hand along the back of his neck and through his hair. It was extremely soft. I started making little noises and muttering Dean’s name. To sell the act, naturally.

Dean, once he recovered from his freezing shock started to brush the tip of his nose against my skin which startled me.

I heard a whistle from the end of the ally, “Yeah Ms. Starling! Get some!” The group rounded the corner to see us there. I flipped them off, making them laugh.

I gently tugged at the back of his collar to say it was okay to part now. As he straightened himself I caught his face and left a soft kiss on his cheek.

The group had started to disperse and go their separate ways since we were done putting on a show because they “caught” us.

Dean and I walked side by side out of the ally, by the time we got to the entrance our previous companions had all gone their separate ways.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I started to walk the way we came, back towards the wall Meg was working on.

“No, uh, that was smart of you,” he jogged to catch up with me and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The walk was silent around the block.

Eventually we arrived to see what Meg had done. She had out done herself once again. The wall was covered with a silhouette of an angel. It’s wings were burning as the figure fell. It was intricate as only Meg could be. There were a few lone charred feathers across the wall as well. In the bottom corner an F was painted as if it had fallen over.

“It’s beautiful. How’d she get if done so fast?” Dean stared at the wall in awe.

I nodded, agreeing with him, “I’m pretty sure she made a demon deal, but I don’t know.” I pointed at the painting, “This is just street art, but this,” I pointed at the F, “makes it Fallen territory. Watch for it.” I patted the wall where there wasn’t any paint, “Alright, I’ll call you if something comes up you need to be at. Any questions?”

“Nope, I guess I’ll see you around Miss Y/n.”

I side-eyed him with a smirk before I started to walk towards my apartment.

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

Something like a week passed. It was relatively quiet, me minding my own business. I thought it was almost too quiet when I got a call from Meg.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Letterboys are causing some trouble on 5th Avenue. You wanna bring your boy toy to help sort this out?”

I hummed, “I was just thinking that it was getting boring around here. I’ll give him a call and head over.”

“See you, Starling.”

“Uh huh.” I hung up on her and dialed up Dean. I was redirected to his voicemail.

“This is Dean, you know what to do.”

“Hey, we’ve got a territory dispute over on 5th Ave, if you’ve got time you can stop by.”

I left it at that and headed out to show some mafia wannabes that territories aren’t to be messed with. It didn’t take long to see Meg standing off against a guy, maybe twenty-three years old.

“Everyone paired off already?”

“Yeah, I think there’s a straggler that headed west though, you wanna pick him up?”

I slapped her shoulder, “Yeah, I got it.”

I heard her start to make small talk with her challenger, he didn’t stand a chance, “So, how’s the other side of town?”

I chuckled as I started heading West, checking all the nooks and crannies. I eventually came up on a kid walking down an ally, his hood was up, head down.

“Hey kid, you lookin’ for something?”

He looked up at me, “Just heading home ma’am.”

I nodded, “Alright, just, have you happened to see anyone running around with a pointy triangle-ish mark on their wrist?”

He didn’t respond, he just pulled out a switchblade. How cute.

“Look kid, you look too young for this, and I’m too old for this, so why don’t you head back where you came from.” As I spoke I pulled out my own, slightly larger, switchblade.

It seemed like he didn’t want to talk anymore because he started to charge at me.

I smiled, “Alright, have it your way.”

I dodged him at first, but then I started to cut him just enough to sting. That seemed to make him angry to the point where he caught me a couple times too. I started cutting a little bit deeper, hoping he would give up.

“Okay, you’re obviously out of your league, why don’t you go home?”

He made a jab at me, to which I grabbed his wrist to stop him. What I didn’t expect was for him to toss the blade into his other hand and slice a fairly deep cut into my side.

“Dammit!” I shoved him away onto the ground and pulled out my gun from the back of my waistband. I pointed it at him and stepped on the hand with the switchblade, “That’s enough of that.”

He spit some blood onto the cement from the split lip I gave him at some point, “Cheater!”

“Hey, you’re the idiot that brought a knife to a gun fight.”

A single bleep from a siren sounded off behind me. I turned my head to see an unmarked police vehicle on the street.

“Ah, Detective Castiel, nice to see you!” I kept the gun pointed at the kid on the ground. He may not have been the smartest, but he was smart enough to not move.

“Y/n, if you shoot that kid I’m going to have to arrest you.” He didn’t sound amused as he walked around the car.

“I’m only going to shoot him if he tries to stab me again,” I stared at the kid pointedly, “got it?”

He nodded sadly.

I looked back at Cas, “You know, this kid was looking to cause some trouble, so really I’m doing your job for you.”

“Sure.”

“Is that a new trench coat? It looks nice.”

“It is, thank you. Are you going to let him go now?”

“I don’t know,” I looked back at the kid, “are you going to go home and not cause any trouble if I let you go?”

He nodded again.

I stopped pointing my gun at him and stepped off of his hand. He scrambled up and ran back the way he came.

I put my gun back into the back of my waistband, “Kids these days.” I popped my hip as I turned to fully face Cas for the first time tonight, “Chuck still wants you on the payroll, by the way.”

“And you already know what my answer is, Y/n,” he leaned back against the car behind him.

I sighed, “Yeah I do. You’re a good man and a good cop, Cas.”

He smiled, a rare occurrence, but I didn’t mention it. “You’re a good person too, Y/n.”

I laugh halfheartedly, “If you say so… If you say so.” I crossed my arms and felt the wet stickiness from my side, reminding me of my injury. “Anyway, Meg should be about a block east of here if you want to go say hi.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah I should see if you guys are causing any other trouble.”

I turned on my heel to head home and clean myself up, “Love you too Cas!”

I heard the car start and drive off behind me. I finally looked down at the cut to see how bad it was. I was wearing a black shirt, so the blood didn’t show, making it difficult to see just how bad it was. From what I could tell, it was a few inches across. I couldn’t tell just how deep it was, but the cut was positioned over my ribs, so it didn’t damage anything important. Luckily the kid’s knife was sharp, so it would heal faster as it didn’t tear the skin, unfortunately the kid’s knife was sharp, so it went deeper.

I pressed one hand against the wound while I walked back to my apartment. On the way my phone buzzed from a text.

Dean: Hey, sorry, I was called out. Did you still need some help over on 5th?

Me: No, it’s taken care of. I’m heading home now.

Dean: Okay.

I put my phone away and continued home. Eventually I was able to unlock my apartment, careful not to get blood anywhere. I headed straight to the bathroom, stripping off my shirt and tossing my phone on my table on the way. I held it to the cut while I dug around for the first aid kit and once I found it I tossed the soaked shirt into the sink.

I turned the water on, getting a washcloth wet. I started cleaning around the cut to get a better look at it, having to rinse out the washcloth a couple of times to prevent just smearing blood around.

It was still bleeding, but the pressure I put on it caused it to slow down. Once I got a good look at it I could tell it wasn’t going to cause too many problems other than taking a while to heal and being sore.

A knock came to the door. I was obviously not prepared for visitors, so I left it be. It was probably one of the neighbors, they liked to check in every once in a while. I hoped they would just move on. They knocked one more time before my phone rang in the other room. I really should have just turned it off.

Finally the phone stopped ringing, but not a moment later I heard the creek of my front door opening. I reached for my gun the was still in my pants.

“Y/n? It’s Dean, I’m coming in okay? Your door is open.”

I sighed in relief and placed my gun on the counter, “Okay.”

I heard some rustling of what I assumed was him taking his coat off and the click of the lock sliding into place.

I pulled out some cotton pads and soaked one in rubbing alcohol. I just looked at it for a second, not wanting to clean the wound, but knowing I had to. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, preparing myself for the sting.

“I thought you said everything was taken care of.” I looked up to see Dean in the doorway. He had a hard look on his face.

“No, I said the problem was taken care of.” I relaxed against the back of the toilet, knowing that I had a second before I was going to clean my side.

He walked in and took the saturated cotton pad from my hand, “That looks like a problem to me.”

I tensed up in preparation for him to clean it once he started to approach me, “Something like that.”

He hesitated, “You want something to numb it?”

I let go of the breath I was holding, “Yeah, uh, whiskey’s in the kitchen.”

He stood up to go get it, leaving the cotton pad on the counter. He came back with the glass bottle and handed it to me. I took a couple of swigs before placing it on the counter next to the rest of the first aid supplies. I felt myself relax a little bit. I heard a clatter as I knocked something to the floor in the process though. I bent to pick it up, my body protesting a little bit, but I picked it up all the same.

“What’s that? On your back?”

I instantly knew he was talking about the black tattoo that was at the base of my neck, in a spot that my shirt would cover.

I turned so he could see them better, “They’re wings.”

He traced them for a moment before I turned back around, “You wanna get started on this please?”

He grabbed the cotton, “Yeah, of course. They’re beautiful.”

I hissed in response as he started to brush the alcohol along the wound. I clenched my jaw so hard it started to ache, I whimpered before biting down on my fist.

Dean paused and pulled on my hand, taking it from my mouth, “Hey, hey, focus on me. Why don’t you tell me a story, huh? Focus on something else.”

I was breathing heavily, “Like what.”

“What does Starling mean? Why’d you get that tattoo?”

“And why would you want to know that?”

He squeezed my hand, “Because you’re supposed to be my girlfriend, and I think I would know these things.” He smirked because he knew he backed me into a corner.

I groaned as he touched my side again, “Fine.” I took a deep breath, “As you already know everyone needs a nickname. I was called a lot of different things, some more… savory, appropriate than others. I don’t know why, but I always seemed to be favored by Nick, by Crowley. I got my name under Nick, but that doesn’t matter.”

I gasped as Dean pressed particularly deep to which he apologized.

“I was being bossy one day. Nobody was listening, I had just got back from an infiltration job. Someone, they’re not around anymore, they called me a stupid Starling, and it stuck. Starlings in North America are considered an invasive species, terribly annoying, and unwanted.” Dean gave me a break to get a new cotton pad to finish up, “Tattoo means the same once something is solidified, you get a tattoo representing your name and a Fallen symbol.” I pulled my ear forward and showed Dean the fallen F tattooed behind it, just like the one next to the angel Meg painted.

“Well, I think they look like angel wings.” Dean came back and started cleaning the last little corner and around the edge.

“Really? Black angel wings?” I tried not to flinch as he caught the edge a little roughly.

“Yeah, I do, Angel.” He threw away the cotton with a small smile on his face.

I laughed, “Okay, yeah, sure.”

Dean looked at the wound closely, “I think I’m gonna have to stitch it up, just so it’ll heal faster.”

“You know how to do that?” I gestured to the first aid kit, knowing that stitching supplies were there, I had to do some myself every once in a while.

“I’m decent.” He started sterilizing the needle with a lighter he had in his pocket before cooling it off with the rubbing alcohol. “So how’d you get this in the first place?”

The stitching process was still painful, but not as bad as the cleaning. “Letterboys were roaming our side of town, looking for trouble.”

“Letterboys?”

I snorted, “They call themselves Lettermen, don’t ask me why, I have no idea. Really, they’re gang wannabes, so we call them Letterboys.”

Dean tugged at the needle to tighten a stitch, “Uh, huh. And if they’re so pathetic why’d you get this thing?”

I huffed out a laugh, “This idiot brought a knife to a gun fight and I played along for a little too long.”

“Ah, makes total sense.”

“So, how was work in a new city?” I wiped around my eyes to make sure I didn’t have any tears showing.

“Uh, it was alright,” he tied off the last stitch, “transfer information is still being worked out, but they’re thinking about pairing me up with this Detective Castiel or whatever.”

I smiled, “That’ll be good. Cas is a good guy. I actually saw him tonight.”

“Was that before or after you got injured?”

“After.”

Dean looked at me skeptically, “If he’s such a good guy, why didn’t he take you to the doctor or something? Is he in with Chuck?”

“Nah, it was dark, I was wearing that black shirt, I didn’t let him notice. And no, he’s the farthest person from Chuck you could get. He’s tried to take Chuck down a couple of times actually, gotten close too. That’s why Chuck desperately wants him to join, but Cas has the same answer every time, not in his right mind would he ever join.”

“So he’s trustworthy,” Dean nodded, satisfied.

“To an extent, yes.” I examined his handiwork, I was impressed. “You can’t tell him you’re into this though, not that you’re undercover, not that you know me. He’s already too deep into this and if he changes his behavior, thinking there’s a chance he can help you take Chuck down? Chuck will get suspicious and everything will fall apart, okay?”

“Understood.”

I stood up, testing the stitches, “Good.” I started cleaning up the counter and putting stuff away when Dean stopped me and started cleaning up himself. “Thanks,” I headed towards my bedroom and grabbed a new shirt to throw on. I groaned involuntarily when my stitches stretched as I pulled it over my head.

“You okay in there?” Dean asked from the bathroom.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I changed into some sweatpants while I was there.

“Do you wanna keep this or...” He trailed off as I walked out in a shirt that looked very similar to the one in the sink.

“Nah, I’ll just toss it,” I pulled at the hem of my shirt, “these are pretty cheap.” I wrung out the shirt as best I could and walked into the kitchen to throw it away, “The bathroom was just in the opposite direction of my gross trash.” I washed my hands, “Thank you, can I get you anything?”

“Another fake make-out session?”

I snorted, “And why would you ever want that?”

“Because it was hot.” Dean had a teasing smirk on his face as he followed my example. “But for real, do you have a beer Angel?”

I reached into the fridge to grab us some, “You’re serious about calling me that?”

He popped it open easily, “Yeah, I think it’s cute.”

I shook my head and walked to my couch with a beer in hand and curled up into the side, “So.” I gestured for Dean to join me, “What was so important that you knocked on my door twice, called me, and then walked into my apartment anyway?”

He groaned in embarrassment, “Well, it’s not important anymore…”

I laughed, “Oh come on Dean, tell me a story.”

Best Buds: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278 @msmarvelouswinchester

#dean x reader #cop au #mafia au #cop!dean #spncreatorsdaily #mafia!reader #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #make me feel bingo #tell me a story 2 #dean winchester #moodboard

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dilfhanni · 4 years

Text

No one at the hospital knows you two are married.

“How’s the husband? Still too busy for a vacation?” Mrs. Johnson was trying to make friendly conversation with you – like she did every time you saw her – by asking about House. Or ‘the husband’ as she knew him. Anyone else who knew him wouldn’t be so fond of him, but you were lucky enough to tell her about all of the good things he does and how good he was to you. The last time you saw her, you were stressed from how heavy a workload you had and were in desperate need of a vacation. You told her that House (‘the husband’) wouldn’t be able to go and you refused to leave without him; apparently, she remembered that.

“Yes, unfortunately. But work is so much better now, I’m no longer in dire need of way too much sunlight and sand in unwanted places.” You gave her your warmest smile and she let out a soft laugh, hanging her purse over her shoulder. You lead her to the door and followed her out of the room.

“Tell him that he needs to take you anyway, you look like you could use some sun.” You shook your head slightly and set her chart in the file holder beside the door.

“I thought my vampirish glow was working for me.” You walked to the nurses station and waved her off with a goodbye, grabbing another patient file. You might as well try to fulfill your clinic hours while you were here. The doors to the clinic opened and you could see a small group of people walking in, one of them with a distinct walk. Something you could recognize anywhere. You set the file back and walked around the opposite side of the clinic, avoiding him like the plague.

You two made a pact to ignore each other at work and to pretend like you didn’t know the other existed. It was easier for you two that way, no arguments to have over a patient or annoying things to dispute about your relationship with talkative nurses. You could hear the collection of footsteps following you at a somewhat faster pace and House say something to them, your eyes searching the clinic to see who was paying attention. You turned your head to look over your shoulder at them, seeing House looking back at you.

“Need a consult.” You stopped and turned your body to face him, seeing his fellows standing behind him and watching with curious faces.

“Come to my office, I’m not doing this here.” You walked out of the clinic and to the elevators, knowing that House would be following you. You pressed the button and tucked your hands into your lab coat pockets, feeling the presence of someone standing right next to you. You spoke so only House could hear you, your eyes staying on the elevator doors. “There’s no one else you could get a consult from? Or are you still mad about last night?” You stepped into the elevator as it opened, turning to face the doors and seeing his fellows looking at you two with their eyebrows scrunched together. He stepped in beside you and pressed the button for your floor.

“Sorry, no more room.” He spoke to them and you watched as the doors slid shut before turning your head to face him. He looked down at you and raised his eyebrows slightly. “No, I’m not mad because I know I was right and so do you.” Your mouth hung open a bit as you scoffed.

“There is no way in hell you were right. Admit it, you just want to tell everyone that you love me and you’re tired of hiding it anymore.” The doors opened as you were finished talking and you smirked at him, walking out of the elevator backwards and watching as he rolled his eyes. You turned around and lead him to your office, finding his team already sitting and waiting. You smiled at them before sitting at your desk, clasping your hands together on the top of your desk.

“Fever, joint pain, rash, seizures, kidney function declining.” House was the first to speak in the room, his eyes focused on the window and his hands tapping his cane up and down.

“And you needed my expertise? It sounds like autoimmune.” You watched his face for a moment before resting your head on your hand, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need me to tell you it’s lupus? Because I can. Gladly.” He turned to look at you and narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not lupus.” You raised your hand to get him to stop his tangent before he even started, his fellows surprised that he listened.

“Is the ANA positive?” He sighed and nodded, a smirk spreading on your lips. “It’s lupus.” You watched as he grumbled to himself, the only female fellow speaking up; you think he called her Thirteen, but you can’t remember.

“Do you two know each other?” You looked between her and House, wondering if you should tell them the truth, before sighing.

“Yes. He’s my husband and currently being an idiot.” You watched as he crossed the room to stand beside you at your desk, some stupid remark about to come out of his mouth. “It’s lupus and you need to start treatment.” You could see his fellows watching you two carefully, trying to figure out if you were lying or not. House looked at them and picked your left hand up, showing them the ring on your finger.

“It’s real, you can stop looking at us like that. Is it so hard to believe someone would want to marry me?” You rolled your eyes and took your hand back, looking at the four doctors in front of you.

“You can ask Wilson if you still don’t believe us.” You stood from your chair and walked to the door, opening it and gesturing outside. “Now that you have what you needed, I have to get back to my job. Go treat your patient.” House walked to you, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You shook your head and shoved him out of the door, nodding towards him to get the other four to follow him. “No, don’t look at me like that. It’s lupus.” You shut the door behind them and went back to your desk, looking down at your calendar and seeing that you had a patient to see in ten minutes.

You opened the door to Wilson’s office, seeing House sitting on the couch and quickly entering the room. You shut the door behind yourself and sat in the chair in front of his desk, sticking your tongue out at House before turning your attention to Wilson.

“He told his team our secret.” You watched as Wilson looked between you and House, his eyebrows scrunching for a minute before realization dawned on him.

“So, they know you’re married. It’s not a big deal, it’s about time you told people.” Your mouth hung open slightly and you looked back at House, his face mirroring yours.

