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libraryofgage · 10 months

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I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:

Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.

He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.

He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.

He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.

Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.

After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.

--------

Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.

Of course, that's provided they actually play continuously instead of starting the same song over and over only for Eddie to stop them halfway through. When it happens for the sixth time, Eddie growls in frustration, tugging harshly at a lock of hair. "It still sounds wrong!" he cries, dropping into a crouch while cradling his guitar close.

"Stopping us halfway through isn't helping," Gareth points out, idly twirling a drumstick as he watches Eddie's lament.

"Do you know what's wrong yet?" Asher asks.

Steve can longer focus on Lord of the Rings. Instead, he places the book on his chest and looks at the band to watch how this plays out. Eddie scowls and looks up at Asher. "Unfortunately, Ashy Baby, no."

Jeff, meanwhile, has locked eyes with Steve. And because Jeff knows the perfect way to get Eddie off their asses is to get him on Steve's instead, he says, "Why don't you ask Harrington what he thinks?"

Eddie whips around to look at Steve, eyes wide and hopeful. He doesn't even bother standing from his crouch, instead waddling his way over to Steve and testing his ability to hold back laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. "Stevie, baby, sweetheart, lover boy, please tell me that wonderful brain of yours has an idea so your favorite boyfriend can finish this rocking song."

"You're my only boyfriend."

"Which automatically makes me your favorite," Eddie points out, grinning as he leans closer. With Steve still laying down, Eddie's the perfect height in his crouch to kiss him. He lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, and Steve knows his own smile matches the dopiness of Eddie's.

"Have you considered adding a piano?" Steve asks.

"None of us know how to play," Asher says, and Steve would look at him if Eddie's face and hair and shoulders and everything weren't filling his entire line of sight.

Without thinking, Steve hums and says, "I do."

"Do what?" Eddie asks.

"Know how to play piano."

There's a silence that follows his sentence, one that makes Steve's stomach lurch as he wonders if he's maybe fucked up the shaky peace and friendship he's finally managed to build with the other members of Corroded Coffin. He doesn't know how his words might have done it, but he's scrambling to somehow take them back when Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, the bands of his rings pressing against Steve's lips.

"Gareth, you still got that keyboard?" he asks, keeping his eyes locked on Steve. There's a light dancing in them like he's just discovered magic is real, like Steve has amazed him beyond imagination.

With a grunt, Gareth gets up from his drums and steps into his house. The rest of them stay in silence while waiting, Eddie refusing to remove his hand no matter how much Steve licks his palm. When he finally gives up and just glares at Eddie, his boyfriend grins brightly back.

"It's a little dusty, but it'll work fine," Gareth says when he comes back, and Eddie finally moves his hand and body, allowing Steve to see Gareth setting up a keyboard a few feet away from his drums.

"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, taking the book from Steve and carefully setting it aside before pulling him off the couch, "you've heard the song enough. Play what's missing."

Steve hesitates before walking over to the keyboard. Eddie sticks to him like a shadow, sliding his arms around Steve from behind once he's standing in front of the white and black keys. An odd nervousness churns in Steve, tugging at his spine and making his palms clammy, but he knows it would be much worse without Eddie there. If he had to play in front of the band without feeling like anyone was on his side, he'd probably just throw up instead.

"It, uh, it's been a while," he says quietly, easily falling into the muscle memory of tracing the keys and finding Middle C and dancing his fingers through warm-ups despite his words.

Eddie squeezes him tighter as Jeff asks, "Since you've played? Why?"

Memories of his grand piano rise in Steve unbidden, overwhelming him in a rush of longing for the instrument itself and the relaxation of playing. "My parents paid for lessons and had me play at company parties. They, uh, sent it off to be tuned, but it got damaged, and they didn't get another one."

"That sucks, Stevie," Eddie murmurs, soft and reassuring and Steve suddenly feels far more confident.

He looks up at Jeff. "Can you start playing again?" he asks, flashing a grateful smile when Jeff nods and starts strumming the song's opening notes.

Steve listens closely, breathing in the tune he's heard so many times and letting it take hold. He doesn't allow himself to actually think, letting Jeff's guitar and Eddie's arms and hair and scent drown out everything else. Before he knows it, he's playing a hesitant tune that grows with confidence as he follows the song laid out before him. He's always a measure behind, chasing the guitar's echoing notes as they fade.

He and Jeff make it through the whole song without Eddie telling them to stop. When the final notes of guitar and piano echo together, the latter still chasing the former even at the end, Steve is shaking with excitement and anxiety and grief and joy.

He lets out a slow breath, feeling tension he didn't even realize had lingered for so long finally draining from his shoulders and dissipating. Steve can also feel Eddie's face pressed against his neck, a smile searing into his skin as Eddie squeezes him even tighter.

"I love you so fucking much, Stevie, that's exactly what was missing," Eddie says, his words the only warning he gives before pulling Steve away from the keyboard and off his feet and spinning him around. His surprised yelp quickly morphs into laughter that still lingers even after Eddie has set him down again.

Gareth and Jeff and Asher have already started discussing how the other parts of the song might change with the addition of a keyboard, but Steve is too busy turning in Eddie's arms and kissing his smile away to pay them any mind. He can worry about inevitably being roped into the band's practices later, after he and Eddie are breathless and flushed and smiling bright.

#steddie fic #Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Corroded Coffin #Stranger Things #My writing #I got this plot bunny and fucking ran with it

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zlebooks · 1 year

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𓂃 alhaitham + congrats being the first/last person to know!

you finally confess to kaveh that you have feelings for his flatmate, only you forget to tell him one key information.

when you realized you like al haitham, the experience was ironically similar to waking up on any day.

there were no fireworks that erupted, no scoffs of unbelief from yourself, no “kiss me” by sixpence none the richer playing in the background. there was only kaveh— al haitham’s flatmate ridiculing you in the background.

it was a saturday morning and you chose to spend it on a little quaint coffee shop in downtown brooklyn with your best friend, kaveh. he was your common link to the brooding man, the one who had introduced the both of you to each other.

and as kaveh rambled on and on about his co-worker that has been driving him nuts, you suddenly blurt out something you haven’t thought of much.

“i like al haitham,”

you see your best friend drop everything he was doing— literally. his knife clangs on the porcelain plate as he stops his rant midway.

really, it was more of his moment than yours.

“congrats dearest, you were the last one to know!” he chirps happily, before picking up the bread knife he dropped a moment ago and resumes spreading butter to his bread.

your jaw drops dramatically as if your best friend had just insulted your entire family clan.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“exactly what it means.” the blond deadpans as if anything he uttered under the twenty minutes you’re together has been helpful with your situation.

“fuck you.”

“i thought you liked al haitham?”

“fuck you, fuck you.”

“sorry, i’m unavailable.”

“do i really look like i have a crush on him?” you say under your breath, looking around like you were relaying top secret information.

“even the most socially inept would notice.”

the café doors open as signalled by the bell ringing. you would have pay no attention to it if it were any other of the regulars that kept this place running, but as you catch a glimpse of an ashy grey hair, you immediately duck your head under the table in hopes of making yourself unnoticeable.

