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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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Decided to do a part 2 (due courtesy of @an-ambivalent and @definitetrashlord for motivating me to even continue this series HEHE💖)

Pt. 1

Tw: manipulation, dubcon, language

It isn’t the cum that slides down your legs continuously, nor the black and blue marks that so obviously covers the expanse of your neck at all times, no.

It’s the constant surveillance you’re under, it’s the lack of conversation you get from your comrades, it’s the way you mold and shift for however he wants you to be that solidifies his hold on you.

The attack from three weeks ago feels like yesterday, the way he held your head up by your hair after he was done ruining you and crooned in your ear that you were his now, and you’d be suicidal if you continued to lash out on his godsent decision plays like a broken record in your head.

You can’t look him in the eyes now, only meekly staring at his feet when he orders you to stand in front of him. Sometimes he’ll circle you and invade in your personal space, standing behind you and leaning in close behind your ear, simply inhaling you and saying nothing. Other times when no one’s around he’ll lounge back on the couch with a beer in his hand, spreading his knees wide while he lazily orders you to dance for him, slowly stripping away your self esteem and clothes simultaneously.

He doesn’t seem to outwardly mind the silence that seeps from you anymore, now that he has your body and attention focused solely on him.

Even Tomura has stopped talking to you just for fun. He’ll try and make a snipe at you, fruitlessly expecting your once-usual comebacks, but all you can do is blearily smile at him.

It makes everyone uneasy how quickly you’ve been reduced to nothing.

You couldn’t leave even if you tried to. Your medical skills were too valuable to be rejected, and Dabi’s scrutinizing tabs on you wouldn’t allow for even a foot stepped outside if not for Shigaraki’s missions.

Even your meals are meager at best, mainly consisting of copious amounts of alcohol and shitty ambiguous burnt food that pops up on the counters randomly.

You feel dirty, like a disease-infested rat. No amount is showering from the dingy stalls, no amount of cheap soap bars wittled down on your body erases the feeling of being used.

Dabi has never been in more love than he has now.

He hopes you like the food he makes, secretly placing it on the bar counter seconds before you sit down. Sure, the food might be a little burnt, but it’s still your favorite right?

It doesn’t matter how expensive the shower products are, he thinks they smell nice and that they’d smell even better on you. Shigaraki can fuck off, he’s not spending too much revenue on his girl, it’s the bare minimum he can do to show you how much he appreciates you playing by his rules...even if he can never say it out loud.

And his favorite part at the end of every day is putting his surely-misplaced words of affection into action, where he can scream with his body against yours how long he’s wanted you for, how thankful he is to any deity that exists that you’ve been placed in his care.

Dabi might be in love, but he’s not stupid though.

He sees the way your body becomes more and more deteriorated, notices the small change of you hesitation to answer him, the way you can never truly look at him, how you retreat to his room more and more(your room has just become a guest room now after he burned all your belongings, rendering you completely dependent on him to supply you with scratchy clothes and feminine products, no matter how embarrassing it is for you). It’s so frustrating to him- you’re not actually doing anything wrong, but you’re not doing it right either. How long does he have to keep threatening you for? Why can’t you just be happy with him? At least pretend like he’s not the villain for once.

He just feels so passionately for you, a word he never thought would be used in his vocabulary. It all bottles up, and sometimes he feels like he isn’t expressing his feelings of love, jealousy at you not giving him enough attention at times, concern over your quiet demeanor, and wanting of you enough.

You’ve never been more broken than you are now.

If it wasn’t bad enough that you bend at his every beck and call, he expects you to understand his body language and cravings without him even saying anything, which is more so often than not. He just stares at you for so, so long. You originally tried to get up and leave after he dragged you over to the couch and plopped you down, but immediately stilled after smoke began curling from his wrists.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

You look at him incredulously, but his lids are lowered at you as he smokes a blunt. And so you exhale in annoyance and run a hand through your hair, closing your eyes to avoid looking into his unnerving glacial eyes.

It’s too bad you don’t see the big red hearts in them that break when you turn away from him.

You’re just so pretty, how can you expect him not to stare?

He tries to get you to do weird things too when you guys are alone and he’s not plowing you into the mattress.

Once on a cool winter night a majority of the League was out hunting for recruits. Dabi, you, and Spinner had done your quotas already-or,rather, Dabi had yanked you by your wrist alongside him through the dark alleyways, growling at you to “Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. If I see you looking at any one of these trash kindlings I’ll burn the whole alley up and force you to watch”.

And so while the rest of the party was out, Spinner had mumbled something about needing to take a piss with a pointed glare from Dabi and you were left alone again with your...boyfriend?

He sits down on the crumbling leather and gives you a once over, not saying anything.

You fidget in place, thinking he was going to make you give him another slutty show.

Moments pass, and he snaps, “Well?”

“W-well what?”

“Are you just gonna stand there like some braindead bitch? Sit down.” He leers at you.

You drop into the loveseat at the other end, looking down at your lap. You can’t see his expression, but he scoffs in disbelief.

“Are you actually slow? Get the fuck over here, it’s cold as shit.”

And so you scooch over to him regrettably, knees touching with his as you squirm.

He leans forward and turns to face you, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He notices you trembling and squeezing your eyes shut, so he stops midway.

He sits back again and as soon as you feel his presence retreat you let out our breath.

It hurts his heart to hear it.

You solely turn to face him when he doesn’t say anything, and he points to one of the grimy blankets strewn over the side of the tv. He grunts, and you catch his drift.

You get up to retrieve it, and hear his gravelly voice. “Get the remote too.”

When both items are brought back, Dabi snatches the blanket from you and drapes it over himself contentedly.

What am I, an errand girl?

He tosses the remote at you to your surprise, and you look at him with raised eyebrows.

He props his cheek against a fist and stares briefly at the tv.

You take your chances and press the on button on the remote.

The ancient monitor comes to life, and it takes a few minutes of scrolling through the channels and glancing at Dabi’s face to decide the appropriate one to watch. You settle on some old slasher finally after seeing the scowl on his face lessen at the sight of a rusted blade chopping through some guy’s shoulders.

It’s weird to be sitting there with your bully-turned-beau, watching a horror flick as if your relationship with him was normal. You’re surprised he hasn’t jumped your bones yet, it’s what he always wants to do these days as if you’re planning on leaving and it’s his last dying wish to fuck you.

But he does nothing except for sit there, gazing at the screen with unblinking eyes, bouncing his knee.

He wants you near him.

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Why do you think he even sat you next to him with a blanket and a shitty movie?

Dabi expected you to snuggle up to him the moment you say back down. It’s rather insulting that you haven’t so far, if he’s being honest. Why would a fire user like him need a blanket to keep warm? That was for you.

And the horror movie? The only reason he allowed you to put it on is because he wanted you to jump, scream, flinch-hell, do something so he can put an arm around you and tease you for being scared!

But you just sit there. Stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights. Hands in your lap, back straight up, it bothers him that you’re not relaxing around him.

“Aren’t you cold?” You jump at the break in silence.

Indeed it is cold, the chilly winter draft seeping through the crumbling foundations of the old bar. But you’d resist, not wanting to know where he was going with this.

“Uh, no, I’m good thanks.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re literally shaking cold, doll. Come here.”

You turn to him beseechingly, very much not wanting to prolong this. “Dabi...”

You’re met with an icy glare.

And so you begrudgingly scoot closer to him, barely a few inches away. Gingerly picking up the corner of the blanket, you place it over your lap in a faux effort to warm yourself.

Dabi rolls his eyes when he sees this, and pulls you by your arms to fall against his chest.

You gasp lightly at how warm his torso is, and can’t help the shiver that passes over you.

Unable to stop yourself from chasing the warmth amidst the cold night, you huddle closer to him, pressing your palms against his chest to feel more of his heat.

He looks down at your head and gives the slightest twitch of his lips.

His heart swells, and he hopes you don’t hear how embarrassingly loud it’s pounding against your hands.

You slowly start melting in his hold, shifting your leg up adjoining his to seek out more heat, and it makes his cock twitch slightly. He likes you like this: pliant, easy, comfortable. He just wishes you’d talk more, and with less of that apprehension and fear in your eyes

Some minutes pass, the slasher fic having been ended and changing to a rom-com. Dabi doesn’t remember the last time he saw one of those. It must have been back when he was Touya, back when his mom would bake his favorite cookies and him and Fuyumi-chan and Natsu would chase each other around-

You stir in his arms, mumbling a bit from dozing off. Dabi gazes at you, wondering when the day would be when you bake him his favorite meals, when he gets to chase you around and make you giggle instead of chasing you like prey and making you scream.

He rubs up and down you arms soothingly with hot palms as you murmur and begin to wake up. You sit up from his chest and rub your eyes, yawning widely all the while.

It’s only when you focus on him smirking down at you that you jump back as if you’ve been electrocuted.

His smile drops at that.

You scowl at his proximity, mentally face-palming at how you could’ve been lulled to sleep so easily by this dickhead. It wasn’t even that cold, how could you have warmed up so easily to him?

A blast of icy air seemingly coming from nowhere settled over your bones and you shivered violently, rubbing your arms that were warm a minute ago.

Okay, maybe it was a bit cold. But you’d be damned if you willingly became vulnerable for him any more than you had to.

“Is someone tired?” He teased, his white teeth gleaming with his sickening grin.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you mutter and avert your eyes, getting up to go upstairs.

“Good idea, I think I’ll come too.” You don’t need to turn around to hear the smug laughter in his voice, knowing full well that he was making fun of you.

You grumble and stalk upstairs with him right at your heels. At one point he lifts his gaze just to see your cute ass sashaying side-to-side with every step you took up.

He can’t help himself when he reaches a hand out and squeezes the flesh there, causing you to yelp and shoot up the stairs even faster.

Dabi shakes his head and snickers to himself, beelining after you to his quarters.

It’s a medium size-room, not meant for two people but that doesn’t stop him from cramming you in here every night.

You’re already glowering at his sheets, yanking them back and getting ready to dive in when a sudden thought strikes him.

“Have you eaten yet?” He leans against the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Comes your muddled answer from beneath the comforter.

You did not, in fact, eat anything for almost a day and a half. You couldn’t do it, your stomach was constantly in knots from his presence.

“Don’t lie to me,” his nostrils flare and he glares at you.

“I said I ate already.”

“Yeah? When exactly? ‘Cause if I remember right, i haven’t seen you leave my sight for almost 36 hours now, and none of that time includes when you ate.”

You stay silent, fuming underneath the covers. Why the hell was he so concerned about you? It pisses you off that he’s putting up a fake act of caring about you, just so that he feels less guilty about raping you.

He sighs and shifts to open the door. “Stop being such a bratty little shit. You were doing so well earlier, so keep it that way unless you wanna piss me off.”

Dabi turns the knob and takes a step out of the room. “I’ll ask you one last time before I choose myself- what do you wanna eat?”

“Eat shit.”

It’s so faint and muffled, but he hears it. His eyes widen marginally, his jaw clenches and the brass knob under his inflamed palm starts to steam and bubble.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said eat shit!” You throw the covers off and glare at him full on. “Stop pretending like you actually like me, or that you care about me. You’re a crazy fucking rapist, you’re not my father for gods’ sake, so stop trying to be this fake good person!”

The only sound around the room is your soft panting and the squeaking of bubbling metal. Then, it stop.

He steps forward, and speaks softly. “You want me to be the villain so bad?”

Another step forward, and you instinctively retract your legs from the edge of the bed.

“Fine. We’ll play your little game. You’re not leaving this room until I say so, or eating until I give you permission, since that’s what you wanted anyways. Wanna act like a stone cold bitch? Be my guest.”

His posture immediately relaxes, and his smug smile returns as he crosses the room to flip onto the bed.

You look at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

He turns over and scrolls through his phone.

There’s no way he’s serious. Is he actually planning on keeping you in this room? You’re already limited to the base as it is with him breathing down your back, no way in hell you’d tolerate even more confinement.

Just to check his bluff, you slowly slip off the bed and pad towards the door, one eye over your shoulder to check that he hadn’t turned around. But the second your hand outreaches for the disfigured blob of cooling metal on the door, a massive wave of blue flames lash out mere inches from your hand and between the knob.

You scream and clutch your hand, leaping backwards.

“What the fuck, Dabi?!”

He says nothing, but continues to smirk at his phone.

You take a deep breath and are about to try to open it again his his raspy voice calls out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My nursing skills aren’t as good as yours. And even if you do manage to sever your hand and try again, if you leave then I’ll personally make sure Shigaraki withdraws all your missions here on out.”

You pause at that, cursing under your breath. As much as you knew he’d never admit it to your face, your leader needed Dabi for long distance combat. He was the second most powerful member in the group, so his word was scripture after Shigaraki’s himself. He would do anything Dabi would say if it meant keeping him in the League. You, however, were expendable at the end of the day.

Sighing, you trudge your way back to the rickety bed, grumbling under your breath. He says nothing, simply continuing to scroll through his phone as if he didn’t blast hellfire at you seconds before.

Sleep did not come easily. Even after Dabi put his phone away, he didn’t press up against you like he usually did at night. The empty space behind you was growing colder and harder to ignore.

You tossed and turned for a couple minutes, contemplating what to do. Apparently he was serious when he said he wouldn’t let you leave the room until he said so. So when was he gonna give you the all-clear?

Your stomach rumbled loudly, and you winced clutching it. Damn it. If only you had taken up his offer instead of throwing a tantrum.

Finally, after an excruciating 10 minutes more of deafening silence save for your weeping stomach, you cave in.

“Dabi.”

Silence.

“Dabi, you awake?” You prop yourself up on an elbow and peek over his shoulder. His eyes are closed, but his chest is moving too fast for a slumber.

“Look, I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t listen, okay? I should’ve eaten when you told me to.”

Nothing again.

“Hey.” You lightly shake his shoulder, but no response comes from him.

You sigh in frustration, tapping your fingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, an idea comes to you, but it makes your stomach recoil in disgust and quiet down its grumbling. Desperation is a bitch.

“Can I make it up to you...?”

And finally, he turns around to face you, one cheek propped against his palm, a lazy grin complimenting his salacious gaze.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so earlier doll?”

You grimace in disgust, mixed emotions at your plan working.

“So what exactly did you have in mind, hmm?” He pouts condescendingly down at you, and you grit your teeth before letting him in on it.

“Um, well..I thought maybe I could...um, y’know, like..I wanna, um...” Oh god. This was more embarrassing than you thought. How are you supposed to ask your captor if you can suck his dick? Usually he just took you fighting tooth and nail, you never fully submitted like this before.

And he knows it too, based on the way his eyes gleam in the silver moonlight and shadows of lust cross his face while looking at your wide eyes and bitten bottom lip, your fidgeting fingers showing nothing but needing pure guidance.

But this isn’t supposed to be easy, he doesn’t want you to feel comfortable, he wants you to feel bad and make it up to him.

To give you a little push, however, he gives toga slight hint as he sits up and leans back against the rickety bedrest, folding his arms behind his head.

“So, what’s it gonna be sweetheart? ‘Gonna stare at me like that all night or are you gonna tell me how you’re gonna make this up to me?”

You look up at him, conflicted for a moment before solidifying your resolve. You shyly reach out a hand and touch the outside of his thigh, slowly rubbing and moving it closer up to the tent in his pelvis.

Oh, this is precious.

“What?” He sneers. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You were pushing me away earlier, but now you wanna suck my dick? Make up your mind, babe.”

You wince and continue, not backing down from his mean comment. You knew he wanted this, he expected this from you. That’s why even though he’s spitting venom from his lips, his hips are bucking up into your hand as you stroke over his member.

Your fingers move nimbly up and down, around and under his thighs and dick, with him softly cursing in the background as he grows harder and harder.

“Stop being a tease and get to sucking. It’s what you were made for, anyways,” Dabi’s low voice comes out from in between little moans.

Your hand shakes a little bit as you fumble with the drawstrings on his pj’s, and he snickers at your inexperience. When you finally free his length, it bounces out like its on fucking hydraulics, precum beading up at the tip, his shaft coated with an intimidation Jacob’s Ladder.

He watches you lick your lips and he groans under his breath. You’re nervous and scared, but he’s wondering whose heart is beating faster right now. The hand which you use to hesitantly start pumping him is so much softer than his own, and even though he’s gotten fairly accustomed to your body and the feel of it, the sensations multiply tenfold when you do it willingly for him.

Dabi has half a mind to shove your head down onto his shaft when he feels like you’re stalling with your hands, however good they feel. He wants to see you sloppy with saliva dribbling down your chin like a baby.

But he waits. As excruciatingly painful as it is, he wants to see what you’re like when you do things at your own pace, and at your own...comfort? If you can even call it that.

Finally, finally after caving in from his silent flower you get the idea to put it in your mouth.

Your face contorts in disgust as you slowly lower your head and latch your lips onto the slippery bulb, hollowing your cheeks out and sucking hard at the tip.

Dabi hisses and juts his hips up into your mouth, furiously chewing at his burnt lower lip as he holds back a pornographic moan. He knows you’d be startled and embarrassed by it, so he refrains...for now.

That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna tell you what to do, though.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck it like an ice-pop. No, don’t use your teeth idiot. And fondle my balls while you’re at it, too.”

Instructions pour into your ears, one after another as you fumble around trying to satiate his needs. You’re clumsy, which makes it even messier and hotter for him. Various fluids coat your hand and the lower half of your face as you work on him, doing exactly what he says. Sucking and kitten-licking the tip, even going so far as to dip your tongue into the crevice of his tiny hole and rapidly lick up the massive amounts of pre bubbling up after doing so, spiraling your tongue down the piercings and on his shaft until you circle around his balls. Your spit helps as lube to slick up his dick as you pump your hand while nursing on his plush balls.

Dabi, of course, has a hand woven through your hair and randomly jerks down on your head when you hit a good spot. You can tell he’s trying his best to hold back from his way his body and arms shake in self restraint, so you know it’s time to finish things up before his control snaps.

You start stroking him even faster, squeezing a little harder when you move up on his tip and massaging his balls. The soft schlick schlick sounds echo throughout the quiet room, the rustling of his sheets as his legs move to their own accord mute the thudding of both your hearts.

You can tell his orgasm is about to come from the way his cheeks puff up and his chest heaves. Pulling away is futile, as the second he sees recognition in your eyes he finally does what he’s been wanting to do, and slams your head all the way down his length.

He starts actually face-fucking you now, all 7 1/2 inches tightly cramming in your throat. You retch and cry out around his dick, trying to pull your head back but he’s not having it; he pounds the back of your canal and you swear you’ll wake up with a bruised esophagus in the morning.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck yes doll, fuck, just a little more, you’re doing so good, my little cumdump huh? You love me, yeah? Of course you do, of course you love your daddy, you’re never gonna leave me you’re gonna stay right here under me like the good little girl you are-“

Filth pours from his mouth as white ropes leave his cock, your already-filled throat flooding with his seed and leaking out of your strained mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he waits for a moment or two, calming his breath down by taking deep inhales in place of his rapid panting. His breath deepens after a minute or two, but he still has an iron grip on the back of your head sealed so tight that the cum is trapped on the inside of your stretched lips.

“Mmmfh!” You cry out and beat at his knee. He finally looks down at focuses on you, squinting and laughing at your predicament.

“Aww what’s wrong, don’t wanna gargle my kids? Would you rather have them someplace else?” He shakes your head back and forth on his softening cock and more seed spills out over your mouth and around his groin.

You painfully pull your head up, and Dabi revels in how you look.

Teary-eyed, your hair a mess, cum and spit coating your mouth like a fucking whore.

You’ve never looked more beautiful to him than you have at that moment.

“Come on, clean me up,” he gestures to the mess on his body, and you grimace.

“Do I have to? I just did what you wanted me to-“

“I thought you were trying to make it up to me?” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down.

You sigh and try to do it quickly, ingesting the vile contents and avoiding his cruel grin.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you finish him off and flop down in bed, catching your breath.

“So, was that good enough? Can I go outside now?”

“It’s the middle of the night, where the hell would you go right now?” He fluffs up his pillow and pulls his pants back up, getting ready to actually sleep this time.

“Well, I mean yeah, but...you know what I mean, in the morning you’ll let me go out, right?”

He rolls over to face you, and you can’t decipher what emotion crosses his face as his position blocks out the moonlight. From his body rolled over, the light reflecting off the side of his head would almost make it seem like he had white hair.

“Who said anything about letting you go out?”

You gape at him for a moment, then chuckle nervously. “Come on, don’t freak me out like that. You said that if I made it up to you-“

“I said make it up to me, as in apologize for your bitchy attitude. I didn’t say anything about you leaving. You’re gonna have to do more than a shitty blowjob if you wanna leave this room.”

“Dabi!”

“What? I’m just complying with what you wanted. You didn’t wanna go with me, right? So, I’m playing by your rules.” He says simply, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

Tears brim up in your eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Exactly. Which is why you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You turn over and scoot away from him, ignoring his scoff. But you suppose you couldn’t be too mad, after all.

You don’t know what you were expecting from a villain anyways.

#bnha #dabi smut #tw:dubcon #mha Dabi #dabi oneshot #touya todoroki #touya #bnha dabi #yandere dabi x reader #Dabi #dabi x reader

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elysianslove · 3 years

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when the stars align; oikawa tōru

requested by anon; ❝ hi bb :) can I request an Oikawa and reader story where they’re two petty/sarcastic best friends. Like they just have that understanding that their love is shown through petty comments or bickering lol but n e ways, the reader gets approached by a guy she doesn’t really like but isn’t thinking and says she’s seeing Oikawa and now they have to act like a couple but all they end up doing is bickering and Oikawa complaining. I hope that makes sense lol thxx <3 ❞

pairing; oikawa tōru x reader

warnings; it’s the fake dating trope with oikawa tōru. that is a warning in itself

note; i screamed when i found this in my inbox this trope has a special place in my heart and the fact that oikawa was requested??? pls don’t let this flop :(

━ you’re not sure why you said it. you rack your mind for an excuse: you’ve known him too long, you spend majority of your time with him, you had just been texting him a moment earlier — that must’ve been why you’d sprouted that ridiculous excuse to rid yourself of spewing out a futile, useless rejection. there’s an array of mixed emotions on you as you watch the boy before you shrivel in disappointment, sighing in frustration.

“i’m sorry, i’m dating oikawa right now, actually,” you had said, like the liar the same boy you refer to has coerced you into becoming to fuel your endless sneaking out.

the guy before you, honestly nameless due to both your carelessness towards him and your uncomfortableness around him, shoves his hands into his pockets cooly, attempting to shrug it off. “well, you know where to find me in case it doesn’t work out,” he jokes, and you have to fight off the urge to cringe directly in his face at his words.

instead, you lightly smile, more similar to a grimace, and nod politely, before turning and heading in the complete opposite direction, despite the other way having been your initial route. your shaky hands fumble for your phone, and you pull it out, unlocking it and tapping on the messages app.

i did something stupid, you type out, and you’re unsure whether you’re grateful or thrown off by how quick oikawa responds.

not surprising. what did u do

the familiarity of his tone only calms you slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, already having thrown yourself too deep when you’d thought up the lie, you explain the situation briefly. instead of a text message response, his caller id flashes across your screen, and your breath hitches. regret begins flooding you, and carefully, you slide to answer.

“i don’t want to hold your hand!” you complain, smacking at his palm when it reaches for yours.

oikawa sighs amusingly, grabbing your wrist anyways and linking your fingers together. against all odds, and to your disappointment, you shiver at the feel of his hand in yours. it’s considerably larger, and despite the fact that this is farthest from the first time you’ve gripped his hand, your insides twist. his fingers are slender, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are soft. for all the years you’ve known oikawa, his hands constantly run cold, and you’ve hated it for multiple reasons. one being the way it gave him an ego boost of ‘cold hands only mean i have a warm heart.’ the second being his infuriating actions of constantly pressing his palms to your skin, specifically the back of your neck. but most importantly, it signifies just how little oikawa tends to care for himself at times, the way his hands shake when it gets too cold, when the world grows too small, the tips of his fingers a bruised blue and purple. and you hate it. even more so, you hate how much you hate it.

despite all this, his hand feels — nice in yours; it’s a comfortable contrast to your own warm hand. still, your frown remains on your face as you see the school gates appear before two of you, never daring to reveal any of your thoughts to him.

“if you didn’t want to hold my hand, you would’ve thought up a better lie,” oikawa argues, and you turn your head to glare at him. he diffuses it easily when his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, your words faltering momentarily. “could’ve had anyone! iwa, mattsun, makki— i know they woulda loved to do this with you.”

“you’re insufferable,” you huff, but your cheeks are painting red, visibly too. he’s right, you realize. he’s terribly right.

“but you still chose me,” he teases.

your hand in his twists until you’re bending his wrist at an awkward, painful angle, until he’s pinching at your arm to force you away. he’s right, but that doesn’t make it mean anything.

by now, you’ve spent more time glaring at oikawa threateningly and in warning than you have your entire friendship with him, and it’s honestly starting to give you a headache. after admitting your situation to the three other third years, and giving them maximum fifteen minutes to laugh until they ran out of breath, iwaizumi included, spend the next twenty minutes huddled up next to oikawa, your chair attached to his.

the guy, who had been persistent enough in asking you out that you’d resorted to this, decided to spend his lunch break in the same area as the five of you, leaving you unable to push away and bicker with oikawa the same way you would any other day. you pick at your food as you avoid his gaze, oikawa’s arm around your shoulder heavy, leaving a trail of sparks up your spine and along your arms. it makes you want to scream, loudly too.

makki and mattsun have resorted to making fun of the guy, whispering between themselves, but it’s still awfully loud enough that there’s no possible way he can’t hear. iwaizumi and oikawa have their attention on each other, discussing some upcoming practice match in the weekend.

and all you’re left with are your thoughts, your nagging, unbearable thoughts, about how pretty oikawa’s hand looks as it hangs by your shoulder, brushing against your arm with every small shift of his body. with shameful, red cheeks, you shut your eyes in frustration, and allow the regret to boil and build in your stomach.

the weeks pass steadily. outside of school, your relationship with oikawa remains unchanged, and although he’s just as touchy as he is with you with an audience, the source of affection continues to be — simply friendship. and whenever you catch any disappointment building because of that, you pinch yourself in reminder than none of it is real. the way he always has an arm around you, the way he fumbles with your fingers, the way he ties your hair back for you while you work on an essay during your break, the way he kisses your cheek, a show of respect for your boundaries, but as a way to reinforce that you’re his in front of anyone, or the way he lets you lift one leg over his own, just because.

and you’re left wondering that if it were real, would it be the same?

he sits before you now, cross legged on your bed, back straightened and mouth stuffed with popcorn, completely engrossed in the movie before him with his eyes wide open. the three other boys are spread across the room: makki laying on his stomach, chin perched on his hands by the edge of the bed, while mattsun and iwaizumi share the couch, drinks in their hands, all three just as enamored by the movie as oikawa.

you had always been aware of just how pretty he is, and everyone around you has always ensured that you do. was it the way the light from the screen shone in his face, reflecting in his pretty brown eyes and shadowing some of his features? or was it the way he sat so comfortable in your bed, in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt because, of course, the four of them were bound to stay the night? was it the way his lips glistened with the water he gulped, or because of the way his tongue poked out to lick at the salt from the popcorn?

or was it nothing in particular, or everything all at once?

sighing lowly, you shift and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the bedroom door. “i’m gonna grab some water; anyone want anything?” you announce.

none of them seem to hear you, too lost in the movie, but makki turns his head to the side slightly, eyes remaining on the screen, and replies, “no thank you.” it’s all you need to leave the room.

as you walk out, oikawa eyes you, then eyes the filled up water bottles next to where you had been sitting. his heart tightens in his chest.

two months into the fake relationship you’d established with oikawa, and it begins to feel natural. it no longer feels off putting to walk hand in hand with him to school, or to greet him with a grandiose hug and a kiss on the cheek, or to wear his jersey to games and cheer for him from the stands, or to constantly have his ankle looped with yours beneath the table where, despite this all being for show, nobody can really see.

outside of your fake relationship traditions are your friendship traditions, which include, but are not limited to, him walking you home. it’s always been mostly because your mother adores him, or because he prefers the food that’s at your home as opposed to his, or because your home is on the way to his anyways, but it’s a lot closer, so he always ends up staying longer than anticipated.

either way, it’s not unusual that he walks by your side as the moon illuminates your path. it is, however, not very like him to stay quiet the entire way. you can see the roof of your home growing in size as you near it, and he’s yet to say a word to you. it both weirds you out and worries you, and before you can convince yourself you were overreacting, you pause in your step, the gravel beneath you scratching and crunching as you turn to face him.