“Can you believe this guy? He thinks we can just tell the hospital about our personal lives and be fine with it.” You turned your attention back to Wilson – who was shaking his head in annoyance at you two – and heard House speak behind you.

“She thinks I can’t behave myself if people at work know we’re married.” You nodded and looked back at him, his fingers playing with a loose thread on the couch.

“I know you can’t behave yourself, House. When we had to tell Cuddy, you were bursting with the need to tell her about our sex life in as many innuendos as possible.” You raised your eyebrow at him, his argument deflating as you stared him down. You turned back to Wilson and saw that he was ignoring you both, his eyes focused on his paperwork. You reached forward and grabbed a pen off of his desk, leaning forward and scribbling a stick man onto his calendar. You gave the stick man a cane and drew a speech bubble, writing ‘Wilson Sux’ in it. Wilson reached out and grabbed the pen from you, putting it in his drawer along with the rest of his stationary.

“Wilson…” You looked over to the door and saw Thirteen standing in the doorway, Chase behind her. You smiled at them and they seemed a bit taken aback. “I was just wondering if you’d seen House.” You looked over at House and watched as he stood up, walking to the door. He stopped beside you and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulled away you smiled at him, missing his touch already.

“Forgot to ask, do you want takeout tonight? I can stop on my way home.” You stood from your chair and walked to the door, stepping around Thirteen and Chase.

“Don’t get the one with the bald guy, he forgets half of our order every time.” You gave him a thumbs up before stepping into the elevator, needing to get some paperwork done. Thirteen and Chase stared at him in disbelief, Chase the first to speak up.

“You’re actually married? Not just going insane and thinking a hooker is your wife?” House narrowed his eyes at him, leaving Wilson’s office and heading to his own with Chase and Thirteen in tow.

“Believe it or not, she’s the one that pursued me.” He sat down in his desk chair, Chase and Thirteen standing in front of his desk and looking at him like he had two heads.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Thirteen thought she was catching onto a clue that it was made up, trying to get him to admit it.

“We made an agreement to keep it under wraps. It made things easier; no one to distract me during a case and no one to scare her patients away.” Chase looked over at Thirteen, his eyebrows raised. Foreman came into the room, holding lab results.

“His kidneys are improving.” House groaned and tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling tiles.

“Don’t tell (Y/N) she was right.”

“How’s your patient?” You sat with your legs crossed, facing House with the remnants of your dinner sitting on the coffee table. You had your head resting on your hand, your elbow propped up on the back of the couch. House was staring intently at some guy showing off a sponsored power tool, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his hand rubbing at his thigh.

“Stable. Apparently, lupus is a real thing.” You laughed and climbed carefully onto his lap, not putting any weight down on his bad leg. You placed both hands on the sides of his face, leaning down to press your lips to his. You pulled back and smirked down at him, his eyes closed now.

“Tell me I was right and I’ll make tonight fun for you.” You placed kisses along his jaw, moving down until your lips were at the collar of his shirt. He placed his hands on your hips, sighing in frustration before mumbling something to himself. You looked up at him and moved your hands to his belt, unbuckling it while raising your eyebrow. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” You unbuttoned his jeans and paused, waiting for him to say it louder.

“You were right. Happy now?” You smiled and kissed his neck, unzipping his jeans slowly.

“Very happy.”

---

I found this prompt on the gregory house x reader tag ! I can’t remember who wrote it originally but I wanted to give it a try <33

#house md #gregory house #gregory house imagine #house md imagines #gregory house x reader #hugh laurie #avenue-cherry

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getitinbusan · 4 years

Text

CAM BUNNY TWO - SMUT

Part ONE Here

"Baby I'm so bored."

You set your book face down to hold it's space, it was the 4th time he'd interrupted you.

"Why aren't you working on your mixtape, you need to get it done Guk."

His fingers walked up your bare leg and stopped at the hem of your shorts.

"I need inspiration," he whined while climbing on top of you.

Tucking his head into your neck he trailed kisses down your collar bone, "and I'm horny."

You giggled while pushing his head, trying to keep him at bay but it only made him try harder.

"I'd wager a bet that in the last 2 months you've had more sex than in your entire life."

He smiled devilishly, "It's not my fault you feel so good."

He picked up the new vibrator that had been delivered earlier, "Plus, how am I supposed to focus with all this stuff around."

"You want me to use it on you? We can show..." you picked up the card, "DaddyDong69 his gift in action."

Jungkook laughed, "I can't believe men send you these things. Do you think they'd still watch if they knew you had a boyfriend?"

You playfully bit the tip of the silicone, "Wanna find out?"

Hoseok quickly walked back to his room from the dance studio. Lately he'd been experiencing an unusual but not necessarily unwelcome side effect of his long practice sessions.

It took about 10 minutes to hit, his work outs had been increasing his testosterone levels, making his blood pump straight to his cock.

Turning the handle and locking the door behind him, he immediately tugged his pants down. Laptop and moisturizer conveniently at the ready he woke up the screen with the pad of his finger.

He shouldn't be on here but he couldn't help himself, the CAMBUNNY site had been bookmarked for the last few months and he'd become a regular.

Jungkook didn't have to know, you didn't have to know. As long as he stayed on the screen chat what did it hurt?

Your light was off, damn, what a waste of an erection.

Scrolling through pictures, he could get off to someone else, but it wouldn't be the same. Suddenly like you knew he was waiting, your availability turned on.

_______________

"You wanted to play Kookie, so we're going to play."

His eyes looked innocent and naive, two things he definitely wasn't. "Don't worry, I'll protect your secret identity."

You winked and threw the latex suit at him "Go put this on."

Getting everything set up you flicked your room to open.

Jungkook stood over you, "Why does everyone use weird names? What's an Angma-J?"

You laughed at him, "Well TOKKI...an Angma is a devilish fiend. A mischievous person who is extremely addicted to some pernicious habit, and in this case, I'm going to guess that it's porn."

"Hmm," he repeated the word for practice, "pernicious...Is he a regular?"

"Yeah, he's been around a while, seems harmless enough. Want me to ask?"

He slid the mask over his head, "Let's do it!"

________________

"Hey baby," you spoke into the camera. "I was wondering if you'd like to watch something new tonight?"

Angma-J: What are you thinking? I'm so hard for you.

I thought maybe you'd like to watch me get fucked by a real cock."

You pulled Jungkook and his shiny suit into the frame.

"You can pretend it's you in there...you inside me, you making me moan...what do you say?"

Nothing, silence...you waited. Jungkook clicked mute, "Y/N, he's not going to do it, I'm telling you."

"He will so you'd better shut up and remember not to use our names."

________________

Was he really going to do it? Was he so sexually deprived that he'd sit here and watch you and Jungkook fuck while he masturbted?

He hit the keys one at a time…. words began appearing on the screen….

Angma-J: Fuck yes.

_______________

You gave a quick wink to the camera and pulled your shirt off leaving Jungkook dumbfounded.

He had been 100% positive that Angma-J was going to bail and that he'd just get to fuck you while wearing the suit.

He was frozen, you needed to fix this.

Leaning close to the camera, tits filling the screen you blocked the view of the room. Hitting mute you turned your head to look at him. "Guk, baby, are you scared?"

"Not scared, I just don't know how to start…"

"I want you to show him I'm yours okay? Show him that real men get to fuck real women and not just their hands."

"Okay."

"Come stand behind me and play with my tits."

Unmuting and backing away from the camera his gloved hands wrapped around your chest and firmly gave your nipples a tug.

His touch turned them hard and he couldn't resist lowering his head to take a long suck. The open zipper mouth of his mask dragged cool and sharp across your flesh in contrast to his hot tongue on your bulleted tips.

He looked up at you, his eyes weren't sparkly and playful as usual, they were dark and dangerous.

He brought his mouth to yours, teasing, coaxing your tongue to meet his. Grabbing your breast he held up your nipple in the space between you, both your tongues darting over it and each other.

"Lay back," he commanded.

Moving to pull him back with you he caught both your hands. His one large hand easily secured both your arms above your head.

He smirked while angling the camera between your legs, "Don't you love looking at this pretty cunt?"

_________________

Hope could barely believe what he was seeing. He was so jealous that Jungkook got to fuck you whenever he wanted.

He looked down at his weeping cock wishing he could just put it in you.

Angma -J: put your fingers in her and fuck her with them …. rough.

________________

Jungkook looked at you, it was strange yet exciting to let someone else call the shots.

While he was apprehensive to proceed without your consent, he had also watched you before, and felt he knew your limits.

He held his fingers up to the camera and smiled before he plunged them two deep inside you without warning.

His hand thrust hard, you were sure you'd be bruised from his knuckles in the morning.

Still confining your hands, you were at his mercy. Bringing his mouth back to your chest he bit your nipple and tugged it between his teeth.

"Fuck…" you almost said his name but caught yourself.

He laughed, "Fuck what baby? Does your tiny pussy hurt from my fingers?" He looked back at the camera, "should I give her another?"

________________

Hope shifted in his seat, cock in hand stroking the tip slowly.

He was trying not to be over eager, he wanted this to last. He'd tuned into you a few times but fuck, something about watching Jungkook use you made it 100 times better.

Angma -J: Tell me how she tastes

_______________

The question triggered him, the look he had on his face was predatory. Being allowed to let his perversions come out while in disguise felt so good.

He let go of your hands and dropped to his knees. Spreading your wet lips apart he smiled directly into the camera before taking a big lick.

"So fucking good, like a tart juicy apple. You know when you take a hug bite and it gets all over your chin..fuck, just like that.

He worked his mouth around your clit, circling it, sucking it, teasing it until your excitement was dripping.

Using his tongue he gathered up your milky discharge and held it out for Angma-J to envy.

Making a show of swallowing it Jungkook moaned, "Hot apple pie."

________________

He almost came right then and there. He had to look away from the screen before he blew his load.

Angma-J: Make her suck you off

_______________

You swear you'd never seen Jungkook this happy about anything.

He stood up over you with a crooked grin, "We both want my cock in your mouth."

Standing up you let your hands travel over the black vinyl suit. It hugged every curve, accentuated every muscle as his hard cock strained against it looking for release.

You got on your knees and licked the outline of his tip while looking into the camera.

The zipper ran from bottom to top, starting at the base of his cock to just below his belly button. You opened it slowly and only enough to remove his balls.

His delicate flesh laying against the suit made a strong contrast for the camera. He let his head fall to watch while you sucked them into your mouth, one at a time, back and forth.

"You want more, baby?"

Jungkook nodded as you worked the zipper higher. His full hard length sprang out demanding attention from your mouth.

You put your hands behind your back so your viewer could see everything.

Just sucking his tip, Jungkook got whiney, not getting the full sensation he was after.

"That's not enough, I know you can take my whole cock."

You smiled and flicked his tip with your tongue, "make me."

Grabbing a fist full of hair he pulled your head back, "Open wide for Appa."

He slid his cock into your mouth slowly the first few times letting your throat relax then faster and deeper.

Holding your head stationary he fucked himself into your throat. Gagging around him, drool spilled from your mouth down your tits. Unclasping your hands from behind you, you rubbed the liquid over your breasts.

Lubricating your nipples you scissor pinched them between your fingertips.

_______________

Angma-J: I want to see her pink pussy get off on the suit. Thigh ride?

_______________

Jungkook groaned, "But i'm not done."

"Too bad babe, you've gotta do what the customer wants and the customer wants to watch me get off."

You smiled playfully at the lens and switched to the bed camera.

"I think we can give you a good view from here."

You patted the bed for Jungkook to lay down and grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside table.

Holding it high in the air you let a stream fall slowly over his leg, fuck this was going to feel good.

Straddling his thigh you let your sex slide across him. The slick of the wet vinyl dragging across your clit was almost too much sensation to handle.

Jungkook and J-Hope both stroked themselves in time with your motions as you humped Kookies leg.

Hobi leaned into the screen, your opening was glimmering with wetness and he could see you beginning to clench.

Crying out, Jungkook grabbed your hips and helped you move through your climax. The thick strings of your release clung between you and the suit, a white trail sticking to the material.

Both men were becoming desperate to cum.

"How should I finish her?"

______________

Angma-J: "In her ass, I bet she really likes that"

______________

"Do you like that baby? Do you like taking my cock in your ass?"

In show of approval you spread your ass cheeks apart.

Running his fingers over your cunt he gathered the excess slick and pushed it into your anus making you moan.

He looked at the Camera, always the showman, "Are you ready?"

He slapped your bottom, and pressed his tip at your entrance. Pushing nice and slow he meweled, "I love fucking this ass."

Sitting back on his knees he held your hips guiding you to thrust yourself onto him.

He liked it like this, he was always afraid he'd go too deep or too hard but like this, you were in control. You weren't afraid, you loved every stroke, feeling him deep inside you.

He was breathing heavy...

Hope was clutching his cock ready to explode....

"Tell me I'm being a good girl."

"So fucking good." J hope moaned to the screen.

"Tell me how badly you want to cum into me."

"I want to watch it drip out of you baby," Kookie purred.

As you sank back he grabbed your waist and held you still while ejaculating into you with a grunt.

Pulling his cock out you backed into the camera.

J-Hope finished himself while watching Jungkook's cum ooze out of you and down your leg.

Turning off the feed you collapsed beside your boyfriend.

Pulling his mask off, you kissed him passionately.

"I missed your face...and your body. Let's get you out of this suit."

Showered and napped, he headed back to the dorms around dinner time. Most of the guys were already eating in the common kitchen.

Jungkook opened the fridge, there had to be at least 5 pies in there.

He looked at the others, "who the hell ordered all these?"

J-Hope came walking in holding a plate with a fork shoved in his mouth.

"Hobi," Jungkook clued in, "what fucking type of pie is that?"

Hope set the items on the counter before Jungkook could chase him. As he began to flee he yelled out laughing, "I had a sudden craving for Apple."

#jungkook smut #jhope smut #jungkook #kookie #guk #hobi #bts smut #bts #cam bunny

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wolfpawn · 3 years

Text

Threats and Collateral

Based on a request sent to me from an Anon - One shot ideas (if this is cool, please, thank you): how about Loki's reaction to his SO being brought in to the TVA as a way to control him?

Rating - General.

Note - copious stills and gifs from the Loki Trailers and a lot of lifted dialogue from there too. If anyone has other requests do not hesitate to ask :)

“Follow me.”

“I am Mobius M Mobius and you, are Loki.”

“You heard of me, I’m honoured?” Loki eyed him carefully.

“Do you know where I am taking you?”

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”

“No, I’m taking you some place to talk.”

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie talkie.”

Loki eyed the man with utter disgust at the juvenile and irritating manner in which he spoke.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, bringing the two men to a room bare of all objects bar a table, two chairs on opposite sides of it and some stationary equipment.

Mobius indicated for Loki to sit at one side while he sat on the opposite side. “This is the TVA.”

“Okay.” “What do you want from me?”

“We need your unique Loki perspective.”

“I don’t believe you.” Loki shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you believe anyone. This Loki variant needs to be fixed.”

“But why is it the Loki variant when those misfit Midgardians clearly are the ones that altered time. How was I supposed to know that what I did was altering time when they were the ones altering it?” Loki pointed out. “The breaking of reality was not my doing, but theirs, have them fix it.” “But you don’t want us to do that, not really. Because if we did that, you would have to be imprisoned indefinitely as you are not the true timeline Loki and you know that you will face a less than pleasant end soon. But if you help us, you get to use all these traits you love so dearly to actually do something and not be destroyed. “ “What happens if I help you and fix all of this, let me guess, you’ll imprison me then?” “No, then you will be offered to stay here and work for us and fix mess after mess for...well, who knows how long. Time works a little differently here.”

“So, I help you, I‘m free to work for you, I don’t help you, I sit in uncomfortable clothes waiting to die of old age, which, if I am correct, may never actually happen here?” Loki checked.

“Something to that effect.” Loki thought over his options. “I am not interested.” “I thought you might say that.” Mobius activated his computer screen and clicked on buttons. With how he was doing it, Loki was suspicious that he was not actually typing anything at all but pretending to do so to try and get Loki to change his mind. But after a few moments, the elevator door behind them rung out and opened.

At first, Loki did not care enough to turn around. He suspected it was either someone to forcibly get him to comply, in which case, the ignoring served its purpose of not acknowledging such or it was guards to bring him to holding once more or to his new prison cell, which again, he did not care to acknowledge. But then, he felt the urge to look, especially when he sensed someone looking at him. When he turned, his eyes widened. “What?” He tried to rise from his seat but was pushed back down by a guard that seemed to just appear beside him. He glared angrily at Mobius. “How?” “We knew there was a high probability you would say no, we really needed you to say yes, so we brought a little incentive here for you,” Mobius explained. “I have studied practically every moment of your life. There is one single being in the universe you will willingly do anything for.” He pointed behind Loki. “Your adoptive parents, your adopted brother, sure, you’ll do stuff for them, when it suits. You used to be far more compliant, but then you grew up and realised your brother mattered more. You killed your biological father but her...you would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” “No.” Both answered immediately.

“Yes, there’s enough time for domestic arguments at a later point, but we really need to get started on this.” Mobius focused on the matter at hand again.

“Wait, isn’t bringing her here altering the timeline even more so?” Loki pointed out. “I feel as though there’s a significant case of double-standards going on here.”

“It’s not really affecting the timeline because the timeline is already altered,” Mobius explained boredly.

“We need her here to get you to say yes so you fix the timeline you broke, ergo, she fits this timeline.”

“Wait, I am here because Loki broke a timeline so to fix the timeline he broke, we have to break the one I was in?” She clarified.

“By breaking the timeline I was on, which in itself is a breach of these rules?” She asked in disbelief.

“Exactly,” Loki confirmed.

“No,” Mobius stated a mere nanosecond after.

“It seems like it to me.” She looked at Loki for confirmation. “Me too.” Loki concurred.

“It will suffice.” Loki walked in and stood next to him.

Mobius remained looking forward as the elevator moved again. “I just need to grab a few things, and we will begin.”

Loki said nothing in response.

Mobius walked out of the elevator and the door remained open until his return a minute later, entirely in different attire and looking almost as though he had showered. He fiddled with his tie as he walked back in.

“Or else I am going to burn this place to the ground,” Loki swore with a smile.

#Loki fic #Wolfpawn #Threats and Collateral #One shot Loki

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

the ways to call you mine

[7:22]

the man that your father decided to bring home is of an unknown origin. or so he claims. based on his attire when he first stepped into your house, you know he’s at least a noble. though there’s no insignia engraved in on his collar or back, the way taehyung carries himself shows years of refine etiquette and manner.

“then, i’ll be off,” your father sets the teacup on its saucer, breaking your fixed stare on the man across from you and turn to the elder man with a smile sweeter than honey.