“what the fuck are you doing—“

“hello.”

kaveh finds himself interrupted by the very man he finds insufferable and with how his luck is, the same guy whom his best friend is currently crushing on.

the man standing eyes your form— at least what’s visible of it above the table, before raising his eyebrows on the blond. your friend shrugs, opting to stay out of this because even he didn’t have any explanation for how you’re behaving.

“what are you doing?” you hear the scholar’s voice from above.

the blond snorts, “finding their leftover dignity, probably.”

in an attempt to retort something— anything, you raise your head up quickly to look at kaveh’s eyes and cuss him out, but you should have known better than to carelessly throw your head in any direction as you feel your head slam against the table.

ouch.

al haitham hears you whimper although it sounded more of a strangled attempt at breathing as you immediately cut it short. out of concern, he kneels down beside you and oh god— he’s caressing the top of your head in an attempt to sooth it. he asks you a simple question, a really simple one that can be answered with a simple yes or no, and yet your heart quivers.

“are you okay?”

you finally look up from the floor and see that al haitham is still charming.

and kaveh, kaveh was still a dick.

“you know, with how hard headed they are, it would be more appropriate to ask how the table is faring instead.”

you feel the turquoise eyed man glare at your best friend.

suddenly, you feel a sudden shift in your weight. looking around, you notice how al haitham is leading you to get on your feet only he was doing all the heavy work— he’s literally bringing you up.

“what were you doing down there?”

the still concerned scholar asks, to which you wince at as you take your seat once more. you try to rack up your mind for a totally false reason, but the task proves itself to be difficult when a small bump is starting to form on your head. you feel like your encounter with the table has made your brain shake inside your skull and ended up in a very wrong position.

thankfully, your best friend answers the question himself.

“y/n, my dearest friend over here, has realized that they like you. and although that sounds like an incredible disaster, i’m still glad to say that the pining is over.”

or not.

for someone having a small mouth, kaveh pretty sure talks a lot. but then again, with kaveh, he had absolutely no filter for his lips, always airing out private business to anyone and everyone.

kaveh, strangely enough, receives a look of nonchalance from the taller man. this wasn’t the reaction he was trying to get— he was expecting for his roommate to suddenly malfunction. like completely speechless, or stammering at least, red as a tomato and stiff as a plywood kind of malfunction. instead, he receives the usual unamused look from the other that he usually dons.

“of course y/n would; it’d be troublesome otherwise. we are seeing each other romantically, of course.”

your newly revealed boyfriend responds curtly, keeping his reply clear and concise. it was kaveh who eventually malfunctioned.

“you two are what?!”

“dating, yes.”

“how— when— why—“

“i confessed, they felt the same way so i asked them out. it happened before winter break, and why not? we like each other.” the taller man responds for you.

“no! i mean, what was your deal earlier?” the blond explains, pointing at you accusingly as if you had eaten the last remaining cupcake on the plate.

“why’d you make it seem like you were only realising now that you like al haitham?!”

you grin shyly, “it was me trying to see if you’d notice… we meant to keep it under the wraps for a while and you were kind of a test subject?”

kaveh feels his jaw detach. yeah sure you were a stem student and all, but weren’t you taking your research too far?

“i hate the both of you.”

your boyfriend shrugs while you laugh sheepishly.

“if it makes you feel better, you’re the first one to know… congrats?”

“it doesn’t at all! forget it!”

♥︎ please do not repost or translate without my permission . reblogs are heavily appreciated!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin angst #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham angst #al haitham x reader

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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NNTA story idea: Oscar asks for a little sister at family dinner when everyone is there

Series Masterlist

Lando picked up his nephew and placed him on his lap. "What have you asked your mommy and daddy for this year, Osc?" He asked.

It was the night before little Oscar's birthday and the Sainz family were throwing a little celebration. Carlos and Y/N invited friends and family for a dinner the day before his birthday.

Carlos's mother and sisters had been doting on little Oscar all day. They loved Oscar more than anything. His uncle Lando was there, sat beside his Uncle Max. They made up his mothers side of the family.

"I asked for hot wheels, a spider man toy, pokemon cards, a nintendo switch."

He listed off everything he wanted, finishing with a dog of his own because, and I quote, 'Bones loves mommy more than me'.

"That's what he asked for," Carlos said, holding his wife's hand under the table. "He won't tell us what he really wants."

Max leaned over. "Do you wanna tell me, Osc?" He asked.

Oscar nodded his head. He climbed down from his uncle Lando's lap and went to stand beside Max. Max leaned down, letting Oscar whisper what he actually wanted for his birthday in his ear. After he was done, Oscar ran back to his mother, giggling.

"What did he say?" She asked, picking up her son and placing him in her lap.

Max's cheeks were pink as he sat up straight and looked at Carlos and Y/N. "Oscar want's a little sister," he said, and cleared his throat. He sucked in another breath. "He wants his mommy and daddy to... make him a baby sister."

Carlos's sisters let out a series of giggles.

"Is that true, Oscar? Do you want a little sister?" Carlos asked as he took his son from his wife's lap. Oscar nodded his head. "Well, looks like we're gonna try and give Oscar a little sister.

Y/N smacked Carlos's arm.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @hiireadstuff @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @chonkybonky @shobaes @celesteblack08 @watermelonworries @gracielukey @cassie0sstuff @goldenharrysworld @venusesworld @sparklyperfectionstranger @evans-dejong @graciewrote @formulaal

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megalony · 1 month

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Baby-Trapped

This is an Evan buckley imagine requested by anon, I really enjoyed writing this and couldn't wait to post it! So you all have two imagines in one day. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) distances herself from Evan when the people at her college believe he shouldn't be with someone younger and inexperienced like her. But things change when she falls pregnant.

Enjoy.

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

"There's my girl, you okay?"

(Y/n) tilted her head back on the sofa at the sound of Evan's voice drifting softly through the apartment. She smiled softly when she watched him approach from the hallway.

Her eyes fell closed and she stayed still when Evan leaned over the back of the sofa and moved his hands to her shoulders. He gave a loving squeeze and pressed his lips against her temple. (Y/n) could feel each ragged breath he took and how his chest was heaving behind the sofa, against the back of her neck and head.

His lips curved into a smile against her temple and she felt his nose tickle her skin. He was sweating. Nothing new, he had just been out jogging like he usually did after a night shift.

"Hm, good shift?" She squeaked when Evan leaned over her and stole her lips for a searing, panting kiss. While Evan had been on the night shift, he said (Y/n) could stay here at his place, save her having to get the bus home and then come back up this way today for college.

"An easy shift, for a change. I got some sleep too, which is a shocker. Do you want a ride to class?" Evan wasn't used to getting an hours sleep in the bunker room at the station, but it had been such a lovely change to actually recouperate and sleep. He felt more alive for the small callouts they went on and it wasn't all hustle and bustle.

He felt lively enough when he parked up to head straight out on his run and get it over and done with. Now he would have the afternoon to either do some exercises or just relax and wait until (Y/n)'s class was over.