“alright, spit it out.”

his eyes meet yours, wide and confused. “what?”

you sigh. “something’s up, and you’re either gonna tell me now or i’ll force it out of you later,” you reply.

“i’m not—”

“oikawa.”

“stop it, i’m fine—“

“tōru.”

“i can’t do this anymore.”

your heart stills, and almost as if in understanding, in pity, so does the world around you. the wind no longer howls in agony, respecting your need for silence as the trees around you look on curiously. your brain processes a little slower than your mouth, and you’re asking him, “what are you talking about?” before you could think.

his gaze falls from yours again, and he takes a step back. “i can’t be with you anymore. or — fake being with you anymore,” he admits to you.

you’re not sure why, but you had imagined this scenario to be a lot less earth shattering than it is. maybe you’d grown to like faking it, because it slowly started to become the closest you could get to experiencing it realistically. you refuse to speak, and it isn’t because you’re angry at him. it’s because you genuinely are lost for words. it’s not even a real break up, but it still hurts just as bad, if not worse. it’s your own fault for believing that this, whatever this was, was as simple as it seemed.

“not unless— not unless i can really be with you.”

what?

“what?”

he breathes in steadily, and moves forward, closer, closer, closer to you. his hands rise to your cheeks, cupping them softly, flinching when your breath hitches. but you make no move to push him away, only stare up at him, in wonder, in confusion. he opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak. you expect a monologue, a speech, a declaration of his undying love for you, because it sounds just as dramatic as oikawa is. the moon above you holds its breath, waiting for the band to snap, for the words to spill and drown you.

but then he kisses you.

his hands urge you up and he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft, and he tastes like cherry, and it’s probably your chapstick if you were being honest with yourself. his mouth moves languidly against yours, as if he’s trying to drag out every moment, as if he wants to purposefully slow down time, begging and pleading for the world around him to stop. the kiss is sweet, gentle, and somehow, kissing him is exactly the way you’d imagined it would. it’s breathtaking, and dizzying, and overwhelming, and needy and it’s beautiful.

when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of you. his hands remain cupping your jaw, his mouth hovering over yours. his thumb brushes along your cheek momentarily as he gazes at you, admiring you, as if memorizing every inch and every detail of your features.

“tōru, you idiot,” you sigh. the insult isn’t foreign to him, not even on your tongue, but he still looks taken aback, and even more so when you reach up and close the distance between you again. the world lives again, the moon celebrating within the clouds, the wind twisting in your hair, whispering and whistling cheerfully by your ear as the trees dance.

it all comes together, and the stars finally align.

end note; i’m so happy with this!!! i hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it!!! <3

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa fluff #fake dating trope #haikyuu fake dating trope #oikawa tōru x reader

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angelkurenai · 3 years

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You’re magic, baby - Dean Winchester x Reader (Bodyguard AU)

Title: You’re magic, baby

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Word count: 4,525

Warnings: Language, Sexual tension, Voyeurism (I think)

Summary: The sexual tension between you and your bodyguard has always been too thick, you thought there would come a point when it would all explode right in your faces. Couldn’t go any further. That is, until you figured out it could. And while Dean is helping you put on a dress for an event, standing in front of the mirror you get a few ideas about how you could find other ways to use it.

“I swear, I honestly swear to you, one of these days I am going to call your manager and tell him you're going to be taking a break from all of this. No more Oscars, no red carpets, no late night shows no more any of it.” you heard he gruff voice of your bodyguard as you fixed the strap of your heels.

“I see.” you smiled to yourself “And how long do you plan for this break to last exactly?”

“Hmm maybe the rest of your life? Or maybe the rest of mine. Whatever gets the job done.” you heard a heavy sigh come from him “I'm in desperate need of vacation. Especially from joining you to this bloody show for the fourth time. Who knows what I'm going to have to witness tonight.”

“Aw darling.” you appeared from you walk-in closet, smiling at him “If you wanted to go on vacation with me, all you had to do is ask. It's not like I'd ever say no to showing you the lovely bikinis I bought three months ago.”

“You really have no mercy left for me anymore, do you?” he mumbled gruffly, shaking his head before running a hand down his face.

“Why? What else did I do?” you asked in disbelief “It's not like I made you come with me for swimwear or anything! I knew you would protest so I didn't even ask, what's the-”

“Yeah, and I guess I should thank my lucky stars for being spared one heart attack out of a thousand.” he said sarcastically before shaking his head “I wasn't talking to you, no. I was talking to whoever out there that could listen.” he looked up at the ceiling as you giggled at his dramatic stance “So that maybe they could take pity on me and give me one, just one calm night.”

“And?” you asked with a grin, moving towards your dresser “Any luck with that?”

“Well-” his eyes finally landed on you, as if he had almost been holding back from doing that or at least preparing himself for what sight could await him was he to look at you tonight “Taking a look at the dress-” he shrugged “Looks like they're having a fit at the moment. And my life and what I am currently going through is the joke.” he sigh and shook his head “What are you wearing?”

“Oh you like it?” you asked with a hopeful smile “It's called a slip dress.”

“Yeah oh trust me I know perfectly well what it's called. What I'm asking is why are you wearing it?”

“Why not? Because it shows a little more skin? I didn't take you for a prude, Dean.” you shook your head “Besides, I've been forever meaning to get one but after all that filming I was so tired that only now I got the chance to wear it. Sophie was wearing a lovely pink one the other day in case you not-”

“I don't care what your friend's been doing. I don't care what any other actress does, to be honest. I'm not their bodyguard, I'm yours and I am spending all of my day with you and not them. So how about appreciate it a bit by wearing something less-”

“Less what?” you looked at him a little disappointed and he almost felt his heart sink “Don't you like it?”

Less what, really? How could he put it into words?

How could he even put into words the fact that the fabric made you look nothing short of a goddess? How could he even put into words that the fabric was soft, a beautiful shiny silk that seemed to bring out a special kind of glow in you? A glow that he loved to take in whenever he saw; when you were happy and laughing, when you were carefree and singing, when you were basking in the sun in spring. A glow that came from within and could easily make heads turn, capturing any man's attention much to Dean's dismay. The fabric seemed to glide over every curve and edge of your body, making them stand out in the most beautiful way. Your skin looked alluring, to say the least, smooth and almost made of a softer material than that of the dress itself; begging for a touch. And the cut, the shapes the fabric took over your body, showing all the parts of your body that Dean had guiltily dreamed so many times about kissing. It showed much more skin than he would like for you to show on any occasion but at the same time he couldn't deny he saw how good you felt in it and therefore couldn't say no to you wearing it.

You looked ethereal. That was the word. That was the only word he could come up with, but never one he would use (never had found a reason to until now, that is) and therefore would earn a look or two. And not being ready yet to explain how undeniably alluring you were to him, he decided it was best not to put anything into words whatsoever.

“No it's uh-” he sighed and shook his head again “It's wonderful, sweetheart. And it looks great on you, actually. You're... you're stunning. I'm sorry.” such an understatement but he could never really tell you his opinion, no matter his feelings “It's just that you maybe, just maybe, could wear something less... Well, something with less chances of giving poor old me a heart attack? I'm barely surviving any these days.”

“Oh Dean, come on. You've survived worst.” you giggled, joking along “Besides, I'm sorry but this is actually a gift from Gal. She gave me this dress a long time ago and I really wanted to thank her by wearing it for a special occasion, you know?”

“Oh lovely.” Dean breathed out a bit sarcastically “So Gal hates me too, now.”

“She doesn't hate you, you silly.” you giggled again, turning to face the mirror on top of your dresser “Now, could you please help me with the straps? These two tie at the back, to keep it in place.” the moment you turned to reveal the nearly bare back he could swear the air got caught in his throat but he also knew you were watching him through the mirror so he kept his composure.

“Oh yeah, then explain the assassination attempt against me with this dress.” he muttered, half playfully and half... well, honestly, mostly trying to keep it together.

You snorted, shaking your head as you tried on different rings “You're so melodramatic sometimes, honestly maybe you should be the actor instead of me. But then again, that's why I love you this much.”

It took every bit of concentration and self-restrain in Dean not to show any reaction. Even if your words made his heat jump to his throat, even if shivers run down his spine and even if his hands, heavens his entire body, trembled as a result of hearing you say it again. He might look frozen on the spot but that still was a lot better than showing to you just how much it affected him; him and his treacherous heart.

“Dean?” your voice was barely above a whisper, indicating that maybe he wasn't so successful this time “Everything ok? Are you alright? I didn't-” you paused before you sighed softly “I'm s-”

“No” his voice came out gruff as if he had not spoken for days, but he had to stop you before you apologized. Because he knew that if you were to say you were sorry then it would be the breaking point for him. He'd just gather you in his arms right then and there and tell you he loved you too, and that was the last thing he needed right now. “No just-” he sighed, letting his head rest on your bare shoulder for just a few seconds.

“I was thinking-” he huffed a laugh, feeling proud for how genuine he sounded, and when he looked up again he tried to look just as casual as well “This really wasn't part of any of the training I did. Tell this to any other bodyguard and I bet you anything, they're gonna be jealous as hell. I mean, I can certainly think of a couple old friends who would. But above all else-” he almost grinned and took pride in ow convincing he looked when he saw his reflection in the mirror “I remember an ol' trainer of mine who preached about being able to put together a gun from scratch as if my life depended on it. If only he knew how much more scary it is to put together the laces of a dress like this. Talk about life and death situation.”

He had never felt more proud of himself, if not relieved, than the moment he heard your laugh and saw your shoulders relax. It wasn't your fault that everything was so complicated between the two of you, as it was certainly not your fault that Dean felt the way he did about you. He almost let out a sigh of relief himself but held it back in the end.

“More scary than putting out a bomb, that's for sure.” you grinned at him through the reflection “Imagine the headlines this will make if those straps fail to stay in place and the dress falls too loose. Maybe more than what deactivating a bomb would earn.”

“You can say that a-” Dean started, his eyes focused on making a second knot on those straps just for extra measure, before he paused mid-movement. He looked up again to see your reflection and narrowed his eyes at you “Please tell me that you didn't mean what I think you meant.”

“Depends on what you were thinking I meant.” you asked with a small innocent shrug that he didn't trust at all. But was maybe a bit thankful too because it took the conversation in a far different direction which that, at least, he knew how to handle.

“(Y/n)” his voice was warning “Please, just please, tell me that you are wearing some form of underwear underneath this. I don't care if it's even that weird magic sticky horror-stuff thingy you call a bra. I'll take anything at this point. Please.”

“It is a bra, Dean, and it doesn't work by magic. It's just as you said a bit sticky so that it doesn't need any straps.” you said casually and he rolled his eyes, not caring to know how it worked in the first place not when he'd freaked out the first time he saw it in your clothes and thought a murder took place, and not when this time he feared- “Either way, no bra is involved though, no. I kinda like it better like this.”

“Seriously?” his eyes widened and you shrugged once more before he let out a heavy breath, rolling his eyes upward “No mercy at all!” he shook his head before looking back at you “And then you wonder why I hate you attending events. I don't know if I'll even make it through the night, that's why. I'd even ask you to wear something on top but like hell you're gonna make it easier for me here.”

“Oh stop it you big baby. And are you done with that or what? What's taking you forever?”

“Just wait some more, will you? My very own sanity, if not will to live, is hanging by these two threads. I have to add another knot just to be sure.” he let out a long sigh, not informing you of how distracting everything else was, before he added a small bow in the end “There.” he breathed out, looking up again before bringing his hands up to rest on your shoulders and give a squeeze “You're perfect.”

“Not really, but thanks. I mean-” you sighed, offering him a soft smile “If you see me even a little bit like that, then it's all I need.”

He held your gaze through the mirror for a couple more seconds, a barely visible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn't sure what to say but he realized a couple seconds later that he didn't need to speak. He nodded his head and, instead, leaned down and kissed your shoulder blade; every bit of doubt, every sense of logic and the small voice in the back of his head that reminded him he shouldn't be doing this because he worked for you, was gone at that moment. He was guilty for doing it as much as he was for enjoying it, specially the feeling on your skin under his lips.

“Anything else you need help with, princess?” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“Well, I uh-” you bit your lower lip and lifted up a necklace “Thought I'd wear this as well?”

“You got it.” he took the piece of jewllery from your hands, working fast on it after taking a peak at you through the mirror “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Oh nothing in particular.” you shrugged far too innocently for his liking “Just, you know, really enjoying this hotel and this room. Maybe we should make ourselves regulars here.”

“Mhhm” he hummed, waiting for the bomb to drop as he helped you with a coat too.

“Everything is lovely, from the room service to the bed, best sleep I've had in a while, to the bathroom. That bubble bath did wonders. It's all incredible, really. But then again it's maybe cause I had more free time than I usually get. To the point...” you trailed off for a moment and Dean knew it was close “That some things got me thinking.”

“Oh really? Thinking about what?”

“Oh you know, mostly silly things. I mean, for example I've been really looking at this mirror and you know how one thoughts lead to another and then another and you end up remembering something embarrassing you did in high school in front of your crush?” you rambled casually while Dean only frowned in confusion “So as I was saying I was looking at this wonderful mirror and thinking-”

“Will you just get to it?”

“You know about how some people don't look good in photos or in the mirror. You certainly look good in a mirror is all I'm noticing now and I was thinking that maybe-”

“(Y/n)” he meant to sound warning but was only heard as soft exasperation.

“Have you ever done it in front of a mirror, Dean?” you asked so simply, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Catching Dean really off guard, probably more than any other time. His head snapped up and he met your eyes through the mirror, his own impossibly wide, especially as you gave him a curious smile. “You know, had sex with a woman while in front of a mirr-”

“Aaaand we're done here.” he let go of the coat, spinning around to grab his own belongings and your bag while shaking his head in disbelief “Let's go.”

“Dean”

“Nope. Come on, chop chop. One feet in front of the other and no more words out of you for the rest of the way to the studio.” he ignored you. Much like he could easily ignore the topic altogether.

“But I only asked a ques-”

“What did I say?” he gave you a pointed look which only made you have to fight a smile off your face “No. Words. And that was certainly much more than just a question. You've had enough. Hell, I've had enough. Move, come on. We're gonna be late.”

“Fine.” you sighed “But if you didn't wanna answer it, you could've just said so.”

“I'm not getting paid enough to answer that, (Y/n). Hurry up.” he stood by the now open hotel room door and tapped his foot.

Rolling your eyes you grabbed your phone which was still laying on your bed and the keycard. It was only on the way to the door you noticed the drink and bag of baked goods he had gotten for you. Knowing how he'd never let you hear the end of it if you didn't eat anything until you were done, you made sure to grab them as well.

“Alright, I'm ready Dean-o. Let's go.” you said though your words came out muffled, making him look up from his phone to see you holding the keycard in your mouth, which he made a face at.

“I've told you so many times. Don't put that think in your mouth, you don't even know where else it's been.” he huffed, taking the card from you.

“Tell that to the people who make women's clothing and include no pockets. This coat is worth thousands and yet fake pockets!” you shrugged before giving him a small smile “Besides, I thought you'd like it when I put things in my mouth. Then again, I suppose it might depend on the occasion.”

“You know what, (Y/n)?” he spun around to face you, small smile on his lips before it vanished with his next words “You're right. It does depend on the object.” he gave you a somewhat dark look which made you raise an eyebrow, feeling the pleasant shivers run down your spine at the low and gruff voice of your bodyguard.

“Do I?” you asked softly and he hummed, approaching you. You held your ground even if it meant he could pin you on the wall, or maybe exactly because he could pin you on the wall, with his hands and body if he wanted to. The fact that anybody could walk in on you only added to the thrill.

“Mhm” he hummed, licking his lips; and oh your knees felt weak “Cause I really think there is one thing that those sweet lips of yours need. One thing I wouldn't object to, like with that damn card.”

“Oh there is?” your back hit the wall.

“Yeah.” now he bit his lower and you knew you could just as well be done in that moment, but he kept going “And you wanna know what I really think would go perfectly with that pretty mouth of yours that seems to find the most creative ways to torture me on a daily basis?” he wouldn't take his eyes off you and it only made the temperature of your body rise. If you wanted to shed every piece of clothing you had on then it was entirely his fault. It has always been.

“Please” it came out breathless “Y-yes.”

“A good... big... maybe even one of the biggest you've seen... hard to move...” his words made your eyes widened “Piece of tape over your mouth to keep your from talking for the sake of my poor and very fragile sanity! That's what I'd like to see and oh trust me, my ears would love the silence just as much!”

“And here I thought we were finally getting somewhere.” you made sure to look him straight in the eyes, wanting to get your point across. Dean couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

“If you mean anywhere but the studios, then I'm sorry but I'm not following.”

“Bunch of bullshit, Winchester, and we both know it. Cause I'm sure as all hell that if I were to ask you-” you took a step closer, taking a deep breath and holding his gaze for a few more seconds “If I were to ask you whether you would want to take me right here and now, consequences be damned, you would say yes. And you would because I know you want it, but you've convinced yourself that you never deserve any of it. That's the main difference between us, I know I may not be good enough for someone like you, but I want to give you the best of me and even more after that.”

Dean didn't say a thing for a good few seconds, preferring to hold your gaze and let your words sink in. Not for himself, but for you; because he knew how much you needed it. He knew how much you needed to let it out, at least once in a while. This game you were playing was far from it, he didn't even know how he was holding it together when in reality none of it was playful. When he knew real well what you meant to him.

He pursed his lips when he felt himself choke; your words of self-doubt hurting him more than pushing you back ever could. To think that you were the one not good enough for him was gut-wrenching.

We've made it clear that none of it can happen. We agreed on it, didn't we?

You shrugged, letting out a slow breath. You knew he wasn't going to talk about it. Not like it was the time or place to do so, you didn't even know why you had bothered bringing it up in the first place. But then again what should surprise you more was how you were still holding back.

“And I was ready to go along with it but then... the bathroom door was kinda open and I can't change what you do in your personal time, sure, just like I can't help what I hear.” you responded with a small smirk and a shrug, before raising an eyebrow “Can I, Dean?”

“You-” the way his eyes widened would have made for a priceless reaction as it was, but adding the way he stammered over his words and the fact that his face had turned the perfect shade of red, the color more evident on the tip of his ears, was indeed a sight for sore eyes that made everything worth it. “You- What- How- When-” his eyes moved back and forth, taking your expression in and trying to understand your expression if not the entire situation.

Granted, it was a one-time thing. Barely that actually. And it happened before you could even comprehend it. It was that quick. Not like anybody needed more than half a second to understand things for what they really were. But it didn't last long

Or did it?

Truth be told, you were still not sure just for how long you'd been standing there in the room, the warm steam coming from the bathroom, right through the the slightly open door, finding your skin only to create more goosebumps than the ones you already had. It could have been half a second... but it could have also been much much longer. Maybe the small tear on your lower lip from all the chewing was an indicator but then again a great part of you did not even want to consider it was a possibility. A possibility that you had not jumped to turn around and leave that very same second you realized things for what they were.

You took comfort in the fact that maybe if the roles were reversed he would have done the same. Or that anyone would have reacted as you and frozen in place. But was it that way? Were you merely frozen in place or there had really been more to it?

You didn't even want to think about it for more than a couple seconds for fear of remembering something that would have your entire face on fire in seconds. It was best not to dwell on it. So clearing your throat, you brushed off any thought for when his eyes weren't glued on you, studying your every move. You weren't going to let him get the upper hand in this, even if it was silly to still think so.

Besides, in your defense it was and accident. A lovely if not entirely surprisingly unexpected one.

“Depends... how often does that happen?” you raised an eyebrow, biting the inside of your lip to keep yourself from grinning. Ut the urge quickly died out when you saw Dean's eyes darken and his jaw clench. Not because he was angry, he could never be mad at you as you had come to realize very quickly, but because the comment seemed to bring him back to reality. A reality where he had convinced himself that you couldn't get attached to each other.

“None of your business. But even if it was-” he shrugged, smirking “Still more of an active sex life than yours.”

“Oh yeah, and whose fault is that?” you narrowed your eyes.

He only faked innocence “Don't know what you mean. I'm just the bodyguard.”

“...You're an asshole. That's what you are.” you huffed when he was out of your personal space, shaking your head in disbelief.

“And yet you pay me money. I'd call that a fucking success. Now move your ass, otherwise we're gonna be late.” he motioned with his head.

“Yeah, well that doesn't make you an less of an idiot. I know-” you shrugged, falling into step next to him “I'll get another bodyguard. Most celebrities have at least two bodyguards-”

“Good luck finding the guy with enough patience.”

“Yeah, well, if I do remember correctly, that “friend” of yours is currently not working for anybody. You said you were coworkers before. The cute one with the pretty eyes, what was his name? You know whom I mean, right? The one I first met on the Met Gala?”

Dean scoffed a laugh,playing it off as nothing, though it was mostly to hide the unpleasant shock tat ran through him at the mention of the possibility. Of course he understood which one you meant. “First of, he's not my friend. In fact he's far from it.”

“Oh how could I ever forget? You always speak so fondly of him.” you grinned at Dean who shot you another look. Last time he had spoken 'fondly' of the man was when he had complimented you. It was during the after-party of an event which he didn't care to remember; all formal events were the reason for a headache to say the least. He was there because his boss at the time also was invited.

“Fondly-” Dean scoffed under his breath “You can say that again.”

“Well, yeah that one. My-” you continued anyway, not paying attention to his words “Why can't I remember his name? What's up with me and remembering people's names?”

“Maybe he wasn't so important after all.” Dean shrugged.

“With that kind of smile and eyes to die for? Are you kidding me? That man is, no doubt, the wet dream of at least half the female population and a good part of the male one. He's more famous than his boss. Please, I'd strike every deal with the man just to see hi- Oh, yes!” you exclaimed, jumping for a second “Yes, Steve Rogers!... I think I got his phone, don't I, Dean?”

“Yeah, oh lucky me, you actually do.”