“have a good day, papa!” the arm you use to wave at the man shoots down as soon as the carriage is out of sight. and the smile you wear is contorted into a sneer.

clicking your tongue, you shoot a glare at the unwelcomed guest next to you. sure, he may have the perfect shade of tan, matched with unruly hair that easily allows him to hide his expressions with just a tilt of his head downwards. but those eyes - they remind you so much of yourself.

they’re induced with warmth and gentleness in front of your father, but as soon as the man is out of sight, that glare of his rivals your own.

“just wait till i find out which house you belong to and what secrets you hold to trick my poor old merchant father into taking you in.”

the corner of taehyung’s lips lift into an unpleasant scoff as he swats your finger away, “i’d like to see you try, peaches.”

did you say his superficiality rivaled yours? you take that back. even you aren’t as evil as the devil incarnate.

and he dares to call you by the nickname your father and late mother gives you. to insult your late mother’s memory so - he’s the opposite of what he displays himself to be in front of your father and the townspeople.

because you’re from a rising merchant faction, you don’t have maids or butlers. so it’s only just the two of you at home and unfortunately so, allows you to bear witness to this man’s true, wicked nature.

“nobles are the same everywhere,” you huff, swiping the creme colored hat hanging off the hatstand and pulling it over your head, “they’re self-centered, arrogant and lack respect for others.”

he stands with his back on you and the handle of an axe clasped underneath his arm as he puts on the gloves before getting to chopping the woods at the back. when you’re only met with silence instead of one of his witless retorts, you trudge out with a, “don’t forget to lock the front door!”

your days are spent at the orphanage and helping out the old lady by the forest with her garden. though you want to quickly find out what taehyung’s hiding, you haven’t the slightest clue of who and where to look for.

“thinking about that young man again?” esmeralda’s fading green eyes captures yours. she always seems like the secrets of the world hover over her like dark clouds.

the glass ball sitting prettily on the table in front of her is filled with clouds today. when she uses it, the clouds disappear and are replaced by a blur of images that you can’t make out.

“it’s because your magic hasn’t awakened yet, young one,” she once told you when she saw your knitted eyes as you peered at the ever changing images trapped inside the ball.

“come here,” the woman gestures, her wrinkled hands sometimes appear taut and stretched over her bones like that of a young woman but most times, she appears the way you see her now - graying hair, smile lines and fading emerald eyes.

one of these days, you fear you’d walk into an empty forest and the ground where the house is built, filled with blades of grass.

a clueless smile makes its way to your lips as you place a hand on the one she has extended midair.

“i cannot give the answers you seek.” she smooths out your palm, eyes trained on the lines that slants across it, “only you can find them.”

“hm?” you cock your head to the side at the sudden images that appear within the ball after esmeralda guides your hand over it.

at first, it’s a blur of colors from black to brown to something lighter until you can finally make out the man sitting on a throne, his ice cold gaze sending chills down your spine.

“taehyung...” the name comes out as a soft whisper. as though you’re afraid that the image of the man would hear and see you through the glass.

but the images is disappears into the usual clouds as soon as the knock on the door reverberates across the room.

“why don’t you see who’s at the door, child?” she requests. understandably, her bones aren’t as strong and her feet doesn’t carry her as fast as whoever knocking on the door desires.

to your surprise, a familiar figure cringes at the sight of you. but you don’t have the time to let annoyance take over you like it usually does, “taehyung? why are you here?”

only women and male descendants of the royal family can see this house.

“what do you mean why i’m here? it’s almost sunset and you’re still not back yet. your father’s worried you might’ve gotten eaten by-” he grumbles before something past your shoulders catches his eyes.

“is that...”

as soon as he tries to take a step forward, you softly press your hand on his chest, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

“let’s go, it’s almost dark and your noble brain didn’t even think of bringing a lantern.” you point out, neck craning to hold his gaze but the insult is enough to pull his brows together in annoyance.

“if it weren’t for me, you would’ve had to walk back on your own - in. the. dark.” he emphasizes the last part, eyes burning holes inside your head as you blatantly ignore him.

“hey,” he says, clearly ticked off, “are you listening?”

that’s when you stop in your trek and he must notice the change of atmosphere when he falls quiet from next to you.

“taehyung,” you meet his startled gaze, “you’re the missing crown prince, aren’t you?”

those round eyes sharpen into the all-too-familiar glare, “i’m not. and you don’t have any proof.” the latter statement feels forced. as if added as an afterthought.

“so it’s true.” you surmise, clicking your tongue. “i was willing to put up with you even if you’re a noble - but you’re the crown prince... do you know your order to burn anyone suspected of magical use, caused my mother’s death?”

judging from how his eyes soften, he doesn’t seem to know.

“leave our home,” you twirl on your heels, continuing your path back to the estate, “you have no business leeching off a family whose mother and wife you killed.”

when morning comes, the seat across from you is empty and deserted. your father thought taehyung might have overslept and you promise to check up on him after he leaves for work.

but you already know he left in the dead of the night. you saw his lean built step out of the gates but he stopped and looked straight at your window where you’d been standing. as if he knew.

the expression he made was indecipherable but you know the weight of knowledge when you see it. there was something he knew but couldn’t tell you.

the days go on like they would as if the guest bedroom had never been occupied since last year. as if the chopped firewood are miraculously stacked next to the fireplace. as if he never existed.

then, your father proposes moving to the capital because he wants to open a stationary shop for the children and teachers. there are more hard times than good ones. you see your father breakdown on his own in his office every night after three months and with little customers coming in. that’s when you met jimin - the wizard that taught you that a little incantation to draw attention to the store, can’t hurt.

“if the things you sell are as good as you claim them to be-”

“-they are!”

“-then there’s no reason for the customers who got drawn in by magic, not to buy it with their own free will once they see the items themselves.”

ever since then, the business have been doing good and you’ve been attending classes to control your magic - in courtesy of jimin who then left to wander the world. it doesn’t occur to you that you’re not the only one lurking around alleyways and ducking into shadows, on your way to a destination - where your magic classes are held.

“what do we have here?” a burly man steps out of a shadow and blocks your path. “where are you heading to little lady? don’t you know there are wolves that come out to play at night?”

you know your demand for him to leave you alone will fall on deaf ears but you still try. when he advances and even grasps your left hand to tug you into a smaller alley, you’ve no choice but to flick your wand and let the purple light of your magic knock the man unconscious.

what you don’t expect is for a witness to be standing six feet away from where you just mutter an, “why can’t men mind their own business?”

you’re about to whip out your wand again - a memory erasure spell should suffice - when the figure steps into the light and you find yourself staring at a familiar deep brown eyes. they’re still as sharp as the last time you saw them but there’s something different about how he takes the bottom of his lip between his teeth. as if he wants to say something but can’t.

“so you’re learning magic.” he asserts, not ask.

still, you refute, “i’m not.” but you can’t accuse him of having no evidence like he did to you. back in that forest. back when you last talked to him.

“i’m sorry,” the shadow next to you stops and you’re forced to whirl around to face the man whose head is lowered by invisible weight, “th-the emperor was attacked by a wizard - i never thought my careless declaration to capture the wizard would be twisted until innocent people would be dragged out of their homes and burned at the stakes for being suspected of magic use.”

“i forgive you,” you say simply, and he must have been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he nods right away, muttering, “that’s right, you shouldn’t for-”

those eyes that always directed you with hostility are staring at you with wide eyes. perhaps he’s not a devil incarnate after all.

perhaps, he’s just human.

“i understand how you feel,” casting your gaze over your shadows, you recall the times when something like just now happened. it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last.

“i thought, why can’t men just disappear? the world would be so much better without them.” but you think of your father and taehyung and the townspeople’s husbands who sent you two away with teary eyed and promises to help in case you ever need it. “but to pass on judgement to an entire race...” you shake your head, “...that’ll make me just like them, if not worse.”

you talk about many other things. like how taehyung is supposed to succeed the throne but he couldn’t - not when his people are still suffering and the streets are unsafe for the women.

“i can’t completely eradicate the crimes,” his eyes are back to their sharp stare as he fixes his gaze on the pavement, elbows on each knee, “i don’t want to pass a law that can get twisted and cause innocent people to die either.”

you know he’s referring to the bill that was hurriedly pushed after the failed assassination of the emperor.

“i never knew you had these thoughts,” you let out a wry sigh, “you always acted like you didn’t want to involve yourself with anything in case it becomes a big unnecessary mess.”

“your mother’s life and the rest of the people that were burned at the stakes weren’t ‘unnecessary mess’.” the voice that always retorted your every sentence now speaks like a responsible and rational man.

“even if she was a witch?” you don’t know how you could smile but you do and it genuinely reflects the weightlessness that fills your chest.

he has no response to that.

“i think it’s because i get to speak to you one more time - i got the closure that i never knew i needed,” your shadow stands up with you, its hands stretched over its head from having sit on the bench for too long.

“i hope you can find it in you to forgive yourself too, taehyung,” you intend to part without leaving any traces behind. of course, he’s the crown prince and he can find out where you live with a flick of his fingers but from the way his head is almost rolling off the ground - your mother would writhe in her grave if she knew her daughter grew up to be the kind of person that would leave a person to their demons and not even try to help.

so you leave him with an incantation. wherever he is, if he so wishes it, he’ll be able to find his way to the shop.

after months pass without a sign of him, you’re almost familiar with the idea that that night was truly your last goodbye. until one fine day, you’re arguing with the kids who demand why you can’t sell two pencils for the price of one but can sell three for the prince of two and a half.

“you little brats...” your facial muscles ache with every passing second you force the smile to stay.

the bell over the door chimes in notice of a new customer. you’re almost glad that you can finally shoo these kids away.

“welcome!”

until you notice the stern gaze that locks with yours and then travels to the little rascals that goes up just above your waist. almost as though they’ve seen a ghost, they hurriedly bid you farewell and march out of the shop.

he comes to stand in front of you. this time, the gold and crimson crest of the royal family is etched on the chest of his jacket.

“peaches, did the kids leave?” your father steps out of the office only to stop dead in his trek, blink once and then another time before a smile breaks across his face, “your highness, welcome back.”

the shock of your father knowing exactly what taehyung’s identity barely wears off before you’re hit with the fresh smell of your favorite cookies being served.

he doesn’t even let you have more than two and he’s serving a whole plate to this freeloader-turned-prince!

“it’s been awhile hasn’t it, your highness? how have you been?” the man hasn’t stopped smiling since - it’s even more irritating that you can see his aura change from teal to pink.

“wait a minute,” you finally say, an accusatory glare fixed on both of them, “i think i deserve an explanation!”

“oh,” your father lowers his head to the younger man sitting across from you, “apologies, your highness. ___’s usually a cheerful and outgoing person, you must know,” he chuckles, “you’ve lived with us for over a year. the shock must have not worn off yet.”

“don’t worry, sir,” taehyung shoots him a composed smile while glancing your way, bringing the tea you brewed to his mouth, murmuring, “i know exactly how ___ is,” before sipping the drink.

it’s a threat. he’s blackmailing you about telling your father of your night classes. you almost rip the hair out of his head in your fury but you make sure to put on your sweetest smile for your father after that.

“i’ll be dropping by some time,” he murmurs under his breath when you escort him out of the shop.

“yeah, well, make sure to buy something next time.” is all you say.

he drops by every week for a whole year. either it’s for a cup of tea, to help your dad with arranging the stationary according to their uses or just to wait for you until the shop closes so you could take a walk around town. nobody recognizes him as the crown prince thanks to your distortion magic.

there hasn’t been a spot where you haven’t visited in the city. and there hasn’t been a spell taehyung hasn’t seen you do.

“you’re going to class every night and waking up at the crack of dawn to run the shop, aren’t you tired?” the knit of his brows tells you he-

“oh, what’s this? are you worried about me?” you don’t bother hiding the snicker that sends your shoulder line jolting.

“whatever,” with that, he shoots to a side glance and throws his gaze to somewhere ahead, “if you get sick, don’t come calling me for help.”

it’s a moment later that you give a proper answer, “i got a late start because mother subdued my magic when she found out the humans are coming for us so i want to learn as many spells as i can quickly and beat jimin - you know that wizard that i told you about that helped us gain attention?”

you’re not sure if taehyung is still in that dark alley with a cloak over his head, hiding in the shadow.

but as you trace the gentle curve of his nose, to his stunning jawline and the shoulders that stand straight as he walks next to you, you think, perhaps, he’s found that closure too.

“what?” his eyebrows knit together as he stares back at you.

“hm,” the corners of your lips tuck upwards, “i don’t like you but my mother would have showered you with all the cara and affection in the world since she knows i’m the one who keeps picking fights, probably.”

instead of questioning your sanity, he comes to a sudden halt. eyes boring into you like a hurt puppy, “d-do you think so?”

“silly,” the laughter that trickles from your lips is one of the many you’ve shared with him and your father back in the shop’s lounge room, “i know so.”

taehyung falls to a squat in the middle of the street - if it weren’t for the sun setting and people retreating into their homes, he would have been cursed out for blocking the way.

“hey, even if you’re tired, you should at least say so we could find a bench to sit at or something.” you’re about to tap his shoulder when his hand wraps around your wrist.

he cranes his neck to meet your eyes. the naturally sharp gaze appears softer in the yellow-brown rays.

“i thought meeting you every week and making sure you’re fine was the least i could do for your late mother,” carefully, he begins to entangle your fingers together, “but i can’t - i- i love you.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung imagines #bts imagines #bts x you #taehyung x you #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

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kingsuckjin · 4 years

Text

Siren Call

**This is for the inthemoodproject by bangtansmutcentral all credits to the moodboard go to @meispace **

➡Pairing: Siren!Hoseok x reader

➡Genre: smut, angst, a little bit scary, some fluff if you’re wearing your glasses and squinting hard enough.

➡Synopsis: You didn’t find this strange club appealing at first, but now that the singer on stage in red has caught your eye, you can’t seem to stop thinking or maybe obsessing over him, and you don’t know why. Apparently you’ve caught his attention too and it feels like he’s only drawing you in more and more. Maybe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew by coming here.

➡Words: 6.7k

➡Warnings: reality alteration?, Unprotected sex (use protection pls), oral sex (m receiving), a bit of dom Hobi, restraints, a whip is brought out, choking, forced orgasm?, lots and lots of teasing.

➡My masterlist

You looked across the small table with a grimace at your best friend, Anna, in her sparkling silver mask. Her empty drink tray sat on the table, eyes shining as she looked at the stage entranced by the singer in red who you thought was completely horrible.

Why had she invited you here just to witness this man shrieking into a microphone? And why was it mandatory for everyone to wear these stupid masks.

The whole club seemed to be nineteen thirties burlesque themed, and so far the performers had reflected the atmosphere as well. It was a creative idea, you’d give them that. The large crowd seemed to agree.

Around you people sat packed at tables and even stood, lining the walls in their masks. Your best friend told you they had all come here for them but you found it hard to believe since he was currently killing your ears with his song.

You turned to look at each one of the guests’ faces around you, and they all stared at the stage with the same glassy eyed look your best friend had behind her mask.

Something just felt… weird.

You leaned across the table and called Anna’s name snapping her out of her trance.

“This guy sucks.” You mouthed.

“You’ll get used to it, I thought the same when I first heard him too, but now… oh man what I wouldn’t give to…” she began staring off at the man on stage again.

“Don’t you have a job to be doing?” You let out a laugh. Her eyes went wide in realization before she jumped up from her seat at the table and grabbed her drink tray.

“You’re not gonna sneak out on me, are you? Stay till the end, you’ll thank me.” She leaned in to tell you so you could hear her over the music.

Somehow you doubted you’d be thanking her for this, but you lived to make others happy. Besides, she had been begging you for months to come see this guy and visit her at her relatively new job that she seemed to be so proud of, with the alcohol around and the unique atmosphere and decor, it seemed like the perfect job for her.

“As long as you keep the free drinks coming I’ll be here.” You joked.

“I’ll sneak you a couple more.” She told you and you gave her a nod before watching her zip off.

With your Anna gone, your eyes had very few other places to go besides the singer in red on stage.

You looked over the fiery red haired singer and for just a fraction of a second you could swear your eyes locked. In that moment your heart beat hard and suddenly, though you sat stationary in your seat, you felt like your body was falling. And if you closed your eyes, you probably would’ve sworn it was. You almost felt… disappointment at him looking away from you so quickly.

You looked down at the table and cocked your head at the fruity drink that you had sworn you already drained, it was now full again.

Were you drunk already? You thought Anna had actually been pretty sneaky and generous about your free drinks, that had to be the only explanation for it. You lifted the glass to your lips but heard something that grabbed your attention once again.

“I’m your guilty pleasure”

Your eyes were pulled- no, dragged- back to the singer on the stage and his words.

“You can’t escape, never.”

He was looking right at you as he sang, and as you gazed back it was like you had acquired tunnel vision. Despite the crowded room, he was the only figure that you could focus on. Everyone else and all of your surroundings had melted away.

You felt you were falling again but you couldn’t scream at the rushing feeling, something told you you wanted to hit the bottom of whatever this was, you would feel whole if you could just hang on until the end. You knew instinctively that you could feel complete if you just gave in to the exhilarating feeling and surrendered yourself to him. This was like an itch you so desperately wanted to cave in and scratch.

Your eyes snapped back down at your already half empty drink in your hand. When had you drank more? How long had you been sitting here eyeing this man?

You noticed you felt a bit strange, and also a bit panicked. You weren’t exactly sure why, you just knew that the man on stage was inspiring these emotions.

“It’s a bit dangerous, but I’m so sweet.”

His once grating voice now sounded smooth like melting butter and it echoed through your mind. You still refused to look up, to look at him at all. You thought you should maybe leave.

“I’m here to save you, I’m here to ruin you”

Yet, How could you leave when you truly wanted the sentiments he was singing to you about? His voice beckoned you, called to you, made you feel like his song was meant only for you.

Maybe he was singing to you, you knew there was only one way to find out.

You looked up at him.

“You called me, see? I’m so sweet. Follow the sound of the pipe.”

And with that you were lost in him again, buried in his silky voice and perfect features.

There was a quick flash through your mind of you collared and on your knees in front of this god of a man, as he smiled a crooked smirk down at you.

You let out a slight gasp at the thought

“I’m ruining you right now, please forgive me because you can’t live without me”

As if he had pried your daydream right out of your mind, he looked directly at you from the stage and gave you a perfect replica of the smirk you had envisioned.

“I’m taking over you.”

The moment he stopped singing and claps sounded throughout the club was the point where you were knocked back into reality.

You sat there dumbfounded as you looked at your once again empty glass. Your heart pounded and you as the applause died down you were left with several questions. When had you managed to finish your drink? How much time had passed during your trance? Without a doubt, you had completely fallen for this bizarre stranger.

But, Had he really changed his voice half-way through the song? You tried to rationalize the shift you noticed in his song, and within yourself. Maybe you had lost track of your drinks, and were just more open to the experience because you were quickly hitting your limit. Or, you had you just gotten used to the unique performance style like your friend told you that you would.

You found yourself not just wanting, but needing another glance at this man, just to be sure that his beauty and perfection was real, or maybe to lock eyes once more. You felt your heart sink when you saw that the stage was empty, his show was over.