Their schedules hadn't aligned recently, Evan had picked up extra shifts at the station because they were down three people. And his shifts didn't match up with (Y/n)'s college classes. But they were making things work.

"You've just come home, I can walk, it's fine." (Y/n) uncurled her legs and slumped her feet back down to the floor, but she froze when Evan's arms suddenly caged around her. Both arms looped around her upper chest and his chest pressed into the back of the sofa so he could tuck his face into her neck.

When she felt his teeth graze her skin, her shoulders pulled up and she fought off a smile.

"No, I'll drop you off baby." What was the point in (Y/n) walking all that way if Evan could just drive her there himself?

(Y/n) nodded, but she could feel her smile trying to disappear. She didn't want the girls in her class to see Evan drop her off.

Two girls had already twigged that Evan was a firefighter, more specifically, one they had seen being interviewed multiple times on the TV. If he dropped her off, the rumours would get worse.

(Y/n) loved Evan. She loved him to the end of the Earth, he was funny, loving, caring and sweet and he made her feel like the only person worth loving in the world. But he was older than her. Evan had everything sorted, he had a steady job, a home, a car, friends his own age and all of his friends were already settled down and married and happy in their lives.

It never bothered (Y/n), until the girls in her class started talking about her. They seemed to think there was no point in Evan dating (Y/n). They acted as if he was with her out of pity or because he didn't know what he really wanted, and they thought (Y/n) was using him. If he took her to class, the girls would see and then everyone would just agree that (Y/n) was using Evan to her advantage.

"I'll grab a shower and get changed before we go. Care to join me?"

His lips trailed down (Y/n)'s neck until he was pressing wet, hollow kisses over her shoulder. And his hands slithered down her waist and scrunched up her shirt so his cold fingers could travel across her bare skin. His touch made her shiver and she tried to smile. It was tempting. It was more than tempting.

Getting a shower with Evan was always an exciting experience. (Y/n) could still feel the ache in her shoulders from last time where he picked her up and pinned her to the shower wall.

But if she turned up to class with wet, damp hair and smelling of Evan and sex it wouldn't go down well. Taking a shower with him would make her late, too. Time got lost when they were together and (Y/n) didn't want to be late. She only had a few months left of college and then she would have her degree. She could get a job and be done with the people in her class and feel more grown up and more suitable to be Evan's partner.

"No, I don't wanna be late."

"Baby…" He groaned into her shoulder while his fingertips slid into her jeans and wiggled past her underwear. He grinned like a catfish into her skin when she gasped and pushed back against him.

"Later. Go get ready."

She trailed her hand up to card her fingers through his damp curls, scratching her nails down his neck which made him bite down on her neck.

"Okay." Evan pulled away from her neck and moved his hands to her hips, but he could feel his smile fading when she didn't look at him.

She didn't usually turn his offers down. When she saw him after being separated by shifts and classes, (Y/n) usually attached herself to him. He didn't have to try to get her attention or fight for a kiss like this. Evan didn't like how (Y/n) was starting to distance from him. It was just the little things he was noticing and he was sure it was only because she was preoccupied with something.

He pressed his finger beneath her chin and turned her head so he could capture her in a quick kiss before he finally parted and headed upstairs to grab a change of clothes.

(Y/n) packed her notebooks and revision cards into her bag while she heard Evan hop in the shower.

She looped her bag on her shoulder and headed towards the kitchen. Her eyes cast towards the bathroom and she waited a second to make sure Evan wasn't about to walk out before she looked through her bag. Once she found the small square pill box, she popped one of the tiny orange pills into her hand and chugged it down.

She didn't want Evan seeing the box. He was a firefighter, he had medical knowledge and if he knew what she was taking, he would know what it was for. (Y/n) didn't want to tell him yet.

"Alright baby, are we ready?" Evan dragged his fingers through his hair, shaking loose the last few droplets of water before he looked down.

He fiddled with his belt, popping it through the tightest loop he could before he got his trainers on and looked towards the kitchen.

With his keys looped on his thumb, Evan held his other hand out towards (Y/n) and smiled when she entwined their hands and pulled his arm against her chest. She leaned her head on his shoulder and followed him out the apartment.

Evan spared a few glances at (Y/n) every now and then as he drove. He didn't like the distant, somewhat panicked look on her face. She had one hand tangled in her hair and her forehead resting against the window with her other arm around her waist and her knees pushed up.

He ran his hand along his jaw before he dared to reach out and place his hand on her thigh. When she didn't react nor push him away, Evan gave her thigh a squeeze and started gliding his fingertips up and down her inner thigh. He could tell his touch relaxed her somewhat, she stopped tensing her leg so tight and she shrunk down in the seat.

"What time do you finish, I'll come pick you up if you want."

"You don't have to, it's your day off babe-"

"Yeah, and I wanna spend some time with you. I wanna come get you, no one said I have to."

He wasn't asking because he felt obliged, he was asking because he wanted to pick her up. She was his girl and he would rather come get her than her having to walk or get the bus and if she ever wanted a lift, all she had to do was ask. Evan was never going to say no or be angry if she asked him.

"I finish at two." She murmured softly as she turned to face him. "Thank you."

(Y/n) sat forward in her seat and clicked her spine into place when Evan pulled up on the curb. She undid her belt and looped her bag over her shoulder before she turned to lean across towards him.

Her stomach jolted with adrenaline when Evan's hand cupped her jaw and his thumb pulled at her lower lip. His nose brushed hers and he stole a kiss, nipping at her lip so she couldn't pull away without a fight.

"I'll see you later, love you."

"Hm, good." He spoke quietly against her lips, stealing another two kisses until (Y/n) finally gave him a nudge in the chest so she could get out. "Love you too, see you later sexy."

Her lips curved into a grin that morphed with a gasp when she opened the door and felt his hand on her bum.

She gave the door a nudge, tightening her bag strap on her shoulder as she watched Evan drive away. As soon as Evan turned the corner, (Y/n)'s stomach gave an awful twist and she suddenly wanted to call out for him and make him turn around. She wanted to climb back into the jeep and go back home with him when a flock of familiar faces caught her eye.

Oh no.

It was the four girls from her class that (Y/n) tried her best not to hang around. The ones who were like little teenagers, always vying for attention from anyone, any boy, any teacher, any passing person. The girls who acted like gossip was the currency in this place and being nosey was their passtime.

"Hi (Y/n)."

"Hi," Her voice was quiet and meek as she pulled her bag closer and tried to power walk ahead. She wanted to get to class and get sat down before everyone else filtered in.

"Was that your fella?" When (Y/n) nodded, Carla smiled and moved to walk beside her. "He's a looker, how old is he? Looks like he's in his thirties."

(Y/n) cringed and tried to walk ahead, but it was no use. They were all going in the same direction, to the same class. She couldn't run ahead without them without causing a fuss or making them realise they unnerved her and she didn't want to be around them.

"He is, isn't he?" Sandra added in with glee when (Y/n) rolled her lips together and didn't respond.