“Splendid! Maybe he will how to put his tie to good use, after all.”

~~~

A/N: I already had ome parts up which in a way inspired more of this fic, the whole au!Dean and flirting is somethingI would like to do more of, maybe with some smut since it’s been a while since I wrote any. The way I did with neighbor!Dean, a mini series of individualt parts. Let me know your opinion and feedback is always welcomed!

196 notes · View notes

smolvexx · 3 years

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🌼Flowery embrace🌼

Jimmy didn't think much of the cakes.

He just wanted to stay out of trouble and have as many alliances as possible.

When he got to the alps however, the area there compelled him.

The flowers, they were poppies, he was quite fond of them. He wasn't sure why, but then again, why would anyone need an explanation about liking something as harmless and fragile as a flower?

There was another feeling that overflowed him at the sight of these lovely builds.

He decided to ignore it however, it didn't feel like a positive one and therefore it was unwanted.

Scott didn't want the cake.

He didn't want the pufferfish.

He didn't want anything to do with the man covered with the green slimy substance.

He didn't know why but he absolutely despised the male with the odd cod head.

Everything about him just set Scott off, he didn't like it one bit.

The elven man scoffed at the first attempt at befriending. The odd swamp man had baked him a cake. A cake. Something so simple wouldn't be able to win over any good empire, did this absolute idiot of a man think rifts can be resolved by a baked treat? Imbecile.

And yet, Scott couldn't bring himself to throw it away. He had tried, really tried. But his body just wouldn't let him. Something in his head was giving him a weird reaction and he hated it. He hated it because he couldn't put a finger on it.

He hated it because he kept it.

He hated the odd swamp man.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Jimmy didn't think much of the cake, the one he got no response for.

He just wanted to stay out of trouble and have as many alliances as possible, although for this one, he'd go the extra mile.

Second time Jimmy visited the snowy lands was when he brought the cyanette a pufferfish.

The elf man seemed to be the only one who didn't give the Cod father a reply, so he couldn't help but wonder if the wealthy emperor had somehow disliked him.

He didn't mean any harm with the cake so he thought that by going out of his way to find a pufferfish, get poisened and somehow manage to misspell it, maybe the pointy-eared creature would give him a chance.

At least a response at the minimum.

This time Jimmy noticed a different thing about the high in the sky empire.

It was cold.

So cold.

Jimmy didn't know how he didn't notice it last time, but knowing himself he was probably too distracted by something.

Something like flowers.

The slimy man was used to warmer, more humid climate, so the cold breeze here and there almost left him unable to breathe.

That didn't matter to Jimmy though, he was bringing a present, although a misspelled one, it was at least something.

After leaving the poisonous fish in an item frame, he was debating sticking around a little longer.

Thinking back, he's never actually met the elf emperor, and to be blunt, he was quite curious.

In the end he didn't have the guts to face him.

He didn't know why but his body tensed at the thought of seeing the cyanette again-

Again? He's never met him before, what is he thinking?

Silly Jim.

Scott didn't want the cake that was made with lots of love probably.

He didn't want the pufferfish that was stupidly misspelled as 'Pufferish of Peace'.

He didn't want anything to do with the blond who lived down by the dirty waters.

Scott didn't like him one bit and it wasn't because of the familiar feeling he felt towards the man without even meeting him once.

The fish that the cod head left above his doorway almost ripped a laugh out of him, something about it made fondness visible on the usually composed cyanette.

He hated it.

Who was this man and who does he think he is?

Scott's never met him before, he was sure, so why was he feeling this way?

The pointy-eared man sat down in frustration, rubbing his template with his right hand.

His right hand.. The one with the ring?

Scott didn't think about the ring much before, he thought it was just another family heirloom.

It was made out of gold, flowers embedded in it.

Looking at it this moment though... That left a different feeling.

A feeling of confusion and guilt.

He would never admit it though.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Five minutes ago Jimmy had tried to do some parkour in a cave, above lava.

He fell and lost all his stuff in said lava.

He was lucky he didn't have his most valuable items on him, but still he lost quite a lot.

Now he was running in the night trying to find at least some of his stuff.

As unlucky as he was, it was no surprise to him that a creeper had spawned near some of his survived stuff.

He tried to make a run for it but ultimately got blown up in the process.

As an instinct upon death, he grabbed his necklace, or more specifically, the ring attached to it.

Gold, with flowers.

He didn't know why he did it, but that was always his reaction at death or near death experiences.

When he woke up in his bed, he was more panicked than usual.

Oh no, i didn't mean it, i didn't mean to kill them too- Kill who?

The blonde was starting to have a panic attack, for no good reasons really.

His body just reacted.

I'm sorry Sco- Sorry for what? Jim c'mon what're you doing?

Why are you so upset?

What happened?

Why can't i remember???

His body ached for the embrace of his husband-

Husband? He didn't have a husband. That ring was just a treasure he found, right? Yeah, yeah that's right.

Jimmy's eyes started swelling up with tears.

He was scared.

He didn't know what was going on or why his body was reacting the way it was, he just wanted it to stop.

He wanted the embrace of flowers.

Scott had been working on a few pathways when he saw the first message pop up.

Solidarity tried to swim in lava

The elven emperor got shivers down his spine at that.

He didn't know why, and frankly he didn't want to look too into it.

It took all his willpower to not go over to the odd swamp man right now and check up on him.

Scott hated that.

Why was he so weak for the odd swamp man?

He's never met him before, so why should he care?

Though at the second message, only a few moments later, Scott didn't get to choose his reaction.

His body responded for him.

Solidarity got blown up by a Creeper

The cyanette cought his breath.

His body froze and all the used to be beautiful poppies across his land, were now bitting at his feet.

Those beautiful, beautiful flowers Jimmy lived so much-

Jimmy...

Oh god no.

No.

No no.

NO.

Please, please don't be red, i can't loose you again I-

Scott's mind was racing with thousands of thoughts and he couldn't hear a single one anymore.

His slim body started moving on its own, the elf unsure of where he was headed.

Eyes burning from the tears that want to form.

No.

He won't let himself cry.

He is a future leader after all.

He will not go down to that level.

He doesn't have the luxury of showing weaknesses.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Jimmy was curled up in a ball on his bed.

Hugging himself to attempt and replicate the soft embrace of color he once knew.

He was crying.

Scott was-

At a door?

In a swamp?

Wha- I-

He couldn't control his body as he force opened the door to the small cabin floating above the water.

The image in front of him broke him.

Every inch, every cell of his body was screaming.

He didn't know why but he suddenly felt very protective over the broken man in from of him.

Scott didn't understand it.

Scott could only let himself be overcome with all the emotions he's been holding in.

The guilt - for letting his husband die.

The sadness - at the first loss of his beloved.

The sheer anger - that the man in front of him had to be going through such a thing again, heck had to go through it even once.

And relief - that his used-to-be-husband-and-maybe-still-is is not red.

He's still here.

Not decaying.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Jimmy soon felt the embrace of flowers once more.

And a soft "I'm here" before his breath started calming down.

#flower husbands #scott smajor #solidaritygaming #smajor #smajor1995 #jimmy x scott #3rd life #empires smp

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smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

Text

What I Want Most - One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s life has been all work and no play lately. When Gabe, his friend, coerced him into tagging along to a club, he couldn’t say no as Gabe has been pestering him for a while now. What Dean didn’t expect was that he’d meet his match in that club in the form of a stunning woman with underlying daddy issues.

Warnings: NSFW, mostly daddy kink, rough oral, praise kink, rough sex, one-night stand to enemies to lovers (is that a trope?)

Word Count: 6840 (whoops!)

A/N: Apparently, I can not write pwp anymore. This should have been a one shot but it ended up a mini series. Sorry.

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

“C’mon, man!” Gabe urges, his hand comes up to pat Dean’s padded shoulder.

He’s still in his suit, having gone into work because of that damn project. The deadline is on Monday, and that’s also the day that the execs want to talk to him. He still doesn’t know what’s it about, fears the worst. Maybe he has a reason to? Dean doesn’t know why they would fire him, though. Since he had the news that they wanted to talk to him on Monday, he’s been working harder, knelt himself deeper into the workload, was barely home and if he did, it was just to sleep, only to get up and go to work before dawn.

It’s crazy. It really is, because it’s not even his dream job but he still needs it. At least until Sam moves over here in a couple of weeks. So, the goal is to hold on to this job for as long as Dean can.

Gabe has picked him up from work, complaining that Dean hasn’t got any time for drinks anymore. Little does Gabe know that he’s been drinking himself to sleep every night lately. And Gabe’s fucking persistent. He was waiting outside the building until Dean had come out and now he coerced him into standing in line for a hip club that has the reputation for debauchery and illegality. It’s just a rumor. Dean’s never been here, but Gabe apparently had.

“This better be good, Gabe,” Dean grits his teeth. The wind is chilly tonight, but for most of the people in the queue, especially women, there's apparently no reason to wear more clothes.

“It will be, once we get in,” His friend says and rights his suit. It’s weird to see Gabe in a suit, a rare sight, but he wore it because suits always get you into things in the city, “There’s going to be so many girls, huh?” Gabe elbows him in the ribs, “Maybe you can find one to help you to unwind,”

They’re next in line and Dean moves up with Gabe, his hands in his pocket as he shrugs. Well, Gabe is not really wrong. It has been a while since he scored, even longer when he had something steady. It’s not that Dean didn’t want to. It’s more like he can’t find the time. His last relationship, or what felt like it, was over a year ago, and already then, she ghosted him because Dean ghosted her first. Not deliberately, though, he was just busy. And business is a constant lately.

Maybe Gabe is right, Dean wouldn’t mind finding someone tonight. It would be welcoming to take off the edge, forget the looming Monday for a couple of hours.

They are finally at the front of the queue, and the doorman ushers them through the open door. As soon as they enter the building, the bass of the music hits him. The bass vibrates through his body, traveling up his spine.

There are plenty of girls, scantily clad, dancing and laughing, waiting for someone to pick them up and buy them a drink. He wonders if he’ll find one he likes. He’s picky, doesn’t want to hook up for the sake of hooking up, if that makes sense. Dean kind of hopes he’d find one with a buried daddy issue, which is really not hard to find in the city, he just needs to be alert and read their body language.

He follows Gabe across the dance floor as the man shoulders his way through to the bar, finds a spot and plants himself there at the counter, making himself bigger than he really is. Dean joins him, smirks proudly at his friend as he orders them a drink. It’s him paying, like he always does with Gabe. Gabe is a good friend but Dean still earns more so that’s the least he can do for what Gabe’s doing for him, being there whenever Dean needs a friend.

While they wait for their drinks, Gabe looks around, eyes scanning the dance floor. Dean watches him at first, watches him smile at something, and turns his head to look at the source that produces the smile on Gabe’s face.

That little shit has already found his prey.

“Don’t wait up for me, I guess.” Gabe looks back to Dean and takes his drink, walks across the dance floor to dance with a girl who’s more than willing to share the drink with Gabe.

Dean turns back to the bar, his elbows braced on the counter as she shakes his head and chuckles.

Suddenly, there’s a voice beside him and it seems like it’s talking to him.

“Hey, big guy, can you move a little?”

He tilts his head to look at the woman, who appears to be alone. Dean’s interest is piqued.

“Sure, sweetheart,” He moves a couple of inches to the left, gives her room to press herself against the counter.

She smiles, leans herself over the top to talk to the tender, her tits squashed on the bar top. While the bartender prepares her drink, she’s still leaning over the counter but she turns to him with a smile. With the tilt of her head and body, he can see that her tits almost spill out. Dean can’t look away even if he wanted to.

“You come here often?” He asks with a crooked smile.

“Nah,” She smiles back, “I just moved here today, starting a new job on Monday. Just needed a break from unpacking so a friend brought me here. You?”

“First time,” Dean replies, “Where’s your friend?”

“She went to the back,” She says, “Apparently there are rooms?”

Dean shrugs, “I wouldn’t know.” With his next breath, he adds, “Names Dean, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean, I’m Y/N,”

When her drink arrives, a seat at the bar becomes available and Dean urges her to sit down. She does, albeit reluctantly. While she sits, her skirt rides up a little, exposing the tender flesh of her thighs. He’d like to touch, he really does, but Dean has to be clever about it.

They are talking while Dean orders more drinks.

“What about your parents?” He asks after a while of talking. He knows that she’s been living in another city, works in the same field as he does, came here for a job but when Dean asked where she’s working, she wouldn’t say and that’s a good girl because people can’t be trusted, not even him. She just finished talking about her one sibling whom she doesn’t talk to anymore. It’s different for him and Sammy.

“Just my mom, I never knew my dad,”

Yahtzee.

They keep on talking and Dean gets bolder, stands beside her at first with an arm around her waist. He rubs circles on her back with his thumb and she smiles at him, laughs at his stupid jokes too.

After one more drink, she’s scrambling out of her seat and stands back at the bar, and he should be wondering why but he isn’t. He just knows. She presses her body against the counter and Dean cages her in from behind, lowers his mouth to her ear, places a soft kiss there that makes her shudder noticeably. He chuckles low.

“You wanna come back to mine?” He whispers lower than he chuckled out before, noses behind her ear and moves lower, plants little kisses down her neck, making her arch her back, driving her sweet ass against his crotch. He’s semi-hard from thinking of what he’ll do to her, only getting harder with the rubbing.

“You want that?”

“Yeah,” Dean darts out his tongue, swirls it around her earlobe and there’s an actual moan.

His right hand travels down the front of her body, fingers span wide on her stomach and it dips lower. He watches her breath hitch in her throat, feels her shivering.

“What would you do to me, huh?”

Instead of answering right away, Dean’s hand goes further down, hitches the seam of her skirt up a little, teases the tip of his middle finger along her clothed pussy.

“Oh god,” She groans and throws her head back to rest on his chest while her back is still arched.

He chuckles, “Call me Dean,”

His hand goes further down, and she parts her legs a little. A fucking good girl, indeed. He rubs long her lace panties, feels the fabric damp. He gets bolder too, his fingers hook into the crotch of her panties, pulling it aside.

It’s skin on skin and Dean lets out an audible groan at the wetness he feels, bites into the junction of her shoulder where it meets her neck. It prompts her to drive her ass into him harder.

“You’re fucking soaked, baby, is that because of me, huh?”

He flicks at her clit with his thumb, dips just inside of her wet pussy with the tip of his middle finger.

“Uh-huh,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

Dean chuckles as he pushes his finger in some more but not too much. It’s just a tease after all. He closes his eyes, groans again. He’s fucking hard by now and he presses closer to her ass, making her feel what’s going to await her.

“You’re so wet and warm,” He breathes out next to her ear, “Who’s making you so wet, huh?”

“Fuck,”

“Who, baby?” He goes further in, applies more pressure with his thumb.

“Y-you… you, daddy,”

Y/N doesn’t seem to have noticed the word she let slip out, or she’s too far gone to care if he’d be appalled by it.

He sucks in her earlobe with a chuckle, releases it before he nibbles at them. Not so much that it hurts, but enough to inflict a little pained pleasure, “Yeah? Did daddy make you all wet, huh? Jesus, you’re so tight and warm, making me want to fuck you so bad,”

“Do it,” She drives her ass back, wriggles with it deliberately, “Please? Daddy?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

She really is into this.

“Gonna take you home first, baby, you up for that? Huh?” His other hand massages up her throat and Dean paints along her mouth with two of his fingers. He can’t really see but he can feel.

Nodding her head, she opens her mouth, sucks his digits in, and swirls her tongue around them.

Fuck.

“Your mouth, baby,” He whispers, “Feels good around my fingers, would love to see them around daddy’s cock,”

“Mmmh,” A moan of approval accompanied by a shiver.

“Would you like that, huh? Like for daddy to use your mouth? Let you suck my cock like the good girl you are?” Her pussy clenches around the one digit and Dean grins, “Yeah you do. Gonna use your sweet mouth, can’t wait to feel those lips around my fat cock, baby girl,” He pushes his fingers deeper into her mouth, feeling her retching against him, “Yeah, gonna make you choke on daddy’s cock. That’s what you like, don’t you?”

She hums around his digit, and her pussy clenches some more.

Dean really hit the jackpot tonight. He should send Gabe a thank you card for bringing him out here.

“C’mon, let daddy take you home,”

Y/N didn’t realize the word that slipped out of her mouth, but she was glad Dean ran along with it. Using it even more afterward too. He got harder hearing it out of her mouth, an added bonus, really. There aren’t a lot of guys who are into it and god, that guy is hot and is fully on board with it? She fucking loves this city.

He doesn’t live too far, it was just a ten minute ride, where he moved close to her and let her drape a leg over his thighs. His fingers are in her pussy, fucking her with them while he fucks her mouth with his tongue to the same rhythm. Her hand is on his crotch, palming and rubbing him through his slacks.

Dean groans into her mouth, parts just for a minute to catch his breath, and whispers low, “Jesus, can’t wait to get my dick into that tight pussy, baby girl,”

Fuck. She can’t wait either. His filthy mouth turns her on so much.

The cab comes to a halt at a building which is in the nicer part of the city. She wished she had enough money to live here one day. Maybe she will one day with the new job she’s starting on Monday.

He lets go of her long enough to pay the driver and she tugs her skirt down as she gets out. Dean holds out a hand for her to take before he guides her into the building and into the elevator.

Pushing her against the wall, he presses his one thigh between her legs, the skirt riding up in the process. He kisses her again, his one hand braced on the elevator wall, his other hand around her throat, applying enough pressure for her to not feel like he’s restricting her. His mouth hovers around hers and he moves in, pecks her lips gently, “Come on, rub your sweet cunt on my thigh, baby. Get yourself warm and nice for me,”

She nods and he claims her mouth, kisses her hard, the scruff rubbing against her cheek, his tongue licking into it deep as she moves her hips and rubs her ruined panties over his clothed thigh.

God, the friction feels phenomenal.

The elevator pings, and Dean chuckles as he pushes himself from her, chuckles, because she’s still rutting against nothing.

“Fuck, you’re really something,” He whispers as he manhandles her out of the elevator only to drag her along the hallway.

It’s easy, she thinks, so easy for him to manhandle her around. He’s so broad and strong and just... fuck , she wants him so bad.

He comes to a halt in front of a door that says 823 , reaches into his pocket to pull out a set of keys and she stands behind him, reaching her arms around his body. Her one hand palms over a clothed, yet still so fucking hard cock, while her other hand tries to unto his belt buckle.

“Baby,” Dean chuckles, “Can’t open the door when you’re distracting me,”

“Just want you so bad,” She says, her forehead leans against his back and she feels his muscle shifting.

Y/N got the belt loose before Dean found the keyhole, her hand sneaking into his pants, traveling over the tuft of pubic hair until she wraps her fist around his dick.

He lets out a groan and closes his eyes for a moment before he goes on with trying to get into the apartment.

Dean shakes his head, “You really want that dick, huh?”

“Yeah,” She whispers against his back, her hand now jerking him off. She squeezes a little more at the head of his dick, and pads over his slit to smear the precum around his tip.

“Fuck, baby girl,” Dean mutters under his breath and she hears a click before he turns around, making her release her grip around his cock.

He crashes his mouth on hers, kisses her hard, his fingers fisting in the hair at the back of her head as he pulls her into the apartment with their lips still attached. He kicks the door closed with one foot.

After a while of intense kissing, Dean pushes her away, making her stagger back.

“Strip, baby,” He says in an absolutely dirty voice all deep and husky and she does because god, she would be damned if she didn’t want to be his good girl tonight.

Her shoes are off quick and she pushes her skirt down, her underwear comes right after before she pulls her top over her head.

Dean has released his cock, is fisting it while he watches her undress herself in front of him, groans when he sees her nakedness.

“Beautiful,” He lets out, smirking a little. It’s a boyish grin and that’s when he slips out of his role a little, she thinks. With his next breath, he catches himself again.

Normally she’s pretty self-conscious, but she has the feeling that the guy standing before her who’s ready to get his cock wet, doesn’t mind how she looks since they came this far already. Plus, the light’s still off, but the light from the moon and skyscrapers shines in, making her see enough to want him even more.

His dick is heavy and hard in his fist, as he massages it up and down. Her mouth waters at the sight.

“Get down on your knees,”

God, yes.

Finally.

Y/N kneels before him and Dean takes a step further in as he groans. Her mouth is already open and inviting, but he takes his time, rubs his heavy dick over her face.

“Looking so good for daddy, baby,” He huffs out.

The rubbing smears his precum on her face. She feels wet drops here and there and the scent of his arousal is intoxicating. God, it’s making her drool.

“You want my dick, huh?” He asks, tapping his dick lightly to her cheek, “Want to show me how good you suck cock?”

“God, yes,” She agrees with a frantic nod of her head.

“Call me daddy, baby,” Dean chuckles, “Open up your mouth wider, stick out your tongue,”

She does what she’s told.

“Good girl. That’s daddy’s good girl,” He says almost fondly and slaps his dick against her awaiting tongue, “Now suck,”

Well, she doesn’t need to be told twice. Sealing her lips around the head, she starts to suckle at it and Dean groans, throws his head back as she looks up.

“That’s right,” He whispers as soon as he catches himself, “Look up at me, I want to see how much you like sucking my cock, baby,”

She tries her best, she really does. His cock is thick, the taste of precum and a day’s worth of musk is heavy on her tongue, the scent penetrating her nose. It makes her suck him harder, makes her leak profoundly between her legs because she just wants him so fucking much.

“Spread your legs, touch yourself,” Dean mumbles, “I wanna see you touching yourself, baby. Wanna see you make yourself come while you suck my cock,”

Oh god, yes. She’s so close too. It’s no wonder, as she’s been balancing on that fucking edge since he fingered her in the club.

Spreading her leg but still on her knees, she pushes a hand in between, fingers herself, and rubs against her clit. The sound of her wetness is loud in the room. Dean groans when he hears it.

“So fucking good, baby girl,” He huffs out. His hand comes to push a strand of hair out of her face to see her better, “Sucking daddy’s cock so well,”

“Mmmh,” She hums in approval with his dick in her mouth and fuck, hearing him praise her just does things to her and she comes, quick, hard, humming and shrieking with his cock in her mouth. It makes him push his pelvis against her harder, making her choke when the tip of his dick hits her throat.

“Good girl,” Dean hums as he pulls his dick back but he leaves her to suckle at his tip, “Such a good girl for daddy, I’m so proud,” His hand finds the side of her face, applies pressure on his palms as he grips it, “I’m going go fuck your face, okay? Can you take that, huh? Take my dick?”

She looks up and hums, nodding her head.

He smiles down fondly, his teeth showing white and the crinkles around his eyes run deep. His grip around her face tightens a bit as he starts to fuck into her mouth, getting deeper inside with every thrust and she braces her hands on his thighs, fingers gripping at the fabric of his pants when she feels his dick choking her.

Dean presses his pelvis to her face, his pubic hair tickles her nose and he stays there for a while until she taps at his thigh because she feels like she’s going to pass out if he doesn’t let her come up for air.

And it’s weird. Really weird. She should be scared of doing this with a stranger, yet she trusts him. He has won her trust in such a short span of time. Some would call it naivety.

When he releases her face, she gulps for hair, trying to fill her lungs before he thrusts in again and he does. He gets faster too. The drool is running down her throat, her chest is wet.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers between thrusts, “Your mouth is fucking perfect, baby. You taking my cock so well,”

It makes her wetter hearing it and she’s sure that there’s a pool of her juice right below her.

“You want my come, baby? Want me to come in your mouth?”

Oh, god. More than anything right now.

She wants to feel him, to fucking taste him, so she nods her head as he stops his thrusts for a second.

Dean grins cockily. It’s really a good look on him, “Take it all, okay? But don’t swallow yet. Keep it in your mouth, baby,”

Another nod.

“Jesus,” He groans as he picks up his thrusting, “You’re perfect, baby girl, so good for daddy,”

His thrusts are faster before he comes and when he does, he lets out a deep growl as he pulls his cock out and fills her mouth with his cum.

Y/N does as she was told. She doesn’t swallow, instead, she opens her mouth, letting him pour in every drop he can milk out of that beautiful cock of his.

Dean’s spent dick is getting softer, but it still looks impressive, at least when it dangles so close to her face.

There’s a drop of cum on the corner of her mouth and he scoops it up with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth. His eyes are on her, a glow around him after his release. It makes him even more attractive and she wonders how fate is sometimes cruel to give her something she craves but takes it away again because it’s a one night stand. That’s all there is. He knows it as much as she does.

His other hand goes up below her eyes, brushes away the smeared mascara and with his thumb still in her mouth he tries to angle his stance to get her other eye as well.

Her mouth is full of cum and drool, almost spilling over but Dean takes his time, stands back to marvel at her.

“You look so pretty,” He says, again with a fond undertone, “Would take a picture if I could,” The cum’s floating over, and Dean pushes his thumb inside her mouth some more, “You may swallow now, baby,”

She does, closes her eyes to get the thickness of his cum down with his thumb still in her mouth. She sucks at the digit, signaling to him that it’s all gone.

“Open up,” He whispers, “Show me,”

Y/N smiles when she does, opens her mouth wide to show him that she’s swallowed it all.

He chuckles, “Good girl, you’re really a good fucking girl, baby,”

Taking his thumb out, he brushes it along her lips before he grabs at her arm and pulls her up. He kisses her then, letting out a languished groan when he tastes himself on her tongue.

“Down the hallway, the room to the left. I want you spread out on my bed, play with yourself okay?”

Dean kisses her on her nose and she nods before she makes her way to his bedroom. Climbing on his bed, she positions herself with her back against the headboard and spreads her legs. Her one hand plays with her pussy, fingers dipping in deep, before rubbing at her clit wetly. She closes her eyes, thinks about what just happened. Thinks about his voice that she’ll probably never forget. Thinks about his taste that she won’t be able to erase out of her mind.

It’s not long before Dean joins her, in one hand bottled water, in the other are her clothes and shoes. He’s really being considerate. Or he’s a neat freak. Either or. Not that it matters.

He drapes her clothes over a chair next to the bed, sets her shoes right below it before he unscrews the water and hands it over to her to drink. The coldness of it travels down her throat, making her shiver. Maybe she shivers of anticipation too, who knows.

Setting the water on the nightstand, Dean continues to undress, taking off his suit jacket and drapes it over another chair. While doing it, his eyes are on her.

She’s still rubbing herself, fondles her tits one-handed too, pinching her nipple, and arches her back.

“That’s it,” Dean croons, “Touch yourself, but don’t make yourself come, I wanna feel you come on daddy’s cock,”

Oh god.

She wants that too.

He watches her some more as his fingers slowly unbutton his shirt. Too slowly and it’s not fair because she just knows that he’s teasing her. When he takes his shirt off, she can see how broad he is, can see the muscles moving. He’s soft and firm and so fucking delicious. By the time Dean takes off his underwear, his dick is already more than semi hard. It’s impressive, really. She still can’t believe that she had that down her throat.

When he’s naked before her, he tugs at his cock, jerks it while his eyes are on her and he walks closer, climbing on the bed and walks closer to where she is on his knees.

“Jesus,” He growls, “You’re making me hard again, baby,”

There’s a smile tugging at her lips as a sense of pride washes over her.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?” She says it in her best sultry voice.

“No,”

“No?” She frowns a little.

Dean chuckles, “No, I gotta taste you first,” He shoulders himself between her thighs, “Be a good girl, hold your legs up for daddy,”

Shamelessly, she hooks her arms around the back of her knee as she pulls them up and apart, almost folding herself in half. That’s how eager she is to spread for him.

His big hands are on the back of her thighs, helping push her back as he hovers above her wet pussy, “That’s my good girl,” He chuckles, warm air hitting her core, and she trembles.

He doesn’t stall, instead, he buries his face right in there, sucking and lapping around her sensitive nub like it’s the only thing that keeps him the fuck alive.

“Your cunt’s so sweet, baby,” He moans, as he spreads kisses all over her pussy, “Could eat you for days,”

Alternatively, he switches from sucking to lapping, and her hand finds his hair fingers, pulling at it, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. He even starts to hum and that drives her fucking crazy.

It’s when he pushes in a thick finger that she almost loses it. Has to throw her head back and close her eyes when he curves the finger just right. He soon uses another finger, rubbing against her inner wall with it while he sucks at her clit and she just knows. She just fucking knows that she’s going to come again.

Her grip tightens in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp but Dean goes on, licking her and sucking her while he thrusts his fingers inside of her.