Your eyes quickly scanned the club, but he had vanished, and the next performance was beginning. You stayed and watched but this new singer couldn’t hold a candle to the previous act. You were bored. All you could think about was the enticing stranger, he ran through your mind over and over until your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Anna taking a seat across from you.

“Shifts over! Ready to head out?” She asked cheerfully, but looked completely exhausted.

You looked around the club once again to see you were the last person left who wasn’t an employee.

You went to hand over your mask to her, you were under the impression that it was the property of the venue. To your surprise, she declined it.

“The club usually lets you keep them if you come back. You’re coming back next weekend, right?” She looked at you expectantly and you felt yourself wordlessly nod.

“You’re so drunk, let’s get you home!” A smile grew on her face and he let out a laugh at the state of you.

You dreamed of the handsome singer, not just that night but every night that week. It felt like he had a hold of you, still drawing you into his inner world with his voice, showing you all the things you could do together. You don’t think you had ever wanted someone so badly in your life.

You asked Anna about the performer of course, only to find out his name was Hoseok, and that he was the club owner. She of course asked you to come visit her at work the following week, and you agreed without hesitation.

You sat at a table in the front row in your red and black mask from your first visit. Hoping to once more gain Hoseoks’ attention with a more of an extravagant and sexy look than last time, you eagerly waited for him to come on stage. You declined the drinks your best friend had offered you, she seemed too busy waiting tables and you didn’t want to trouble her anyway.

You were not only curious about him, but felt this aching need to just gaze upon his face again. Although, you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied. Seeing him would only add fuel to the fire of your obsession that was growing for him.

And when he did appear, dressed in the same red jacket, black dress shirt underneath with fiery hair, the rest of the world once again melted away with the sound of Hoseok’s enchanting voice.

You briefly wondered if this was what true love felt like… or true lust with the mess you were already making of your panties.

He sang the same song, you no longer questioned the lyrics or the intent behind them. His eyes drifted to you every so often making you feel like your heart might stop. You could feel the anticipation building, evoking the feeling of being at the peak of a roller coaster just before the drop. But the drop was nowhere in sight. You couldn’t feel the rush associated with final falling. This time you didn’t experience the release you originally felt while watching him, the very same sensation you felt as he touched you in your dreams. He was just pulling you further and further in.

Minutes felt like only seconds as you sat there, unable to look away. Unfortunately, the song was over before you could fully cherish his warm, inviting voice.

You watched Hoseok walk off the stage this time as people applauded, and you could swear he gave a glance back to you.

You watched as the alluring singer’s eyes locked onto Anna carrying a drink tray walking passed him, and stopped her in her tracks with a hand on her arm.

You couldn’t tell what he was saying, but she looked directly at you in response. Quickly, you averted your gaze back to back to the stage- pretending to search for the next entertainer.

You gulped as you noticed your best friend walking over to you in the corner of your vision, drink tray still in hand.

“Y/n, he wants to talk to you.” She sat the tray down on the table and leaned in so you could hear.

“Who?” You asked innocently, but the fluttering excited feeling in your gut told you that you knew, you just wanted to make sure this was really happening.

“The owner, Hoseok.” Even she seemed surprised.

“Why?” This was a question you couldn’t even guess the answer to, to your dismay she shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to offer you a job? If he does just tell him the truth that you already have one. That would have to be it even though none of us got our jobs like that… but did you notice he seems to only hire attractive girls? You would probably be a good candidate in his eyes.” She whispered the last part to you.

You had noticed that all the servers were pretty females, and your friend was no different.

“He wants to see you in his dressing room though. I can show you where it is, but employees aren’t allowed in.” Her words only left you with more questions, most likely ones she didn’t know the answers too either. You were too impatient to wait for the answers right now anyway with the thought of being alone with the man from your dreams.

You immediately stood up from your chair, making her smile; and followed her through an employees only door by the bar in the back.She led you down a long hallway with deep red walls of doors leading to VIP rooms you couldn’t see into, making you wonder what went on inside them.

“Maybe he likes you.” Anna wiggled her eyebrows at you and your mouth nearly entirely fell open “Don’t worry, he’s a pretty good guy… from what I’m told… never talked to him directly before today though.”

She knocked on a black door at the end of the hallway that you two suddenly stopped at. You anxiously waited as Anna quickly took off the same way you both had come.

Before you could call her back to you or ask any questions, the door was opened. And there he stood. Red jacket now off and wearing only the black dress shirt, bearing a warm smile that made your heartbeat stuttered as he beckoned you into the room.

Your legs moved before your mind even thought about it, as if your body was designed to comply to his every command, the thought made heat radiate within you.

His “dressing room” matched the rest of the club, all red and black. There was a massive black vanity with drawers, an authentic looking vintage chaise lounge in deep red velvet, a coffee table with a vase of roses. But the thing that stuck out the most to you was the black leather whip on the wall, hanging like a decoration on the wall above the case lounge.

“Are you hungry?” He asked picking up a strawberry from one of the many on a silver platter on the large vanity. You had not noticed that tray of strawberries there before.

“No thank you.” You declined with a weak voice. You hadn’t drank a drop. So why was your head spinning?

He turned around to face you strawberry in hand and simply just let out a “hmm” sound before taking a bite.

“Why did you ask me to come back here?” You managed to work up the nerve to ask.

“Interesting.” He walked closer your direction and looked into your eyes. You felt like you were hanging on every word, every movement he made. Every centimeter closer to you left you feeling more and more needy for him to just be the tiniest bit closer.

You wanted to ask what was so interesting, but you just couldn’t seem to voice your thoughts.

“You’re asking questions. Does it really matter to you why I asked you here?” His gaze only grew more intense. “Why do you play this game with me? I saw you here last week, and you resisted.”

You swallowed down the urge to just lean in and kiss him and his strawberry stained lips so you could speak.

“R-resist? Resist what?”

“Me.” He said simply with a smirk before biting the strawberry down to the leafy part and tossed the rest down, yet it never landed on the floor, it disappeared mid-fall.

Despite the statement, you couldn’t see him as a man that was full of himself. Something about the way he said it and what your brain was whispering to you told you he wasn’t. Something was… off.

“Do you not like me influencing your thoughts and emotions?” He raised an eyebrow at you, “is that why you resist me?”

Your mouth floundered open and closed.

“Then by all means, have them back. You don’t play along most of the time anyway.”

And just like that, a cloud of haze had been lifted. His smirking lips no longer stained red from the fruit he had just eaten. In fact, there wasn’t even a tray on the table. You felt like you could speak, your head no longer dizzy. However, your panties were still soaked through from just looking at him.

“There’s nothing I can do about the attraction you feel however, that just comes with being what I am… or maybe my power doesn’t impact you as much as the others.”

“And what exactly… are you?” Even though you could express yourself freely now, you weren’t so sure you wanted an answer to your question. You had a feeling your mind couldn’t comprehend anything he would say, and you knew he wasn’t human.

“Would you still want me if I told you I was a beast? I’m not so sure. I know you find me alluring. Everyone does, they have no choice. But you?” He chuckled “I think you do. I think you chose to form a connection with me, you chose to return to me tonight. But even now, you struggle against my influence! Last week you were able to look away from me, despite my best efforts to draw you in…an impossible feat for mere mortals.” He brought a finger up to tap your head. “Why do you fight the thoughts I send you? Why aren’t you as pliable as the rest? Why can’t I make you fully love me when you are the prettiest human I’ve ever seen?” He almost seemed frustrated but you were too bewildered and shocked by his blunt confession to care. “It must be a curse.” He decided “you’re some kind of a… a witch!”

“A witch?” You were completely thrown off by his accusation. You almost felt like laughing, but maybe it was because your brain just couldn’t comprehend this bizarre situation.

“Give into me.” He demanded.

“I thought that I already had…” you admitted.

“How much do I affect you?” He eyed you up.

“I-I-” you stuttered nervously.

“Then maybe If I can’t make you mine with my mind, I’ll just have to make you mine with my words and actions.”

He took the step to enclose the space between you and lifted a hand to cradle your chin in his fingers. He drew his face close to yours so his lips just hovered over yours, noses brushing.

“Would you like that? Would you like me to make you mine? Not just in dreams this time, we could have each other, right here. Please say you want that- say you want me.” Although he was now begging you, you didn’t feel the haze of his control, he was letting you choose. Yet, how could you say no when the most attractive man you had ever seen was this close to you. How could you refuse him when his warm breath was ghosting over your lips, ready to kiss you the moment you said yes.

But yes wasn’t your immediate thought.

“Do you say this to all the girls?” You asked.

He pulled his face away to look at you but left his hand under your chin.

“ All the other girls don’t ask these kinds of questions, so no. Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell them they’re the prettiest girl I had ever seen, because that would have been a lie.” His lips came back in, but this time they landed on yours softly for one fleeting moment, before he pulled them back away and went to your ear. “I want to give you all the things I know you dream about me. But how can I when you refuse to surrender to me? What can I do when you fight me like this? I want you to give in and trust me, just for a moment, just long enough to show you what I can do. I promise you that you won’t regret a moment of it. Let me back into your head, my love.”

His voice was so smooth and you wanted nothing more than to hear it whispering the dirtiest actions imaginable to you. Your panties were already so wet you could feel them stick to you as you looked back at him. You had been dreaming of this moment, you truly did want to give into him and you knew it wasn’t because he had some sort of spell over you. No, it was because you were curious, you wanted to finally experience the peak of the sensations he could provide you, and you were willing to let him do what he wanted to your body and mind just so you could know. It mattered no more if he had meant what he said or how many girls he’s done this with, what mattered to you in the moment was him giving you what you craved.

“Fine… I’ll give in. Do what you want to me, manipulate my mind, I don’t care anymore.”

"No mind manipulation, I want these choices to be all yours. I want you to decide you’re mine all on your own.” He placed a kiss along your jaw and dragged his lips back to yours, but did not connect them although you were praying to whatever god you could that you could feel them against yours again.

“What do you say?” It was barely above a whisper as he moved his hands to your hips.

You decided to say the only thing on your mind, the only thing you’ve wanted since you saw him last week. It was the only thought you’ve repeated obsessively up until this point, feeling you might explode if you didn’t get it.

“Fuck me.”

You saw his small smile form in response, but it was quickly cut short as he smashed his lips hard against yours. You pressed your mouth back just as hard showing him how much you meant your words.

Your tongue entered his mouth first and his fought yours right back so wildly that your teeth clashed together, as if you were ready to devour each other.

You had never felt this level of raw primal urge before, but you loved it.

His hands ran from your hips to your thighs before running them back up and bringing the hem of your skirt along with it, revealing the top of your sexy black stockings. You had carefully selected your lingerie tonight. There was no way you could have predicted how your encounter with Hoseok would end. But you wanted to be prepared, anticipating that your dreams might have foretold the future.

His hands moved around to your ass and he gave it a squeeze before pulling away.

“Let’s hope you follow spoken orders better than mental ones. Take off the dress.” He demanded and wordlessly you followed the order and peeled the rest of your black dress off over your head, revealing to him the lacy black bra of the sexy ensemble you picked out for him.

“You dressed up.” He stated “I didn’t try to influence that choice, but it’s driving me mad.” He looked your body over. “You must be a witch…how else could you make me feel this way?”

“I’m not a witch.” You let out a little chuckle this time.

“Even if you were, I don’t know if I would care anymore. After all, I told you what I am. And you don’t seem to be curious.”

“Not sure if I still believe you.”

“Oh? Well then maybe I should demonstrate by playing with your mind a bit more.”

“Do it.” You dared.

“That’s what I like to hear, what a good girl.” He pulled out a red collar seemingly from nowhere. You felt its soft fuzziness on the inside when he and brought it to your neck and fastened the back.

You thought about asking how he was pulling objects out of thin air like that, but you already knew. You felt the haze of him in your head again the moment you granted him permission. But this time, you welcomed his presence, you wanted him in and all over you in every way possible.

“On your knees.” He demanded next.

Your knees hit the cold wood floor and you looked up at him to see him undoing the buttons on his black shirt painfully slowly before shrugging it off entirely.

He stood over you with his six pack on full display, looking down at you in only his dress pants, which now worked to contain his erection

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He demanded and you looked at the protruding outline of his cock. “Tell me, I can’t read your mind, only play with it my dear.”

“I want your cock in my mouth.” You said squeezing your thighs together to relieve some of the throbbing want between them. Your coated panties had already began to rub off onto your thighs.

“How bad do you want it?” He asked, and an image so real you could almost feel it flashed through your brain of his cock being stuffed down your throat, it was so satisfying that it made your mouth water.

You knew this was him feeding you this scene and playing with your head again, but you still didn’t mind.

“I want it so badly, I want to feel it in my throat, I want you to face fuck me.” You made eye contact with him the entire time you spoke.

“Well what are you waiting for if you want it that badly?” He asked and in the blink of an eye you had undone his belt and his dress pants, and pulled his hardened cock out.

You let your entire mouth envelop his length just like you wanted so badly to do, no holding back, no teasing.

He let out a sharp breath as his hand tangled in your hair. He gave a little practice thrust and you let out a moan at the sensation of his warm cock filling your mouth, feeling just as satisfying as you knew it would.

The second slow thrust was a bit harder, he looked down at you peering up at him as he did it.

“You want me to fuck your face huh?” He gripped your hair together and began to thrust fast and hard into your mouth. You looked up at him groaning with his head slightly thrown back. His face mid pleasure was absolutely gorgeous and it only made you more lost in him and his grunts, moans, and groans. You weren’t sure how long he had been pounding into your throat for.

"Mmm so good, I bet your wet little pussy will feel better than your face though.” He tugged at your hair still entangled in his fingers and you pulled back enough to take him from your mouth.

Once he released your hair, you almost felt broken hearted as he put himself back into his pants.

“I have a different plan for you though, love.” He held up a wide red silk ribbon. “Are you willing to trust me?”

“You wouldn’t be in my head and I wouldn’t have just had your dick in my throat if I didn’t.” You replied.

He leaned over to your knee on floor level so that he was in your face.

“You have quite the mouth, both figuratively and literally speaking… I like it. Now put your hands together behind your back.” He straightened himself back up to loom back over you, you watched him carefully and put your hands behind your back like you were told.

He snapped the fingers of the hand that wasn’t holding the ribbon and all the lights in the room went dim red, giving everything a red tinge.

“So much better.”

The ribbon in his other hand was gone now, and you felt material now on your wrists binding them tightly together.

“Now maybe we should see how much you really trust me, let’s do a test.” With that he walked over to the sofa and you swallowed hard when he took the leather whip down from the wall.

He watched your reaction carefully as he sauntered back over, running the whip through his fingers.

“Don’t turn around, darling.” He disappeared behind you “or I’ll have to find a way to punish you.”

You heard the squeak of what you could only imagine was him sitting down in a leather chair behind you. You knew instinctively that there wasn’t a leather chair behind you. But had long since noticed things seemed to be appearing and disappearing at will. Like the painting of fruits that appeared on the wall enclosed in a black frame. It seemed as though he wanted to give you something to look at since he asked you not to look at him.

You were ripped from your ponderings on what was real in the room when you felt the cool leather tip of the whip caressing the skin of your back. The winding pattern felt snake like.

“I saw you eyeing my toy on the wall the moment you walked in. Do you still trust me?”

Was he asking if you if you trusted him to refrain from using the whip on you?

“Trust you…Enough not to hurt me?” You were confused or maybe it was just the dream like haze of a hold he still had on your mind keeping you from forming coherent thoughts.

“Now why would you think I’d hurt you?” He dragged the tip of the whip over your ass. “Do you truly think I would harm you?”

“I’m not sure.” You admitted.

You heard the squeak of leather behind you and you felt your hair being moved to expose the side of your neck and shoulder.

“I would never hurt you, that’s what this test is demonstrating.” You felt his breath on your neck which triggered goosebumps to rise all over your body. “I want you to know that I only want you to feel good things, y/n, like this.”

You were startled by a familiar feeling rising in your stomach, it climbed higher and higher and within seconds you were orgasming completely untouched. It was overwhelmingly powerful and you couldn’t keep yourself from moaning as your head fell back. You were so lost in the intense high that his warm lips on your neck barely registered to you.

“That’s my girl.” He said over your panting, still coming down and in slight shock.

“Please.” You begged “please just fuck me.” You wanted nothing more in this world than to feel his beautiful cock filling your pussy just like he had your throat. You felt like he was just playing with you now. Like a cat with a caught mouse.

“Would that make you mine?” He whispered so quietly in your ear “would it make me yours?”

The haze in your mind felt heavier than it ever had. Thoughts of his fingers grazing over your skin paired with deep and powerful thrusts into you played over and over in your mind in a matter of milliseconds. At this point you would say whatever he wanted to hear if it meant you could finally experience the images he was teasing you with.

You heard the words. And though you didn’t feel yourself speak them, but it was undeniably your desperate voice begging for him.

“Please, yes, I’m yours, anything, anything you want.”

“Up, my love.” He commanded and you heard him stand behind you so you followed suit.

He led you over to the lounge, laid you down on the soft velvet surface, and stripped you of everything including your hand restraints. Everything was off except for your mask and the red collar.

You watched as he finished undressing his lower half, stomach muscles flexing and moving with every movement. You imagined what they would look like flexing as he thrust inside of you, how his now exposed cock would feel stretching you out. You let out an accidental whine making him smirk as he walked over to you, fully naked, with his body looking godlike and sinister under the red glow of the lights in the room.

“What? Can’t wait a few seconds for me?” He asked and stopped right before the sofa. His eyes scanned over your body hungrily before taking his hard cock in his hands, giving it a few languid strokes. It was hard to peel your eyes away from his slow, hypnotic movements. You squeezed your legs together and let out another wordless whimper. You could tell he liked watching you look like you needed him, and you felt like you couldn’t last another minute without him.

Luckily he crawled onto the lounge between your legs, and this excited you. But instead of him entering you or placing his hands where you needed his touch, he reached up and placed the pads of his fingers under your breasts. He slowly ran them down your stomach with a feather light touch. You couldn’t help but squirm more in anticipation.

“If you want me, you’ll fuck me. Take me.” You dared and looked up at him with fire in your eyes. You had experienced more than enough teasing tonight, he had barely even touched you yet and you were completely fed up with waiting.

In a flash he put your leg over his shoulder and reached down to guide himself to your entrance.

You both let out a moan as he pushed himself into you.

“So wet.” You heard him comment before he began thrusting, slowly at first to let you adjust to him, but in no time at all he was smashing into you.

With your cloudy mind and the intense pleasure he was no doubt feeding you, you almost felt like you were in a dreamlike state of euphoria that you never wanted to end.

When he came down over top of you, chest to chest you finally felt the feeling of being whole, but you didn’t know if that was just a feeling he was making you feel or not.

“I want you forever.” He whispered in your ear and it felt like bounced around and echoed inside of your brain. The knot of an oncoming orgasm began to slowly start winding in your lower stomach, tighter and tighter.