"He's thirty-one." She kept her voice quiet and her eyes focused on the pavement as they headed towards the college building.

This was why (Y/n) hated being around people like them. They made such a fuss when it wasn't really anything to fuss about. Yes, Evan was older than (Y/n), but he was only nine years older than her. That wasn't such a big gap, (Y/n) knew people with twelve or even fifteen years between them. There was less than a decade separating her and Evan, and it wasn't like it was a bad thing.

(Y/n) wasn't a teenager still in school, she was almost finished with her college degree now and then she would be on the same path as Evan, finding a steady job like he had. And Evan didn't really act his age, nor did he actually look his age like Carla insinuated, she was only probing for information.

"Isn't he a firefighter?" Carla looked over her shoulder as if Evan was still sat there in his jeep. He would be halfway back home by now. He wasn't there for them to ogle at or play twenty questions with him like they were doing now with (Y/n).

They had seen him on the tv.

Evan had done a lot of interviews over the years, mainly just little ones to say the team had gotten a victim out alive or that everyone was okay and they had no casualties. But with all the stunts he had done on the job, he had been in the paper more than once.

"Well that's a way to further yourself."

Sandra's voice made (Y/n) stop in her tracks. She turned to the left and looked over at the blonde as if she had grown a second head. She was the one who kept talking whenever Evan dropped (Y/n) off. She was the one who said she couldn't fathom why someone like Evan was with a 'little girl like (Y/n)'.

"What?" What did she mean by that? What was she talking about?

"You can get to know a lot of people, being with him. I bet he's got a lot of connections. And that's good for your image, upcoming nurse latched onto a hot, older fireman."

"It's not-"

"I bet he's got his own place, right? That's why you always get a lift, you stay at his place?"

Her blood ran cold and Her knees started to shake as if they had turned to jelly. Why was she being like this? Why were the other girls agreeing with her? Why couldn't they just walk away knowing that (Y/n) was happy with Evan? This was nothing to do with them but they seemed to be poking their noses in because they wanted to stir up trouble.

"Because he's my partner." Her voice was low as her words seethed through gritted teeth. Evan was her partner, she had every right to stay over at his place when she wanted to see him and be with him. She practically lived there. Evan was always inviting her round and when he picked her up from class he automatically took her back to his place.

She only seemed to go home if Evan was on a long stint of shifts or if she wanted to get some more clothes and do some washing.

"I get it… you've latched onto a goldmine there."

A wave of sickness washed over (Y/n) and she pushed her feet to move faster before she collapsed down on her knees. She sped away from them and bolted down the corridor, not caring if anyone looked her way and wondered what on Earth she was doing.

It was none of their business about her and Evan. She was with him because she loved him. (Y/n) wasn't using Evan, she wasn't trying to be with him because she thought he would advance her career or introduce her to smart people. Or because he was older with his own money and his own place and a good job.

None of that was true, but it didn't matter because none of those girls were going to believe (Y/n). Not when they had it in their minds that Evan was a successful, handsome fireman who had no reason to be with (Y/n).

***

Sinking back on her heels, (Y/n) slumped her head back against the toilet wall and coiled both her arms around her waist. The back of her throat was aching and torn apart from how much she had just thrown up and the acidic taste in her mouth made her grimace.

She was going to make herself late for class if she stayed in here much longer. But on the other hand, (Y/n) couldn't go into class if she still felt like she had more to throw up. Being sick in class was the last thing she needed right now.

Her hands moved to the wall and she used it as leverage to stand up on shaking legs. She grabbed her bag from the hook on the wall and unlocked the door, stumbling out the cubicle over towards the sinks.

Leaning over, she took a few sips of water from the sink before she moved her bag and rummaged around for the familiar box of tablets.

(Y/n) barely took the tiny orange tablet before the toilet door opened and someone walked in.

"You look rough."

(Y/n) refrained from rolling her eyes and took another sip of water to wash the tablet down. Her eyes widened and a gasp rolled past her lips when Sandra suddenly grabbed the box from her hands.

What was she doing? Why was she taking (Y/n)'s tablets? How rude could she get to lean across and snatch them from her like she thought they were illicit drugs instead of prescribed medication.

"Oh, well done."

"Leave me alone." (Y/n) snatched the box back so tightly she began to crumple the cardboard in her grip. She tossed it back in her bag and closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm and not shed any tears here in front of someone she was growing to despise.

She didn't want anyone finding out. She hadn't even talked to Evan yet. That was why she kept the folic acid hidden in her bag so Evan wouldn't see. If he saw them, he would form the same conclusion Sandra had right now.

(Y/n) was pregnant.

"I didn't believe the others, about your big fireman until we watched him pick you up the other day. Now I know why."

"You don't know anything-"

"I know he's not going to be able to leave you now. A little girl, having his baby. He'll have to stick by you. What a way to make sure that eligible fireman doesn't find someone better, more mature than you. Baby-trap him so he can't leave you."

She wouldn't answer. She wouldn't give Sandra the satisfaction. but she could feel tears welling up in her eyes when she realised the toilet door had opened again. Tina was stood there. At least it was someone (Y/n) knew and trusted. Tina was the only person (Y/n) would trust with this news, they were close friends but (Y/n) hadn't told anyone about this yet.

She hadn't worked out what she was going to do or found a way to tell Evan without him coming to the same conclusion as Sandra had.

Now she was going to go and tell everyone in their class and soon enough it would be all round the college that (Y/n) was pregnant. Everyone would be saying the same thing as Sandra because no one really knew (Y/n) or anything about her relationship with Evan and this was gossip, not fact.

"Sandra, back off with those jealous accusations." Tina folded her arms over her chest but she didn't get two steps into the toilets before (Y/n) ran past her.

She didn't care about class anymore. She didn't care about missing their next class.

There was no way (Y/n) was going to sit there while Sandra spread this news around everyone. She couldn't have them looking and staring at her and whispering behind her back. (Y/n) would rather go home and wallow in self-pity and think what she was going to do.

But she didn't know what she was going to do, or how Evan was going to react to something like this.

***

Evan lifted his gaze from his phone to look ahead of him. He slouched his hips back against the jeep and took a look around. When he messaged (Y/n) last night during his shift all he got was short replies. But he managed to get her to agree for him to pick her up after her class today.

She wasn't out yet. She was usually out on time, she didn't hang around for anyone, she liked to be straight out and back home as quickly as possible.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket when his eyes landed on Tina. Evan didn't know her very well, but he knew her to say hello to, and he knew she was (Y/n)'s closest friend.

"Hi."

"Hey Buck, you're not here for (Y/n), are you?" Her words made his shoulders slump and knots formed in his stomach.

"Why?"

"She missed class today, yesterday too."

That wasn't normal. (Y/n) was never one to miss class. A few months back she caught a chest infection, she could barely breathe or stay awake and she ran a fever. And Evan had to stop her from leaving the apartment to try and get to class on time. Even when she was ill she still tried her best to attend classes so it wasn't like her to not turn up.