“Da- fuck- daddy,” She bites on her lip and the wave that hits her is strong, making her release her own legs, making her squeeze them around Dean’s head, “Fuck, oh my god,”

Dean chuckles as he spreads kitten licks on her clit. He pulls his fingers out and they pop out with a wet squelching sound, “You’re doing so good for me, baby, but please, call me daddy,”

The way he looks up from between her legs makes her heart race faster. Half of his face is drenched with her slick and there’s a glisten in his eyes while his lips are crooked into a smile that’s full of bravado.

He’s still fingering her lazily, circling his thumb soothingly around her clit, not applying too much pressure because he knows that she’s sensitive. Dean leans down and kisses her, swirls his tongue around her own. He parts with a bite on her lip, making her squeal and laugh.

“Can you fuck me now, daddy? Please?” She pouts a little for the effect but god, she’s so desperate for his cock. Desperate to feel him inside of her.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this and you can say no, okay?” He starts while he lays himself next to her, kissing the side of her face while he rubs between her legs. Dean dips down sucking a nipple into his mouth, bites on that too, chuckles when she moans.

“What?” She asks, fearing the worst. Fearing that he’ll say that it’s been a mistake and he only wanted to go this far and no further, fearing that maybe he’ll say that he’s too tired, or that he wants to put off fucking her for real for another day, or fuck, what does she know? There are so many possibilities that run through her mind right now.

Dean noses along her cheek, his nose is still damp, and she can smell her scent off him, “I was wondering if I could fuck you without condom, and before you say anything, I know it’s stupid but god, you feel so fucking good around my cock and you’re so fucking wet, I really want to feel it,”

Oh.

Y/N can’t believe what she’s going to say either. She’s never been so careless before but fuck, she’s really so far gone, and as she said before, she doesn’t know what it is but she fucking trusts Dean.

“I can’t believe that I’m saying it either, but please please, fuck me raw, daddy,”

“Jesus,” Dean groans as he quickly captures her mouth, tongue swiveling against her own. He sucks in her tongue before he releases it, “Come on, get on top of me,”

With one swift movement, he manages to manhandle her on top of him and she straddles his body, moving down inch by inch. He groans out again when she feels her leaving her wetness on his body on her way down.

Spreading herself over his hard cock, she grinds her pussy lips on it, slicks it up with her juice, teasing him in the process.

“Fuck, baby girl, don’t be a tease now,”

She chuckles but doesn’t stop and he lets her, probably enjoying the view and her playfulness. When she’s had enough and almost bursts herself, she grabs at his cock and points it upwards. Slowly, oh so slowly, she lets herself down.

Dean let out a groan, bites down on his bottom lip as she works her way further down his shaft. He helps a little, pushing his hips up, and down again when she manages to take all of him.

Her hands are braced on his chest and he rubs along her thighs. She needs a moment to get used to it, her walls fluttering around his girth.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters under his breath, “You feel so fucking good, baby, like I thought you would. So wet and tight,”

Y/N’s plenty wet, Dean’s right about that and she gets even wetter as she starts to bounce on his shaft.

“So good, baby,” He coos, his hands on her hips, helping her guide herself up and down, “So pretty bouncing on daddy’s cock, fuck,” His one hand goes to her tit, squeezes it tight before he slaps down on her nipple, “That’s it, baby, fuck me,”

And that, she does. His words make her wetter, make her bounce on top of him harder. Up until she’s worn out and retorts to grinding.

Dean pulls her down by her arms, kisses her as he thrusts his hips up to not lose the rhythm, “Is my baby tired, huh?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Should daddy take over?”

“Yes, please,”

With a chuckle, Dean turns them both around until he’s on top, without slipping out of her. He gets up on his knees and pulls her closer by her legs so that her ass is on top of his thighs as he begins to fuck her deep and slow.

“Like that, baby?” He asks with one thumb circling her clit.

“Uh-huh,”

There’s really no coherent word that she could bring past her lips.

“Yeah?” He asks as he thrusts harder. He changes angles then, puts her down on her back and pushes her legs up so that he can thrust in even harder, “Like it hard?”

“Fuck, yeah,”

“That’s a good girl, baby,” Dean whispers, “Your cunt, that’s mine tonight, isn’t it?”

His thrust gets deeper, just the way she likes it, making her roll her eyes to the back every time he hits her cervix.

“Yours,” She manages to say, “Fuck,”

“Who am I, baby girl?”

“Shit,”

He starts to rub her clit while his slows his thrusting, but he still goes in deep, reaches her every corner where she wants him most, “Tell me, I want to hear you say it,”

“Daddy-, fuck, daddy, you’re my daddy,”

“That’s right, baby girl,” He coos, “I want you to remember that, okay? Remember who makes you feel good,”

He talks like she could ever forget him. It’s so fucking hard to and she doesn’t think she’d be able to even if she would try.

“Oh my-,” She bites on her tongue, knows that she should say his name, “Daddy, I’m fuck- you’re going to make me come,”

“That's okay, baby, come,” He pants, “I wanna feel you coming on my fat cock, can you do that for daddy, huh?” His one hand goes to her throat, claws around it and squeezes it just right. It gives her the much added trigger to explode.

Fuck , who taught him to fucking talk like this?

Dean chuckles, “I can already feel your cunt squeezing around me, baby, you’re close, so fucking close, ain’t you? Come now,”

It’s not like she needs permission, they didn’t work that out but fuck, if she’s not a good girl. So she comes, right around his cock. He releases his hand around her throat, brushing over it just lightly to smooth away the pain.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dean groans as her walls squeeze down on him. His movement starts to falter and she can feel that he’s holding himself together, “You feel so good coming on my cock, baby. You just got tighter too, fuck,”

It’s about only three hard thrusts later that he starts to tremble, “Where do you want me to come?”

She looks up at him, her hands curl around his biceps with every hard hit to her cervix, “I want, fuck, I want you to come inside, daddy, please? Wanna feel your cum running out for days,”

“Baby, you’re a fucking nasty girl, ain’t you? Fuck,”

Oh god. He’s right because that’s what she fucking is. She has no shame whatsoever.

“Gonna come so deep in your cunt, baby, mark it as mine,” He thrusts faster but not as deep anymore, “How does that sound?”

“Please,” She is basically begging him.

“That’s my good girl, taking my cock so well and now my girl wants my cum too, fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” He growls low, and pushes in twice more, hitting her cervix before he stills and spills his cum deep inside of her.

Dean lets himself fall on top of her, braces his elbows on the side of her face so as to not crush her. He dips his head down, kisses her deep and tender while his dick still twitches inside of her with his release.

They took a shower together after that, cleaning themself off their filth and cum, and Dean’s worn out but he couldn’t help himself, made her come again in the shower on his dick alone with his thumb buried in her ass as he fucked her from behind. If he should fuck her again, he wants to try that back hole too, is almost sure that she’d let him because she went nuts when he stuck his thumb in there. Jesus, he hopes there’ll be a next time. It doesn't happen often that he wants to see a one night stand again, but with her, he’s ready to make an exception.

Now she’s really tired and almost falls asleep in his arms while he carries her over to his bed. Dean tucks her in and slides in next to her, pulling her into him and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He kisses her gently, hand brushes away the hair from her face, knuckles grazing her cheeks.

He feels her smile into the kiss.

“Thank you,” She whispers and is already drifting off.

Dean chuckles, “You’re really something else, baby,”

He wakes in the morning, realizes that the bed next to him is empty. Tilting his head around, Dean looks at the chair, sees that her clothes are gone along with her shoes.

Heaving his aching body from the bed, he sits up and rubs his hands over his face, “Fuck,”

She’s gone. Dean doesn’t even have her number. He really doubts he’ll see her again and that’s a fucking shame.

Monday rolls around and Dean’s nervous.

He’s pissed too, because he called Gabe and persuaded his friend to go to the club again but of course she wasn’t there. He waited longer than he should have, turned down four girls because he wanted to meet the right one. He had been losing sleep because it had gotten late and the thought of having to be in the office in five hours doesn’t help.

So he sits in the meeting room, waiting for his bosses to arrive to maybe fire him, even though he fucking aced the presentation to the project this morning.

“Hello Winchester,” Mr. Turner says as he sits down and Mrs. Mills takes the chair next to Mr. Turner. They sit across from him.

“Mrs. Mills,” He nods, “Mr. Turner,”

“Have you been informed why we called you in today?”

“Not, really no.” Dean shakes his head as he rubs his sweaty hands on his slacks.

Mrs. Mills smiles, “We are thinking that you’re doing a great job,”

“I am?” He cocks an eyebrow, as if he can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” Mr. Turner chimes in, “The reason for this meeting is this. You know that Mr. Campbell is retiring in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yeah,”

Dean knows. He’s been invited to the farewell party organized by Mr. Samuel Campbell himself.

“Right,” Mrs. Turner nods, “We are considering you for the position.”

“Really?” He can’t hide the grin, and even if it’s a job he absolutely doesn’t want, it feels great to be considered for it.

“There’s a catch, though,” Mrs. Miller says and of course there is. There’s always a catch in this company.

“We have a newcomer from an external company who also applied for the job. The person has a good reputation and great recommendation letters.”

Of course. Dean nods. They always have.

“We want to watch the two of you for about a week, two tops, see how much you’re willing to give of yourself, how driven you both are. We’re going to make a decision and please don’t take it personally if it’s not you. I’m sure the next position that opens up will be glad to have you.”

“Is this a competition?”

“See it as such, yeah. We talked about it in the boardroom and we really think it’s fair to give the other person a chance to get some more work experience in the company before we would consider them suitable for the job. With you, Mr. Winchester, we already know it, but that doesn’t mean that you have the job for sure.”

“Right,”

He’s never good at losing but that’s because Dean never loses. He’ll have an advantage over that dude. It’s probably going to be a piece of cake. He barely has to lift a finger, probably.

“Are you ready to meet your competition? There are projects you have to work on together, so it would be good if you get acquainted with each other.” Mrs. Mills asks.

“Sure,” Dean shrugs with a nod.

Mrs. Mills gets up from her chair to walk to the door. She opens it and keeps it open wide and then it feels like the air has been punched out of Dean’s lungs.

He’d recognize that face anywhere. He also remembers those long legs in heels.

“Mr. Winchester, meet your new colleague, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,”

Chapter Two

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#what i want most #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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eve6262 · 3 years

Text

rhaast senses the rain

Rainy days are bitter and cold.

Rhaast can vaguely feel the air, knows the weather by the vague sensation and the time of day by counting the ticks of a clock. Sometimes he’ll miscount by an hour or seven, and he’ll be asleep when Kayne picks him up. Sometimes the air will be chilly but when he asks why Kayn is wearing no coat on such a cold evening the response will be “it’s the middle of summer, what are you talking about?”

He always knows when it’s rainy, though. Kayn will pick him up, and he’ll say “it’s going to rain.” At first Kayn never believed him, thought he was trying to embarass him. Yet days upon months in each other’s presence and the tone became clear; jabs are obvious and tricks laid bare, but raw emotions are taken seriously before promptly left to fester in silence.

Or, in this case, he takes a coat with him.

The acolytes that pass him look at him weird for it- it’s sunny, why would it rain? But Rhaast tastes bitter on his tongue and shivers despite his lack of a body and knows it’s going to rain.

He’s right. Not an hour later the sky has darkened; in two it’s a light drizzle. By then they’ve found their target, and Kayn has opted not to put on the coat in favor of letting the rain hit him with as little sound as possible. “I’ll put it on when we’re finished,” he thought very loudly in the darkin’s direction, and moves for the kill.

It’s an easy target. Some Ionian diplomat who was very adamant for appeasment of Noxian authorities by giving them an inch. Rhaast knows plenty about that- get an inch, take a mile, and then a thousand more until there’s either nothing left or you’ve been locked away in a scythe and cursed to be wielded by a man with an ego and annoyingly pretty long hair.

He puts on the coat after the kill, as he said. It pitter-patters against his coat. Rhaast counts them, then loses count, then starts again.

He’s at somewhere in the thousands when they take a break in a little cave. There’s a commotion nearby, one they’d rather avoid, and the air has been thick with tension today despite the lack of real conversation, so Kayn turned into it without a word and Rhaast had no comment.

“What is it with you?,” the man finally asks. Rhaast doesn’t really have a response.

“What are you even talking about,” he knows. He knows he’s been awfully distant, not poking and prodding like he usually does, and he came up with one initial reason he can’t tell Kayn and another he also can’t tell him, so what’s he to do?

“You’re so...You don’t speak. You used to so often.”

“Getting lonely?” The bite is hard to manage, when all he can feel is it’s going to rain today.

“Seriously, is something wrong?”

Is something wrong. He’d laugh if it wouldn’t sound to bitter and obivous.

The initial reason he came up with was that, despite what Kayn might know, he’s largely impenetrable. Even the occasional prick with the needle won’t tear down his defenses nearly enough to make an actual crack, and even if it does it’s repair within the week. It’s simply pointless, he reasoned, because he was better off waiting for a moment of true vulnerability or weakeness and then striking, like a viper slithering around out of sight until the prey goes to sleep.

“Well?”

“You won’t believe me if I say no.”

“Obviously. It was a rhetorical question.”

“And? The answer is no either way.”

“That’s a lie and you know it, Rhaast.”

“You’ve known me to say anything else?”

“Sometimes. When you’re feeling...”

The problem with that is that, when you’re attempting to lay low and hide until the prey strikes, you end up watching them for hours on end. And when you have nothing else to do- no underbrush to concentrate on slithering through or worms poking at your belly scales- you start to really fixate on whatever it is you can see.

“Cute. You think I care about you.”

“What? No, never. Seriously, what is it with you?”

And besides, that plan would’ve never worked. He’d already done it for so long- if Rhaast tried when he was vulnerable he’d just get another wall, right? There wouldn’t be much of a point. It’s best to stay with the status quo, and pretend he’s still able to take the mind of a man he’s been watching like a viper- no, like a hawk- no, like-

Like a very lonely darkin sat in a void.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me, we’re leaving.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“I didn’t say it was for you.”

“What, you wanted to figure out what was wrong with me for your sake?”

“Well, yes.”

Eventually, if you stare at anything for long enough, you begin to notice the subtle details. It starts with the physical, and you see- the muscles, toned but not bulging to the point of freakishness, hair draping over him like the shadows themselves meant to cloak him (and how soft it must feel), the glint in his eyes when something goes well or when Zed says something vaguely resembling a compliment.

“How rude.”

“It’s for both of our sakes, idiot. What do you think happens if Zed finds out you’re being weak and I haven’t overtaken you?”

“He abandons you as his favorite little puppet?”

So you think, okay, he’s pretty, I’ll give him that, but that doesn’t mean anything. And then you start noticing the slight accent he has, and the way he does his daily routine in a such a meticulous way that disturbing it in anyway gets an annoyed huff that makes you enticed to hear more, and more than his haughty laugh you think you love the way he laughs when you tell a proper joke once, and he giggles.

Get an inch, take a mile, and then take until there’s nothing left, but what were you taking again?

And then you go oh, love? And then you try to ignore it, try to explain it away as lying in wait, but you see, all you want to do is see that terrible scowl replaced with a pretty smile and a laugh that must sound so very boring to someone else, maybe even annoying, but to you it’s like fairy bells on the wind or maybe the taste of blood on your scythe because it is very, very enjoyable, almost more so than having a body.

When you lose something so wholly you don’t even remember what it was like, you don’t really miss it anymore. Maybe you do rationally, but emotionally?

The void isn’t so bad. It has its perks. Its perks are being able to concentrate on the way his hair flies in the wind and the comments he makes regarding the other acolytes and being able to share comments no one else can hear without having to whisper in his ear.

It means he won’t run away from you. That he’ll grab you whenever he has a mission, and sometimes when he doesn’t and wants to practice (is just feeling lonely). And all those days ago you’d chastise him, make fun of him, joke around and sneer, but now when you realize what’s happening you try to be a good companion in good spirits, teasing but never jabbing, joking but never stabbing.

And then you wonder, oh, wait, what did he say just then?

---

we were playing league right. and then I mention the inherent homoeroticism of kayn and rhaast and this dude goes "I don't know what you're talking about."

he's bi too, how do you not see?????

~Eve6262

#kayn lol #kayn #rhaast lol #rhaast #rhaayn #league of legends #fanfiction #writing #mlm #gay

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stevesnailbat · 3 years

Text

shampoo bottles | steve harrington

summary: After your breakup, Steve can’t get over you and resorts to using your shampoo for comfort.

warnings: angst <3 with a happy ending

word count:

a/n: surprise two fics in a day <3 loosely based on shampoo bottles by peach pit

The near-empty shampoo and conditioner bottles that once belonged to you sit in the corner of Steve’s shared shower, haunting him on the daily. They practically mock him every time he gets into the shower, like they’re trying to make his heart break even more than it already has.

He knows it’s so wrong and so weird to just keep them there in the corner, but he doesn’t have the heart to move them. He misses you more than he ever cares to admit and somehow, keeping your shampoo in the shower gives him a crumb of comfort to aid with the strong ache in the middle of his chest.

Steve is all too aware of the bottles in the corner when he steps into the steaming shower this time.

He swore to himself that he’d never use them, that they’d only sit there in the corner until he was finally over you, that he’d get over you eventually. But eventually felt like an eternity away when there was a constant reminder of you staring him down every time he got under the water.

It had been a month since you’d seen each other, and Steve was desperate to hear something, anything from you. It was some kind of pride thing for him, though. He wouldn’t dare to be the first to call you, even if it was his fault that you left.

The water streaming down Steve’s shoulders is boiling hot, but he barely notices, preoccupied with the temptation to finally open the bottles in front of him.

He only gives his Fabergé Organics a momentary glance before swallowing his pride, reaching for your shampoo in the corner. The smell of the peppermint and tea tree hangs in the air when he pops the lid open, a pang of guilt shooting through his chest as he does. He used to hate the way the scent made his nose itch and his skin tingle, but it’s slowly become the only sensation that makes him feel like he did when you loved him.

Most of the time, Steve doesn’t let himself actually use them, but it’s different now—he needs it. A sigh falls from his lips as he flips the bottle to let the gel fall into his palm, embracing the feeling of regret and nostalgia that it gives him. When the shampoo hits his hair, memories of you flood his mind.

“You’re so dramatic, Stevie,” you laugh, grinning up at him as he turns his head to dodge your lathered hands. “Using this stuff one time isn’t going to ruin your hair. It’s actually good for it!”

“I don’t believe you,” Steve says with a frown, shaking his head frantically as he holds onto your wrists gently. “Shampoo should not make your scalp tingle like that.”

“It’ll help get rid of all of that hairspray gunk in your hair! C’mon, just try it—“

“No, that’s not happening,” he retorts, finally cracking a smile as he watches your lips fall into a pout.

You’re silent for a long moment, taking in his flushed cheeks and lips pulled into an amused smirk as he waits for your defiance. The only thing to be heard is the sound of your breath and the beating of the water against the shower tile.

Instead of coming up with some witty response, you stand on your toes to pull him into a kiss, catching him by surprise. His hands fall from your wrists and land on your waist as he leans into the kiss, careful to make sure you don’t slip on the wet tub and take the both of you down. You smile against his lips, reaching your still partially-lathered fingers up to his head to rake through his hair.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbles when he pulls away from the kiss, laughing softly as his head falls to rest on your shoulder.

“I think you’re the ridiculous one” you quip, massaging his scalp as you run the shampoo through his hair.

Steve only hums in response, his eyes falling shut while the tingle of the shampoo and softness of your touch send shivers through his body. The tingle wasn’t anything like he’d expected; maybe he could get used to the feeling.

Using the shampoo and conditioner on his own isn’t the same. He wishes more than anything that you could do it for him. He wishes more than anything that he could feel you kiss his skin as you finish massaging his scalp one last time. He wishes more than anything that you hadn’t left and that he hadn’t been the reason that you left.

“Y’know, I really think you should call them,” Robin says from the couch with a curious look on her face as Steve steps out of their shared bathroom.

“Call who?” he questions, furrowing his brow at her.

“You know who I’m talking about,” she responds, eyes flickering to the bathroom behind him. “Fabergé Organics doesn’t smell like tea tree and peppermint, Steve.”

“I’m just trying to use them up. Don’t want them to go to waste, that’s all,” he says as a frown spreads across his face and a blush over his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the only reason,” Robin laughs, rolling her eyes at him as he walks towards his bedroom. “I’m sure they’d be willing to listen if you did give them a call, though.”

Steve turns away and huffs before closing the door to his bedroom. He ignores Robin’s suggestion at first, but the thought of calling you persists in his mind for the rest of the day.

Peppermint lingers on his pillow and in his hair once he goes to bed, waking him up multiple times in the dead of night when he catches the scent. His chest aches every time it wakes him up, the temptation to call you growing stronger every time he’s pulled from his peaceful sleep.

He knows better than to call you in the middle of the night, he really does. But that doesn’t stop him from picking up the phone on his bedside table at three in the morning. His mind wanders as he’s dialing, fear of being rejected by you creeping up as he dials your number from memory. He pushes his doubts down as he presses that last digit, swallowing his pride when the dial tone rings through the receiver.

Truthfully, he doesn’t expect you to pick up. It’s the middle of the night, and it’s a weekday, there’s a slim chance that you’ll pick up. But, he wants to say that he tried to talk to you, even if it was a thinly-veiled attempt surrounded by fear.

He doesn’t expect you to pick up, but you do. Your voice makes his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat as you speak.

When you answer, there’s radio silence from the other line. You’re just as confused as he is honestly, but you don’t even know it’s him yet, since you answered the phone without a second thought.

“Hello?” you say for a second time, growing irritated at someone calling you in the middle of the night in the first place.

“Hi,” a faint voice comes from your phone, making your breath catch in your throat—Steve?

You’re not sure how to react to a late night phone call from your ex, so you freeze. You’re not annoyed, really. Honestly? You’re more hurt than anything that he waited so long to finally call you. Both of you are quiet for what seems like an eternity, uncertain of how to start a conversation. Eventually, Steve lets out a laugh that carries through the phone.

“Sorry—” he stammers, letting out another breathy laugh. “I’m sorry, I just—I don’t know why I called.”

Your stomach drops as he laughs, anger rising at him finding humor in the situation. But, the laugh stops quickly, leaving you in radio silence once again.

“Are you just trying to make this situation worse, Steve?” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows in the bed as you press the phone to your ear.

“No—No, I’m not!” he says quickly. “I’m not trying to make things worse, I mean that I don’t know why I called you right now, I guess. I—I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You’re quiet as Steve stammers over his words, nearly feeling the blush radiating from his skin through the phone.

“I used your shampoo today—and I know that’s pathetic, I know it is—”

“You hate that shampoo, Steve.” you say hesitantly, unsure of if he’s completely serious or not.

“I hated it, but not anymore because it reminds me of you and—and I can’t stop thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you all day and couldn’t wait until the morning to call you,” he confesses, the words flowing from his lips without a second thought. “I’m sorry for everything. I messed up, I know I did, and I’m so sorry.”

“Steve—”

“Actually, I can’t do this over the phone. I can’t—” he says frantically. “Are you at home?”

“Obviously, but it’s three in the morning—”

“I know, I know, please just—just stay up for ten more minutes, please.” he pleads.

You sigh into the phone as you hear the other line go dead, knowing that he’s too stubborn and relentless to stay at home and that he’s already halfway to his car by now. It’s not even ten minutes later that you hear a small knock on your apartment door, and have to take a deep breath before even thinking about opening the door.

When you open the door, Steve’s expression softens and his shoulders relax, relieved that you actually opened the door for him.

“You better give me a damn good reason for opening this door, or I’m never even thinking about speaking to you again,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him while standing in the doorway, not letting him into the living room yet.

“Y/N, I really am sorry. I—I wish I could go back and fix it all. I realize that I should’ve been honest with you from the start, but there’s a lot that I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe,” he continues, voice shaky as he talks. “I understand if you don’t want to listen because I should’ve done this in the first place, but I’m willing to tell you the whole truth about my past if you’ll let me.”

“Using my shampoo really made you miss me this much?” you laugh, but he only frowns at you when you ask.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” he says softly, a look of defeat on his face.

You sigh and your smirk falls, realizing how genuine he’s actually being. He looks lost and hurt, like he’s been waiting for this moment for way too long now. It makes your heart ache to see him like this, and now you feel guilty about teasing him. There’s something in his eyes that always makes you believe him immediately; you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but you really don’t care right now.

“Steve,” you sigh, unable to get another word out.

There’s so many things that you could say, but nothing comes out. You want to scream at him for waiting so long, you want to cry and yell at him for letting you leave when he should’ve fought, but you don’t.

Instead, you take a step towards him and pause for a moment. His eyes lock with yours and you feel at home, you’re finally reunited with the one person that left a hole in your heart that only he could fill. You don’t let yourself have a second thought before reaching for his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

The smell of peppermint and tea tree hits your nose when you do, and you’re reminded of all of the times that he jokingly complained about the smell, all the times that he scrunched his nose up when you opened that bottle of shampoo, all the times that he washed your hair with it after a long day. Your chest feels warm and you get a familiar, welcome feeling in your stomach as his arm wraps around your waist, careful to make sure you don’t slip and take the both of you down.

Steve is the first to pull away from the kiss, a small smile on his lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I think I might love the smell of peppermint and tea tree now,” he laughs.

“Yeah, me too.”

taglist: @kurtsbuckethat @harringtown @stonersteve @charmed-asylum @heart-eye-harrington @daddystevee @a-magey @lemonypink @igotmadskills @ilovebucketbarnes @simplesammyx @willowrose99 @scooprtroopr @stranger-noah @thegirlthatsfalling @beverlyparkerr @multi-fandom-freak-lol @mistermiraclee @twoprettyboys @hypostuffingwell @xelaswriting @hehehehannahthings

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader

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warmau · 4 years

Text

the door opens as soon as the hand on the clock that hangs right above the line of freezers at the back of the store strikes eight

through it walks yangyang

grey hoodie pulled over his messy hair, stuck to the skin of his forehead with slowly evaporating sweat

he’s dribbling a basketball as he walks down the aisles and you pretend to rearrange the candy display in front of the register

but you’re watching

the sound of the basketball thumps through the otherwise empty corner store

outside, the sun is waving its last goodbye before the moon takes it spot in the sky

and then yangyang rounds his way back to you - placing some loose change down and waving the already unwrapped melon pop he’s picked out

you count the coins, and he’s ten cents short, but you don’t say anything about that

he turns, basketball now tucked under his arm

and leaves without a thank you or a goodbye

you know him - and you’re sure he knows you too - but it has been the same silent routine since summer started two weeks ago

the reason - and it could just be your suspicion - but no other fact has reared its head as creditable

has to do with dong sicheng

yangyang’s upperclassman, friend, and your ex-boyfriend

you lean forward a little and huff, not even really my ex-boyfriend. we fooled around all of last semester and then-

you feel something weird curl up inside your stomach

sicheng had called it off

you remember what he had said to you;

“maybe if you weren’t always looking at -”

the door opens again and your eyes barely shift to see who it is now

only to see yangyang again, melon pop abandoned, grey hoodie abandoned, basketball abandoned

he buffers a bit before walking right up to the register

you straighten up and feel like the little store has only gotten tighter

he slaps the ten cents he was short down on the counter and you blink

“i owe you this.”

“oh thanks.”

“sicheng isn’t here for the summer. he went abroad.”

you blink, and your instinct is to say - why would i care? - but you just nod slowly

yangyang steps back a little. he’s still got remnants of sweat on him from the summer heat, his hands tucked deep in his pockets

“did you like him?”

“no”