“Give me your body and soul and you can have mine.” You had no idea how he could be saying these things since his lips were on your neck.

You looked up at the whip somehow hung back on the wall.

The orgasm just kept building.

Your hands were in his blood red hair, his body moved on top of yours like s slithering snake, pushing into you as far and as hard as he could.

“Please love me back.”

You felt the collar around your neck tighten for a moment, making you feel even more light headed.

You came hard, clawing at him, moaning his name in a blur as your orgasm ran through you, almost seeming like too much. Your body arched of its own accord, as much as it could with him on top of you. In that moment you swore that you loved him in the midst of your high when you felt his hips stall and him release deep inside of you with grunts and moans.

And then your head stopped spinning, you wore no collar, the lights were normal again and he just… seemed like a normal man on top of you, panting, looking down at you.

But you knew for a fact now that he wasn’t, it was absolutely undeniable.

He climbed off of you and began to get dressed and you found your clothes on the floor and did the same as your brain tried to comprehend what had just taken place. You had just had the best sex of your life, with this beautiful… creature, and this creature wanted to now own you.

While the sex was great, and he was beautiful, you still refused to be owned by anyone or anything.

You waited for him to say something, and he did once you were both fully dressed.

“Did I please you? Was it enough?” He slowly walked over to you and reached for your hand. He seemed slightly surprised that you withdrew your hand.

“What are you anyway?” Your brain had suddenly wanted to know, it seemed to care now.

“A siren.” He seemed almost disappointed as he spoke.

Your brain scrambled to try to remember lore or even The Odyssey by Homer. Weren’t those the women who sang beautifully on rocks to lure sailors to their deaths? Did they have wings? Fins? You couldn’t remember and frankly it didn’t matter to you.

“Are you afraid of me? I proved to you I wouldn’t hurt you.” His eyes pleaded with you “you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The way you can just fight my powers like that, it makes me want you more. I want you.”

You couldn’t tell if you were scared or not, but your heart was racing and you knew there was no way you’d let a creature so powerful just have you. What if he wanted to control you entirely? You didn’t know what being this thing’s girlfriend entailed and you didn’t really want to find out, you didn’t want him screwing with your mind anymore either.

“Give me your body and soul and you can have mine.” You remembered his words.

“You said you’d be mine.” His face fell into a sort of a frown as you stood there and said nothing.

“Hoseok…” you searched for the right words to say, careful to not upset him even though you had a feeling it was inevitable. You wondered if he would just let you go, he said he would never hurt you, right?

“Hoseok, I- I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” You said as you looked anywhere in the room but the man who stood directly in front of you.

“You could have me in return, a siren. We could have sex like that all the time, I could take care of you, I could-”

“I said no.” You cut off his begging with a firm, straightforward answer.

He went quiet for a moment and as he did you could feel your heart pounding in your ears.

A little voice in your head told you to run, but you ignored it just like you had been since first seeing him.

“Very well.” You were so stunned by his agreement. You looked up into his eyes, you wanted to apologize but fear raced through your body when you realized you couldn’t move. You hadn’t even noticed the fogginess of your mind again or him slipping back into it.

“If you won’t willingly give me your soul like you did your body, I suppose I’m forced to just take it then.” his eyes looked utterly sinister as your stomach dropped from his words, as if thrown off the highest building. You wanted to scream, but you simply couldn’t.

He brought his hand up to cup your jaw and came in close. For a moment you thought he would kiss you, but instead forced your mouth open and hovered his mouth over yours, lips never touching.

Your brain pleaded and screamed at your body to do something, anything at all but it was absolutely no use. You had been able to fight off his control once before, or maybe that was what he had only let you think, but there seemed to be no escaping from his powers now.

You began to feel weaker and weaker, more and more empty and your drive to fight him became less and less. He was taking something from you, whether that be your life or soul or something else entirely you didn’t know, but you felt your vision going dim as your body felt more and more exhausted by the second.

Your last thought before your vision turned black was that little voice in the back of your head telling you that you should’ve listened to your instincts, you should’ve listened to his song. The haunting words in his sweet voice with the words “I’m taking over you.” Played in your head before you slipped into nothingness.

#smutcentralnet #inthemoodproject #Jung Hoseok #hoseok x reader #hobi x reader #jhope #hobi #hoseok smut #jhope smut #jhope x reader #hobi smut #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jhope one shot #dom!hoseok #bts fics #jhope fanfic

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fandomlife-giver · 4 years

Text

Beacon Maid - 5

Summary: So, you’ve invited us to a ball at the Trancy mansion? Very well. I’m happy to let you dance to my tune for an evening. Butler who does a graceful, subtle dance, one to which I am more accustomed to than you. Next time, ”Beacon Maid” Surely, you jest. If I couldn’t dance to that, what kind of maid would I be? One, two, three…one, two, three…

Pairings: Sebastian X Demon!Reader X Claude

@wintersdoll @naniky @danabuggxd @redryderdesigns @inumorph

Word Count: 2865

Warnings: Mild language, Implications of sexual themes

Your name: submit What is this?

Sebastian held a longing stare at the ceiling, a small ping of regret hitting him as he thought about the fact you were off exploring on your own and trying to keep it hidden from him.

He tried to shrug off the feeling as he moved on to the next room. Once he opened the door, his eyes scanned the interior from top to bottom. He allowed the door to shut behind him while he moved to the drawers sitting on either side of the bed. However, when he moved to open one, a sudden painful ping hit him, seeming to vibrate throughout his entire being.

He glanced down at his stomach as he steadied himself against the beam of the bed, cursing under his breath.

“Oh dear, it’s becoming even worse now.”

He regained his balance and sighed. “But never mind the hunger. Let’s see what Trancy has kept away from sight.”

He opened the drawer and his eyes widened.

There lay the shattered remains of what was once the ruby ring worn by his mate. His eyebrows furrowed, his mind wrinkled at the pondering of why it was there, of all places. He had witnessed her throw it down the well…

In a flash, he grabbed the ring’s corpse one the door to the room opened and he turned around, giving the newcomer a smile.

“This is an immaculate room. Everything is perfect from the neatness of the bedclothes to the placement of the artwork. I can tell how much care you took to properly prepare it. I find it most...educational.”

Claude kept no emotion on his face as he eyed Sebastian’s clenched fist and the opened drawer.

“I am pleased to be of help. Though, I find your willingness to stoop to petty thievery in service to your master more impressive.”

Sebastian’s smile briefly grew in response.

“You flatter me.”

He stepped closer as if he was going to leave, then paused when he was right beside Claude’s face.

“I will not let you have my young master, I am his butler. Come hell or high water, that remains.”

Claude practically cut him off as he locked eyes with him. “My master’s orders are absolute.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed at him, while he only smirked. “You see, I am one hell of a butler, too.”

There was silence for a moment, Sebastian’s face being unreadable as the tension in the air grew.

‘Sebastian, come here this instant. I have something to discuss with you.’

He finally smiled and stepped away from him, proceeding to walk out of the room. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Felis seems to be quite irritated with you. You have all your attention on your master. What a cruel thing to do to a mate as wonderful as her. Perhaps you should appreciate what you have more.”

Sebastian’s foot hovered over the threshold of the door, seemingly paralyzed by Claude’s words.

Claude couldn’t help but hum in amusement.

“You never know when you might lose it.”

●●●

“Master, I simply won’t allow myself to wear such a distasteful costume.”

Ciel smirked at Sebastian as he menacingly glared at the clothes Ciel had chosen for him. “You don’t have a choice. I ordered you to, didn’t I?

His gaze slowly moved over to Ciel and he could practically feel his anger in the room. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t and only continued to stare.

"Stare or don't, it won’t change anything." Ciel had a way of not mincing his words, arms folded tightly over his freshly ironed pirate costume. For such a small boy he had a subduing stare; Sebastian only raised an eyebrow at it.

“Well, It could change the outfit.”

He sighed once Ciel gave him an annoyed look and reached over to grab the laid out outfit, clenching his jaw as he looked it over.

“There wouldn’t happen to be a reason why this was chosen over all others, would there?”

He merely shrugged in response. “It seemed fitting. You are a tremendous fool sometimes.”

Sebastian hummed, disregarding his minor insult. “And what of Y/N? Has hers been chosen?”

Ciel sat on the edge of the bed as he placed his chin in his hand. “Lau hasn’t told me anything. Apparently, he wants it to be a surprise. But according to him, it’ll be enough to make you grovel at her feet. And he said something about it showing her true self but I don’t care enough to know what he means.”

A smile threatened to pull at his lips as he imagined how much you were probably hating this as much as him and it slowly fell when he remembered the anger you held toward him.

“That reminds me, I have something to discuss with you concerning Y/N.”

Sebastian glanced at Ciel with furrowed brows. He suddenly stood up and stared up at Sebastian, his jaw clenching.

“She is off-limits. You are not allowed to be intimate with her.”

●●●

“Well, what do you think, darling? Simply breathtaking! Aren’t I a genius?”

Your eyes were trained on the so-called ‘outfit’, your heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, your irises too stationary. It was as if your brain was suffering a massive short circuit and was struggling to compute.

Lau stood with his arms stretched out as he proudly displayed the most humiliating mockery of yourself to you with so much pride that it made you feel annoyed beyond reason.

Your eyes snapped back to his face, a seething rage clear within them. And you laughed. “Surely, you jest. I am not wearing that ridiculous thing. I’ll look as if I’m a mistress of the night.”

He looked at you like you were stupid. “Well, of course, that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Your jaw clenched as you rolled your eyes. “If my master and my fellow servants see me in a thing such as this, that would ruin their image of me, don’t you understand?”

He took a long inhale of his pipe and only shrugged. “Not my problem, love. Now be a good kitty and put it on, would you?”

In one swift motion, you raced forward, claws bared, and fangs out as you attempted to attack his annoying face. However, his companion Ran Mao was just as fast, holding the blade of her sword to your throat.

Lau looked up at you as he exhaled the smoke and chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to offend you. But the party is starting about now and if you please would just make it more entertaining for all of us, put it on and get out there. You do want to have that mate of yours a drooling mess, don’t you?”

You took a step back, your fangs going away but your claws still out in a threatening manner. He grinned and gestured to the cat costume once again.

“So, shall we?”

●●●

“Have any of you seen Y/N?”

The servants turned to look at Ayani, who had a worried look on her face. “I don’t mean to sound disturbed, it’s just that she hasn’t been back for a while, I’m afraid something could’ve happened.”

Bard tilted his head at her. “Like what? Nothing here seems to be alarming so I bet she’s just enjoying herself.”

“Oh!” Mey-Rin suddenly gasped. “I think Finny said something about helping Mr. Lau with her costume!”

Said person had actually walked up behind them as she spoke. “What about me?”

Bard turned when he heard his voice and smirked, though you couldn’t see it behind his mask. “Oi! There you are. Finny, you know where Y/N is, right?”

Finny eyebrows raised. “Oh, um, she should actually be on her way down. She was just having a little trouble figuring out how to put it on, ‘cause how tight it is.”

A hint of a blush went across Bard’s cheeks. “T-tight?”

“What’s tight?”

Everybody jumped, letting out mini screeches when Ciel and Sebastian appeared beside them.

Ayani was about to answer him until her eyes landed on the tall fool behind him. Her jaw dropped from trying to process what he was wearing. “Sebastian, you look, um…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish once the servants began to laugh until their lungs were on fire.

“Look at this! He’s finally lost it!” Bard dropped to the floor, gasping for air.

“Oh my, I never thought I’d see Sebastian like this!” Mey-Rin’s cheeks were red as she rested a hand on Finny to steady herself.

“I’d say he’s doing his job right, he’s certainly making me feel happy!” Finny held his sides, nearly falling into Ciel as he continued to laugh.

Ciel smirked at their reactions, completely enjoying every second of his humiliation.

It wasn’t long until their laughter ceased the moment they saw the look on Sebastian’s face. His eyes flashed with indignance and anger, much like lightning on a pitch-black night.

Bard quickly stood, all of them regaining their posture. “Sorry, sir. It’s just we’re not used to seeing you like this.”

When he spoke, his voice was ice cold. “Don’t. It’s not happening again.”

Ciel chuckled and began looking around. “Now that that’s over, where is Y/N-”

He froze, making everyone turn to see what had stopped him. It felt as if the whole room moved it’s attention to the three figures that entered the room. Or, more specifically, the woman dripped from head to toe in a very revealing, and very tight spandex black bodysuit. But with the boots, the ears, the tail, the gloves, and the collar, she became the alluring cat known as Y/N.

It was as if Sebastian’s brain had been reprogrammed within a few seconds, overridden. It was as if all his previous interests had been deleted and replaced with the current image of her and the feel of her gaze as she locked eyes with him. He could hear the murmurs of the guests as they took in the sight of her.

“Breathtaking…”

He looked at Ciel, who was still gawking with a blush now on his cheeks, but then realized that it wasn’t him who said it. He suddenly heard a fast heartbeat and his sight landed on Claude, who was staring at you so hard he thought you’d catch on fire.

His fists clenched, a wave of anger pooling in his core. He was looking at you. He was longing to touch you. And no one was allowed to think of you that way. You were his.

Ciel snapped out of it as Sebastian stomped passed him, headed straight for you. “Sebastian?”

●●●

You rolled your eyes at the longing looks you received from the men and perhaps even a few women in the room. Lau placed an arm around you proudly. “Well look at you, our very own belle of the ball!”

The glare you gave him made his arm disappear. When you saw his eyes widen, you turned, nearly gasping at the sight of Sebastian coming at you at full speed, wearing a...court jester costume?

Your eyebrows raised when he stopped in front of you and you tried so hard to keep in your laughter. “Interesting choice.”

He seemed to ignore your comment, his eyes never leaving your figure. “You look gorgeous, kitten. So much that it makes me want to take you right now, with everyone to see.”

You bit back a grin at his fantasy. His hand took yours as he kissed the back of it. “Y/N, my beautiful mate, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

You giggled at how sweet he was being. “Of course, my dear fool.”

He narrowed his eyes while pulling you to the dance floor, the orchestra beginning to play as he did.

So you started to dance and spin. The lights were twinkling with every step as you spun in delicate circles, your glued tail billowing out. You used to love things like this, the pressure of a warm hand on your back, and the feeling of your small agile feet gliding along the floor. You had always felt like a small bird learning how to fly, flailing around, and finally taking off with outstretched wings and windswept feathers.

The slow music twirled like thread around you. You rested your head on his chest, and let him sway your body 'round and 'round again. The violins came in, then the piano, and then the slow and sure beating of a drum. It felt like forever since the last time you two danced or even had a moment as intimate as this. By feeling the fast beating in your heart, you knew the way he made you feel was more than what typical mates had. And whether or not he felt like this too, you at least knew it for a fact.

You loved him.

It wasn’t long before you could hear the music slowing down. Feeling dejected that it was ending, you looked up at him, only to realize he hadn’t even been giving you any attention. You followed his line of sight to see he had been staring at Ciel the entire time.

Worry struck your mind as you whispered in his ear. “Sebastian, what is it? Is there something wrong?”

He seemed to break out of his trance and returned his gaze to you, smiling at your adorable face. “No, I’m just worried for the young master, that’s all.”

You frowned at his answer. “Oh…”

When he realized you had stopped dancing, his hands dropped from your waist and looked at you apologetically. “Do forgive me, my kitten, but I have something to attend to.”

He moved to leave, but not before grabbing you and kissing you with such passion that it nearly knocked you off your feet. He pulled away after a few seconds and stroked your cheek, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

You stared after him, saddened by his departure. You touched your cheek where his fingers were just before, missing his warmth already.

“Well, wasn’t that sweet?”

Your neck turned violently at the male voice, your eyes flashing demonic when you saw who it was.

“You. What are you doing here?”

He removed his hat, his steel-blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know, it’s funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

His eyes scanned you up and down. “How fitting. It’s so ironic, it makes me wanna laugh.”

“I asked you a question!”

His lips curled in amusement. “Skipping the small talk, are we? That hurts my ego, you know.”

There was no trace of humor on your face, which he took as an answer.

He sighed and placed the hat back on his head. “Well, alright, since you asked so nicely.” He crossed his arms as he beckoned you over. “But not here. This way.”

You followed him cautiously, weaving through all the people and ignoring their stares. As you were about to enter a hallway, a person suddenly bumped into you. You caught the familiar clothing pattern, recognizing it as the Trancy uniform.

“Out of my way.”

You ignored the rude manner of the maid, though you remembered how before she was quieter than that. Stealing a glance at her, you hurried into the hallway where he stopped and turned around to face you.

“Alois Trancy is as stupid as he is childish. He’s employed me to trade an instrument in my collection for a certain object I need. It’s all part of this plan of his to separate your master and your mate from this party and hold its occupants hostage. And this device requires the sacrifice of a human that has been marked by a demon.”

You held up your hand, signaling him to stop talking. “I know the instrument you’re talking about. But what I want to know is how on earth did he find out about the nun and where you fit into all of this.”

He hummed as he rubbed his chin. “Well, I’m not sure, but I think he mentioned a connection he has in town. It must be someone close to you.”

You looked away, your teeth grinding as you thought of a certain person.

“But as for me...well, this is kind of what I do.”

Your eyes snapped back to him. You then shook your head when something came to mind. “Hold on, who even are you? The first time I met you was back on that boat and you never even told me, seriously, what kind of demon does all of this?”

His eyes widened as a smile spread on his lips, a laugh passing through them. “Oh! Well, um...see, I’m not actually a demon.”

You grew confused and stepped away from him.

He raised his arms and shrugged as if it weren't a big deal. "They call me Uriel."

The moment you heard the name come off his tongue, your eyes darkened and your claws once again came out as you took an attack position.

He only smiled at this.

"I'm an archangel."

#sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #kuroshitsuji #black butler #demon!reader

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fyeahwonderbat · 5 years

Note

Here's just a thought, Bruce who has been awake for days refusing to go to sleep. Diana sick of arguing with him picks him up and carries him to bed, Imagine her walking by Alfred while Bruce squirms and demands to be put down,

The punching bag reacted to Bruce’s punches like it was frightened by every hit, but he refused to stop his assault on the leather-bound bag. Every time his knuckles collided with it, the sound challenged every grunt that came out of his mouth. Teeth gritted and brows knitted, he was nothing more than a wild creature slugging a stationary enemy, channeling all of the anger and pain that was threatening to swallow him whole for the past week and a half. In the comfort of his BatCave, where he didn’t need to wear any kind of mask as a hero or a man, it was the only catharsis he knew.

“Bruce,” he heard a familiar voice hum his name and it rang within his soul. She possessed the dangerous gift of silencing parts of him that he wasn’t always comfortable letting go of, so when Wonder Woman surprised him with a visit at such a late hour, Bruce wasn’t at all amused.