And she told Evan she would be at class today. She told him she had gone yesterday and said he could pick her up. So either something had happened or she really wasn't feeling like herself and had decided to skip. Either way, Evan didn't like the thought or the outcome he was going to get.

"She's not been herself lately… has she said anything to you, I'm worried about her."

He didn't like the look he got in return. Tina bit down on her lip and looked down at her shoes before she sighed. Her foot began to tap against the pavement and she slumped her shoulders and dropped her weight onto one leg as her nails scratched along her arm.

She didn't want to have to tell Evan, but she knew if she didn't, (Y/n) wasn't likely to either. And he needed to know what was going on so he could help (Y/n) and try to sort this out with her.

"Some of the people on campus started asking her about you, they um… they started saying stuff, when they found out you're older, and what you do for a living." That was the nicest way Tina could think of wording it without upsetting or angering Evan. And she knew it was never her place to tell him that (Y/n) might be pregnant.

She had tried messaging and calling (Y/n) after class yesterday but she never answered. Considering what Tina had heard in the toilets, she wanted to know if (Y/n) was okay and if it was true, but she'd heard nothing from her.

"What kind of stuff?"

"That she's with you for status and money- stupid stuff that's not true, but it really upset her. I think you need to talk to her."

"Fuck." Evan dragged his hand through his hair and down over his jaw that clicked from side to side. "I know where she'll be."

When he worked double shifts, he told (Y/n) she could stay at his place even if he wasn't there. It was closer to the college and it was somewhere she could study in peace and be alone and then she would be there when he came home. He loved coming home to her.

He had a gut feeling that if (Y/n) was in a state and was this upset, she would go to his place. He prayed that she would be at his place because then he wouldn't have to ring her and go searching for her. He needed to talk to her and make sure she was alright because this didn't sound good, it sounded frightening.

"Ask her to call me, so I know she's alright, please?"

"Course I will."

It didn't take him long to drive down to the apartment and part of Evan wished he had gone home before going to the college. But grabbing a shower after shift and then having a coffee with Eddie and Hen had taken longer than he expected and he thought he was going to be late to pick (Y/n) up. He knew if he was late she would presume he was still at work and try to walk or get the bus home.

Once he got to the apartment, trepidation flooded his veins and he almost didn't want to open the door.

He cautiously headed inside and took a look around. Her shoes and bag were by the door, so were her keys which meant she was here. Thank God. That was one less thing for him to worry about; he knew where she was and that she was safe.

"Baby?"

He headed towards the stairs, about to walk into the living room but he stopped when he heard the tv on upstairs. (Y/n) didn't usually watch tv up in bed in the middle of the afternoon like this. He grabbed the bannister and used it to propell himself up the stairs two at a time.

It didn't take long for Evan to lock his eyes on (Y/n). She was curled up in the middle of the bed, her knees coiled up and her arms wrapped around a pillow that she was cradling to her chest like it was a teddy.

When he walked over, Evan could feel his heart trying to break free from his chest.

She was crying.

Staying silent, he quietly walked over to the bed and sank down on the side. He waited for (Y/n) to acknowledge that he was there before he leaned over her and slipped his hands beneath her arms so he could try and move her. (Y/n) stayed limp and let Evan lift her up so he could lay her over his lap instead and he gently moved the pillow so she could hug him instead.

He was relieved when (Y/n) shuffled round to properly hug him. She imbedded her face into his abdomen and coiled her arms around his waist, digging her fingers into his back.

Evan leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, curving both his arms around her with his hand soothingly rubbing up and down her back.

"Baby, talk to me. What's going on, hm?" He stayed doubled over with his lips meshed into her temple until his back started to ache. When he pulled back, he started to card his fingers through her hair, brushing tendrils away from her face that was still mostly smothered in his shirt.

"Just… just a low mood, I'm okay."

Why was she trying to hide this from him? They didn't have the kind of relationship where they felt they couldn't confide in each other. Evan told (Y/n) anything and everything that was on his mind, whether it was good or bad. He thought she felt the same.

"I talked to Tina today. She told me what those girls in your class were saying." He tried to keep his tone light to make sure (Y/n) knew he wasn't trying to start an argument or come across as rude. He was just trying to understand.

He opened his arms when (Y/n) started to move and waited for her to sit up so they could talk properly. But her shoulders were quaking and tears were now freely streaming down her face. Evan's breath caught in his throat when (Y/n) turned away from him and when she tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, Evan reached out for her.

He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back so she couldn't try and leave. They needed to talk, avoiding this conversation wouldn't make it go away, it would only prolong the inevitable.

"No, no baby we need to talk about this. Is this why you've been nervous around me?"

He perched his chin on her shoulder and kept her back pressed into his chest while both arms secured around her waist so she was sitting on his lap. He felt her hands grip his wrists tightly and she tilted her head down so she was looking at her hands. At least with Evan behind her, (Y/n) didn't have to see his face fall when she tried to explain.

"They don't get why you're with me, but- but Sandra thinks I'm with you to use you… boost my image, or something like that." It felt silly to be getting upset over something so stupid, but (Y/n) couldn't help how she reacted or the way she felt.

Sandra's words had cut deep and if she thought like that and so did other people on campus, what were Evan's friends and colleagues going to say? What would his family think of her? Would they all think the same? Would they think she was using Evan? Was he going to end up thinking the same thing?

"They don't get it because this isn't their relationship. I love you, I love how I feel when I'm with you and how amazing and smart you are. Come on, baby, it doesn't matter what they say-"

"Evan I- I care what your friends will think, your team… if the girls think like that then-"

"Hey, they're not like that, I promise. Baby they won't think bad of you, they'll love you like I do. Does it bother you that I'm older? There's not even ten years between us… what's that face for?"

Evan kept his arms around (Y/n)'s middle but he let her shuffle round on his lap so she was facing him this time. He moved his hands to her legs and pulled on them until they were hooked around his torso and she was sat high on his hips with her abdomen pushing into his.

His hands wormed beneath her shirt and spread out on her back while (Y/n) hooked her arms around his neck.

They had never talked about the age difference being a problem for either of them. It didn't bother Evan, it was a number that barely made an impact on either of their lives. It wasn't as if Evan was middle-aged and (Y/n) was a teenager, they weren't at different points in their lives. And no one at the station was going to care.

They loved each other, they were happy together and more to the point, they were both good for each other. That's all the team at the station were going to see and care about and Evan knew they would be fine with (Y/n) and would welcome her with open arms.

"You know it doesn't, but I know what everyone's gonna say when they get to know me, Evan everyone will think I'm tying you down to me… that I- that I'm baby-trapping you. It's what Sandra said earlier."

She could barely breathe.

She'd done it. She'd taken the plunge and told him what was really bothering her and how their lives were now going to change.

(Y/n) could see it now. She could just see all of Evan's friends at the station telling him he was moving too fast with her. That she was a lovely girl, but she might be with him for the wrong reasons. They would think (Y/n) had planned this, that she was trying to leech off of Evan and keep him tied to her by having a baby with him. It was bad enough that everyone on campus was going to think like this, (Y/n) wouldn't have to see them for long before she graduated.