you answer a little too fast for comfort, but there just isn’t enough time to stop yourself from spilling the truth. something you’ve wanted to say for a while.

yangyang is looking at the floor, or maybe the candy, who knows - but he looks up after that.

“he said you were always -”

“looking at you. i know.”

yangyang seems to catch his breath, or maybe he just looks like he’s being suffocated, but either way he points to the sign on the door

“you close in an hour right?”

“yes”

“ill be here. we can - ill be waiting for you.”

even with the streetlights flickering, the night hovering into complete darkness, the heat makes everything feel vibrant and hot

or maybe you just feel all this pressure, finally being alone with yangyang

you’ve changed, you’ve attempted to comb your hair, you’re holding the half finished bottle of gatorade that is acting like some kind of pseudo-anchor as you wait to hear what it is yangyang will say

does he know? did he notice? or did sicheng just tell him for the hell of it that ive always actually liked him?

“i was looking too, that’s why i was so confused.”

he kicks the curb a little and avoids your gaze

“why you chose him - why you were sneaking around and doing all of that with him when i was-”

he throws his hands up in frustration

“when i was there too!”

“i just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“you think i didnt like you back?”

you cross your hands and nod

“yeah, you never did anything to make me think you -”

“neither did you, you actually did the opposite, hooking up with one of my closest friends-”

“hey!”

you don’t want to raise your voice, but it makes yangyang look at you. really look at you.

“is it a crime to want to be desired? i couldnt get the feeling from you and sicheng just kissed me one day and it felt-”

yangyang steps closer, both hands reaching for your shoulders as if he’s about to pull you in close to him

but just as his fingers graze your skin, you can feel the tension stiffen him into stone

you flatline your voice and stare, “yangyang if you’re going to kiss me then just do it”

he opens his mouth in protest, at least that’s what he intentions, when in the next second

it’s you, dropping the gatorade in your hand, and just tugging him in for it first

he doesn’t kiss with the overwhelming confidence he can saunter around with when he’s with his friends, but he is enthusiastic

it kind of shocks you when after just a soft peck on the lips turns into yangyang wrapping you in almost squeezing hug

he kisses as if he’s trying to make up for something

you chalk it up to the time you’ve both waisted tip-toeing around each others feelings

and when you pull away from him, you realize he’s nearly dragged you off the curb and into the sidewalk with him and you’re like

“let’s get out of the street before we get hit by a car.”

he grins, the brightest light even in the darkness

“wait- just one thing though.”

his hands don’t let go from being wrapped around your waist, his bare skin sticking to the fabric of your shirt. how many degrees is it out? at least eighty something.

“what?”

“do i kiss better than sicheng-”

you yank him back onto the sidewalk and roll your eyes in response, yangyang just leans down to laugh into your neck

you’ve still got to work at the shop all summer, but now yangyang doesn’t just stop by at just eight

he’s there as much as possible

sitting on boxes of soda and chips - hand on your leg as you two watch the array of interesting neighbors and customers that pass their way through

there’s a nice old couple that beams at you and yangyang, talking about how much you two remind them of themselves

there’s a social recluse that scurries up and down the aisles even though he always buys the same two things every time he’s in here. yangyang theorizes he’s a spy or something and you’re like im pretty sure he works for an IT company

there are giggling groups of middle schoolers enjoying the summer, there are teenagers who spend more time kissing in the corners rather than buying anything, there are adults rushing to and from work

sometimes yangyang’s friends stop by, the ones he plays basketball with, and they wolf whistle and wink and push him when they think you’re not looking

but now kun - who apologizes to you every time for their CHILDISH behavior

the summer that you thought would be dragging slowly because of this dumb job, has become something like a rainbow.

colorful, eventful, and beautiful

especially when you’re sitting up on the register counter and yangyang is leaning up to kiss you

lips cold from the ice-cream you both just shared

he’s gotten better at kissing, and at hand-holding, and staring at you like you’re the entire earth and more

he leaves for a couple of hours to go play basketball - and one evening you close the shop early to go watch him

he looks so different from the yangyang that makes bad jokes, the yangyang who chases the local stray cat around your store, the yangyang who is still a little too shy about coming over to your house when you’re both alone, the yangyang who fell out of a tree trying to get a stuck balloon untangled for a crying toddler

he looks serious and focused - he looks more mature

when the set ends he jogs over, lifting his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face and you realize you’re also still a little shy, averting your eyes to the side

he doesn’t notice, if he did - you would not hear the end of it - as he leans forward to kiss your nose

you pull back and tell him ew- he’s so sweaty and smelly - but he just pouts and says thats never bothered you before!

“yeah, it’s never bothered you before so you guys should just make out-”

hendery’s voice echoes from somewhere before you presume kun puts a stop to that

yangyang raises an eyebrow

and you give in - leaning in to press your lips to him

“salty?” he asks when he pulls away, “very!”, you laugh and yangyang joins in

“oh sicheng you’re back?”

the sentence drowns you and yangyang’s momentary bliss

you don’t want to turn around and see if it’s really him - but yangyang leans away from you so you stand up too

“how was your trip?” it’s kun’s voice - followed by yukhei who exclaims that he’s missed him so much!

sicheng answers them, looking over his shoulder at you and yangyang

the sounds of the park all wash out - you don’t feel anything romantic toward sicheng, but this is still awkward and you’re more than anything worried about-

“yangyang - can i be on your team?”

sicheng is referring to the next game and you want to say something to yangyang about how it’s really all over, like it didn’t ever even mean anything

but then sicheng looks at you

“can i steal your boyfriend away for a bit?”

the playful banter sizzles the tension down and you feel yourself relax, and yangyang does too

“sure bro, but you better have gotten good during your trip - your freethrows always suck!”

sicheng laughs and you do too, kissing yangyang’s cheek before he goes back to join his friends

when it gets too dark to play anymore and everyone’s exhausted - yangyang and you part from the group

hendery tries to yell something about kids being safe, kun drags him away by the ear, xiaojun, yukhei and ten echo the sentiment anyway and sicheng says;

“im happy for you guys.”

you feel yangyang squeeze your hand in his - when it’s just you and him left

you shiver a little because summer is ending and falls kiss is sweeping in

yangyang shrugs off the grey hoodie he’s always wearing and you slip it on before taking his hand in yours again

“was it weird seeing sicheng again?”

“not really - i mean it’s just sicheng.”

you stop walking and yangyang does too

“he’s your friend and he’s just my friend. seriously. yangyang i want you to know that.”

he smiles softly, not the big toothy grin you’re used to, and tugs you a little into him

“i know that.”

he kisses your hair and then laughs

“if it was me, you would have jumped right into my arm-”

“yangyang!”

you give him a look and he swears he’s joking, he promises

but he’s also right

years later - as you’re standing in the airport looking up at the switchboard of flights

you light up when you see that the plane from taiwan is landing

you rush to the gate and wave as soon as you sicheng

he waves back, and so does kun and ten and everyone

and holding up the end is yangyang who abandons his luggage, to come barreling toward you

you can’t hold it too, it’s been all summer that he and the rest of them have been gone

and it’s been so boring without him, and so lonely, so when he opens his arms

you do jump right into them - getting attacked in a whirlwind of kisses

the rest of the group catches up to you two and from somewhere you can hear kun mutter

“they’re acting like kids”

but sicheng defends you two

“let them, they’ve been looking at each other since then.”

when yangyang finally decides to let you go, he adds:

“yep, and we haven’t stopped since.”

#i started this listening to still woozy and then ended it by listening to jbalvin thats how my night was going #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang scenarios #nct au #wayv au #yangyang au #member: yangyang #sfw #yangyang #wayv #nct

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rason-rodd · 3 years

Text

The Boy Who Didn’t Like Christmas - Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You decide to surprise Jason with a Christmas tree but things don’t go as planed. Did he really just call you a friend?

Warning : Fluff, Humor, Slight Angst

Author’s note: A new Bat-Christmas one shot, this time with Jason (the last one will be with Dick). I tried to make Reader as general neutral as possible. Hope you’ll like it

“You’re clearly not from the Hill … or the Narrows.” You were pretty certain the rebuke would have hurt ten times more if Dana Harlowe had said everything she was keeping well hidden in her badass heart. But there was no need to say more. It was clear she didn’t hold you close to her heart. To her, you were the pain in the ass from Uptown Gotham, the one who certainly knew nothing about striving to get out of the dirt and who had certainly always get what she wanted by simply twitching her nose. In a nutshell, everything she was happy not to be. But you had one thing in common. Or at least, one person. Jason Todd. Dana had known him for over a decade. You had known him for a couple of months. But you as well as she had learned to deeply care about him, except that one of you had let things go way beyond friendship quite a couple of times. That one being you. “I was just suggesting bringing Jason a Christmas tree to decorate his apartment, Dana. That’s it.” You tried to defend yourself as you buried you hands in your pocket. “And how many times should I tell you that Jason hates Christmas?” You sighed as you both could barely keep your annoyance to yourself anymore. “No one really hates Christmas.” “So what you’re going to show up to his place with a goddamn tree, all dolled up, flutter your eyelashes and hope he won’t be mad at you?” You shrugged. “That’s an idea”

***

And Dana hadn’t been able to stop you. So, one Sunday afternoon you showed up to Jason’s place with a bag filled with brand new Christmas decorations and a heavy tree that had made you sweat streams to carry in the old staircases and, with a tired sigh, you rang at Jason’s door. He opened it without waiting or looking through the spyhole, apparently not thinking (or caring) about the possibility of a lunatic waiting on his doorstep with a deadly weapon. “You know I could have been a very angry elf with a gun. You should use that little peephole” “ Y/N” He looked astonished to see you here, especially with all that Christmas stuff “I…” “By the way, you should also write your co-ownership trustee and ask for an elevator. Yours stairs are a living hell.” You declared to make sure he wouldn’t have time to realise or protest against what you were planning to do. “Give me a hand, would you?” You asked as you tried to drag the tree by the crown inside the apartment, sprinkling the ancient wooden floor with pine needles. “Explain.” Jason demanded as he helped you carry the Christmas tree to the corner of his living room and erect it. “There! Perfect.” You clapped your hands, proud that the tree was still looking good despite the mistreatment you have given it and also because it was standing in Jason’s apartment, contradicting all of Dana’s sayings that “a Christmas tree will never cross Jason Todd’s doorstep”. “Suck it, Dana!” “Alright. You’re weird today. What’s with the tree?” Jason’s face seemed a bit twisted, as he didn’t know if he should smile or be worried. “Next week, it’s Christmas. You can’t celebrate Christmas without a Christmas tree.” He frowned, definitely looking for the right words in his beautiful yet tortured head of his to be sure he would not kill your excitement or hurt your feelings. “Y/N. I wasn’t planning on celebrating Christmas this year.” “I know. Dana told me about you being Scrooge Jr.” You joked, not caring at all, as you opened the plastic bag full of decorations to empty it on the couch. “That’s a bit overstating things.” Jason scratched his head. He had never heard anyone compare him to Dicken’s famous character. “I mean. Not liking Christmas doesn’t make me a miserly bitter old man.” “Were you planning on spending Christmas alone sitting on your couch with cold noodles, watching Netflix and calling Christmas humbug?” He waited before answering, trying to see how he could debunk you little argument. But there was no way. “Not Netflix. Cutthroat Kitchen.” “Oh my god. You’re Scrooge.” You sighed, exasperated before showing a beautiful transparent Christmas ball with little snowflakes inside. “Look how cute!” Your enthusiasm made him smile discreetly but not discreetly enough to go unnoticed. “I guess there’s no way I’m gonna stop you, right?” You shook your head. “You can still try but no. I’m going to give you some Christmas spirit, choke you with it if I must and I won’t leave this place until you love it. And mark my word, I will use string lights if needed” You threatened as you showed him the lights. “You would really tie me up to the tree? You know BDSM is not my thing.” “ No I would tie myself to the tree. Because as much as I know you can throw that tree away once I’m gone, I’m sure you won’t be able do so if I’m tied to it.” “And why so?” He smirked, curious to know your reason. “Cause you like me too much.” Was he really an open book? He never thought so but there was something with you, something weird and unusual that could make him act in strange ways. Perhaps was he getting soft. “And also, because you wouldn’t get my very special gift if you kick me out.” Jason squinted and you played with your eyebrows as you bit your lower lip so that he would get the naughty message. That eventually made him laugh and he tried to remember when was the last time he thought sexy could be funny. “Ah. The things I would do for you.” He kissed the top of your head softly, making your shiver and close your eyes and for a second you tried to resist the sudden urge to catch him by the neck and kiss him on the lips. Not that he would have minded, you thought. But there was a difference between occasional sex and displays of affection. “Let’s do this. Before you decide to make me sing Mariah Carey.” “Oh …” You pretended to think about the idea with a finger over your lips. “Don’t push it.”

And so you ended up decorating the Christmas together, laughing and chatting about some random stuff until you dared ask. “Why don’t you like Christmas?” Jason froze for a moment and you saw him close his eyes to take a deep breath. “Well it’s difficult to like Christmas when you’ve got a family like mine.” He finally declared as he hung a Christmas ball on a branch. “You mean Bruce …” You supposed though you were not sure of you should continue this conversation. “If only there was just Bruce.” You decided to be quiet when you noticed his sudden bitterness but he chose to keep talking. “I never had a proper Christmas as a kid. When mum wasn’t completely stoned on the bathroom floor, dad was in jail. And when we were finally together, well … Let’s say Christmas spirit wasn’t something the Todd family knew about.” “I’m sorry.” You said, wondering if you should hug him or at least caress his arm as a sign of comfort. “Don’t be. Plus, it’s not like I cared that much about Christmas as a kid anyway.” You could tell it was a lie, a huge bad lie only made to mask some deep-rooted wound, a lie Jason had learned by heart as if it was a mere line and had probably served to anyone around him for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t hard to guess. You just had to see how hurt he looked deep down in his beautiful tortured eyes. “I mean, there are other days to offer gifts.” “Sure.” You had a light smile and you focused again on the decoration of your tree. “But I appreciate what you’re doing, Y/N” “By what I’m doing, you mean … making you celebrate the event you hate the most without complaining?” You tried to joke. “That.” He chuckled. “And being a good friend.” A friend? Was friend really the right word? Well, maybe … in a way … or not. After all, what friends occasionally end up fucking when the sexual tension becomes too hard to handle? “I know you’re doing this because of your permanent worry about me. But you don’t need to worry. I’m fine.” “I’m sure you are.” You sighed and Jason caught your hands in his. “Hey. I’m a tough guy. I’ve got thunder thighs and sharp abs. You said it yourself”. You chuckled briefly, remembering the time when you told him this. Pretty sure you were naked and drunk by the way. “I know you’re tough Jason. Actually, you’re certainly the toughest person I know. But I’m not stupid. And I know there are things that you’re hiding from me.” He suddenly frowned and you felt his grip around your hands loosening, as if he was ready to run away from you. “And I’m not asking you to tell me what it is. I understand that you have your secrets. I do to. I just … I just want you to be honest with me, to tell me when you feel low, when you need me.” You added as you grabbed his arms to keep him close. “We’re … friends after all, aren’t we?” You hated that argument but you decided to use anyway, just to see his reaction. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Jason whispered after a second of heavy silence. “We’re friends.” Not the reaction you wanted. “Good.” You let go of him and went back to hanging Christmas balls but you both could feel the weird tension, the awkwardness and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for ruining that moment which had begun so well. You should have listened to Dana. “Maybe I should go.” You declared as you resigned yourself to get the hell out of here before making things worse between you two. “No!” Jason almost shouted. “No. We … Let’s finish the tree first okay? Please” You sighed. “Plus you mentioned a gift, right?” Normally that comment would have made you smirk but not today, not now. “That’s not a gift you give friends, Jason”

***

“You played the friends card? Not cool.” Jason suddenly remembered the little mental note he had left for himself the last time he had talked to Dick about his love life. ‘Never again.’ But Roy was gone and so were Artemis and Bizarro or any other friends he could have confessed to. “But we are friends.” He tried to justify himself. “I think.” Dick shook his head, slightly exasperated yet amused by his little brother. “You saying ‘I think’ makes me believe you don’t see Y/N as a friend.” “Why does it have to be so complicated?” Jason sighed as he tried to remember when was the last time he had seen you as merely a friend. “Because it’s love and nothing is ever simple when it comes to love. No need to be a relationship expert to know this.” Jason glanced at Dick who was smiling at him. “I hope you don’t consider yourself an expert considering the failure that is your love life and your on and off relationship with Babs.” Dick shrugged. Yes, apparently he was. Cocky boy wonder. “I’m expert enough to know you don’t call someone you have sex with a friend.” “Oh come on! Ever heard of friends with benefits?” Jason harrumphed, slightly annoyed by his predecessor’s judgemental attitude right now. “Jason please. You guys are not friends with benefits and you know why? Cause your relationship is not platonic at all. You like Y/N and Y/N likes you. But you are too unconfident or too scared to admit it so you end up having sex when you don’t know how to handle your feelings anymore. Now can we take care of that bunch of lousy criminals before they escape with the money?” As much as it hurt Jason to admit it, Dick was right. He liked you. He liked you a lot. Maybe he was in love with you even, he didn’t know. But what he really knew right now was that he had screwed up, bad, and that he wanted to fix things between you two.

***

You turned your key in the keyhole, exhausted by your long day at work and blaming the snow that had literally frozen your toes and fingers on your way back home. “Maybe I should ask for a ugly pair of Uggs for Christ…mas” You couldn’t move, your limbs as frozen as your fingers and toes or maybe worse. Eyes widened you looked around you and at the thousands colourful lights illuminating your entire apartment and the Christmas decorations scattered all over the furniture. “What the hell happened here?” “Do you like it?” You yelled and jumped and, out of pure reflex and fear, punched hard the person standing right behind you before you could realise it was actually Jason. “Oh my god, Jay.” He groaned and put a hand over his nose to calm the pain. “Damn. I think you broke it.” “Let me see.” You tried to remove his hand from his face to see how badly injured he was. “No! Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it.” He cried out as a sign of protest but eventually let you take him inside right to your couch where you left him an instant to go fetch some ice in the freezer. “What are you doing here that late?” You asked as you came back to sit by his side. “I wanted to surprise you. I guess it worked.” He hissed as you finally put the small bag of ice against his nose. “You did this?” You asked as you looked again around you. There were probably at least dozens of flickering string lights hanging from the ceiling above your head as well as fake snow all over the floor of the living room and miniature Christmas trees and other lovely decorations carefully placed on the furniture. “Yeah.” “How? When?” You couldn’t believe he had done this. “This afternoon while you were gone. I entered by the window. You know you should check if they’re close before leaving.” You smile when you understood the nod to what you had told him last you saw each other. “Why?” “ Well. Because it’s dangerous of course. I mean a lunatic could enter and turn your place into a Christmas shop. Oops too late.” “ No, I mean. Why did you do this?” You asked again, not really in the mood to laugh at his joke right now. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it? … And I like you” He said while looking at you right in the eye. “And not as a friend. Cause clearly we’re not friends and we’re not …” You dropped the bag of ice to catch Jason by the neck and kiss him passionately. How long have you waited for him to finally say it. “Ow. Ow. Easy.” Jason complained right against your lips when your nose pressed too hard against his. “Sorry.” You whispered with a smile. “Don’t smile at my pain. I’m really hurt.” “Aren’t you a tough guy?” You teased, using his own arguments against him. “Not when I’m with you.” He confessed and approached your face again, slowly and carefully, to kiss your soft lips with a delicacy that made you shiver. “There are so many things I want to tell you, Y/N.” “ Then say them.” You whispered still close to his face, feeling his hot breath against your skin. “It would ruin Christmas’ spirit.” “I thought you didn’t like Christmas.” “I lied.”

#Jason Todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #dana harlowe #bat-christmas #one shot #jason todd one shot

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

PatB AU: Pinky the Snowmouse

This is just one of those late night ideas that I wanted to post. It’s somewhat based off that Frosty the Snowman special from the 60s with a dash of Pinocchio.

I haven’t actually watched either of these recently. My subconscious is just weird.

1. After his fallout with Snowball, Brain continues to aspire for world domination, but finds that he’s hit a block when it comes to plans. He doesn’t have inspiration nor anyone to bounce ideas off with, but he tries to push past it and just continue creating. There’s bound to be a gem or two amidst all the duds, he tells himself. And he doesn’t need anyone else, he can rule the world on his own.

2. ACME Labs hosts a Christmas party, and they invite a magician for entertainment. Brain is in his cage, brainstorming ideas for world domination while the scientists gather around for the magician’s performance. Brain knows magic is all just sleight of hand and optical illusions, and rolls his eyes at the magician failing to even manage that. The scientists all mock the magician, and their laughter grows more when the magician fails to pull a rabbit out of his hat.

3. The magician is laughed out of ACME Labs, and he swears revenge against all the scientists who work there. But he left his top hat on a table by Brain’s cage, and he doesn’t notice until later that night. ACME Labs closes, and Brain escapes his cage, glad that the party is finally over so he can get back to planning properly.

4. But loneliness creeps up on Brain again, and he tries to dismiss it as the reason he can’t concentrate. So he goes outside, where a thick layer of snow has covered the ground. He starts kicking around snow and eventually builds a snowmouse, wondering if he’s gone mad since he’s partaking in an activity that’s usually reserved for children and not future emperors.

5. He builds the snowmouse’s body first, using a stick for a tail and fashioning the head. Then he decides it’s missing some prerequisites to be a proper snowman, so he goes inside and gathers a bunch of buttons, a pink scarf, and lastly, the magician’s hat. He goes back to the snowmouse and dresses him up, then tosses on the hat as a finisher.

6. And boy, if Brain felt ridiculous before then now it was tripled since he decided to dress up the snowmouse like it was a real entity. He angrily starts berating himself for being distracted and that he needs to focus, because he can’t be like all those other scientists.

He declares that their collective minds are nothing compared to the intelligence in his pinky, and a voice answers ‘yes?’

7. Brain thinks he’s just hearing things, then the voice goes ‘oh, i thought you called my name. Narf!’

Then Brain turns around and freaks out, because holy crap the snowmouse he built was alive and talking. Brain dismisses it as a figment of his imagination at first, but as the newly christened Pinky the snowmouse displays a rather glaring lack of intelligence, he can’t help but be curious about how snow can come to life. He circles Pinky and tries to figure it out, taking off the magic hat, and Pinky goes still and silent. Brain quickly puts the hat on Pinky again, and soon the snowmouse is dancing around once more.

8. Unbeknownst to either of them, the magician saw the hat bring Pinky to life and decides he can profit off the hat, then follows the two mice.

9. Pinky gets distracted and wanders into town with Brain trailing after him and making sure Pinky’s stupidity and lack of awareness about the world doesn’t kill them both. To Brain’s dismay, he finds that Pinky takes in pop culture much faster than he does at science. It’s pretty ironic that Pinky already knows who Mariah Carrey is despite being alive for less than an hour, but he believes snowflakes are manufactured in an eco-friendly factory in the clouds.

10. Pinky sees a pair of lovers hugging, then tries to do the same with Brain. Unfortunately, all this does is make Brain shiver with cold, and Pinky feels bad for hurting him like that. Brain shouts at him for hugging, but when Pinky apologizes, Brain realizes it was just an accident and tells him not to do it again.

11. Pinky notices that images of Santa are plastered all over the place since it’s the holiday season, and wishes he could meet the big guy. This leads into inspiration for Brain to create his own line of toys and plant them in the elf factory for mass production and distribution. Brain praises Pinky for the inspiration.

12. Brain creates the Noodle Noggin plans and together the mice stow away in a plane bound for the North Pole. However, it’s necessary for Pinky to stay in cold temperatures, so they have to remain in the cargo hold and away from the heated cockpit. Brain is freezing despite being dressed for cold weather, and Pinky feels bad for not being able to keep him warm. Pinky says he wishes he could be a real mouse like Brain, so that he can be his friend forever.

Brain thinks the headaches Pinky gave him were pretty real, but the companionship and kindness were real too. He keeps quiet about this, unsure of what to say.

13. The magician has also stowed away on the plane.

14. The plane lands at the North Pole, and the mice head to the elf factory. They discover Pinky can’t enter the elf factory since it’s heated, so Brain goes in alone to slip the Noodle Noggin plans in with the other blueprints, while Pinky wanders off and explores the North Pole settlement.

15. Before Brain can successfully slip the blueprints in, the magician ambushes and successfully captures him, and the Noodle Noggin plans are torn beyond saving in the struggle. Angered at the loss of his plans, Brain demands the magician explain himself. The magician declares he gets a two for one profit, with a talking mouse and a magic hat, then realizes the snowmouse is missing and demands to know where he is.

16. Without the hat, Pinky can’t stay alive. Brain refuses to reveal Pinky’s location for any reason, and the magician tries to force it out of him. Brain is stubborn though and refuses to speak.

17. Pinky finishes wandering around the village and goes back to check on Brain, thinking he’s taking an awfully long time in the elf factory. He peeks in through a window, discovering that a man is hurting a very distressed Brain, who’s still resisting.

18. Pinky shouts for Brain, and gets the magician’s attention. Brain yells at him for drawing attention to himself, ordering him to run. But Pinky won’t do it, because Brain is in trouble and needs help.

19. The magician demands Pinky give up the magic hat. But Pinky will only give up the hat if he releases Brain. The magician agrees, but Brain knows full well that the magician is far too greedy and will go back on his word, and Pinky is giving up the hat and his life for a promise that won’t be kept.

20. With Brain in hand, the magician walks over to a fireplace and tells Pinky to come inside. The fireplace is bright and warm, and Brain orders Pinky to just leave, because the heat will kill him if he doesn’t. Pinky starts to melt as he comes closer, telling Brain it’s okay, he’s happy they’re friends, even if their time together was brief.

21. When Pinky is in front of the fireplace, the magician snatches the hat off his head, and renders Pinky lifeless. Reveling in victory, the magician releases Brain who hugs and begs Pinky to wake up and stop being stupid, just wake up and say narf, Pinky. Except Pinky can’t see or hear anymore, and is nothing more than cold, melting water with a few accessories. Brain is left crying and pleading for Pinky to come back, clutching a wet scarf in his hands. The magician mocks Brain for believing that a pile of snow had thoughts and feelings.

22. But the magician’s joy is cut short at Santa Claus’s sudden appearance. Angry that someone could take such mirth in murdering an innocent creature and cause so much grief in his best friend, Santa orders his elves to tie up the magician and take him away. The elves obey, and the magician is reduced to a pathetic mess.

23. Brain barely notices the commotion. Santa decides to grant Brain one Christmas wish, just to give him a little comfort. And Brain ponders, knowing that he journeyed all this way for world domination, and while he can easily cut a lot of hassle by using his wish to make himself ruler of the world...he remembers Pinky’s sacrifice.

Pinky’s compassion. Pinky’s kindness. How Pinky provided the inspiration he needed.

Brain admits to Santa that even if Pinky was made of snow, he still had the warmest heart he’d ever known.

24. Brain asks if it’s possible for Pinky to be revived with a body to reflect his warm heart.

25. Santa grants the wish. The puddle that used to be Pinky reshapes and forms into a living, breathing mouse with the softest, warmest fur imaginable. Pinky marvels at his new body and the mice have their first proper hug. Brain is overjoyed at Pinky being alive again, and Pinky is happy to be a real mouse at last.

26. Santa lets the mice ride home in his sleigh (Pinky falls in love with Donner on the way home and Brain learns what jealousy is for the first time and hopes to god they don’t get invited to any Donner parties). Meanwhile all the elves are sobbing with their hot cocoa, marshmallows, and candy canes while watching all the drama unfold on their security feed because this is the best Christmas drama they’ve seen in years.

#patb au #pinky and the brain #pinky the snowmouse

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

To Sit Outside Your Door

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Rated M, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Non-Explicit Sex, Feelings of Inadequacy, Demisexual Jiang Cheng

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

* * *