He went so far as to pretend he didn’t hear her over the smacking sound his punches made. So desperate to avoid her, he moved faster, throwing all of his body weight into every hit like the punching bag would dare to hit him back the moment he was distracted. Unfortunately, Diana took his coldness as a challenge and approached him with her warm heart on full display. She grabbed the bottom of the bag when it swung back and refused to release it from her Amazonian grip. Then she stared him down and offered him another chance to address her properly.

Bruce didn’t say a word until she arched her brow at him. Recoiling slightly, he muttered, “It’s late, Diana.”

“Luckily for me, I was given the access codes to the mansion, so I can come and go whenever I want.” she reminded him cooly.

“Thanks for reminding me, I need to change those tomorrow.” Bruce bit back. The flush of heat from his workout had nearly fallen to a simmer and he refused to let that happen. Lifting his fists up to his jawline, he arched his brow at her as an informal invitation to give him back his punching bag. Though she refused to release it, he was shocked to see her lower it enough so that he could resume his training.

She was offering to spot him, but didn’t need to announce it to him. Instead, she sparred with him verbally and said, “I’ll be sure to get them from Alfred in the evening, then.”

Bruce threw an unprofessional punch forward as an immediate reaction of disfavor regarding her words. He felt a jolt of pain in his thumb due to his haste yet he refused to show the discomfort on his face. Instead, he threw out his other hand in a tight first and moved with more caution. Diana’s presence was much too distracting for his liking and he was more than prepared to ask her to leave.

“Can I do something for you?”

“You can,” she admitted calmly, then paused before telling him what it is. “You can tell me what’s bothering you.”

The fact that she would think it was her place to ask him such a personal question motivated him to fire off a few more swings, regardless of how proper his punches were. “You did not come here just to chat.”

“Maybe I did.” Though she didn’t say it, there was a question that sounded like it needed to be tacked on to the end of her sentence: what are you going to do about it?

The urge to swing at her face came to mind, if only to distract her with a sparring match and keep her out of his head. However, he knew how cunning Diana liked to believe that she was, meaning she’d most likely attach a bet to their match and demand he confide in her if she won. It was much too early in the morning to deal with her sentimentality, so Bruce decided he’d move on from the punching bag altogether.

Turning away from her, he shouted over his shoulder without considering his volume whatsoever, “Wonder Woman’s time could be better spent somewhere else, where she’s needed.”

“I decide where I am needed, Bruce.” Diana informed him with a snap in her tone. She made it clear that she was not a fan of his dismissal of her, but she still refused to leave.

Spinning around at his waist, Bruce glowered at her and bellowed, “And it’s not here. Go home, or go find someone else to play charity case with.”

“If you actually tried to have a normal conversation with me, instead of biting my head off without even trying to be civil,” Diana warned him of his missteps as she walked towards him. She stopped herself from reaching him by planting her feet into the floor a few feet away from him, providing them both with some necessary space. “Maybe I would have left by now. But you’re much too proud to let that happen.”

Her boldness matched his own and it dismantled his confidence somewhat. Normally, he had to rile her more for her to pick up the gauntlet of a hostile conversation. Instead, at such a late hour on a rather stormy night, Diana was having none of his backtalk. Whatever the goal was in her mind, it only put him off of speaking to her even more.

“Go home.” He ordered her bluntly, unconcerned with how she’d take it.

Bruce turned away and took a step toward his weights, only to hear her drag her one of her Wonder Woman boots along the cemented floor behind him. Curious, he walked forward again, and the same noise followed him. He didn’t know if it was her own pride that was causing her to stick with him or if she was actually as benevolent as she claimed to be, but he was having none of it.

Not tonight.

Not after what he had been through, the haunting memories keeping him awake until the early hours of the morning, punching the anxiety and regret out of his soul with evident futility.

His fists acted like nothing more than dead weight when he felt his body fly backward suddenly, the years of physical training he’d suffered through rendered useless when he was at the mercy of an impatient Amazon. Bruce knew he had been tugged by the collar of his shirt, but he was caught off guard the moment his boots left the ground. “Diana!?” He screamed, both reprimanding her and demanding an explanation.

She didn’t offer one, though. Instead, she chucked his two hundred and fifty-pound body over her shoulder and left the BatCave’s training space without any type of warning. Furious, erratic, he tossed and squirmed uncontrollably as he fought her clutches to the best of his mortal ability. Nevertheless, nothing he did slowed her down. She carried on with her unannounced trek from his at-home gym, to the staircase that would take them upstairs, through the secret entryway and into his front hall.

Bruce’s could feel the blood that rushed into his face when he roared, “Put me down, NOW!”

“You’re only making my job that much easier when you flail like a child.” Warned Diana. She sounded exhausted from her efforts of transporting him from the basement to the upper level of his house, but he had never asked her to handle him like a brute. It felt like his personal coping mechanism was being scolded, making him believe that she saw him as inferior when stacked against her eternal wisdom. The longer he was in her hold, the angrier he became.

When they reached the hallway leading to the bedrooms, Bruce heard a door open and knew at once that Alfred had been awakened by his wailing. “Alfred!” He called to his butler with a tone so desperate, it embarrassed him. He felt even more foolish than he already did when he blurted out, “Stop her! Do something!”

By the time they passed by Alfred’s door, it was magically closed, and his so-called friend was nowhere in sight. “Traitor!” He condemned his butler, nearly seething by the time they reached his bedroom door.

To his dismay, Diana predicted his attempt at an escape and flattened his wrists against his sides so he couldn’t cling to the doorframe. He had handled villains with more respect than she was showing him at that moment when she went so far as to throw him down onto his bed. If there was one thing he hated, it was losing control of any situation. Glaring at her from his sprawled out position on his own mattress, it took everything he had left in his weary body not to tackle her to the ground and fight her right then and there. “Don’t ever do that to me again!”

She couldn’t have looked more repulsed by his behavior in the darkened state of his bedroom, with nothing but the moonlight coming in through his open window highlight the scowl on her face. Still, she pretended that she wasn’t wearing her heart on her sleeve and inquired, “Are you trying to manage your stress or overwork yourself into the grave? Sometimes, I can’t tell the difference with you.”

Those words struck him as if she had sent his punching bag right back at him. It felt like her voice was a can opener and his heart had been forcefully exposed when she dared to mention death around him. There was the typical reason as to why he loathed discussing grief, and then there was his newly founded reason.

Jason.

Bruce felt sober all of a sudden. All of his efforts to expunge the hurt from his heart were revealed as completely fruitless under the careful eye of Diana, Wonder Woman, friend to all and savior to some. Her entire energy was such a shift from those people who lived in his city and were trapped by its demons, she had the force of an earthquake behind her when she tried to move his mind into perspective. He was just so rebellious to any way of doing things that weren’t his own, but the resurrection of his ward was something that he had the skill set to handle.

The way Jason yelled at him as he walked away from the chance to kill the Joker proved that to him.

Shoulders sunken and breathing shallow, Bruce glanced at Diana’s shadowy form and told her the truth. “Neither can I.”

He feared she would let a pause sit between them and emphasize the deplorable authenticity to his words. Instead, she graciously carried on like his admission wasn’t horrifying. “A great midway point is going to sleep.”

“How do you figure that?” Bruce said, stunned.

“Because,” she was humming again, speaking softly to him as she approached the bed. Diana dared to even sit on the edge of it when he had been rejecting her the entire time she’d bee with him that night. Impressed by her bravery, he said nothing when she made herself comfortable. “Sleeping replenishes the energy that stress can steal away, and when you’re asleep, the world doesn’t exist.”

“Sleep doesn’t exist in Gotham.” explained Bruce in a monotone voice.

To his surprise, Diana’s delicate touch grazed his forehead. She had leaned in while he rebutted her and brushed his hair off of his forehead carefully, tenderly. She maintained her gentle composure when she responded, “It will, once you close your eyes.”

“Diana–”

“You’re the most powerful man in the city. You can schedule in sleep if you need to, and I’m saying you do need to.” decreed Wonder Woman. She still managed to appear almighty while speaking to him in the softest tone of voice he’d ever heard. He had witnessed her transform from a domineering dictator to an amicable ally within the time span of mere minutes. Nevertheless, he knew that both sides of Diana were based upon the respect she had for him.

Even when he didn’t deserve it.

A heavy breath escaped him while he summoned the courage to admit his agreement to her, both rising from deep within his gut, “I’ll try to sleep. I won’t make any promises though.”

He didn’t need to see her clearly to know that he had just made her grin. Diana lifted herself off of the bed, bringing herself to stand tall next to the bed as she praised him, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Wait,” Bruce exclaimed rather threateningly when he saw her turn to leave. After everything was said and done, he felt uncomfortable to have her usher him to bed and then depart. “You can stay here, in the manor, for the night. You never even told me why you stopped by but we can discuss it in the morning.”

A beam of moonlight landed on her shoulder when she stopped in her tracks, and it traced the length of her collar bone as she turned back around. When she faced him once again, she explained, “I came here to check on you, Bruce. I was worried about you. So long as I know you’ve rested - even a little bit - I’ll take my leave knowing you’re taking better care of yourself.”

Bruce felt himself becoming unhinged again at the suggestion. “There are more rooms in this house than I know what to do with. Just take one of them for the night. Please, Diana.”

“That’s not necessary–”

Bruce jumped out of bed in an obvious attempt at protesting her rejection of his offer. Before a single word of argument could escape that mouth of hers, he poorly veiled an order as a suggestion, “Either you stay the night, or I’ll just go back downstairs. You know I will.”

“Your stubbornness truly knows no bounds, does it?” It was not a compliment that she was giving him, but he took it was one to know he could get under the skin of a literal goddess so easily.

The idea of getting under something inspired him to find a compromise between both of their motivations. The king-sized bed next to him was so foreign to him at this point in his life that it wasn’t truly his own, so he thought it was fair to divide it between the two of them. “Stay here tonight. I’ll sleep, you’ll sleep. Deal?”

She didn’t even hesitate to add her one clause to their agreement, “I claim the side closest to the door, then.”

Bruce held up his hands as his answer. Then, he crawled over to the side of the bed she hadn’t declared as her own and fell against the headboard in a slumped over position. His back had been facing her for no more than a few moments, but she had already climbed into the bed and laid down flat on her back. Dressed in her armor still, he realized quickly that he should present her with some time of sleepwear as well. Leaping out of bed and seeing her rise from the corner of his eye, he latched onto the handles of his wardrobe and threw it open in order to find her a long shirt of some kind.

The mattress didn’t creak as he searched, proving to him that she was merely observing him as he scavenged through drawers that he hadn’t looked at in months. As he dug for something appropriate, he came across an old t-shirt that was gifted to him years ago. It was a group he never listened to, but they were a favorite of the person who gave it to him. Seeing the red letters sprawled out on the black fabric even reminded him of the colors associated with…

“Jason.”

“What?” Diana asked.

“It’s… It’s Jason,” Bruce fought the lump in his throat and forced the name of the revived Robin out of his body like he wanted to exorcize the evil energy attached to it. He threw the shirt back into the drawer, fuming. Refusing to relive the shock once again, he ground out the words he needed to say in order to supply her with context. “He’s back. From the dead.”

Diana didn’t say anything right away. In fact, she didn’t utter a single word until he decided upon a shirt and turned around to toss it at her. When she caught it, it was almost as if she had grasped the concept of what she wanted to tell him.

“Not in a way that benefits him, though.” Diana implied with her tone of voice that she assumed she was correct but was still open to hearing him divulge his point of view.

Bruce returned to the bed just as she stood up and began to unclasp her Amazonian girdle. In order to give her - and himself - some privacy, he faced the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him and fiddle with the alarm he’d need to set for the morning. “It isn’t how he’s back that’s the problem. It’s what he’s wasting his second chance at life on, and what he wanted me to do, to repent.”

He heard the fabric of his shirt being moved around as she surmised his meaning, “Revenge.”

“Murder.” Bruce clarified.

“One of your villains?”

“Yes.” He grumbled.

The bed dipped next to him and he almost didn’t turn over to face her. He felt absolutely stranded in the uncharted territory of their conversation, even though he had been the one to start it. Opening up about one of his greatest shames wasn’t easy, to the point that his chest tightened like it was compressing his heart to keep him for admitting to anything else he kept locked within his heart. His body was a cage for so many atrocities that his personality, his essence was so easily skewed by everything that was trapped inside.

The moment Diana touched his shoulder and grazed her fingertips against his sternum, Bruce felt a shiver rattle his spine. He threw himself into the middle of the bed to keep her from feeling the way his muscles shook, only to be met with the most understanding and empathetic expression he’d ever seen on her face, the face of Wonder Woman herself. Then, she pressed him further for more information, “But you didn’t do it.”

“No.” Was his instantaneous reply.

She didn’t look relieved or shocked. She looked exactly the same. She never expected anything else from him and that unspoken confidence touched him, even though he felt disassociated from the warmth it provided him with. “Then the only thing you can do” - she inhaled while processing what he had told her, trying to come to grips with what his life was truly like, most likely - “is hope that he sees the meaning behind your choice, and seek you out once again.”

“Right, but he might not–”

“He just might,” Diana said plainly. Bruce heard the finality of her statement and knew that it wasn’t meant to cause an argument. Instead of challenging his pessimism, she unintentionally pointed out an important piece of the puzzle: he no longer knew what this Jason was capable of. Perhaps he could travel down a darker path, becoming an adversary for the Batman rather than a partner in crime. Or, maybe all he needed was to face his inner demons to see what he was capable of when given the chance to live again.

The high risk-high reward lifestyle was nothing new for the Batman. As he grew older though, Bruce secretly wished that he could play the odds less and less. More and more people were coming into his life through the Justice League meaning there was such a greater chance of loss. It wasn’t something Jason had toyed with when he was his partner, however. It was the Batman’s game, not Robin’s. Witnessing the cruelty of Jason’s circumstances after Dick’s desertion prior, it felt like his teammates were nothing but weaknesses to him at times.

Then, there was Diana with all of her godly might. She had stayed with him even when he hadn’t deserved it, which he could easily blame on her immortality and thousands of years of life, where she had been encountering prideful people for centuries in order to prepare herself for his ego in the present. Her fortitude wasn’t always something he admired, a fact that she knew all too well. Tonight, however, it was the only solace he’d had in far too long. Her companionship was the balm he had never even dared to ask for. Still, it was always there to try and minimize the damage done to his soul.

“He might,” Was his whispered response to her after the long pause he introduced into their conversation. Unable to give her anything more for the night, he reached for the bed sheets and tugged them up over their bodies. They had fallen asleep together on missions before in grassy fields, in caves and other uncomfortable places. Sharing his bed with her felt just as intimate as unveiling his grievances. Overwhelmed by the amount of exposure he’d given her in one night, Bruce muttered an incoherent, “Good night.”

For the last time that evening, she hummed to him like she was using his name to sing him a lullaby, and he swore to himself that he’d never tell her the immediate sense of calm it provided him with to hear her serenade him to sleep with nothing more than a few simple words, “Good night, Bruce.”

#maiden writes #wonderbat #brucexdiana #Wonder Woman #Batman

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madamebaggio · 5 years

Photo

Chapter 5

Jon was held back by some lords who wanted to discuss the siblings. He promised the men he would talk about it on the meeting they had for the afternoon. He just had no idea of what he would say.

When he finally managed to free himself from them, he heard that the four siblings were with Davos on the courtyard.

He could see Arya, Brienne –and curiously –Sansa there, watching a match. Podrick was also there and three of the four visitors were also watching. They were all dressed in the same clothes of the day before. Sansa would have to find them new ones.

He came closer and realized that Davos was facing Edmund, their swords locked in combat. Tormund –whom Jon hadn’t seen before –was yelling encouragements in form of insults to both of them.

Jon stopped close to his family. “Good morning.” He murmured.

Arya just grumbled her answer, eyes fixed on the fight. Brienne –respectful as always –properly greeted her King.

“Good morning, Jon.” Sansa murmured to him. He was relieved she’d finally taken to calling him Jon when there wasn’t anyone around.

“Early start for everybody?” He asked, indicating the siblings with his head.

“I guess that nobody had a good night of sleep.” She answered.

Jon’s eyes went to the match once again. The young boy could really hold his own. His foot work was a bit different from what Jon had learned, like his fighting style was different. It still proved efficient, though, when he disarmed Davos.

“I yield.” The older man said in good humor, hands up.

Edmund bowed to him. “It was a pleasure sparring with you, my Lord.”

Davos clapped a hand on his shoulder. “The pleasure was all mine, lad.” He turned to the other. “Lord Peter, a round?”

“Would you mind if I had a turn with my sister first?” He indicated Susan with his head. “She’s terrible at this.”

“Why, thank you, Peter. You’re so kind.” She rolled her eyes.

Davos chuckled. “Have at it, children.”

Susan huffed as she entered the courtyard and picked the sword from Edmund’s hand. “I hate sword fighting.”

“I am aware of that.” Peter swung the sword he got from Davos experimentally. “And that’s exactly why you need to practice. This sword is different from the one you’re used to, it’s heavier. Be careful.”

“Give me a second.” She asked, sticking the tip of the sword on the ground, before removing her jacket and throwing it to Lucy. She picked her sword again and swung it around a bit. “Let us start.”

Jon observed as the siblings circled each other before Susan attacked and Peter parried her. She was wearing a billowing white shirt with some kind of blue corset on top of it, but every time she moved her arm, the collar of said shirt revealed more of her skin. It was… Distracting.

Jon wasn’t happy that he noticed it.

“Susan, lift your arm or I’m going to cut it off!” Peter barked to his sister.

“With a blunt sword?” She snapped back.

Edmund snickered. “If Peter doesn’t cool it, Sue is likely to run him with that sword. Blunt or not.”

Lucy shook her head. “She’s slow today and she hates swords. Peter is going to win soon.”

“Care to make a wager?” Edmund asked.

“Yes.” They shook hands.

Davos watched on amused, and almost missed the moment Peter tripped his sister, who went down hard. However, before he could make her yield, Susan rolled and kicked the back of his knee, making her brother fall.

Both pulled their swords at the same time, their tips stopping close to the other’s belly. It was a draw.

“You’re getting slow, brother.” Susan smirked at her brother.

“Maybe you’re getting better, sister.” He smirked back at her, before rising and offering her a hand to do the same.

“Lord Peter.” Jon stepped closer. “May I have the next turn with you?”

Peter arched a brow and Susan had to elbow him. “Of course, your Grace.”

Susan passed by Jon and gave him the sword. “Peter normally leaves his left side open.” She informed, before going to where her other siblings were.

“That one is a piece of work.” Arya commented with Sansa.

“They can call the brother High King as much as they want.” Sansa spoke. “She’s obviously the one they follow.”

Peter and Jon circled each other for a bit, before they finally started attacking.

“Is it me…” Lucy started slowly, “Or are they really fighting?”

Susan looked from her brother to the King. “Oh heavens.” She huffed.

“Should we do something?” Lucy asked concerned.

“Why?” Edmund was completely unconcerned.