But she would have to see the people Evan worked with and see them stare at her and look her up and down with distaste. She would see them whisper about her.

Tears began to stream down (Y/n)'s face when Evan didn't say anything, he just stared at her with parted lips like he hadn't heard her or she had spoken in a foreign language. (Y/n) tightened her arms around his neck and leaned forward to hide her face in his neck. She breathed in his scent, trying to take deep breaths as Evan's chest rumbled.

"Baby I… I don't know what that means."

He felt the shiver that tore down her spine. Evan worked around older people, barring Ravi, Evan was one of the younger ones at the station. He didn't know a lot of the new terms floating around, it was normally Chris who told him what things meant.

Evan hadn't heard that one before and it made his stomach churn at how upset (Y/n) was getting about all of this.

"It's… it means I'm trapping you in a relationship with me, stopping you from leaving, by having a baby with you." (Y/n) hiccupped through her words, but she managed to say them all without too much hassle.

She leaned her head back enough to see Evan's reaction. She had to know if he was going to be angry or upset or if he might even believe she was baby-trapping him on purpose. (Y/n) couldn't think about anything or what they were going to do until she knew how Evan was going to feel about all of this.

"You're pregnant?"

"I'm so-"

Before (Y/n) could even fumble her way through an apology, a gasp tumbled past her lips when Evan pushed forward and pinned her down on her back on the bed.

He had one arm wormed beneath her waist and the other hand cupped the back of her neck as (Y/n) tried to catch her breath back. But she didn't have chance for a proper breath when Evan stole her lips in a kiss. He laid between her legs that hooked around his hips on instinct.

She could feel his abdomen pressing into hers, his chest meshed down against her own and his elbows jammed down into the bed so he didn't press all of his weight onto her and smother her. But the feeling of him laying on top of her like this was heaven; especially with the force and weight of his lips on hers.

(Y/n) tangled her fingers up in his hair and gave a sharp pull when she felt Evan's tongue slide past her lips with ease. His boney hips pushed into hers, pinning her so far down into the bed that she felt like there would be a mould of her body in the mattress when they eventually got up.

His teeth meshed against hers, his fingers tightened around the back of her neck and his hand pressed into her back, pulling her chest tighter into hers. (Y/n) could feel herself going lightheaded from lack of air and the weight of Evan pushing down on her. She dragged her tongue across his lower lip and finally pulled back for air, seeing black spots dance all around Evan when she tried to look up at him.

His baby blue eyes were a deeper, darker shade now that tears were glossing over his eyes. But it was the way his lips were twitched up into a dazed smile that made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat.

"We're having a baby?"

"You're n-not mad at me?"

Evan laughed breathlessly and stole another kiss from her lips that felt like glue attaching to him and keeping him close. He moved his hand round from her neck to glide the pad of his finger beneath her eyes, swiping away a few stray tears. And he moved a few loose pieces of pair behind her ear so he could see her properly, fully.

"Sweetheart, this may surprise you but I had something to do with this too, it's not like you did this on your own or decided this was gonna happen. And why would I be mad? You know I love the bones of you… is this what you want?"

A sudden bolt of fear shot through to his heart at the thought that this wasn't what (Y/n) wanted.

But when he watched her lips curve into a smile and saw the tears begin to fall again, he sighed. She was nodding. This is what she wanted. He didn't quite know why she thought he would be angry with her. He loved her more than anything and she was his world. And Evan wanted kids, he wanted loads of them and he knew from the moment they got together that (Y/n) was the one for him.

"You, uh, do you wanna move in with me then, baby?" His grin made (Y/n)'s stomach jump.

This might not be the correct order to do things in, but they were doing this their way. And she practically lived here with Evan anyway, most of her things were here and she barely visited home. Moving in would just make things more official.

"Yes please- what are you doing?" (Y/n) tightened her arms around his neck and leaned up with him when he tilted back. She attached her lips to his jaw, watching him grin madly as he fumbled in his back pocket for his phone.

"Calling Maddie, I wanna introduce you so then I can start telling everyone I'm gonna be a dad."

Evan knew if he told Maddie about the news before he introduced her to (Y/n), she would scold him. He wanted to ask her round for tea, introduce them and try and see if he could hold back a few days, maybe a week. Once (Y/n) had had a scan, then he could go round shouting it from the rooftops and telling all his friends and family that it was finally happening.

He was going to have a baby with the girl of his dreams.

#evan buckley #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #pregnant! reader

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occamstfs · 3 months

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Ugh, I Hate Bongs.

Switching it up slightly! Here's a more subtle TF as a straight edge busybody finally tries to stick it to his stoner roommate. -Occam

Chris was not going to let his roommate smoke in their apartment anymore. He was tired of the couch smelling like smoke which is reason enough, but beyond that his roommate, Nate, had fully broken two bongs in the past, getting their ashy water all over papers Chris had left out in the den. Hearing a telltale gurgle coming from the living room could only mean Nate had now brought a third bong into their shared space. Chris felt almost bound to act.

As soon as he opens his bedroom door he feels a wave of thick smoke blow through him, clearly getting the skunky smell he hates so much all over his clothes and bedding. This was something Chris could not let stand. It’s bad enough that he’s doing this in the apartment at all now it’s now going to start seeping into the only place he had left. He sees Nate on the couch taking in a deep breath preparing to lay into him. But? What was he mad about anyway?

Standing there continuing to breathe in smoke from Nate’s session he remembers there was definitely something he needed to do. He was in his room, then he heard his roommate, and now he is in the living room? As he continues to aimlessly circle through these seemingly insignificant events he doesn’t even notice as he stops smelling the weed in the air, before seeing Nate take another massive bong hit on the couch. Seeing him out of his room Nate smiles, breathing another wave of smoke into the room.

“Yo dude! Are you coming to join?” Nate’s eyes are bleary and red as he offers the bong and lighter to his roommate.

That’s what it was, Chris remembers as he sees the bong. He was pissed that his roommate was using a bong! It was, annoying for some reason? I mean it looks a little dirty right? “Didn’t I say no bongs dude?”

“Oh yeah dude! That’s why I rolled you a joint?”

This throws Chris for a loop. What a kind thing to do but he can’t help but feel something amiss going on. The smile briefly fades from Nate as he grows concerned seeing Chris struggle. “Woah everything good dude?”

“Yeah, sorry? My head just feels like it’s pounding,” Chris rubs his face in discomfort feeling his face grow flush and his eyes begin to dry.

“This’ll straighten you right up dude, come on just try a hit.”

Chris, upon being directly asked, puts out a hand for the joint and immediately lights it up like he has done it a thousand times over. He takes a hit like an expert, breathing slowly and naturally as to not cough. Only after doing so and realizing he had no discomfort he starts a coughing fit. Of course, he has been breathing progressively more and more smoke since stepping out of his bedroom, so this fit is almost performative. Something he is doing only because it is something he should be doing, or he thinks he should be doing? He doesn’t usually smoke, right?