The progress of Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning's relationship has been slow.

Too slow, Jiang Cheng is afraid.

Despite the time that has passed, everything still feels new. Jiang Cheng still feels uncertain of himself every time he sees Wen Ning, still struggles to believe that despite the mistakes he made in the past, Wen Ning actually...cares about him.

And although nearly everyone knows Wen Ning is living near in Lotus Pier and has been gifted his own personal garden, Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning have made no public display of their status. Jiang Cheng would feel less guilty about that if he could just manage to be more affectionate privately.

It seems like Wen Ning is always the one initiating, and it eats at him.

Wen Ning will slip into Jiang Cheng's quarters while he is standing at his bookshelf sifting through the titles, and Wen Ning will give him that look that means he's waiting for approval. So Jiang Cheng will blush and nod, and Wen Ning will wrap his arms around him, rest his head on Jiang Cheng's shoulder and smile smugly while Jiang Cheng tries and fails to continue sorting through his bookshelf.

On walks together at night, when they stop to look out at the lake and no one is around, Wen Ning will give another of those looks, and Jiang Cheng will let him intertwine their hands. Suddenly it'll be hard for him to start a new conversation, so Wen Ning will just mumble softly about what he's done during the day.

Even when they sleep together, it's always Wen Ning who comes to his room, always Wen Ning who asks, always Wen Ning who is the first to slide off a layer of clothing or lean over to kiss or huddle close for them to rest in each other's arms.

And despite all of Wen Ning's asking, spoken or unspoken, he seems to know not to ask to have sex.

After all, Jiang Cheng can barely initiate the small things. He just...freezes up. Gets nervous. Wen Ning must know not to push him.

But it's not like Jiang Cheng isn't trying. And he does get better at it eventually. The first time he is the one to suddenly lean in and kiss Wen Ning during a lull in the conversation, and Wen Ning is so surprised he can barely stammer out a response, Jiang Cheng swells with pride and warmth and, dang, maybe he's been missing out. He could get used to this. Normally it's Wen Ning making him speechless and then gently teasing him about it. It's...kind of nice to be on the other end. Not easier. But nice.

They progress a bit more, privately and publicly, and now sometimes when they go to the night market in the town near Lotus Pier, the villagers will see them with their shoulders touching, or see Wen Ning place his hand on Jiang Cheng's arm (one time it was the small of his back, and Jiang Cheng blushed so hard and shot him such a look of panic that Wen Ning had to hold in his laughter and decided not to try that in public again).

So, although it's going slow, Jiang Cheng thinks he's getting better at this whole...relationship thing. He still feels utterly inadequate, but maybe a bit less than before. And Wen Ning doesn't seem to mind the slow pace. In fact, he insists that he doesn't mind, says that he never expected to have a relationship like this because of what he is now (and then Jiang Cheng grumpily reminds Wen Ning that he is a who, not a what), so Wen Ning is already beyond satisfied with anything Jiang Cheng has to offer.

Of course, that doesn't stop the nagging voice of inadequacy.

In fact, Jiang Cheng is growing frustrated with himself recently. He's started having thoughts he hasn't had about anyone before. Urges, even. He is sure Wen Ning has them too, but Wen Ning has not asked to do anything more than sleep together half-naked, and Jiang Cheng is still not at the point where he can ask for even that much, despite wanting it every time anyway.

More days pass, and finally Jiang Cheng feels like he might be ready. He wants Wen Ning in a way that is more than just someone to talk to about sect politics and nephews and childhood stories, or someone to kiss in a boat on the lotus lake, or someone to curl up next to at night. For once, he will be the one to ask for a new step in the relationship.

He just needs to work up the courage.

Surprisingly, he gets it from the juniors, of all people.

It happens on a night hunt when he overhears one of their conversations. Jin Ling is absent, as he has some clan business to deal with, and Wen Ning is off visiting Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, so Jiang Cheng is left by himself to watch over the remaining three juniors. (After all, Lan Sizhui is now just as much Jiang Cheng's kid as Jin Ling is, although Jiang Cheng would never admit that beyond a few words.)

From what he overhears, apparently Lan Jingyi has a girl he is interested in and is looking for relationship advice. Why he is asking about something so frivolous on a night hunt, Jiang Cheng has no idea, but the hunt has been boring enough that he lets it slide. Besides, he's not supposed to be hearing this anyway.

Ouyang Zizhen immediately goes into romantic mode (he read a poem about this exact situation!) and tells Lan Jingyi that he should find out what the girl likes and ask her on a date full of things that will make her happy.

"But what if I get it wrong?" Lan Jingyi complains. "It's all just guesswork!"

"If she returns your feelings," Lan Sizhui tells him, "she'll appreciate your effort, no matter whether the date is perfect or not. If the relationship is meant to happen, it will be you she truly cares about, not what happens on the date. She would be happy that you've decided to come forward with your feelings."

Upon hearing that, Jiang Cheng just...sinks farther into the underbrush and tucks the words away for later, furiously denying to himself that he is taking advice from children.

The next day, Jiang Cheng finds some time in between his work to do a bit of...ahem...research. This isn't something he's thought about before. But if he is going to do this, then goddammit he's going to do it well. By the time he's finished his surreptitious research session, his palms are a bit sweaty and his face is a bit pink, but he might have a handle on how this is all supposed to go.

Then he sees Wen Ning carrying cargo for a villager and looking incredibly sexy while doing it (he's just carrying crates, why does he look like that?), and Jiang Cheng is sent hurtling back to square one.

Didn't Wen Ning used to be awkward and nervous when he was younger? Why does he always seem so steady and sure of himself?

Jiang Cheng decides to focus on what he knows he can do right. He knows which stories from his childhood make Wen Ning laugh (he's an awful storyteller—they always come out stilted and unembellished, but for some reason Wen Ning likes them), he knows which candles Wen Ning thinks are pretty (those stupid ones shaped like flowers), he knows which of his night robes Wen Ning thinks look best (he wishes he didn't, but Wen Ning is a bit too bold about sharing the little things he enjoys and it drives him insane).

He also knows that he can catch Wen Ning at sunset in his garden where he usually checks on the plants before going inside, and that if he follows Wen Ning to his quarters and hesitates in the hallway before letting him close the door...he will definitely come to Jiang Cheng's room later that night.

So Jiang Cheng gets all of those things ready.

And sure enough, Wen Ning shows up at his room. A bit earlier than usual.

What Jiang Cheng doesn't know is how to stop his nerves from jumping at every movement, but Wen Ning is nothing if not a calming presence (when he wants to be), so it's...okay. So far.

Wen Ning is in the middle of telling an animated story about a ghost sighting during his visit with Wei Wuxian, and there is one part that is apparently so important that Wen Ning needs to stand up and act it out. He's in the center of Jiang Cheng's room, smiling and making stiff, oversized gestures, and it's such a bizarre combination of endearing and awkward and attractive that Jiang Cheng can't focus on the story anymore.

Suddenly Jiang Cheng realizes that he's on his feet. Wen Ning stops and blinks at him questioningly.

And Jiang Cheng just...stands there. Staring at Wen Ning. Heart racing. He looks like an idiot, he's sure of it.

By some grace of the gods, Wen Ning doesn't seem to find it weird. Instead he steps forward and wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng and gives him a kiss that is much too short. "You interrupted me," Wen Ning says.

"...I know that." Wen Ning gives him a smirk that is just barely teasing, and it ignites something inside Jiang Cheng. "Got a problem with it?"

Wen Ning grips him tighter. "I do." He gives one of those looks, waiting for approval, and once he finds it he kisses Jiang Cheng again. This kiss is much longer, soon becomes much rougher. Jiang Cheng matches it, and suddenly everything feels a lot easier. This is like he has something to fight. He knows how to fight.

They kiss until Jiang Cheng is short of breath—which isn't fair, because Wen Ning never gets short of breath—and soon they wind up on the bed, Jiang Cheng on his back and Wen Ning straddling him.

Once Wen Ning pulls away and looks down, his hair slightly messy and falling onto Jiang Cheng's chest, where his hands are now wandering and sending shivers through Jiang Cheng's body, suddenly everything feels a lot more difficult again.

The farthest they usually go after this is to take off some of their robes and kiss longer and eventually settle down to cuddle.

How can he ask for more?

Can he even give more?

Wen Ning leans down and kisses him again, this time soft and slow and gentle, like he has a secret he is passing through Jiang Cheng's lips. When he pulls away, his expression becomes hazy, as if he is lost. His eyes focus on Jiang Cheng's lips.

He cups the side of Jiang Cheng's face, the pressure from his fingers unsettlingly light, sending a tingle all the way down Jiang Cheng's neck. Slowly, he traces his thumb over Jiang Cheng's lips.

By the time he lifts his thumb, Jiang Cheng wants to melt into the mattress and disappear. Or maybe jump up and run away.

Actually, he wants Wen Ning to do it again.

And Wen Ning does, gently brushing his lips a second time. Heat surges through Jiang Cheng, and he catches Wen Ning's thumb between his teeth.

Wen Ning's eyes widen. He freezes.

This is—this is—holy shit why did he do this Wen Ning's fucking thumb is in his mouth—

In a split second, Jiang Cheng's mind functions enough for him to realize he has two choices: let go, or do something more. It does not seem like he is going to be able to rely on Wen Ning to take the next step this time, because Wen Ning actually looks broken. He's staring down at Jiang Cheng with a mixture of terror and amazement, his lips twitching, his free hand pressing firmer into Jiang Cheng's chest, his fingers starting to dig into Jiang Cheng's robes.

A voice at the back of Jiang Cheng's mind tells him that this next move might very well get him killed—if not by Wen Ning, then definitely by his own heart malfunctioning—but he can't stop himself. He runs his tongue over the pad of Wen Ning's thumb.

A short gasp escapes Wen Ning. "Don't do that," he whispers.

Maybe the months of Wen Ning's gentle teasing has finally gotten to Jiang Cheng, or maybe he has a death wish, or maybe he is just possessed, but he runs his tongue over a longer path this time.

Wen Ning jerks his hand away. Jiang Cheng's heart is pounding. This feels like the calm before the storm, as Wen Ning glances back and forth between his hand and Jiang Cheng, his expression beginning to harden.

"I said not to do that." Wen Ning's voice is shaking.

Jiang Cheng swallows.

A sharp jolt as Jiang Cheng's back is shoved deeper into the mattress. Wen Ning has him pinned by the shoulders. "Tell me to stop."

Jiang Cheng bites his lower lip in as he stares up at Wen Ning, their gazes locked. There is a hunger in Wen Ning's eyes he has never seen before. He doesn't know if he is enough to satisfy it.

"Tell me to stop now."

"I'll decide when you stop," Jiang Cheng says through his teeth.

Wen Ning's eyes round, and suddenly his expression softens, the pressure on Jiang Cheng's shoulders lightened. "You...you will?"

Jiang Cheng's gut sinks. This is the part he didn't want to get to.

A strained tension returns to Wen Ning's face as he grips Jiang Cheng's shoulders tighter. "Then...then ask me start."

"Do I look like a beggar to you?" Jiang Cheng's nerves are at the point of snapping, adrenaline coursing through him. He would rather try to strangle Wen Ning than ask for this.

Wen Ning leans farther over him. His voice is stern. "If you don't tell me to start, I won't do anything."

Jiang Cheng was already hard before this point. Now his cock is throbbing. His breath is heavy. "Fuck you."

The curtain of silky black hair slowly falls on Jiang Cheng's chest and neck as Wen Ning lowers, drawing close to the side of Jiang Cheng's face. His lips just barely brush in front of Jiang Cheng's ear, softly stroking his cheek as if Wen Ning is mouthing words, but no sound comes out.

Finally, his voice a tangled breath, he whispers into Jiang Cheng's skin, "What does that mean?"

There is no way out. No alternative. He knows how stubborn Wen Ning can be.

He shuts his eyes tight. "...Fuck me."

With a sudden force, Wen Ning grabs Jiang Cheng's wrists and pins them to the bed, then buries his face in Jiang Cheng's neck, scrapes his teeth all the way down to his collarbone. Climbs back up to Jiang Cheng's lips and kisses him while fumbling with his robes, beginning to open them.

They've barely started, and Jiang Cheng is already overwhelmed, each touch sending a rush through him. Wen Ning seems to want to do everything at the same time, and Jiang Cheng feels a pang of guilt as he wonders how long Wen Ning waited for this.

That thought is wiped away when Wen Ning lifts up from Jiang Cheng and begins carefully untying his robes, glancing into Jiang Cheng's eyes once in a while as if to check that he can continue. Meanwhile Jiang Cheng does his best to avoid Wen Ning's eyes.

Once Jiang Cheng is fully naked, his already-obvious erection plain to see, while Wen Ning is still clothed, he realizes that this really was a death wish. His entire body is burning.

Wen Ning strokes his cheek, trails his hand all the way down his torso, comes to a pause. "I'll be right back." He hesitates, then gets up from the bed and disappears.

The wait is agonizing. If Jiang Cheng's body was on fire before, now he feels like he is slowly freezing into ice as he lies on his back, alone, mind racing.

When Wen Ning returns, there is a small bottle in his hand, and his robes are...gone.

Well, fuck.

It's not like Jiang Cheng hasn't seen Wen Ning shirtless before. He has.

But now he can see how the black veins stretch over his lower abdominals, over his hips, like dark trails begging Jiang Cheng to dig his fingers into them, and he can see how Wen Ning is bigger than he expected...

The rest goes surprisingly smoothly. Wen Ning tells Jiang Cheng exactly what to do (which sends Jiang Cheng's thoughts wild with the implication that Wen Ning might have experience?), and Jiang Cheng manages some garbled noise of assent at each step.

The one problem is that they're facing each other, and Jiang Cheng doesn't know if he can handle being this seen for much longer.

"You feel so good," Wen Ning murmurs.

Jiang Cheng's breath gets stuck in his throat, and he makes a noise that definitely does not sound like a sect leader.

Wen Ning runs his hands along Jiang Cheng's sides, his chest, his hips. There is a deepness in his eyes, and Jiang Cheng feels like he is being pulled into it. "I...I like how you feel."

He sounds so sincere that it sends a rush of warmth from Jiang Cheng's face to his fingertips to his cock and nearly sends him over the edge.

He instantly flushes with embarrassment. He can't come already, they've barely even started—

Wen Ning slows his movements, almost pausing, and opens his mouth as if he is going to say something else.

"Shut up," Jiang Cheng snaps.

"You're—"

"Shut up."

"You're so perfect—"

Jiang Cheng's cock throbs. His face is on fire. "Shut up and get on with it!"

Wen Ning does not get on with it. Instead, he just stares at Jiang Cheng, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk.

"Don't fucking smile at me!" Wen Ning's smirk grows wider, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Jiang Cheng can't take it. He hides his face in his hands. "Goddammit, Wen Ning!"

He feels Wen Ning dotting kisses over his stomach. He presses his hands harder against his face and shuts his eyes tight.

The rest is...fucking good. Sometimes Wen Ning says a few more things that make him want to go hide at the bottom of the lake, but thankfully he only uses them sparingly, and at last both of them are spent.

They lie on their sides facing each other, long-held tension released from Jiang Cheng's muscles and his eyes beginning to close with the lingering weight of release. Wen Ning tucks a strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng's ear. "I like seeing you this way, when you're tired. Relaxed."

"Stop looking at me."

A soft laugh. "Okay." He scooches closer and places his hand behind Jiang Cheng's head, gently guiding him forward to curl up in Wen Ning's arms.

"...That was...nice."

"I think so too." Wen Ning hugs him tighter. "I'm glad we could share this."

Jiang Cheng melts farther into his embrace and closes his eyes.

"You know...I'm happy whether we do this or not."

Jiang Cheng pulls away to meet his eyes.

"Really." Wen Ning's gaze is gentle. "Even if we never did, I'd still be happy."

A smile tugs at Jiang Cheng's lips. He buries his face in Wen Ning's chest to hide it. "We...could do it again. Maybe. Sometime."

"Only if you want to," Wen Ning says softly. "Just holding you is more than enough already."

He pulls Wen Ning closer.

Enough.

He might not feel this way tomorrow, but right now...he might believe it.

* * *

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

#chengning #mdzsnet #jiang cheng #wen ning #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs #cql #the untamed #ningcheng #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #cql fanfic #emilu fics #emilu creations

31 notes · View notes

cairparavei · 3 years

Text

when love comes | ivar (vikings)

requested by @kingleshe

pairing: ivar x f!reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: language, the lothbroks being assholes (kinda, all of them except for ubbe)

You had known them since middle school.

The four brothers had always been a mystery to you, until you dumped into Ubbe, the oldest, accidentally.

You used to have a normal friendship; nothing too remarkable, until their parents passed, and you found yourself in the middle of the four brothers, letting them take their rage and sadness on you, making yourself worth of their trust.

Which was a good thing, because everyone knew that messing with a Lothbrok could only mean trouble.

It all went better ever since. They used to be the popular kids in high school, and almost every guy was scared of them.

In fact, they made your prom date leave you hanging just because they didn’t like his necktie, or so the guy said, and you had no choice but to go with Hvitserk.

Not that you were complaining; Hvitserk had grown into a very nice looking man, but you really liked this date you managed to get for yourself, so you were disappointed when you heard your parents’ house bell ring and saw the brothers waiting for you outside, instead of him.

Time passed and you were still as close as ever, and not a day comes by that you’re not thankful to Ubbe for being clumsy as hell that day, and the next one, and then the next until he introduced you to the rest of his brothers.

To sum up, you claimed Ubbe as your big brother, since he was always overprotective because you apparently are the little sister he always wished to have, and not a bunch of horny teenagers to take care of every time they went to a party and drank more than what their bodies could handle.

On the other side, you were like the chamber of secrets for the two middle brothers, Hvitserk and Sigurd. They told you everything from the first time they failed an exam to the most detailed description on how they lost their virginities, and they knew very well you wouldn’t say a word about it, for they also knew your biggest secret; you’ve been in love with Ivar since the day you met him.

They constantly teased you about it, claiming he felt the same towards you and that you were going to have to tell him sooner or later, but you kept knocking this issue off until it was completely necessary.

In fact, Hvitserk and Sigurd had told Ivar for you, but both of them were so drunk none of them remember, and, how did you know about this?

Ubbe heard them.

It happened when he picked them up from a party a couple of weeks ago actually. Both were sitting in the back of Ubbe’s car, and he noticed that they were whisper-arguing, until Sigurd raised his voice and told Ivar he was being blind for not noticing how you had eyes for nobody but him.

Of course, Ivar was oblivious.

As soon as Ubbe arrived home with them, he left Ivar in the car, half asleep, and accompanied Sigurd to your shared flat. First thing he did was glare at you for not telling him before, for he could have helped you.

“Someone had better be dying if you’re calling me this late.”; Ivar threatened over the phone.

“Ivar, I’m bored, and I can’t sleep”, you pouted over the phone. “Come over, please?”

“Listen, Y/N, it’s almost 4 a.m., and you share a flat with Sigurd, why can’t you just wake him up instead of me? I have classes tomorrow if you didn’t know”

“Okay, first of all, he’s not here. Second, I have classes as well, and lastly” you remarked. “I want to see you. You’ve been avoiding me for days, what the hell is wrong with you? Am I not your best friend? We don’t ignore best friends in this household, Ivar Lothbrok”

You heard Ivar sigh on the other side of the call, and after a while he finally agreed to visit you.

You hung up happily and started to make yourself look presentable.

You really had missed Ivar lately. One day the Lothbroks throw a party, then the next it seems like you barely exist to one of them.

It’s not like you had done anything bad, or that you thought, so you found no reason for Ivar to behave like this.

A few minutes later you heard the door open. All of Sigurd’s brothers had a spare key, just in case something happened; which usually meant they were too wasted to go to their own homes so they crashed at your place.

You peeked outside from the kitchen to see Ivar taking of his shoes and coat.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you took the opportunity to observe him – he had his hair in a small bun, his glasses on, and was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. Straight out of bed, you thought.

He made his way to the kitchen and took one of the cups you were holding.

“What’s going on, Y/N?”, he asked out of nowhere.

“What, can I not invite my best friend over without a reason?”

“Not if you call at 4 a.m. and make hot chocolate. It’s more than clear you want to talk about something”

You shivered and looked over him, making his way to the living room and taking a seat in the sofa.

You knew each other like the back of your hands, but were you really that obvious?

“I told you, I couldn’t sleep”, you said sitting on the other side of the couch.

“Why, are you afraid of the dark, sweetheart?”, he smiled.

“Shut up, asshole”, you said, laughing.

The Lothbroks used to tease you often, but especially when you moved in with Sigurd and had to spend your first night in your new place all alone and pretty scared, because he had decided it was a good idea to attend some random girl’s party because “he was in desperate need of human warmth”. So when it became way too terrifying for you to tolerate it, you called over Ivar to spend the night with you.

“Now, tell me what’s wrong. You don’t call someone at this hour for nothing. I don’t believe it’s just because you ‘can’t sleep’”.

You sighed. You really couldn’t let a small lie go past him.

“You’re being weird with me these days. For no reason. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong to you or anyone for you to be distant as fuck”, you told him, putting your cup on the small table in front of you. You sat back, facing him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m not being weird, you’re overreacting”, he said, and you furrowed your brows.

What in the actual fuck?

“I am not.”, you remarked, “Just like it’s obvious of me to make hot chocolate when something doesn’t feel right, it is for you too when you haven’t been the same towards me these days.”

He licked his lips and looked down at his cup of chocolate. He smiled to himself, noticing you had given him your Toothless cup, just as you used your Light Fury one.

It was kind of funny to him, because you always screamed that you would only share you ‘How to train your dragon’ stuff with who you would consider to be the love of your life.

“You just don’t want to believe it, Ivar. But you know very well that she’s always looked at you with the brightest eyes.” Sigurd said drunkenly; “Or are you really that much of an idiot? I mean, you’re not the brightest of guys, but I thought of you as an intelligent person, baby brother”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Sig, you don’t know what you’re saying.”, Ivar answered.

“I won’t shut up until you notice”, Sigurd hiccupped, “Or at least until you admit you feel the same for her”.

Ivar frowned. They knew. But how? He knew his brothers, and they would only mess this all up if he had told them.

Being the youngest, he had seen his brothers have their hearts broken, especially Ubbe’s.

Breaking up with his long-time girlfriend, and childhood friend as well, meant for them to lose contact with her completely, and that scared Ivar.

Like, really. He was scared to the point that, if confessing meant losing you, he would rather dig his own grave and let some wild dogs rip his arms and legs out until he no longer breathed.

Yes, that much you meant to him. Not only Ivar, but to his brothers as well.

You were like the glue that stick them together, for he knows they wouldn’t be talking to each other anymore if it wasn’t because you were there to help them solve their problems.

Like that one time he and Sigurd had the biggest argument and you literally took him by his ear, forced him to eat his own ego, and apologise to Sigurd for ruining his possible ‘potential long-termed relationship’ by telling the girl he had a fart kink.

“Ivar!”, you snapped him out of his daydreaming, sighing “I’m fucking talking to a brick”

“I’m sorry”, he said, “I was thinking. There’s a lot on my mind right now, I’m really sorry, Y/N”.

“Then let it all out, Ivar, you know that’s what I’m here for”, you smiled softly, taking his hands in yours.

You really had no idea what you did to him.

You cleared his mind whenever you talked to him, and gave him goosebumps whenever you held his hands or snuggled up to him every time you slept over at their place and they chose to watch a horror film

What both of you weren’t aware of is that both Ubbe and Hvitserk did it on purpose, since they were able to see how much you liked to be close to him, feeling his warmth when he put his arms around you and told you repeatedly how he would protect you if anything happened to you, as well as how much he enjoyed being able to be the one to calm you on stressing situations.

Suddenly your phone, which was on the table as well, lit up. You both looked over as a knee-jerk action, and he noticed you had a picture of him as your wallpaper.

“You have some explaining to do as well, miss”, he said, smiling, “I don’t remember giving you permission to use me as your wallpaper”

“Ah, shut up, you know very well I don’t need it”, you laughed, “You’ll have your explanation, but you go first”

“I really have no choice, right?”, he smiled softly while you shook your head no.

He shifted in his seat, facing you as well, and took your other hand in his. You heard him take the biggest breath of air while looking down at your intertwined hands, and you were able to see fear in his eyes when he looked back at you.

“I’m scared, Y/N”, he started, “I’m scared of doing something that could make you run away from me”

You stared at him, your breath stuck in your throat.

“I could never leave you, Ivar, none of you. Tell me what’s wrong, please”, you said, tightening your hold in his hands, trying to reassure him you weren’t leaving.

He took both of your hands and lead them towards his mouth, kissing them softly before supporting his forehead on them.

“Just tell me, Ivar, don’t overthink it. I’m sure whatever it is, we can make it work, nothing bad will happen if you and I stick together, remember?

You felt him smile in your hands. He straightened his back and snuggled you close to him until you were sitting in his lap facing him. He then hugged you tightly, pulling you as close as he could. You felt him shaking a bit.

“It’s okay, Ivar, we don’t have to talk about it now, I’m sorry if you feel pressured”, you told him.

“I just can’t find the right words”, he sighed. “I didn’t think I would ever have to tell you all this shit I’m feeling, I’m so sorry”.

“Don’t be, and don’t say those things about yourself”, you hugged him tightly, “You’re the most amazing person I know, Ivar. You have your tantrums, yes, but who doesn’t?”

You took his face into your hands, and looked him in the eyes.

“I love you, Ivar. You know damn well I love the four of you with all my heart, but out of all of them, you’re the most intelligent, talented, and handsome. You hear me?”, you asked, and he nodded, “And it doesn’t matter how bad whatever that’s going on inside that stubborn head of yours, I’m not going anywhere, okay? It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me yet, I understand, and it’s completely fine”

You were about to keep talking, but, as you were about to do so, he put one of his hands over your mouth while his other one kept you still and close to him by circling around your waist.

“I don’t deserve you. None of us do, actually, but I couldn’t care less about them now”, he started, “I... Remember that time when we went on a picnic that turned into a photo session and then in a cinema date, months ago? That day made me realize I was starting to catch feelings for you. I thought it was just the heat of the moment, but once they came, those feelings never left. I found myself thinking even more about you, and all I knew was that I didn’t see you as a friend anymore”

You frowned, scared of what he could say.

He took off his glassed and put them on the table and rubbed his eyes before looking back at you with the most sparkly eyes you had ever seen.

“Don’t think of this as a bad situation. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me, and I know how awkward you get whenever a guy tells you he likes you, or how you don’t even speak to boys after you go out on a date with them. That’s why I didn’t tell you all this before. I don’t want you to feel strange around me. God, I should have kissed you when I dropped you off at your parents’ house that night. You looked so pretty back then”

He was caressing your face now. You were trying to get all those words he had said into your head. You were trying to believe this was really happening and was not some made-up scenario happening in your head while you were trying to sleep.

“You mean so much to me, Y/N”, he continued, “I don’t even know what I would do if you weren’t around anymore. I don’t want you to leave my side, I feel like I need to know what is like to kiss you whenever I want, to make love to you until we can no longer breath. It may sound childish, or stupid, but I need to know what is like to be loved by you”

You felt like your heart was going to get out of your chest from how hard it was beating.

Ivar, your Ivar, the one you’ve loved for so many years, was here confessing to you.

You couldn’t find the words to tell him you felt the same, and that you were never in your life going to leave him, so you did what your mind, body and heart told you to.

You kissed him. And he kissed you back with such passion you thought you were going to run out of air. You were holding his face firmly while he snaked his arms around your waist again, pulling you as close as possible without breaking apart from the kiss.

You both knew what this kiss meant. You both knew that, after this night, nothing would ever be the same between you; at last, it was going to get the best it could. You both were telling the other one that you loved them deeply. You both were giving your hearts and souls to each other.

You leaned back until your forehead touched his, and whispered a soft “I’m in love with you”.

“I’m so in love with you too, Y/N, you have no idea”, he whispered back.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar the king #ivar fanfic #ivar scenario #ivar imagine #vikings #vikings au #vikings imagine #vikings scenario #modern!vikings #modern au

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phantoms-lair · 3 years

Text

The Phantom Detective Redux Chapter 3

“Vultures, that’s definitely Vlad’s work.” Danny glared at the ceiling. He wished the little girl who also spoke English had told him that over the phone. He could have been flying around trying to find them instead of wasting time getting here.

In all of the mess of last night with him accidently turning Conan into a halfa (and wasn’t THAT unsettling? Was that a new power he could just do? Could Vlad?), he’d never gotten a clear answer as to why Vlad was after Conan.