Jon hit Peter with the back of his hand, but the other man didn’t go down.

“This is ridiculous.” Susan decided. “Podrick.”

The man turned so fast to Susan he almost fell to the ground. “My Lady?”

“I need a bucket of water.” She told him. “Could you get me one?”

“Bucket of water?” He looked confused. “Sure, My Lady.”

He ran off and came back quick with the bucket. Good thing, because Peter had just hit the King that was housing them and Susan was pretty sure there was blood now.

“Where should I take it, My Lady?” Podrick asked.

“Just give it to me.” She smiled sweetly at him.

He looked beyond puzzled now, but still passed the bucket to her. Susan thanked him and marched to the courtyard.

And threw all the water at her brother and the King.

The cold water. While they were outside, surrounded by snow. It wasn’t pleasant.

“SUSAN!” Peter bellowed.

“If the two of you are finished you the alpha male demonstration…” She said calmly, gently putting the bucket down. “We all have things to do. I imagine the King’s time is precious.”

Jon looked to Peter, just to find the other man already looking at him. The King wouldn’t know how to explain what happened. This man, this supposed King, was a prideful, arrogant one, however Jon always prided himself on being reasonably level headed.

Apparently he wasn’t that level headed anymore.

“You’re right, as usual.” Peter gave his sister a winning smile. “I apologize, Your Grace.”

“It’s not necessary.” Jon grumbled.

“Now, get me some arrows, Peter.” Susan told her brother. “If you are lucky I won’t use you as a target.” She arched a brow at him.

Jon felt a smile tugging at his lips, but fought it. He nodded at the siblings and turned to leave the courtyard, only to find Lady Lucy talking to Ghost.

“Hello, sir. What’s your name?”

Edmund elbowed his sister –they did that a lot to each other. “Wolves don’t speak, Lucy.” His voice was a bit strained.

She seemed confused for a moment, then she saw Jon. “Your Grace. Who is this?” She asked indicating Ghost.

Jon observed his wolf with a curious frown. He was obediently sitting in front of Lady Lucy, allowing her to pet him, in a way he never let anyone but the other Starks do. “This is Ghost. He’s like a friend.”

“As he should be.” Lucy smiled at him.

“My sister is very fond of animals, Your Grace.” Edmund gave him a strained smile. “Often talks to them.”

There was something there, but Jon just wasn’t sure what it was. Perhaps Lady Lucy had some kind of gift that made possible for her to communicate with animals?

The sound of arrows hitting targets made Jon turn back to where Susan and Peter were still standing. She was firing arrows at the stationary targets so fast, that Jon took a moment to realize where the arrows came from.

She was holding them on her draw hand, and passing them to the arrow in a split second. He’d never seen someone shoot so fast. And it wasn’t just fast: she was hitting bull’s eye every single time.

“She doesn’t miss.” Jon murmured.

“Ever.” Edmund agreed. “We always keep that in mind before disagreeing with her.”

“Once she shot at a Lord from across a ballroom.” Lucy informed excited. “He had a goblet to his mouth and it ended stuck to a column.”

Jon arched a brow. “Good to know.”

He was starting to wonder if he’d made a good choice when he let the Pevensies stay. He looked up to the sky; it was blue, clear and the weak Winter sun was shining for the first time in a week.

Perhaps there was something there.

Notes: The only thing that’s difficult about this story is getting appropriate gifs from William Mosley... hhahahah

Anyway... Gifs are not mine, if you know who they belong to, please, let me know.

This Pevensies are going to drive Jon insane... But I’ll bet he’ll love it. Let me know your feelings.

#madame baggio #fanfiction #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #game of thrones #The Chronicles of Narnia #jon snow #Sansa Stark #Arya Stark #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #lucy pevensie #OOC #jon snow x susan pevensie #peter pevensie x sansa stark #gifs not mine #the spring that thaws winter

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metinthehallway · 6 years

Text

Gaia

Idek what this is, it’s just an idea that came to me upon looking at that one pic of harry sitting on the grass with a red bandanna around his neck and sunglasses on his head. Nothin too serious but I thought I’d post bc it’s 7 am and why not? 4.5k words of nonsense

In the flat green fields of Woodstock, New York, a young man sits with his knees pulled lazily to his chest. He’s found the perfect place to disappear, a tucked away corner in the shade of a large elm tree, a refuge from the constant commotion of the festival happening around him. It’s only the first day and he’s seen about 30 people carted away on makeshift stretchers either due to heat stroke, dehydration or too much LSD, about two thirds of them most likely suffering from all three. Scoping out the bodies swaying barefoot to the tune up of an electric guitar, he lets his mind wander. To this morning, finally dragging himself out of the body-sized indent in his bed. To last night, lying beneath the stars on the hood of his 1957 Cadillac, soft palms resting right on the hot metal as if it could burn the fingerprints right off his body. As if it could burn the existence right out of him.

To last month and the letter in the mail that changed the coursing river of his fate. The swiftness of the water sludged down to a motionless one, not a ripple to be seen for miles. He thought back to the letter, written in blue ink, written five states away in a room he’s never seen before. She sat in that unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar chair and whipped out the most formal stationary she owned and proceeded to cross her T’s and dot her I’s and break his heart. She used to spray her letters with his favorite perfume of hers so that when they arrived they would carry a sweet reminder; that she remembered the small details about him, that she remembered enough of him to call it love.

When the mailman unceremoniously dropped the pile of bills and subscriptions and a single handwritten letter onto his entryway floor he didn’t know he would spend the rest of the day in his room, on his bed, staring at the blazing summer sun making its way across his wall. The letter, adorned with drying tear stains that marred the pretty blue cursive, was absent of any faint trace of lemon. It was more bitter than the words that played on repeat in his mind, a record player skipping on the ugliest part of the song and distorting itself into a continuous screech. Words saying over and over again, “it’s not you, it’s the distance”. As if she wasn’t the one who created the distance in the first place.

The unmistakable sound of a cheering crowd brought him back to the present. Harry felt the grass poking at the tender skin of his hands as he ran them back and forth lazily to the music emitting from the speakers. A band he didn’t know the name of just walked on stage and everyone went wild, tipping their beers and sloshing the beverage all over the ground below them. He frowned, looking across the littered lawn at the variety of trash blanketing the green earth. Piles of cups, cans and bottles discarded, cigarette butts and clipped joints burned amongst wrappers of fast food and flyers showcasing the lineups for the day. He thought it was such an unnecessary thing to do as the large dumpsters lining the perimeters stood empty and void of their purpose. It was unfair. And he suddenly felt a great need to do something about it. Anything to get his mind off her.

Harry stood to his feet and brushed off the back of his pants so they would be free of dirt, ignoring the inevitable grass stains on his dark grey corduroys, and fixed the red bandanna tied loosely around his collar. He took off in the direction of the largest trash pile. He hadn’t even wanted to be here. He loved music, sure, but he bought these tickets months ago with his friends with the money he saved from his shoveling side job during the winter when things were drastically different. He’s been mentally preparing himself for the amazing experience he would soon have at dear old Woodstock. He planned everything down to the minute but what he hadn’t planned on was his girlfriend of 2 years to up and cut all forms of ties she had with him, which nowadays were only came in a weekly letter due to her having moved miles away. He couldn’t even enjoy himself here, couldn’t allow the music to wash over him in that special healing way it did when he heard a spectacular guitar riff or felt the beat of the drums sync up with his pulse.

So he grabbed a leaf bag that lined one of the smaller garbages towards the center of the festival and walked around, picking up single pieces of wayward trash before moving to the more compact piles. He didn’t realize how far he’d walked until his bag was filled to the brim with a plethora of waste and his arms started to ache in protest. Half carrying and half dragging the bag, he headed over to the industrial dumpsters and wrangled the ballooned bag over the top of the container. A hot and soupy liquid leaked onto his chest in the process and he recoiled, dropping half of the bags contents back on the ground. He groaned and with a dejected sigh and began to pick it all up again. When he straightened at the waist, he felt a pair of eyes boring holes into his back. He shrugged off the feeling as there were obviously a lot of eyes in the vicinity today and successfully got rid of the garbage once and for all.

Turning around, Harry made eye contact with a girl about 100 feet away. She looked to be around his age, maybe younger, holding a trash picker in one hand and a nearly full black garbage bag in the other. In a quick once over he notices long black hair trailing onto the ruffled shoulders of a white floral blouse that ended at the waistband of dark brown bell bottoms, giving way to thickly strapped sandals peeking underneath the fabric. She gives him a wide smile and throws up a peace sign, her chubby fingers clad with an assortment of rings on each one. He thought it must be difficult to use the picker with the clunky bands of metal hitting the switch every other second to open up the claws at the end when they didn’t need to be opened up. He tilts his head slightly to the side and furrowing his brows he lets a small, tight smile take over his face. She must’ve thought he was a fellow advocate for Mother Earth like her. He wasn’t really. He just needed something to do.

Averting her gaze, he finds his way through the disjointed crowds in search of his friends, Eric and Johnny. He was hoping he could see Eric’s circular afro bopping above the sea of bouncing heads or Johnny’s tremendously long arms flailing out of rhythm to the heavy music sounding out through the trees. He was ready to go and they had all taken Harry’s car to Woodstock. Fumbling with his keys, he saw a familiar body going hard in the middle of a mosh pit, semi greasy pieces of hair flying about Johnny’s face as his bony elbows found a different target to impale every two seconds. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Harry braved the pit. His feet were being crushed every time he took a step and he stopped just outside of the core of the mosh, hanging low in the outer edge. He called out his friends name.

“Johnny! Johnny Menzel!” Harry repeated his name until the letters no longer made sense and his name no longer sounded like a word. Johnny was too caught up in the music. Harry wishes he could throw away his brain, wishes he could actually enjoy himself this weekend but alas. Here he was, wanting to go home to sulk in his bed after only three hours at the festival. They were supposed to go all night, him and his friends, even after the acts had finished their gigs. He told them he would stay for them because they knew he was going through the ringer at the moment and he wanted to be that reliable Harry he was, not this flakey, emotional Harry. But here he was, going back on his word. Harry traveled further into the dense crowd of flying limbs and swirling hair and tugged on Johnny’s shoulder, turning him around to face him.

“Harry! Fancy seeing you here dude,” Johnny exclaimed, brushing a sweaty strand of dirt colored hair out of his eyes in order to see his friend. Red rimmed the translucent blue irises, eyelids drooping heavily over them as a cheesy grin found its way onto his face. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Johnny was having fun, everyone around him was having fun. So why couldn’t he? Johnny had four months of rent to worry about that was due in two days but here he was, head banging to some obscure band amidst total strangers with their own problems. Maybe that was the way to let forget about it; smoke a whole lot of weed and let your body do all the thinking. Harry felt he couldn’t even do that, though. He just wanted to go home.

One look at Harry’s face and Johnny could tell what he was thinking. Shaking his head quickly, he backed away from Harry with his palms up and started to walk over to the canteen where they were selling bottled water for outrageous prices. Harry followed him and watched as he whistled and started picking at the bush next to the table, seemingly interested in its foliage. Harry knew what he was doing, having seen this same scene play out hundreds of times. The person in the chair counting money didn’t notice when Johnny swiped a cold bottle from the row and strutted away, Harry scoffing and trailing behind.

“Listen,” Harry says, catching up to Johnny. “I’ll stay the whole day tomorrow, I promise. I just can’t today. It’s too hot and...loud,” Harry finished, grasping for any excuse and coming up short. Of course it’s loud and sweaty. They’re at a music festival. In the middle of August.

Johnny could hear the absolute bullshit in his words and whirled around, placing a cold and condensated hand on Harry’s shoulder, chugging half of the water in one gulp before opening his mouth. “Yeah, because that’s totally the reason you want to leave before Janis Joplin comes on stage. You know, the quote unquote love of your short lived life? The woman you’ve obsessed over since you knew what a boner was?” Harry smacked Johnny’s hand off his shoulder, suppressing an intense blush before groaning. He should know by now to never tell his friends anything about himself.

“Man, I told you that in confidence,” Harry whines.

“You were drunk off your ass and announced that Janis Joplin gave you musical hard ons to a garage full of people. Don’t act all scandalized. You do it to yourself,” Johnny quips. “Anyway,” he continues animatedly. “Eric and I told you we were going to drag you out of that house if it was the last thing we did. And we did it. You can’t stay in that musty room anymore. I get that you’re hurt, man, I really do,” Harry crosses his arms at this statement but that doesn’t deter Johnny. “But we’ve been talking about this forever! I should’ve spent most of this money on rent but here I am, getting paid in experience. This is too groovy man, and you’re making it seem like a chore,” Johnny ends his miniature rant with a pouty bottom lip and what seems like a stab at a comforting voice but all it sounds like to Harry is pitying.

“I’m going home,” Harry announces, choosing to ignore the well meaning monologue. He jingles his keys in front of Johnny’s face, the 8 ball accesory almost making contact with his aquiline nose.”With or without you guys.” Johnny rears his head back.

“Looks like it’s without then. I’m going to go find Eric. And together we will find a ride. If not, we’ll just sleep on a bench or something. Maybe even on the wet grass,” he says, letting out an exaggerated gasp. “It’s all about the experience,” Johnny says, before turning on his heel in search of the third staple friend in their group. Harry knows he shouldn’t feel betrayed by them. It would be unfair with all the moping they’ve put up with and all the times they smoked a bowl on Eric’s roof and Harry talked for hours and hours about her. Her pointy ears, her dainty wrists, her brown eyes he wanted to sow seeds in, watch flowers grow out of. Yeah, he was high. He was also sad. And they knew it. They sat there and let him talk for as long as he wanted to, even until the sun came up. They were good friends, he reminded himself on the way to his car. They just wanted to have fun.

Shoving his key into the ignition, he felt the Cadillac roar to life. He spent a full year working on this car, restoring it to its former glory. He loved his baby, even gave her a name: Candace. It wasn’t too creative but it was something to call his own. Putting his car into reverse and letting his foot off the break, he slowly rolled backwards out of his hazardous parking space, in his own little world. He regretted being to lazy to check his blindspot when he heard a dull thud and a grunt, the sound of numerous object falling to the ground. Harry’s eyes widened as he put the car in park, scrambling for the door handle. He missed the lock three times before successfully disarming it and opening the door. He hesitantly made his way to the back of Candace, heart racing. He just hit someone.

In the two seconds it took to get to the bumper, Harry’s thought process went something like this; Oh my god. I just hit someone with my car. I’m in so much shit. Deep shit. Center of the Earth shit. They’ll sue me. Wait, what if they’re can’t sue me because they’re dead? I wasn’t going that fast, was I? What if they hit their head on Candace on the way down to their demise? What if there’s blood? I can’t handle blood! Oh my god, I’m going the throw up ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Rounding the back of the car (and discretely flicking his gaze to the headlight for any sign of damage), he sees a familiar pair of thick and strappy sandals and his heart drops even more. It was Hippie Girl he just mowed over with his car. He stands there, frozen as she begins to stir, loud groans escaping her lips. She tries to sit up and Harry finally moves, rushing over and dropping to his knees, making sure to cradle her head so she doesn’t hurt anything else.

Upon opening her eyes, his breath catches. They’re the deepest shade of brown he’s ever seen and it chills him to the bone. It’s an unsettling stare. Various emotions pass over her face like clouds in the sky ranging from shock, confusion, pain and then finally, anger. She winces and takes a stuttered breath, opening up her deeply bowed mouth.

“What the hell just happened,” she questions angrily. Her thick brows furrow and dimple her forehead in the process. She turns her dark eyes left and right as if to gather her bearings before connecting with his, a recognizance sparking to life behind them like a flame. He gulps, praying silently for the Earth to swallow him up.

“Well,” Harry drawls out, unsure of how to say it. “I kind of backed into you with Candace. But not on purpose! I was...changing the radio station,” he lies, not wanting to seem like a wack job that doesn’t deserve his license. “I am so, so, so, so, so incredibly, terribly sorry. Here let me help you.”

With one hand on her back and the other wrapped around her wrist, he gently helps her up. As soon as she rises to her feet, she swats his hands away. Grimacing, she rotates her neck side to side and finds that it’s only a bit sore and still capable of full motion. Testing out the rest of her body, she stretches out her limbs, flinching slightly when she takes a step forward. Lifting her shirt to expose her hip where Harry assumes he hit with his car, he sees the start of a nasty bruise spreading into the waist of her dark brown jeans the same time she does. Lifting her head, he sees her face turn red with anger. A sharp inhale leaves both of their mouths. Uh oh, Harry thinks to himself. I’m definitely getting sued.

The Hippie Girl starts mumbling under her breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Harry asks uneasily. He really didn’t feel like getting cursed by your run of the mill Woodstock Witch, no matter how much he deserved it. She ignores him and turns her focus to the trash bag lying half empty in the dirt, its contents splayed all around them, many having rolled under nearby cars. She closes her eyes in defeat. Harry, feeling awful, hurriedly bends down to pick up all the garbage he can fit into his arms, not caring this time around if any mysterious liquid drips onto him.

Stuffing the armful of random waste into the bag at her feet, he hears what she’s saying. He stays crouched, cocking his head. She’s not saying any words, just counting. The numbers drop down from one hundred in threes, it seems. He pauses to listens. 97, 94, 91, 88, 85, 82…The numbers stop suddenly at 79 and he looks up to see her looking at him, almost black eyes narrowed. He straightens up quickly, clearing his throat. “Listen,” he says frantically. “You have to understand how sorry I am. I’m not usually the type of guy who goes around running over girls with his car.”

“I would hope not,” she shoots back. “You’re lucky I have somewhere to be or else I would really be laying into you, dude. Changing radio stations? Really? Are you that shitty of a driver?” She puts her hands on her fleshy hips, forgetting about the bruise and cursing quietly. “Whatever,” she says softly, almost to herself, diverting her gaze to the sad looking trash bag. “I have somewhere to be.”

Reaching down to get a firm grip on the bag, Harry stops her. He feels like the worst person in the world. He can’t let her leave like this.

He could’ve hurt her way worse than a bruise. And he already felt horrible about the bruise, sucking in his own breath like he was the one who got hit when he saw it. Taking the bag from her, his hands dwarfing her own ring covered ones, he jogs over to the nearest dumpster before she can protest and throws it in. Returning to her, he holds up his hands in some type of truce.

“Where are you going? Maybe you could let me take you there. It’s the least I can do. And if you’re in such a hurry, driving would get you to wherever you need to go way faster than your tiny feet could. Not that there’s anything wrong with tiny feet,” he hurries out. “Just can’t cover as much ground as my Candace,” he finishes with a proud smile and a knuckle rapping twice on the trunk.

“As if I’m sitting in the same car that ran me over. A car that you named Candace. No chance buddy,” she says, already twisting her body to physically leave the conversation. Harry inwardly groans. She seemed more than capable of doing things on her own and she definitely didn’t want Harry’s company but he felt like he owed her. Scratch that. He didn’t just feel like he owed her: he absolutely knew that he did. He hit her with his car!