This thought quickly flashes out of his head as feels lightheaded, collapsing onto the couch right next to Nate. His body growing leaner as he almost liquefies into the cushions, “See Chris what did I say, one hit and you’re already cured.” His glazed eyes look over to his friend as he takes another hit. He sees his friend’s stubbled face and wonders if he should grow one of his own. Shaving is more effort than it’s worth anyway. He exhales as he too starts to add to the pervasive smoke filling the room.

He scratches at his face as a scraggly beard starts to push out. Pausing to feel as much as he can in his body before taking another hit. Pushing his back against the couch, rubbing his arm down his chest and stomach, Nate watching as his roommate finally lets loose. Chris takes a third hit as Nate sees his hair get greasier as his pubes push out beyond the bounds of his holey underwear.

Chris launches into another coughing fit as, unbeknownst to him, he finishes the joint and starts to burn the filter. Seeing this Nate reacts as quickly as he can, clumsily putting the bong down on the table reaching out to check on Chris, rubbing his roommates back in a way that seem decidedly intimate. “Y’okay dude? Your hits were way too big but ‘s chill ‘s chill. You didn’t want any more did you?”

Sluggishly working through the words Nate just asked him he finds he doesn’t need to search for his own answer. Why wouldn’t he want more? Everything just feels so much better as he stretches, feeling his tendons and muscles expand and contract, “Mmmmm yeah I could do a little more.” Before he remembers that with his joint now impossibly consumed in three hits the only weed ready to smoke is in the bong’s bowl, still vaguely unpleasant to him.

Nate then has a masterful idea. He would shotgun the weed to Chris! Why would he be averse to that? They’re friends right? Chris, numbed beyond reason, is more than happy to give it a try. He’s sure that he's drunk after Nate before right? Or? Have they kissed before? It’s hard to tell, the benders they go on its truly impossible to say.

Chris watches as Nate takes a massive hit of the bong. Water gurgling for full seconds before he reconsiders, one last time feeling unease, he isn’t the to go on benders right? He’s so type a he wouldn’t even think about it. Continuing to question himself as he leans towards Nate, finishing his inhale as he too leans towards Chris. He opens his mouth letting the cloud of smoke leak out of his mouth, lazily gazing into Chris’ eyes expecting him to finish the job.

Seeing this Chris is unable to resist as he stumbles forward pressing his mouth to Nate’s.

Nate falls backwards, once more narrowly placing the bong on the table, as Chris crashes into him. The playful second hand smoking quickly dissolving into an aggressive grinding session as Chris hungrily slobbers over Nate’s neck. Maybe he is this type of person. Nate pulls Chris’ shirt off letting their torsos touch skin to skin as Chris begins dry humping his roommate. The two stoners continue in this regard as their cocks swiftly demand attention as sweatpants are pulled down and the two have at each other outright. Lean arms flailing in the air as they pull on each other's unwashed hair. Faces shove into hairy pits in lieu of smoking any more weed, besides of course the haze still filling the apartment. The pressure quickly mounts as Chris is inches from finishing all over his roommates’ hairy chest before he shifts and his left leg flings into the table knocking over bong number three. “Shit dude!” he cries as he does indeed finish missing Nate’s chest for his face. Coming down from their ecstasy the pair stumble off the couch narrowly avoiding glass shards as they try to clean up Chris’ mess.

“Maybe no more bongs yeah,” Chris giggles at something he can quite understand as he watches Nate struggle with a broom. His eyes shift from the unground weed on the table and his still unclad roommate as he starts to work himself up once more. Hungrily awaiting what comes next, he prepares for session two.

#male tf #mental change #stoner tf #male transformation

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Everything's all fun and games until everyone assumes you're just being a Horny BardTM when you have, in fact, actually been kidnapped by a dragon.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

“Wow,” Ace whistled, long and low, and you fought a twitch in your jaw.

He and Deuce were certainly beat to shit, but not quite ‘hurled dozens of feet through the air and a roof’ level of shit, so your spell must have cushioned at least a little of the fall. The pair of idiots stood at the entrance of the cavernous room, shifting back and forth on their heels and faces twisted up in varying degrees of horror.

“I mean, I know there’s a stereotype about bards and whatever,” he continued, aghast. “But, really? Really?”

You grit your teeth. The pointed chin resting atop your head shifted and you felt claws flex at your hips.

‘My friends will probably be coming back here soon to find me,’ you’d entreated, not five-minutes prior.

‘Your friends?’ the dragon had repeated, slow, like the concept of comradery was something completely alien. And then his eyes had narrowed. ‘Ah. They intend to steal you away,’ he’d said with all the indignation of someone who’d clearly forgotten he had literally just proclaimed his intent to the do the exact same thing.

Sparks had shot out from between his teeth, and the already too-sharp black nails tipping his fingers had curled into talons—ashy darkness trailing up his arms like a seeping stain.

‘What? No,’ you’d lied. ‘They would never. I’m sure they’re just curious. Whether I’m still alive or not, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ he’d blinked, that venomous ire seeping from his gaze as if it’d never been there to begin with. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’

So when your loveable idiots had eventually stormed in—swords drawn, banners flying—you schooled your countenance into something as placid as possible. Something that perhaps conveyed ‘I would love for you guys to help me out here, but also I would really like not to see the three of us become tonight’s entrée. So like. Maybe sit this one out.’ But whatever expression you ended up making clearly wasn’t doing what you were aiming for if Ace’s first instinct was to accuse you of Horny Bard Shenanigans.

Or maybe your face wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was just the nearly seven-foot-tall, naked, dragon man draped across your shoulders. Who’s to say.

“This has nothing to do with that,” you snapped, ears burning.

“Do with what?” The newly dubbed Tsunotarou rumbled. He was pressed close enough that you could feel the worlds roll through his chest—annnnd you were going to stop yourself right there and focus very, very, intently on getting through this conversation alive.

“Human things,” you spluttered frantically.

“Ah,” he hummed, his chin shifting from the crown of your head to dip down and instead rest atop the curve of your shoulder. “You’ll have to explain it to me later, then. I do find our cultural differences very intriguing. You humans are so… new age.”

“Explain it to you later…?” Deuce frowned, and you could see the words zipping around behind his eyes to slowly put themselves together into a cohesive thought. He shot ramrod straight and whipped his arm out accusatorily. “You’re staying?!”

“Of course,” you said, with all the enthusiasm of someone with a knife held to their throat. You locked eyes as obviously as you could—hoping he’d get the message. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

You could see the pinched look on his face, the heavy weight of discontentment tugging at his brow. There was a war being waged in that man’s head—a battle between what lingering, frail, shreds of rationality and comprehension remained, and the desire to be a good friend and save our bard! Because mama said I should be good to my friends! You stared him down hard, silently begging, pleading, to just let it go. The fingers gripping his axe tightened and you could hear the leather of his gauntlets creak with strain. Tsunotarou hummed, something like amusement coloring the throaty rumble, and it tingled all the way from the tips of your toes to the cheek he was tucked up against. The claws at your side flexed—not deep enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that funny as the notion of a teeny, human, barbarian hurling themselves at a dragon was, it wasn’t going to be a good enough joke to earn said dragon’s mercy.