Like, yeah the kid was scary smart, but Danny hadn’t realized it until he’d spoken to him and as far as he’d known Vlad hadn’t. And his initial guess that it was because he was the detective's son (in an attempt to blackmail said detective) was dashed by Conan admitting he was under a ‘witness protection program’. He doubted Vlad wouldn’t have done the research to show that.

He needed to find some way to keep him safe, but most of the methods he knew for keeping malevolent ghosts out weren’t exactly safe for Halfa use. Which Conan was now for unknown reasons.

He could think about that later. Right now he needed to track the vultures, save his fellow Halfa and-

His train of thought was interrupted by the door slamming open and the girl he had saved yesterday from Skulker storming in with Conan in her arms. She did not look happy.

This was borne out as she began yelling at them in Japanese, only for the small girl to say something involving his name.

“I don’t speak Japanese, but I am very fluent in being thrown under the bus.” Danny said with a mild glare as the angry girl turned on him.

The short walk to the Professor’s (it hadn’t been very far) had given Ran more than enough time to build up a heady steam of indignation. As much as she wanted to shake Conan-Shinichi and demand answers, she couldn’t do that right now. He wasn’t waking up, which scared her and fed her anger even more.

Shinichi had been lying to her. And Agasa had been helping him. And if one couldn’t give her answers, the other would.

She barely stopped to kick off her shoes as she marched in the door. The Professor was there with Ai-chan and someone she didn’t know. In any other circumstance, she’d be more discrete, but she was done.

“Hakase, why did I just see Shinichi turn into Conan? Why did he look so strange? What else have you been keeping from me?”

Everyone in the room looked at her in shock. Surprisingly, it was Ai-chan who spoke first. “Danny did something weird to him. We don’t understand what.” ‘Danny’ glared at her and said something in English. That was all the impetus Ran needed to turn on him. “What did you do to Shinichi?”

He responded in English again. Ran wasn’t doing badly in her lessons, but he spoke too fast and she was too flustered to translate.

Cona-Shinichi held protectively in her arms, she lashed out with her right leg. The boy ducked back, still shouting in English. Ran shifted her weight and struck again.

The kick should have smacked him in the head, if not for the fact that his head detached from his shoulders, floating half a foot above. There were twin thuds as Ran misstepped her landing and Haibara fell to the floor in a dead faint. Agasa didn’t look much better himself.

Danny reached up, grabbed his head, and pulled it back onto his shoulders. Conan was still out cold and the only other English speaker had fainted. Great.

He looked to the Professor in a silent plea for help while the kicky girl just looked at him in terror. The Professor looked at him with a bit of fear in his eyes, but he turned to the girl and began to speak. Danny only hoped they were friendly words.

"Ran-kun, I know was Danny-kun did was scary," And wasn't that underestimation. As much impossible as he had seen in the past day, that took things one step too far. "But he has been trying to help fix whatever it is he did."

"H-He's a monster!" Ran stammered, clutching Shinichi tighter to her.

Agasa winced. Not just for Danny's sake, but for Shinichi's as well. At least he hadn't been awake to hear it. "Danny-kun's not normal, it's true. But that doesn't make him evil."

"What is he?"

"A yūrei hanyou. At least that's as close a translation as Shinichi-kun and I got." Not much use in hiding that little tidbit when she'd seen him transform.

"You mean yōkai hanyou. A yūrei hanyou doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't and that's driven Shinichi-kun up the wall." Once quite literally. He'd paced to the end of the room and had gotten halfway up a wall before realizing what was happening. Gravity had temporarily reasserted itself, only for him to catch himself mid-fall, levitating a few inches above the floor before falling the rest of the way. But it didn't seem like a good idea to mention it at the moment. "That's the best translation we have though. Danny-kun doesn't speak Japanese."

Ran turned her attention to the harmless looking boy she's just seen decapitate himself. He was a monster and he'd done something to Shinichi, but apparently was trying to help? She needed answers so badly, but didn't think her English comprehension was good enough to understand them. She thought for a moment and cradling Shinichi in one arm she pulled out her phone. She typed a few moments then held up the screen for him to see. On one side was Japanese, on the other the words 'What did you do to him'

He looked at the screen then pulled his own phone out of his pocket and began typing before showing her 'I think he absorbed some of my ectoprism. I don't know how. It's never happened before.'

Ectoprism? Okay she didn't know that word. And somehow Shinichi absorbed it? 'What is ectoprism?'

Danny assumed she meant ectoplasm. 'Basically the essence of ghosts. The accident pushed a lot into my DNA.'

Ran felt a shiver down her spine at the idea of 'Ghost Essense' being shoved into someone's genetics. 'What kind of accident' She regretted it a moment later when he saw her question and just looked sad and uncomfortable.

He was claiming to be part ghost, was she asking about his death? Was that a taboo subject? Somehow the question 'Are you dead?' didn't seem any better. So she switched her question. 'How did you make Shinichi a child?'

He stared at her phone, but this time just looked confused. He fumbled with his phone a bit. 'What is a shinichi?'

She gave him a look and pointed at the child she was holding. He typed back and showed her 'Conan is a shinichi? I don't know why he was older. It was weird. Maybe it's because he's an adult for his age?

That gave Ran pause. Danny's answers had all been about ghostly things, none of it about Shinichi deaging. And the fact that he didn't seem to know his real name was even a name... "Hakase?" Ran asked in a dangerously sweet voice. "Is there a reason Danny-san, who I was just told was responsible for this, doesn't know Shinichi's real name, and in fact seems to think Conan-kun somehow aged up into Shinichi?"

"Ah well, that is to say, the part Danny-kun's responsible for, that only happened last night." Agasa definitely looked nervous as he helped Ai onto her bed.

Her eyes narrowed. "Okay, then why don't you tell me the rest of the story."

Well apparently whatever he'd said had been enough to turn her attention to the Professor. She was still mad, but not at him, so good? He had no idea what was going on, though.

He wished he had someone with him that could help him explain and spoke Japanese and English and... Danny smacked himself in the face then hit a contact number on his phone. "Jazz, are you free? I need some help?"

"Kisaki-san is talking to Mom so sure. Is this about Vlad?"

"Kinda, but not really." Danny sighed. "So Vlad's been targeting this kid I thought was the detective's son-"

"The one you thought could see right through you?"

"...Yes, and you will understand once you meet him, but that's not the problem. The problem is I...kinda turned him into a halfa last night."

There was silence on the other end, then "*What? Danny what the actual fu-wHAT DID YOU DO????”

"I just touched him Jazz. And it was like my transformation ring spread like fire over him." Danny ran a hand through his hair. "And now someone I think is his older sister is here, and I'm using google translate to try and explain, and there's something else going on she's mad at this professor guy over and...Jazz I need help." He heard her sigh over the phone.

"Send me your address, I'll be right there."

Danny hung up and texted her the number. He looked over to the girl and Professor, they were talking about something, something that seemed serious. Also that word shinichi kept popping up. It had something to do with Conan, and he really wished he could find a translation.

The more Agasa talked, the more Ran wanted to scream. She felt hurt, used. She looked at the child who wasn't still wrapped in her arms. She wanted to rage at him, but he still wouldn't wake up and that kept an undercurrent of worry beneath all her anger.

"Was this all just a game to him? A joke I was too stupid to figure out?"

"Ran-kun no he..." Agasa looked at the still unconscious Shinichi. "You've never seen the back and forth. It's torture. He used to scream..." Agasa shut his eyes. In a way he hated that Shinichi had become so used to the pain he didn't anymore. “There was a very real chance each transformation would kill him. As it is, he has permanent heart damage, barring this whole ghost thing that none of us understand."

"If Shinichi-kun were truly selfish, he could have started over. Left everything behind and began a new life. That would have been the smartest thing he could have done. But he clung to the one thing that made his old life worth keeping. He clung to you, because you were the most important thing he has. And he'd rather face death then leave you behind. He never took a cure without the intent to see you."

But Agasa was wrong. She had heard the screams. In the diplomat’s house, and after the case where Shinichi was being impersonated. She’s always convinced herself they were nothing, since nothing appeared to be wrong afterwards, but that sound had shaken her.

And Shinichi was still Shinichi after that last incident, which meant after being in that pain he’d immediately gone through it again

“How are you sure? About the heart damage?” Ran asked quietly.

Agasa was quiet for a moment. “Ai-kun had a bad cold and started to feel pain in her stomach. The doctor wanted to do an ultrasound to check her organs, but she was scared, so Conan volunteered.” He didn’t mention that this had been carefully orchestrated. Not the illness or the kidney infection, but when Ai realized she might get an ultrasound she got the idea to give them a chance to check Shinichi’s internal organs in a way she normally couldn’t.

If the technician hadn’t been focused on the frightened little girl and looking at the screen when she held the scanner over Shinichi’s chest…

“I saw the scarring myself, on the ultrasound screen.” Agasa was very solemn. “He’s been cut off from the temporary cures since, but with so much damage already done-”

“Dai-job-boo-dee-sooka?”

They turned and saw Danny, looking at his screen. He was frowning as though he knew the pronunciation of whatever he was trying to say was off. Finally just turned his phone around so they could see what he was trying to say. Daijōbu desu ka Are you okay?

No, she was very much not okay. She fumbled for a moment with her own phone, now even less willing to put him down. ‘Conan’s heart is hurt’

Danny frowned. The kid was a bit young for romantic heartache so - oh. Oh no.

His face must have given something away, because her eyes narrowed. ‘What’

‘I had a bad idea’ he typed back. He didn’t want to say more, but the look she gave him demanded it. ‘Ectoplasm should not affect a normal person, but if he was probably very close to death’

The response hit Ran in the gut harder than any of the blows she’d taken during her matches. Whatever Danny had done to Shinichi had happened because Shinichi was dying. And he was dying because he refused to give her up.

A sudden knocking at the door startled them all. Danny brightened and ran for the door.

Ran and Agasa shared a confused look.

Danny came back with a young woman with bright red hair. "Hello, you must be Conan's older sister." The girl said in clear, but accented Japanese. "My name's Jazz, Danny's my little brother, he called me to help."

"Your brother?" Ran asked, even as she inwardly shrunk at the reminder of Danny still being under the misconception she had been until not to long ago. "Are you...like him?"

"One hundred percent normal human, if that's what you're asking." Jazz reassured. "But I've been helping my brother adapt for the past years, so I'm very familiar with what's going on." Of course the early days were her weak spot, as she hadn't known till about two months later, and hadn't been let in on everything till the stupid test incident.

"Do you know why he won't wake up?" Ran asked in a small voice.

Jazz asked Danny something in English, then nodded and turned her attention back to Ran. "Basically his system didn't have the ectoplasm reserves for what he tried to pull off to escape the creature that kidnapped him-"

The what that did what now? How many loops was she being left out of?

"-and his body strained itself trying to maintain. He'll sleep until his ectoplasm levels are back at a safe amount. The first time Danny tried pulling a stunt like that, he was out for four hours."

"His ectoplasm levels? I don't understand. Danny-san said that he'd absorbed some ghost-essence from him but..."

Jazz pinched her nose. "Right. Google translate. Okay, so normally ectoplasm, the 'Ghost-Essence', has no effect on humans whatsoever. But there are rare cases that involve a lot of ectoplasm and a fair amount of electricity that can alter a human body to the point where their mitochondria start creating it instead of the usual oxygen based chemical energy. This causes the person to exhibit certain ghost-like traits."

"Yūrei hanyou." Ran whispered.

"In a nutshell." Jazz agreed, making note of the term. She'd take it over halfa, if for no other reason that Vlad must have approved of the term for it to be bandied about so much.

And now Ran understood what Danny had done. No wonder he'd had trouble explaining it, the concept shouldn't exist. This wasn't some one and done magical side effect of absorbing some ectoplasm from Danny, something that shouldn't have even happened if he hadn't been dying by inches.

Co-Shinichi was in the process of becoming a yūrei hanyou. That's why he'd looked so strange as Shinichi. Unbidden, every scary story about people becoming monsters flooded her mind. No. No she could not focus on that because obviously it wasn't true. Danny still had a close connection to his human family. His big sister had stood by him, she'd have to too.

(Though she had no idea how to define her relationship to him at the moment)

"I can answer any questions you have, but we might want to wait until he wakes up, I'm sure he has a bunch too." Jazz continued on, unaware of all the thoughts running through Ran's head.

"He speaks English, wouldn't Danny have-"

Jazz let out a frustrated puff of air. "Oh I have no doubt brother dearest tried explaining. But Danny's not," she glanced at her brother, "he's not the most adept at explaining things even when they're not deeply personal and he's not panicking all over the place, which it seems is what he's been doing. Not that he doesn't have reason. This nice family vacation has turned into a cluster." She sighed deeply. "But one thing I really need to impress is how important this is to keep a secret."

Ran felt something dark curdle in her stomach. That sounded enough like what Agasa-hakase had been saying to bring the bitter feeling back. "Why?"

Jazz clenched her hand worriedly. "Are you familiar with a law in America called the Anti-Ecto Act? It basically states that 'Ectoplasmic Entities', despite being sentient and sapient, are not living people and don't the same - or any- inalienable rights. And they don't differentiate between yūrei hanyou and true ghosts."

"If Danny was discovered, he'd be taken to a government facility. The Agents were boasting about all the painful experiments they were going to perform on him. Thankfully Danny convinced them they were wrong about him." She certainly wasn't going to go into the magic artifact with mind wiping capacity.

“But for a short time we had proof of how people would react to a yūrei hanyou's existence. Those that knew him stood by him, but..to anyone else, he was just a monster, a threat. And I don't know if Japan has an equivalent to the Anti-Ecto Act, but I do know that you place a greater emphasis on conformity than America does. And yūrei hanyou definitely break that mold."

Ran wanted to argue that Shinichi had never conformed to anything, not since preschool when he'd accused the teacher of trying to do something terrible to her. But she knew the difference between excelling and nonconforming, and the truth was Shinichi excelled, physically and mentally.

This was very different. If word got out Conan was Shinichi, these mysterious people in Black Clothes would kill him. If word got out he was a yūrei hanyou, his life would be effectively over. It felt like balancing on the edge of a knife. Shinichi standing on tiptoe, trying to avoid falling into ruin. "How did your parents take it?"

Jazz's expression darkened. "Our parents' work was instrumental in helping draft the Anti-Ecto Act."

"What? How could they?"

"They don't know. Danny always insisted if they did, they'd change. They'd love him anyways. But it's been two years and he hasn't told them. I don't think he's ever going to. In some ways he feels safer with actual malevolent spirits that definitely mean him harm, because he knows they can't hurt him the same way Mom and Dad can." Emotionally or physically. "It's not healthy growing up and hearing your parents talking about how much they'd enjoy ripping apart beings like you 'molecule by molecule'."

Ran shuddered. Hearing it that way, it sounded like the ghosts weren't the scary ones in this scenario. And if Jazz-san was right about Danny not being able to explain things well, Shinichi might have no idea of that added complication. "So what now?"

"The first month to month and a half are going to be the roughest part. His body doesn't know what to do with its ectoplasm, and will have trouble regulating its use. This results in ghost powers that randomly go off, especially in time of high emotions. After that he'll be able to control it more, no more passing out, for example, since his powers will simply fail rather than push him past his limits. Or accidental power usage. Once he hits the two month mark, he'll be fine, it'll just be a bit awkward until then."

Two months. She could keep it together for two months. “Is there any way to wake him up?” She asked. It helped being told this was normal, but not as much as him waking up would.

“We always let Danny sleep it off, although…” Jazz trailed off as she thought for a moment. “Would you be willing to let Danny hold him?”

“Why?” Ran was loath to let Shinichi go, and moreso to Danny, who was the reason Shinichi was turning into a yūrei hanyou in the fist place.

“His body needs ectoplasm right now, and barring letting it generate naturally in his cells, Danny’s the only other source we have.” Jazz explained calmly.

It made sense and she hated it. She held Conan a little closer and almost screamed as Danny suddenly changed in a burst of white light. The last thing she wanted to do was hand Conan over but…

But she’d seen those green eyes and white hair before. On Shinichi. Danny and Shinichi were the same, being afraid of one would be being afraid of the other, and she couldn’t bring herself to be afraid of Shinichi like that.

She reluctantly handed him over. Danny cradled him and his arms began to glow green.

Before she could change her mind, Shinichi’s eyes blinked open and he looked around blankly.

He felt...not warm, but it felt warm. Like in the laying in a sunbeam way, or being cozy in a blanket on a cold morning. But it wasn’t a temperature thing. It was weird.

He opened his eyes and saw Danny in his ghostly state. “Why are you holding me?” he asked dryly.

“More I’m recharging you.” Danny answered back in the same tone. He raised a glowing hand. “You used up all of your ectoplasm and knocked yourself out. Now that you’re back with us, hopefully your sister can calm down a bit. Also what’s a shinichi, she keeps using that word.”

His sister? Wait, he couldn’t mean… “Ran?”

“Who ran?” Danny asked, but Conan ignored him and looked around.

“Shinichi,” she said in a tone that meant the jig was well and truly up.

“Seriously, what does that mean?” Danny grumbled.

Conan gulped and flickered for a moment.

“Nope, gonna need you to stop that.” Danny chided him. “I know you can’t really help it at this point, but you’re still low on power.”

Conan was only half listening to him, half to the one person in the roof he didn’t know. “Invisibility and Intangibility tend to trigger as a fear response, and if he’s like Danny, he’s going to be on the verge of both of those until he’s more settled.” The young woman then turned to him. “Hello Conan, my name is Fenton Jazz. I’m Danny’s older sister and I’m here to hopefully explain things a little better.”

"Now keep in mind, the science of this isn't my main area of expertise, but between listening to my parents ramble my whole life, and helping Danny for the last two years-” Jazz began. She’d gone into full lecture mode. Ran and Agasa were sitting on the couch with Haibara between them, and Conan between Ran and a once more human Danny.

“- I've picked up a few things. Now mind you some of this will be theoretical, but I'll let you know when those things come up and - Danny are you falling asleep?" The last part was said in English.

"I don't speak Japanese Jazz, I'm not going to get anything from your lecture because I can't understand a word of it. Yesterday sucked and Vlad could be doing something at any moment, plus I was just used as a human battery. Lemme rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Ignoring my brother, let's go back to what makes a ghost."

"Death." Said Haibara bluntly.

"Yes, but also no. While the death of a living thing is certainly the most common way ghosts are formed, not all deaths created ghosts, nor are all ghosts the result of something dying. The real answer is ectoplasm.”

“A living being is made up of two parts, a body and soul. Bodies are well documented, souls less so. They're not physical and made up of what I'm going to call, for lack of a better term, spiritual energy. When a living being dies usually the soul passes over or dissipates - we've got nothing to help figure that out so we're not dwelling on it. But very rarely it doesn't. Instead the spiritual energy in the soul is converted to ectoplasm and the being becomes a ghost."

"Unlike spiritual energy, Ectoplasm is..." Jazz faltered for a word. "It's more in your face. Where the soul can't be seen, ectoplasm can't help but express itself. It can be solid or ephemeral, and can mimic any state of matter. It's potential can be almost limitless, however the potential in each individual ghost is limited."

"All ghosts have a core, which is a bit to a ghost what a soul is to a living being. Though it's a part of them, it can't be seen or extracted." Her parents had tried, which she didn’t like dwelling on. "But is ineffably a part of them. The core also functions a bit like a nucleus, as it defines what a ghost’s focus is, what powers they have, and their inherent nature. As a ghost's appearance tends to be a reflection of their self image, that can change over time. But the only way to alter a ghost’s core is by forcing them to experience something literally soul shattering. This...it's something that will never end well and that's all I'll say on the matter." She'd seen it happen to Danny in another timeline and she'd never let anyone go through that if she could help it.

"There are two more kinds of ghosts, but they're not what you want me to be here for, so I'm just going to touch on them briefly. Throw-offs are ghosts that are created by the will of other ghosts, formed of their own ectoplasm but as an independent being. Penelope Spectra, the ghost of an abusive psychologist, created a throw-off named Bertrand to act as her personal assistant. Likewise the self-styled 'Captain Youngblood', the ghost of someone who died as a small child created a parrot to act as both playmate and parental figure. Both of them can shapeshift to better suit their creator's needs, though without a larger sample size I can't say if that's a coincidence or a common trait of Throw-offs."

"The final kind are what I call Spontaneous. The limbo ghosts tend to be stuck in unless they find a way to the world of the living seems to be made primarily of ectoplasm and sometimes unlife just happens. This can range from barely sentient blobs, such as ectopusses, to beings of comparable human intelligence, like Skulker, whom you met yesterday. But for now let's move on to the rarest ectoplasmic beings, which is what you actually need to learn about. Halfas, or as you called them yūrei hanyou."

Jazz motioned to the small boy sitting between Ran and the now snoozing Danny. "Conan-kun here is the fourth to ever exist, as far as we can tell. We only have minor observational data from the first, the third was a special case, so mostly what I'm going on is Danny, since he and his friends have been cataloging data practically since day one."

Agasa nodded, pleased they had thought to do so.

"So yūrei hanyou are usually created by a living person being ground zero for a rift between worlds opening due to ectoplasm being charged with an incredibly powerful electrical current. And by which I mean ‘could kill several people in seconds’ powerful. Thankfully the ectoplasm changes it enough that the person exposed enters what I call the 'Schrödinger State'."

"Alive and dead at the same time." Conan said darkly.

Jazz nodded. "The person's spiritual energy is fully converted to ectoplasm without the soul separating from their body. This gives you access to a ghost form. In addition, as I explained to Ran-san earlier, the mitochondria in each cell are producing ectoplasm instead of it’s normal adenosine triphosphate, which allows you to manifest ghost powers in your human form. But your body hasn’t learned how to regulate it yet. That's why you're unstable right now. Not helping that is because of the energized ectoplasm that creates them, yūrei hanyou are by default some of the most powerful ghosts in existence."

"Really?" Ran asked with some trepidation. She didn't like hearing about ghosts, though the more lecture-like nature of Jazz as opposed to Sonoko's scary stories made it more palpable.

"As I said, despite what living in Amity Park might have you believe, becoming a ghost is really really rare. Much less than 1% of people who die become ghosts and those who do are mostly weak enough that if they make it to the land of the living they can't be seen, heard, or affect anything. Most ghosts need to find a way to siphon energy from elsewhere to boost themselves enough to do anything. Some feed off human emotions, others find a nexus point saturated in ectoplasmic energy. But the process can take years to decades depending on the abundance of the source. And that level of power, the type that takes decades to achieve. That's your starting point."

"Power absorbed through the environment or emotions is reliable, but temporary. They would constantly need to recharge to maintain a steady output." Hence Spectra's need to feed the misery that fed her. Without a flowing source her power consumption far outstripped what her core was capable of. "That's not to say ghosts can't become more powerful in their own right, just that it's not a quick process."

"Here's where we're entering some of the more theoretical stuff, namely how Ghosts can permanently raise their power. One theory is self awareness. Ghosts who are the result of dead humans tend to be composed of memories and emotions from when they were alive. And that in better understanding those, they deepen their own abilities. I won't say it's untrue, but as many ghosts wouldn't have the patience for it, it would be at least highly uncommon."

"Some, shall we say, rather biased individuals believe ghosts can strengthen themselves through human suffering. They are wrong. While ghosts can feed off human emotions, including negative ones, as we established before it's a temporary fix. Then we get to the theory I have the most faith in. Obsession fulfillment."

"What fulfillment?" Conan asked, startled.

Jazz winced. She was used to this part being common knowledge. "I mentioned ghosts tend to be made of emotions and memories. Usually there's something tying it all together into a drive. This drive, usually referred to as a fixation or obsession, is central to the ghost's being and usually forms their identity to a greater degree."

"It's...easier for yūrei hanyou. It's there, but more of a compulsion than an all consuming drive. Something they can choose to ignore, but it won't necessarily be easy to do."

"So I'm going to develop one of these?" Conan's voice was small.

Ran snorted. "Going to? You've been obsessed with mysteries and mystery solving since at least kindergarten. I really doubt there's going to be a noticeable difference."

"Going back to before,” Jazz continued, though it would be cute if Conan-kun’s thing was solving mysteries to be like his father, “it's my personal theory that the best way for ghosts to grow their core is by successfully doing whatever their fixation is focused on. It also explains the growth difference between Vlad and Danny."

Conan had been looking like he was halfway between sulking and being relieved, but he shot straight up at the mention of their culprit. "How so?"

"Vlad's fixation is about having things. Once he had his powers stable, it was easy for him to just take whatever he wanted through force or trickery. He's only been active twenty some years, but his power levels had risen to a degree it takes most ghosts centuries to obtain. Talking with other ghosts I've been able to chart a pretty steady growth - until two years ago."

Conan raised an eyebrow at Jazz's self satisfied smile. "What happened two years ago?"

"Vlad found three things he couldn't obtain through money or power. Ownership of the Green Bay Packers, since they can't be owned by an individual by their charter. The love of his college sweetheart, since Mom has standards. And for Danny to love him like a father and hate our actual Dad. Don't think I have to explain why that's not happening. But because of those three things, he wasn't getting what he wanted. He tried to get them, but it didn't strengthen him since he never actually succeeded."

"Danny's fixation is-" Jazz rolled her eyes fondly, "- being a hero. He's driven to help people who need help, even putting his personal safety at risk. It's something he sadly gets to indulge in often, sometimes multiple times a day. As a result Danny's growth has eclipsed Vlad to the point where he's almost caught up to Vlad's core power level in a mere two years."

It was good to know there was a strong chance Danny could supersede Vlad in not too much time, at least on one playing field, but that brought up a new worry. "So if my thing is solving mysteries, and I solve them fairly frequently, this is going to get worse?"

"Worse is a bad way to think about it." Jazz said gently. "I won't say parts of it aren't going to suck, especially for the next month or so, but it's not all bad. However illogical they may be, powers are useful as long as you have control, and that's something you can have with a bit of work. Can you honestly tell me there's no time being invisible would have been useful as a detective? Or walking through walls would have made an escape easier?"

He didn't like how easily past examples filled his head. Heck, if he's been invisible when spying on Vodka that night, he wouldn't be three feet high now. "I still don't like it."

"Neither did Danny at first. In fact he downright hated it. But now it's so much a part of him, I don't think he'd know what to do if he got back to normal." Honestly probably get himself badly hurt trying to protect other people. "Do you want me to keep going, or is that enough for one day? I know it's a lot."

"If there's nothing vital, I think I'm good." He had more than enough to dwell on.

"I don't know if Danny's mentioned this, but be aware around things meant to ward against spirits, they can be uncomfortable." Jazz advised. "Other than that you should be good."

Ran sighed and glanced at her watch. "We should probably go home. Dad will be getting worried."

"You go. I think I should stay here until I'm a bit more stable." Conan winced, "Imagine trying to explain any of this to him. And it's not like I can hide it." As if to prove his point, he started to sink into the cushions.

"Danny wake up!" Jazz said sharply. Danny shot awake and rolled forward, ready for a fight. Jazz simply pointed to where Conan was stuck in the couch. He rolled his eyes and turned his arms intangible to pull him out. "Would it be okay if my brother stays too? He can help Conan and act as a defense if Vlad tries to silence him again."

"Certainly. There's not a lot of extra bed space but there's somewhere Shinichi and he can go if needed." Agasa said

“Who’s Shinichi?” Jazz asked.

“There’s that word again,” Danny muttered.

There were awkward looks abound, but no one answered either sibling. Jazz sighed. “Unless you have anymore questions, I’ll see you tomorrow Danny.”

Danny blinked. “Tomorrow? Aren’t I going to the hotel with you?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “I just said you should stay with Conan to help him manage his powers and in case Vlad makes another attempt.”

That made sense but…”I’m guessing, like most of what you’ve been saying, you said it in Japanese. The language you know I don’t speak.” He grinned, knowing he had her.

Jazz stared at him a moment, then pinched her nose. “Point to you. I’m still heading out.”

“Wait,” Danny stopped her. “In your lecture did you mention Halfa’s regeneration ability?”