He watches her retreating figure for a full minute before deciding to catch up to her. If she didn’t accept his ride, he would at least see her arrive to her destination safely.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, side eyeing his profile. She’s made it all the way to the entrance of the festival full of congested cars. He shrugs his shoulder, remaining silent as they walk, not quite together, but not quite like strangers.

She weaves her way in between the vehicles, a bit more wary now that she knows what it’s like to be rammed into by one of them. He walks behind her, observing her straight posture and confident walk silhouetted by the setting sun. The dying star turned the frizzy halo around the crown of her head an orange tint and made her swinging hands glint brightly, courtesy of the multiple rings that called her fingers home. Her blouse was falling off one shoulder, sporting a couple dirt stains on the white fabric from her fall. Another thing he was sorry about. His eyes wander down to the swell of her backside against the tightness of her bell bottoms. He almost doesn’t notice she’s stopped walking and thankfully he does in time, or else he would’ve ran into her. That would’ve been bad. That would have brought on an onslaught of, “You can’t drive AND you can’t walk? How did you even get this far in life being a total safety hazard?”

Harry can just hear it now.

She’s stopped in her tracks because a small fender bender blocks her path. She huffs and turns around not knowing how close Harry is, running right into his chest and bouncing back. “Woah there,” he says, putting both hands on her upper arms to steady her.

She shrugs him off and lets her feet carry her to the left, through a break in bumper to bumper traffic. Harry follows, of course. He thinks just a bit more than normal before opening his mouth. “You think they’d see the traffic and the sun setting and turn around to go home, wouldn’t you? Like, day one’s almost over, the acts are wrapping up their sets,” he says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t say anything, just nods her head infinitesimally in grudging agreement. Harry takes this as a good sign. She’s no longer biting at his head.

“So,” he starts off. “What’s your name? I’m Harry. Harry Styles. And, again, I’m so sorry I hit you with my car.” He finds himself by her side, walking faster to keep up. Maybe her tiny feet aren’t so ineffectual, he thinks with a huff. She doesn’t seem to be too eager to answer him so he presses further.

“What are you doing here anyway? At Woodstock I mean. You don’t look like you were enjoying the music so I’m just curious as to why someone spends their Friday afternoon picking up other people’s messes. Seems kinda pointless if you ask me,” he says, rubbing a large hand around the nape of his neck. This garners a reaction from her and she looks up at him, an incredulous look on her otherwise serene face.

“My name is Cynthia,” she begins, voice gaining more traction as she goes on. “And it’s a good thing no one asked you then. I’m here because a bunch of environmentally challenged idiots get together and fry their brains to the sound of metal screeching on metal and create more litter than what’s found in a town dump. I’m here because no one but me seems to care about the environment. Do you know how much waste this godforsaken festival generates? And do you know how often they let it be stampeded into the Earth? They don’t clean this shit up, man,” she swears and breathes in, continuing her spiel. “I mean I thought you cared. Do you? Or is your favorite pastime just taking out random pedestrians with your obnoxiously red car like it’s a bowling ball and we’re the pins?” She finishes her last sentence with a snark.

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise, halting mid step. Whatever he says is the wrong thing, so he just purses his lips and stares straight ahead. If I just stayed with Johnny and Eric, I wouldn’t be stuck with this self righteous hippie, he thinks. He knows she has every right to be angry but he’s been in too bad of a mood to even begin sympathizing. Everything feels like a direct attack to him at the moment.

Mentally sighing, he falls back in step with Cynthia, feeling bound to her at least until she knows she’s safe. She may be mean and sarcastic and all the synonyms of angry in one person, but after she’s arrived where she needs to go, Harry will never have to see her again. This thought gives him a bit of relief. She really is draining on his energy and he feels the need to pack a bowl just being around her.

They’ve been walking in uncomfortable silence for a mile now and she stopped protesting his presence about half a mile ago. The sky eventually turned dark and the stars have come out from behind their cloudy curtains when they finally approach a small neighborhood full of neatly stacked white houses and manicured lawns, most of which are full of blooming yellow black eyed susans and crisp white hydrangeas. She walks a bit quicker, a skip in her step as she nears a white blocked house with pale yellow window shutters and the number 19 in gold lettering on the front door. As she hops up the steps, her bell bottoms swish against the ground.

She turns around. Narrowing her dark eyes yet again, she bites out a curt, “thank you”. Harry’s about to smile but before he does she follows up with a, “thank you, really. For hitting me with Candace. That’s a hardcore stripper name, you know,” she blows a piece of thick onyx hair out of her face. “I didn’t need you to walk me home. Really. So I’m not going to give you a heartfelt thank you. You hit me with your car,” she says pointedly. She can’t believe she ended up here at the end of another seemingly routine day, standing on her front porch and looking into eyes so green it feels like she’s staring at a motionless forest, waiting for the trees to move.

“Have a wonderful night, Henry.”

And with that, Cynthia closes her front door with a flourish and in the quiet night, Harry can hear the lock click shut. “It’s Harry,” he says out loud to no one but himself.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he grumbles before twisting on his heel so fast it almost creates smoke, briskly walking down the single road in the complex back to Woodstock. He hears a flutter in the bush to his right and the brisk pace turns into a jog.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he repeats, shaking his head.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #writing #woodstock #1960s au #fic #harry styles imagine

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libraryscarf · 6 years

Text

Payback

“Hello, Yato. I would like to hire you.” Yato held her gaze for a moment, and then a lopsided grin crept across his mouth. “So,” he said. “You’ve come to the delivery god.” She nodded stiffly, unable to smile back as her gut gave a sudden, wrenching twist. “It’s…” She swallowed, loudly. “It’s kind of a weird job.”

Chapter 2: The Language of the Elite ( ao3 | ffn )

Hiyori’s shoulders slumped as soon as she walked in. Ami, after shutting the door behind her, raced to the window to follow Yato’s retreating figure down the street with her eyes.

“Okay,” she said after a brief pause. “You did not tell us about that.”

Hiyori didn’t answer. Her blood coagulated with dread as she continued staring at the elegant script that curled its way across the back of the envelope in her hand.

“No,” she murmured. “Please, no.”

Ami tore herself away from the window. “What happened? Did you get served?”

Hiyori looked up, her expression desolate. “Worse. It’s from my mom.”

: : :

“Personally,” said Yama, “I do not see what is so awful about having a fancy dinner with your family. Especially when they’re taking you out to Moon God of all places.”

Yama breathed the name of the restaurant like it was a prayer. “That’s like…sushi heaven,” she said reverently.

Hiyori was holding her head in both hands, her elbows on the dining room table.

“Why couldn’t she just email or text me like a regular person,” she moaned.

The invitation to dinner had arrived on stiff, expensive stationary where the inevitable curly words had instructed Hiyori to attend. Not requested: instructed.

“Because your mother speaks the language of the elite,” Ami said comfortingly. “It can only be communicated underneath a wax seal with the appropriate coat of arms.”

Hiyori lowered her head all the way down to the table, swinging her arms down on both sides of the chair.

“It’s worse than that, even,” she mumbled into the table. Her friends leaned in to hear better, as Hiyori, still plastered forehead-first to the table, informed them of what the conversation had been the last time she was among her extended family.

: : :

It had been several months ago, when her maternal grandparents came to stay at her parents’ house over Christmas. Once her older brother, Masaomi, had showed up with his very nice, be-cardiganed boyfriend in tow, the conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn.

“So, Hiyori,” her grandmother said. “It looks like you’re the last!”

The older woman’s tone was jovial, but Hiyori felt the skin on her arms start crawling up toward her neck like she was covered in centipedes.

“I suppose medical school does get in the way of dating,” she said.

“You haven’t met any…nice young doctors-to-be?” her grandmother asked, exchanging a meaningful look with Hiyori’s mother.

Hiyori fought the urge to sink under her chair, hoping that if she tried hard enough she could simply pop out of existence. Instead, she sipped her champagne delicately and pondered just exactly how disowned she would be if the rest of it just happened to be splashed on her grandmother’s expensive lace collar.

“You remember the Fujisaki family, don’t you?” Hiyori’s mother asked innocently.

Hiyori gritted her teeth until they creaked. “Yes,” she said, through tight lips. “I remember them.”

This champagne would definitely end up all over someone else before the night was over.

“Their son is just a few years older than you,” Mrs. Iki cooed, playing a paragon of innocence. “And he’s doing quite well in his profession, from what I hear. He’s a doctor.”

“How nice,” Hiyori ground out. Her lips were stretched across her face in a taut line, but neither her grandmother nor her mother seemed to notice. She cast Masaomi a pleading glance where he sat next to his boyfriend across the room, but he just gave her a helpless shrug. She glared at him until he turned pale and looked away. Bastard. This was all his fault.

“We should invite them over sometime,” Mrs. Iki continued. “I think you would get along wonderfully with—”

Hiyori set her champagne flute on the coffee table with a brittle clink. Mrs. Iki fell suddenly silent.

“Mom,” she said, striving for a gentle tone. “I do not want to see Kouto Fujisaki again.”

The stem of the glass complained under her grip. “I do not want to see him, ever.”

Her mother and grandmother blinked at her in infuriating confusion.

“Whatever has he done, dear?” her grandmother asked.

This was the worst question of all, because Hiyori did not have a good response to it.

Kouto Fujisaki was charming, witty, and handsome. He was beloved of every mother, respected by every father. He saved kittens from trees for fun. And being around him gave Hiyori the distinct feeling that someone had just poured a bucket of eels down the back of her shirt.

She herself understood what discomforted her so much about him, but it wasn’t exactly a defensible argument in this setting. For a particularly morbid school project, she had had to look up the mugshots of famous serial killers. When the look in several of their flat, dead-fish eyes had struck her as familiar, she realized she had seen that look peering out at her from Kouto Fujisaki’s face. It was a stark, loathsome emptiness that made her sick to look at.

But now, she heard herself say, in defeat:

“Nothing.”

Her mother and grandmother exchanged a look of triumph, and abruptly, Hiyori couldn’t stand it for another second. It was no one’s right to force her on Fujisaki, and she’d hate herself if she lost this most pitiful of contests.

So she sucked in a huge breath and proclaimed, in a voice ringing with victory:

“Actually, I don’t want to see him, because I happen to have a boyfriend.”

: : :

Ami and Yama stared blankly at Hiyori after she recounted the dismal tale.

“You don’t have a boyfriend…right?” Yama asked incredulously, while Ami raised her eyebrows so sharply they could have sliced bread.

“No!” Hiyori ripped her face off the table and stared at them with a forsaken expression. “I don’t! But now my entire family wants to meet the one I already told them I have!”

“Well, why don’t you just tell them you broke up with him?” Ami asked, always pragmatic.

“Because they’ll foist Fujisaki on me again,” Hiyori said miserably.

“You could tell them you don’t want to date,” Yama said, drumming her fingers thoughtfully on the edge of the table.

Hiyori bestowed a bitter glare upon her. “Have you met my mother? That’s tantamount to saying I don’t want to eat. It’s the sort of thing that in her world leads to therapy.”

Yama threw her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay.”

After a few more seconds of silent deliberation, Ami pushed her chair back from the table.

“Or you could just…get a boyfriend,” she said offhandedly, and disappeared into her own room. Yama followed suit, giving Hiyori a couple pats on the shoulder.

“You’ll figure something out, Hiyo,” she said comfortingly. Then she shrugged. “Hey, maybe Fujisaki has improved since you last saw him!”

After they had both left her alone, Hiyori sat motionless at the table for a long while, eyes frozen on her interlocked thumbs. Ami’s words reverberated in her mind.

And there was a flyer on the telephone pole across the road from the kitchen window, fluttering just within her range of vision. A bold declaration was emblazoned on it, along with a phone number.

“NO PRICE TOO LOW! NO TASK TOO STEEP!”

: : :

Hiyori didn’t give herself time to second-guess her decision, or reconsider the impropriety of asking a boy she barely knew to take money in exchange for pretending to date her. All she knew was that she had tipped the scale into decidedly desperate territory.

But they could help each other. She repeated this to herself, a mantra every few seconds, to keep her nerve up as she walked over to the neighboring house.

“I have a proposal,” she practiced saying out loud, “that I believe can benefit both of us.”

She cringed. Too formal, and a bit of a Godfather vibe. She would just have to wing it. Raising her hand, she approached the door and gave three brisk raps against it before she chickened out. A few moments later, it swung open.

Hiyori expected Yato, but the boy on the other side of the door was a head shorter, blonde, and had such an obviously impeccable sense of fashion that Hiyori instantly doubted he, Yato, and that bewildering tracksuit could share a living space.

“Hi,” she said hesitantly. “I-I think I have the wrong house.”

The boy’s mouth fell open, and his eyes widened dramatically. They were a striking color: a luminous, golden-green that, apropos of nothing, reminded Hiyori of sweet, summer-baked gardens.

As soon as the boy realized he was staring, he shut his mouth with a snap and looked at the ground. “Hi,” he said, anticlimactically. Then he extended a small hand toward her. “I’m Yukine. You’re at the right house.”

“Oh,” Hiyori said. “Good.” She shook his hand, then let go and cleared her throat.

“Um. Is Yato here?”

Yukine glanced up at her, and a mysterious expression flashed over his face before he resumed a normal smile. “Yes, he just got back from work.”

He waved her inside, and Hiyori used every ounce of resolve to avoid gawking openly at the interior of the house. She peered to her right into the small kitchen, where chip bags and an alarming number of pizza boxes littered every flat service. Yukine tapped her elbow lightly, and she jumped.

“You can come in here,” he said, jerking a thumb across the hallway to the small, shabby living room. Hiyori followed him in, then, at his silent invitation, seated herself on the very farthest corner of the narrow couch.

Yukine did not sit down. Instead he turned around, cupped his hands over his mouth, and hollered into the recesses of the house: “YATO, IT’S FOR YOU.” Then he turned back to give her an angelic smile. She returned it, trying not to look terrified.

There was the sound of a door slamming open, of footsteps in the hallway. Hiyori clenched her fingers together. Her knuckles went white as paper, bones pressing sharply against the flesh. Now that she was inside Yato’s house, sitting on his couch, her little scheme suddenly seemed childish, ludicrous, and offensive. This was rude and presumptuous. This was a mistake.

But before she could flee, Yato burst into the living room with his tracksuit half-unzipped. He tipped his head back, shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth, and said around them:

“Whatiffit, Yukine?!”

Yukine jerked his head toward where Hiyori was self-consciously trying to sit a bit straighter on the couch. Yato’s eyes fell on her, and they widened.

Hiyori would forever have a difficult time explaining why meeting Yato’s gaze made her ribs feel suddenly tight—like her lungs had, for whatever reason, decided they were too big for the rest of her body. They were eyes that didn’t make sense in the rest of his face, the features of which didn’t necessarily abide by the rules of classic handsomeness. Even in his curiosity and confusion, Yato’s eyes burned through the defensive mechanisms she had constructed around this ridiculous request. So she decided she would simply be honest.

It was a relief, Hiyori thought, to feel that she could at least do that around one person.

As she wrestled internally with this, Yato allowed half the pretzels to fall out of his mouth and onto the thinly carpeted floor.

“Hiyori?” he said incredulously. He stared at her, unaware that his shirt was covered in salty crumbs.

She stood up at once, brushing her skirt off, and squared her shoulders. She summoned every ounce of professionalism in her soul as she declared:

“Hello, Yato. I would like to hire you.”

Yato held her gaze for a moment, and then a lopsided grin crept across his mouth. “So,” he said. “You’ve come to the delivery god.”

She nodded stiffly, unable to smile back as her gut gave a sudden, wrenching twist. “It’s…”

She swallowed, loudly.

“It’s kind of a weird job.”

Yato and Yukine exchanged a quick look of apprehension. Hiyori gasped.

“I don’t—I don’t mean anything illegal!—it’s not a hit, or anything—”

Yukine snickered loudly, and Yato scowled at him.

“Out,” he ordered.

“Aww,” Yukine groaned. “The first job you get that’s actually interesting and I can’t even listen?”

“Out.” Yato turned Yukine by his shoulders and marched him into the back. Hiyori heard a door slam, and Yato returned a moment later, brushing his hands off.

“I’m not sure where that kid came from,” he said, shaking his head. “Now all he does is eat pizza and give me sass.”

Hiyori laughed tightly. Her hands gripped each other until her blood-starved fingertips tingled. Yato’s gaze dropped to her shaking hands, then returned to her eyes.

“Is everything okay, Hiyori?” he asked. The concern in his voice was what did it.

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” she burst out.

The words dropped, flat and heavy, in the immediate silence. And then Yato choked on a pretzel.

“You what?” he wheezed. He thumped a fist repeatedly to his chest, his face quickly darkening to a rich, turnip purple that Hiyori chose to assign to asphyxiation, rather than embarrassment.

“I’d like to hire you,” she clarified. “To…to do that. To be my boyfriend. Temporarily.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “I may have…told my family a few things about my personal life that are not entirely accurate. It’s—um.”

How much, exactly, was she obligated to confide in him about her family issues? Hiyori licked her lips, miserably aware of the silence.

“That point is—I need help,” she said. “And I need it soon. I understand if this is uncomfortable for you, and if you have to say no, that’s fine.”

The acute, awful silence dragged on for nearly a minute. Suddenly, Hiyori’s stomach folded over on itself and she lurched to her feet, sick with humiliation.

“Actually, you know what?” she said. “Never mind!” She laughed crazily, wobbling on weak knees. “It’s fine. I’m—I’m so sorry, this was a mistake—”

Wringing her hands, Hiyori pushed past Yato and into the narrow hallway. She was hurrying out the door when he called after her:

“I’ll do it.”

She stopped, one foot already on the welcome mat. Then, slowly, she turned back. Yato stood still at the entrance to the living room. There were two spots of pink high on his cheekbones, but other than that, his expression betrayed nothing.

“Sure, I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend,” he said. “If you need help with this, then I’m definitely not gonna leave you in the lurch. Besides,”—he flashed her a quick, subtle smile—“I’m pretty good at acting.”

The confidence in his voice helped to untwist Hiyori’s stomach from the writhing mess of knots it had morphed into. She stood on the welcome mat, staring speechlessly at him for several seconds.

“O-of course,” she finally said. “And—I mean—I’d pay you, obviously. Um. Whatever you…you think is…”

Yato waved both his hands frantically, and she trailed off.

“We can cover that later!” he assured her. “Uh…did you want to, maybe, talk more about it, sometime? If I’m going to be your”—he coughed loudly into his fist—“your, uh, paramour, we should come up with some…some facts, right? Backstory?”

“Oh. Yes.” Hiyori stepped back into the house, letting the door fall shut behind her. “We should. And…we should probably do it soon.”

chapter 3 will be posted on may 28! if you're sticking with me through this laborious posting schedule, i love u <3

#scarfwrites #noragamibigbang2k18 #yatori #yatori fanfiction #noragami #noragami fanfiction

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