“No, and you really should start using yūrei hanyou, like they do.” Jazz advised.

Danny rolled his eyes. “And why would I want to change the only word I’ve had for myself for the past two years.”

“Do you really think all those ghosts would use a word to describe Vlad that he didn’t personally approve of?”

Okay, any distance between himself and Vald was good. “Okay, but seriously. Please tell her about yurry hanyo healing.”

“Yūrei hanyou,” Jazz corrected his pronunciation. “And they’ve all had to deal with a lot of new information at once. Non essential things-”

“It’s essential. Trust me.”

Danny looked so serious Jazz sighed and gave in. “Before I go, brother dearest wants me to go into a little more detail on one of the perks of being a yūrei hanyou, namely their healing capacity. Though not instantaneous, they do heal much faster than baseline humans and can recover completely from injuries humans never could without so much as a scar. I have a theory about how it’s related to their core, but that’s far from proven.”

Injuries...like heart scarring. Ran gave Danny a grateful look. “Thank you.” Both for telling her and...she may not have liked the idea of Shinichi becoming a weird ghost hybrid, but from what she’d been told earlier, it very well have saved his life.

Agasa and Ai shared a look of their own. They’d need confirmation but if that were true it would be a huge relief to both of them. Conan glanced around and read the reactions of everyone except for the honestly confused Jazz. “You told them.” He accused Agasa.

“Yes he did.” Ran confirmed. “And I’m glad he did. And- we can talk about this later.” It was obvious Danny and Jazz didn’t know the truth about Shinichi and it wasn’t her place to tell them. “But rest assured, we will.”

Conan gulped and his form flickered again, before vanishing completely from sight.

“It’s a good sign your ectoplasm is regenerating.” Jazz said. “That being said, it’s obvious there’s something you’re not telling us, so if you’re trying to keep other people from figuring it out, you need to be better about the fact that you’re hiding a secret. I won’t ask what it is, we understand better than most how life or death a secret can be. But at least one of your secrets isn’t just your own.” With that, she walked out.

Danny sighed heavily. “I really need to learn Japanese.”

#Phantom Detective #Danny Phantom #Detective Conan #Ghost Writing #I have so many theories of how halfa's work #And Jazz became my mouthpiece #Ran hasn't forgiven him #not completely #but it's a big step forward

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

Feels More Like a Memory

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Ric gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.”

“Wally. With a W.”

“That’s a tragedy.”

“And Ric isn’t?”

It’s not easy being a ghost. Ric isn’t dead. He has flesh, breath, motion, all signs of life. But Him? The person he apparently used to be but who might as well be a stranger told in someone else’s story? That person is dead, and Ric can’t help but feel like a murderer for pushing him out. He isn’t Dick Grayson. Not anymore. Ric slides into a bar stool, flagging down the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” This place isn’t his favorite haunt in Blüdhaven, but they do serve good brews despite the lack of customers and general grossness. And, frankly, he’s not in the mood for company tonight. He’s been fielding calls all day from those people, the ones who knew him Before. The ones who foolishly call every few days as if expecting the ghost to answer in Ric’s place. Bruce. Barbara. Damian. Even some names that Ric doesn’t recognize but couldn’t care less about if he did. A Donna Troy. Jason Todd, even though Dick saw in some old files that he’s supposed to be long dead. Some kid named Tim. Ric doesn’t even pick up anymore when the calls come. It’s too exhausting playing defense, trying to remind these poor idiots that the Dick they knew is dead. Ric can’t keep pretending to have any part of himself that cares about these strangers, that keeps him straddling the line between past and future, or it will tear him in half. He’s had enough of the visits from “old friends” and family members he wouldn’t recognize from a Christmas card.

It’s a weeknight, so the bar is empty but for a few alcoholics and some guys playing pool in the back. Ric might even join them later, hustle a few rounds. The door to the bar opens, a dulled bell sounding to announce the newcomer. Ric doesn’t bother looking up. It’s not like he’ll recognize the new face—or any face, for that matter. The bartender brings over his beer. Ric thanks her and takes a sip. The stool next to him creaks. “I’ll have a Coke with three maraschino cherries, please. Thanks.” It’s a deep voice with a bit of a midwestern twang. From Missouri, maybe? The “please” is a clear indicator that he’s not from around here, nor does he go to bars a lot. Not this kind, anyway. Ric has tried and failed to turn that part off, the part that picks apart every detail in the world into quantifiable data. His memories may be gone, but whatever that crazy bat guy trained into him has stayed in his head as muscle memory. Ric couldn’t escape it if he tried. He drinks his beer, side-eyeing the guy. “Never met anyone who goes to a bar for a soda.” The guy doesn’t...he doesn’t flinch, exactly. But there’s the slightest of shivers that runs through his frame as if hearing Ric’s voice does something to him, even though he’s the one who sat next to Ric in the first place despite the plenty of empty stools around them. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Whatever this guy is, he recovers quickly. “You can’t exactly get a Coke with three cherries from your neighborhood grocer.” “You can if you make it at home.” The guy’s mouth quirks. “Then I’m here for the wonderful atmosphere.” Now that Dick is facing him, he can see that the guy has bright red hair that curls in front of his forehead, wind-blown like he spends his life riding on top of a bullet train. His eyes are green and practically every inch of visible skin is sprinkled with freckles. “If you’re looking for atmosphere, you’re sure as hell not going to find it here,” Ric says. “This place is the pits.” “Then how come you’re here?” Ric shrugs. “For the moldy buffalo wings and terrible service, of course.” The guy laughs and, for whatever reason, Ric gets the impression that it’s the first real laugh he’s had in a long time. The bartender serves up his soda, cherries and all. “I’ve got to be honest, Blüdhaven is even worse than I remember it. Ever since that bat guy disappeared, it’s like all I hear about Blüd now is how much the crime has escalated.” “Nightwing,” Ric corrects before he can stop himself. “His name was Nightwing.” “Right, Nightwing. What do you think happened to him?” He got shot in the head. Not that Ric can tell that to a complete stranger. Then again, he’s been meeting far too many “complete strangers” lately who turn out to be anything but. They try to worm their way into Ric’s life as if they know him, as if they have some kind of a claim on him. “Have we met before?” he asks. He tries to do it casually to cushion the blow of completely changing the subject, but it’s hard to remember what casual even is anymore. “You seem...familiar.” The guy plasters on a smile. “Just have one of those faces, I guess.” “Says every person who’s ever pretended not to know someone.” That gets another laugh. Maybe he’s just a happy guy? Definitely not from around here, then. “I’m from Central City, actually. Just here for the weekend. I was trying to track down an old friend.” “And did you find him?” The guy’s eyes dim, but he keeps up some of the smile, like he’s mourning a memory. “Nope. He skipped town pretty recently and has been missing since.” “Sorry to hear that.” The guy drinks his soda. “How about you? What keeps you in a place like Blüdhaven?” “Believe it or not, this is the only place I’ve been in so far that’s felt like home.” He’s already buzzing from the beer combined with the whiskey this morning and the vape he bummed off a couple guys earlier. Might as well go all in. “I got shot in the head a while ago and since then, I’ve been a clean slate.” He points to the scar on his scalp, but he doesn’t have to. A goddamn aircraft could see that thing from orbit. “It’s hard to figure out ‘home’ again when every place you go is filled with too many people who know and care about you, you know?” “You and I have very different definitions of ‘home’ then. The way I see it, home is wherever the people who love you are.” “You’d be surprised. It’s more like leeches, really. Or a landlord begging for rent even after you’ve moved out. It’s fucking exhausting.” He gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.” “Wally. With a W.” “That’s a tragedy.” “And Ric isn’t?” That makes Ric laugh. The weird part is that, at the heart of whatever this is, there’s something natural about laughing with this random person. Wally. It feels familiar, like this is someone important, as insane as that sounds. He blames it on the alcohol, but he could almost convince himself that this Wally guy is something vital he’s been missing. But Ric has seen the files Batman showed him while he was futilely trying to jog Ric’s memory. There was nothing about anyone named Wally in there, so he’s in the clear. “So,” Wally says, “amnesia, huh? And I thought I had problems.” “You have no idea. Weirdly enough, the amnesia part isn’t even the worst of it. I can deal with having no memories. The real problem is everyone else’s memories trying to force their way into mine. Everybody remembers me as somebody else, but they can’t understand that the man they knew is long gone. It’s pathetic.” “Can you blame them? If someone I loved forgot who he was, I’d want to bring him back too.” “Then you’ve never had to deal with lost memories before. Everyone talks about how amnesia can be a blessing in disguise, giving you a reset on life. But it’s more like being dropped in the middle of a sports game where you don’t know the rules or who your teammates are, and everyone’s waiting for you to just get with the program and kick the ball somewhere.” Wally bites a cherry off its stem. “What I wouldn’t give for that.” At Ric’s questioning look, he says, “I have two kids. Twins, Jai and Irey. They’re...they were incredible. They were the lights of my life. Then there was...something happened. I lost them both, and now all I have left of them are memories. But I swear to god, sometimes it feels like having the memories hurts a million times worse than losing them in the first place.” Well, shit. By the looks of him, Wally can’t be more than twenty-four, twenty-six years old. Losing two kids so young must be hell on earth. That Damian kid said stuff about how Dick was like a second father figure to him and how when Damian was dead, the greatest relief after coming back was that Dick wouldn’t have to mourn him anymore. But Ric doesn’t remember any of that. If he ever did lose Damian like he said, it means nothing to Ric now. Dick may have lost a child, but Ric didn’t. Wally swallows thickly, drinks his soda until his throat clears. “So trust me, I get wanting to forget. But if you want my advice, I say hold on to your family for as long as you can, even if you don’t want to. You never know how much time you’ll have with them.” Ric honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. “I’m...I’m sorry, man.” Wally clears his throat, forces a smile, but each one is dimmer than the last. “It’s fine. But you see why I don’t drink.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Ric gets the message: Because if I did start drinking, I would never stop. “I can’t even imagine losing someone like that,” Ric says, sipping his fresh glass of beer. “I know my parents are dead, but my memories are so messed up that I don’t remember much of it. And even though I can’t remember anything after that day, it still feels like it happened twenty years ago. I’ve never had to grieve anyone but myself.” “It helps to have people around you, for one thing. That friend I mentioned, the one who skipped town? We used to have a system that whenever one of us was having a bad day, we’d go down to that gay bar a few blocks from here and stay there until we forgot what we were upset about.” After a second, he asks, “You ever been there?” Ric resists the urge to grimace. “I’m straight, actually. That kind of stuff...it’s not really my thing.” Wally blinks at him. “You’re kidding.” “Excuse me?” “Nothing. That’s just...surprising.” “Okay?” This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s accused Ric of being queer. Just because he likes mesh shirts and the occasional crop top doesn’t mean he’s gay, okay? He’s as straight as an arrow. “No, that’s not—I mean...I don’t know what I mean.” Wally shakes his head. “It’s easy to forget that not everyone lives the same life you do, I guess.” Ric clinks his glass with Wally’s. “Cheers to that.” Ric can’t explain what about this conversation makes him feel more comfortable than he has in weeks. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the human interaction with someone who isn’t another bar-hopping asshole or part of his old “family” trying to bring him back to a home that isn’t his. Ric has spent so long driving strangers to their destinations in his taxi, sleeping under a new roof every night, gambling his money away and drinking himself into oblivion as long as he can afford it. But here, with Wally, he feels settled. His head clears, and it’s such a foreign sensation that he stops for a moment just to let himself soak in it. “How long are you staying in Blüd, Walls?” He doesn’t mean to say the nickname, it just slips out of him like a bar of soap between slick hands. Wally doesn’t seem to mind. He even smiles, and Ric can’t help but wonder if the friend he was talking about used to call him that. “This is my last night, actually. I’m going to this mental health facility in Nebraska for a while to recharge. I just wanted to see my friend one last time before I left.” “I’m sorry you couldn’t find him.” “Yeah. Me too.” Wally downs the rest of his drink and stands, tossing a few bills on the counter. “I should probably head out. It was nice talking to you, Ric.” Ric shakes his hand again. “You too. Track me down if you ever find yourself in Blüd again. It’ll be nice seeing a familiar face for once.” “You got it.” Wally turns to go but stops at the door, one hand mid-twist on the knob. He looks back at Ric. “Don’t forget me again, okay?” He’s gone before Ric can answer, the door closing behind him. Ric was lying before, when he talked about the worst part of being an amnesiac. The worst part isn’t the missing twenty years, or the annoying family members, or the fact that he can name all fifty states but can’t remember whether he likes mustard or not. It isn’t any of those things. The worst part is knowing about the past that waits for him to sink back into it even though he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. It’s struggling with the fact that he has a whole family he doesn’t recognize but who loves him more than he’s ever seen a person be loved before. It’s seeing that love, witnessing the lengths they go to just to have their Dick back, but not being able to feel any of it because that isn’t his life. It’s not Ric’s love to have, and it never will be. Dick Grayson may be dead, but the love he earned is eternal. And that, right there? That’s what hurts the most.

#whumptober 2020 #ric grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #robin #wally west #kid flash #the flash #birdflash #titans #teen titans #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic #no.15 #memory loss

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draken-rotzi · 3 years

Text

Bug Man x Reader Part One*

Read on AO3

SO, wanted to write something of this topic bc we all need some more Musical!BJ in our lives, it’s a nice comfort ngl, I enjoyed writing it and hope you do too c:

(Got carried away so here's the first half while I edit the second one in the meantime, it takes a bit to get to the main part we all want to read forgive mE it's better in th next one believeme)

I'd love some feedback since I haven't written anything since 2019 ;v; some wordings might seem odd since my brain speaks spanish first english second

Summary; Old boring university life and a broken but hopeful heart meet the supernatural and whacky demon/ghost with the most, reader-chan needs to get out from a toxic relationship and what's a better help than a magic dead man? Cutting ties might seem easier when someone else arrives and flips your world upside down with no warning.

Mostly fluff, bits of angst l8r

Female reader, but tried to not give any other specifics to the character themselves, OCs appear

It was a fresh autumn afternoon, birds still chirped before migrating to warmer areas for the winter, the wind was cold but nice, not yet freezing but enough for people to wear light coats. You sit on a school desk, a class about taxes and fees, you drift off a bit looking at the window while half-listening.

You lived in a medium but popular city, it was a great place, with nice, kind people for the most part, huge malls, restaurants and lots of places to go out with friends or alone.

...

"Miss ___? Care to answer this equation here for the class?" The teacher asks, a tall, slender woman that radiated authority, it made some students shiver in times like this with a direct question.

"Oh? Yeah- sure miss Adams" You replied, while trying not to look confused since you just missed the topic, hopefully you remembered from the last lesson by the time you walked up to the blackboard and took the marker to write.

...

After class, you were walking with your friends to the cafeteria next to the main exit to wait for an uber to arrive; your side job as a freelance wasn't good enough yet to afford a car, but it helped pay the bills and to have enough for a bit more more than the basic needs.

Your two best friends at college were Itai and Rob. Itai was a funny dude, with a darker tone on his skin, not so tall and full of charisma. Rob was a bit more collected, but still a lot of fun to be around, being the voice of reason for you three most of the time, emphasis in most, because sometimes he got carried away too.

"Man I hate that class, I don't understand a thing! Why do we even need math?" Itai tells the group, sounding annoyed as usual, he was a simple guy, but simple guys need a degree too, to secure a better job.

"Well if you paid attention instead of eating that cold baguette in class you won't be that confused my man" Rob replies, laughing a bit at the end

"At least you weren't asked to do math in front of the class" You sigh, putting down your backpack and sitting on a table next to the building's exit, looking at your phone to know how much time was left for the driver to arrive, around 10 minutes.

"Yeah everyone felt so bad for you, but hey, if you’ll be daydreaming at least look at the front instead of the window next time, it might help you" Rob said while opening a bottle of apple juice, his favorite, he wouldn't drink any other thing, he was probably 60% apple juice after years of drinking it that often.

A few minutes passed by, the three friends chatting about the day's events, their plans for the weekend, and how to get the next assignment done. A figure appeared behind you putting a hand on your shoulders.

"Well hello ladies!" A man chirped, you turned around laughing softly

"Hey yourself!" you replied "Already off?"

"Yeah I've got the last hour free so I'm gonna head out to Kris' place, we'll play some games and work on that big project I told you the other day"

"Great, have fun! You say hi to Kris from me yeah?"

"Sure thing, see you later!" He says with a squeeze of his hand on your shoulder, then a quick pat on the head, turning around to leave.

"Bye, take care Nick!" you say as the man walks out of the cafeteria's door waving a hand.

Silence lingers for a bit until Itai breaks it

"Hey so, you're still going out with him?" He says with a crooked smile and a nervous look, Rob has a similar expression

"Yeeeah... it's been okay for some time now, you know? Hah" You look down for a second, pondering "Maybe this time is the good run?" Uncertainty fills the question, but you still smile to your friends.

Nikolas wasn't the model boyfriend, at least not for your friends; he was full of sweet words, hugs and kisses, only in private places though. When it came to the campus he treated you just like any other friend.

There was a small reason, according to him, he wanted to wait a bit more to make it public, get to know each other better, just to be certain from both sides.

That was the excuse a year ago.

It wasn't like he was out and flirting with other people, not at all, but one could expect to be treated like a love partner after so much time and moments together, you’ve gone to the movies, to dinner, to each other's houses, hell your families knew you two were dating, it just wasn't more than the bare minimum from him, seemed more like a thing someone does if they have free time, not make time for that thing, the thing being the relationship.

It seemed to be only a problem of neglect and apathy, probably, though you were so dumbly in love with him at first, you have been hoping and asking for a change since the relationship escalated to more than just holding hands and light kisses.

"I don't think anything's gonna change, he's been stalling for a whole year now" Itai mumbled, looking at Rob, he nodded in agreement

"Yeah, just dump him already, you deserve way better, you give him everything you got and he just throws the leftovers at you."

"I guess, but we're going out this weekend! You know he doesn't like going out often"

"With you" Rob adds

You hesitate a reply, it was true, most of the times you asked him to go out for a change, he was either too busy or decided to change the event the same day, turning it into a make out session in his house every time. Even though you saw each other 2 days every week, you have seen him go out with his friends more often, on actual enrichment outside activities.

"I know..." you sigh " I'll think about it, I'll try to talk with him about it next time”

Both of your friends let out a small groan of annoyance, they knew you weren't gonna do it, or that he'll just brush it off as always, between the lines of 'oh you're overreacting'

"Ah my ride's here!" You got up from the table and grabbed your backpack, tossing it over one shoulder.

"See he can't even give you a lift to your place!" Itai teased, they knew how you felt about the whole situation, but joking around sometimes made it a bit less bitter.

"Ha-ha, you know we live in opposite ends of the city! Besides none of you give me a ride either" you said while sticking a tongue out on your way outside the cafeteria

"Yeah because you live at the ends of the earth for some weird reason!" Rob joked back

Everyone said their quick goodbyes, and after a calm ride back home you remembered something just as you were locking the door, tossing your backpack into the living room’s couch you walked over to your room.

You flopped onto the bed, looking at your phone you opened some pending messages on the family group chat, apparently a distant relative of yours had died, and the family was gonna hold a small funeral tomorrow morning on the local cemetery, you didn’t enjoy those kind of events since you’d get really emotional, but since it was something really small, no more than 20 people, it was private and most likely no strangers would see you cry over someone you barely knew.

Tomorrow was saturday so it was okay to spend one free morning humoring your family.

After some mindless browsing on your phone, it was already 12:30am, you haven’t even got off your sneakers since you got home, you did a quick self-cleanup in the bathroom, tossing today’s clothes to the side to change into an oversized shirt with no pants as a makeup pijamas, it got a bit warmer in the afternoon so you wanted to enjoy wearing something light before winter fully arrived, getting under the sheets and you were out fast, maybe from all the overthinking of what’d tomorrow might bring, you’ve forgotten what are funerals like.

But there was certainly no way you’d know what would happen at all the next day

...

The event was simple, thankfully there was not much crying, seemed like everyone accepted already what had happened, some kind of illness you heard, at least they weren’t suffering anymore and they’ve come to terms with everyone close to them, that was nice you thought, it sure felt a bit heavy in there, as usual for funerals. After the ceremony, the family offered a barbeque in the departed’s honor to bright up the mood a bit; right at the cementery, maybe it was cheaper than renting a place for it.

Free tasty food was something only an idiot would decline, so you spent some time doing small talk with the relatives you knew best, but still you mostly just listened and ate in silence.

You saw a glimpse of color and movement out of the corner of your eye, since everyone was wearing dark tones it stood out, turning your head there was just an empty plastic table with some half-full plates and glasses, still, you felt a shiver up your spine, it was probably the weather.

When you looked back at your phone's clock it was already 6 pm, guess dad jokes and food made time fly, you said your goodbyes and condolences to everyone and headed out, you were still at the cemetery, so you had to call a ride back home, the driver dropped you near a convenience store just around the corner of your apartment, since you needed to buy a snack for dinner, on sundays you usually had takeout, so no need to worry much about it right now.

_______________________________________________________

“I know I didn’t imagine anything, that breather saw me at the cemetery! we even locked eyes for a second! It may work this time, just gotta get closer while they're alone”

_______________________________________________________

…

Walking down the street, humming a bit to some music and a bag of snacks in hand, dusk started to set, some stars could be seen and the sky was a beautiful fuchsia tone with oranges and purples mixed in the clouds. On instinct, you took your phone out of your jeans pocket to take a picture of the cute sky.

Just as you took a couple of pictures, to make sure at least one was good to share, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye again

You felt a shiver like a cold wind out of nowhere, similar as to when a car drives a bit too close to someone on winter, but there was not even one driving car on the street.

"Oof, should get back now, it's getting colder" picking up the peace to get home faster-

A piece of paper slapped you in the face

“EW- wind trash” you muttered while grabbing what seemed to be a flyer, and it flew indeed.

You naturally took a closer look at it when you took it into your hands and out of your face, it was a very faded print, with an image of an… insect? man? holding a hammer over a small house and people, you chuckled, it was a funny irony cartoon, a bug crushing people.

Half of the flyer was unreadable because of some liquid or dirt, already dry but you couldn’t read what was supposed to be, written under the drawing was the end of an ad;

“Ghostly services one name away!

RESIDENTIAL - INDUSTRIAL - COMMERCIAL

Call BETELGEUSE

BETELGEUSE

BETELGEUSE!”

“Betelgeuse? ...Like that one star?” There was that shiver again, Halloween was a week ago, so this kind of paper seemed normal to be hanging around with the wind.

As you walked down the street, some lights started flickering, the cold wind seemed stronger and the sky was a deep dark purple now, strange, it was supposed to be clear dark blue by now, fall nights came quickly this time of the year, still it didn't feel like the usual night. You were just around the corner of your street when the closest light bulb exploded and zapped with a loud 'CRASH', making you stop for a second cowering from the shards

"What the-!? No one told me we'd be getting winter thunderstorms sooner what the eff" muttering swears you made a run to your apartment, scurrying for the door keys in the process, lights kept flashing and the wind made windows sing a high 'oooo' noise, you have seen this kind of weather before but no one would like to be outside when it happened, nervously and quickly you finally fit the key in the lock and opened the door, hurrying inside and closing it behind, a loud bang thundered through the silent room, the unexpected storm slamming against the walls and windows, you left the lights on before going out.

After a minute it seemed to calm down, wind turning into a breeze and the sky now it's usual black, no stars in the sky.

You let out a sigh and walked to the counter to drop your keys, the phone and your purse, you had to make sure all the windows were closed for the night, luckily it was Saturday, so no need to go out tomorrow on that crazy weather.

Windows secured, you changed into your winter pajamas, a gray pair of pants with a pattern of a cat on toast and eggs, with a pastel blue loose shirt. Making your way to the kitchen you decided a light snack would be enough for tonight, after that run and emotion on the way back home you had no energy to cook a proper dinner, not even microwave, it was also too late for it anyways you thought.

You put the snack bowl and a cup of water on the kitchen counter, looking to grab your phone. You noticed you still had the dirty flyer, forgot to drop it between the commotion maybe?

Placing it aside and unlocking your phone screen, you opened the ‘best friend's’ chat group

You. 'Hey guys, did you get any of that weird winter storm action today after school?'

Rob. 'Nah, it was a clear sky for me'

Itai. 'Same, also I was asleep all afternoon'

You. 'Strange, I got caught on this whirlwind on my way back home from the store, just my luck I guess >:('

Both of the boys. 'Lol yea'

Putting the phone down and chomping on some of the snacks, you thought about the events, it was indeed a clear sky earlier, only a couple of common clouds you took pictures of before it. You grabbed the phone again, quickly to see if any of the photos looked good.

"Pleasepleaseplease" you muttered in excitement, it was a very cute view, hopefully one picture captured it nicely.

And they did, a couple looked stunning, you smiled, thinking at least it was worth getting your hair all messed up by the wind, you were about to delete one picture it since it was blurry when you noticed a different kind of blur, it was gray with splashes of green in the corner, similar to what you saw at the funeral.

"There was nothing green on the other pictures, was it?" you looked through the other photos and they were pretty normal, full of pink, purple and blue from the sunset.

You looked back at the flyer

"Betelgeuse, betelgeuse, betelgeuse huh" You said in a playful tone, grabbing the torn paper from the counter, you felt a shiver, a strong one this time, well that was the opposite of a calming experience, but still the word felt strange when you said it, it wasn't like you hadn't said before, Orion was a popular constellation, and the Betelgeuse star was on it; but this time the air inside had a tense feeling.

All the lights went off after a second "Now a blackout? What's with today ugh" picking up your phone to use as a flashlight, after a couple of seconds before you could turn it on, all the lights came back again, but you almost had a heart attack when you saw someone standing in the center of the living room, enveloped in a green mist.

"FUCK wh- WHO THE FUCK-" you stuttered before turning around and grabbing the closest thing to use as a weapon, a wooden spoon used for beating eggs this morning "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? WHO ARE YOU? GET OUT!"

The figure was a man, taller than you, dressed in a striped black and white suit, dark hair with green tints at the end, a wicked smile plastered on his face, he took a look around, then back to you, endless chills went down your spine when you met his eyes, you could feel the tense aura from before growing stronger, anticipating, colder.

"Well who might I be? You should know, you called my name baby! Glad to make some business with you tonight!" He said as he extended a hand and walked, floated? quickly towards a paralized you, frozen in place, you only managed to put the spoon up in self defense from whomever this man could be, the lights were out for just a few seconds, was he inside the apartment all this time?

"S-stop right there you!" tried to threaten the man with the wooden tool, he didn't seem to notice nor care, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, then placing a sloppy kiss in your face, petrified, you shivered and gripped the spoon harder, he felt oddly cold.

...Did he just kiss you? Who does he think he is??

"No no, no stopping now! We just got started cakes, and now that you said my name three times, I can finally interact with you and everything here in the world of the living! Gotta say thanks it's been real boring being invisible for so long lemme tell ya-"

*WHACK*

You hit the man in the head with the wooden spoon as hard as you could.

...the spoon broke.

The man's smile grew wider

#hope it's o k a y #I'll reblob this tomorrow with tags it's 2am help me #fanfic #fanfiction #beetlejuice #betelgeuse #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x you #musical beetlejuice #draft #female reader #could be both Blum or Alex I love them both sm #or any other that u seem fit #I need a name for this jhfdsdfj #is 'whack' the correct sound?#sorry for the cliff #might edit later

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