“Well, duh, you’re staying!” Ace interrupted slickly, sliding in front of Deuce and his burbling rage like a fox finally skulking from its hole. “Look at what a great new friendyou’ve made! You can’t just leave him here all on his lonesome, now can you?”

The low rumble skirting along your back melted into something that was very nearly a purr. Your eyes flickered to your captor’s face—or as much of his face as you could manage to make out, considering he had plastered himself to your side like an overgrown cat. His lips were curled back into that smug, contented, smirk—the tips of his sharp canines just barely peeked out over his bottom lip.

“We’ll come back and check on you, of course,” Ace continued. He waved his hand at the dragon, like they were old chums shooting the shit over a pint of ale in a tavern. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure they’re settling in all right—make sure you’re keeping with your honorable intentions and whatnot. How’s two weeks from now sound?”

“Two weeks?!” you wailed.

Tsunotarou grumbled, clearly also displeased. “I agree. That seems far too soon.”

“Two months?” the ginger countered easily.

“Ace!”

The dragon seemed to consider this new proposal quite thoroughly. You could feel his long lashes flick down against your cheek as his eyes went hooded, heavy—slipping back into his thoughts to ponder upon this newly proffered timeline. After a long, long, moment, he lifted himself from your neck and plonked his chin back down atop the crown of your head.

“That is acceptable.”

Deuce looked entirely unimpressed. You had a feeling you looked like you were about to shit yourself. Ace, naturally, seemed more or less content.

“Well then!” the traitor chirped. “We’ll see you when we see you then, yeah?”

You grit you teeth, but your gaze flicked to your other, kinder, friend and you bit back the slew of heinous insults brewing on your tongue. Deuce still looked more than ready to jump into the fray, consequences be damned. And you were not going to let your terrible, horrible, no-good, rotten luck end all his valiant attempts at redemption when he inevitably attempted to go toe-to-toe with the business end of a dragon.

“…Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here?” Deuce asked, face twisted up in distaste.

There was a pissy rumble from over your shoulder.

“Do you doubt my abilities as a host?”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Ace cut in, ever the bootlicker. “And besides,” he drawled, elbowing his companion in the ribs. “You know how bards are. I’m sure this is right up their alley.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Deuce went pale—then green. Ace turned on you with a smile that was all vinegar. “Right?”

‘I should not let them be murdered horribly,’ you repeated to yourself past the crimson rage leaking into your vision. ‘I should not let them be horribly murdered—’

“Righteo!” you forced yourself to spit. And if you somehow managed to survive these next two months, you were going to string that red haired traitor up by his pinkies and feed him to the crows that lived outside your window.

Your friends slipped away slowly, hesitantly—Deuce looking like he’d been struck down by a horrid case of food poisoning or something else equally as stomach churning. Once they were gone, Tsunotarou lifted his chin from your head so that he could crane his neck over your shoulder and look at you more directly. Not that he had to try very hard, seeing as he was gigantic, whether on two legs or four.

“What was the small, ugly, one referring to?” he asked curiously. “About your profession?”

Your life flashed before your eyes.

“Bards are known for their hearty curiosity and drive to experience new situations,” you repeated, verbatim, from the little adventurer’s handbook you’d been gifted by Lord Crewel all those years ago.

“Oh,” he hummed, nodding into your hair. “Of course.”

The first major hurdle cropped up barely two hours later.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

The dragon blinked slowly, as if mentally tallying through a list of human bodily functions to try and figure out just what on earth you were talking about.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. And then he began to melt away—limbs stretching and cracking, and porcelain complexion bubbling up with inky miasma so thick and dark it may as well have been tar. It was both horrifying and awe-inspiring to watch, like some great creature of old emerging from an arcane cocoon. And not two minutes later, a familiar, ebony, dragon was standing before you in all its glory.

He lowered his snout and nosed around your shoulders for a moment, snuffling and searching. And then he pinched your collar between his teeth and hauled you into the air.

You tried not to scream. Really, you did. But humans just weren’t meant for flying, let alone while suspended between the jaws of a beast that could swallow them whole. By the time you landed, you were so wobbly and windswept that you nearly collapsed to the ground then and there, bladder be damned. Tsunotarou warbled something deep in his chest, and you glanced up past the thin veil of icy sweat dripping into your eyes.

He'd placed you into a blown-out enclave that had probably once been a very nice hallway. And in the corner was the remains of what indeed looked like a bathroom. You straightened yourself as much as you could and began hobbling woozily towards what you hoped was a proper, enchanted, toilet and not just some block of stone with a bowl at the bottom.

There was an echoing thud from behind you and you jumped, startled, and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tsunotarou had sat his massive head at the entrance. And he continued to sit there. Watching.

“Uhm,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

He stared, unmoving. You sighed and squashed your fingers into your temples.

“…We’re going to have to establish some boundaries,” you said. The dragon’s gigantic, neon, eyes closed and opened—like a question. “Boundaries,” you repeated. “Things that we do on our own.”

The beast’s lips flattened into a grumpy line and he grumbled something unintelligible at you, spitting loose sparks from behind his overly long canines.

However, mouthful of razor-sharp teeth in your face or otherwise, everyone had to draw the line between pride and self-preservation somewhere. And having to piss in front of an audience was apparently yours.

You waved your hands in a shoo shoo motion and those amethyst crests flattened irritably atop his skull. He settled in further, the structure of the terrace groaning beneath the weight of his scaly chin. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t exactly like there was a door or anything that you could just, like, shut in his face. And beating him off with a broom or something like a stray cat was out of the question—just out of sheer impossibility. You were going to have to get creative here…

An idea popped into your head and you leaned forward with a charismatic little smile that you’d unleashed on so many traders, and shopkeepers, and unsuspecting bakers that it ought to be considered a weapon in its own right. You’d practiced it in the mirror for weeks.

“I’ll tell you a story,” you offered, and his slitted pupils rounded a bit—intrigued. “That’s what I was before all this, you know. A storyteller.” You had his full interest now, those purple crests rippling behind his horns. “But you have to close your eyes,” you said. “It makes it easier to imagine that way.”

He stared you down curiously for a heartbeat or three, and then Tsunotarou’s gigantic, luminous, eyes slipped shut.

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the decrepit, stone, toilet.

“Once upon a time,” you began, sweeping your cloak out in front of you to give yourself at least a little bit more dignity. One of those crests twitched at the sound of swirling fabric, but his eyes remained dutifully closed. “There was a bard who made some very terrible life decisions—"

The next bump in the road came the following afternoon.

“People tend to wear clothes,” you said.

He canted his head at you. “I am not a person.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Tsunotarou was stretched out along one of the many, grand, banisters lining what you assumed had once been a ballroom—lounging in the dim light like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. Apparently, before your arrival, he’d very rarely, if ever, shed his wings and scales for this more compact form. And he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying spreading himself out across all the new surfaces that the change in size allowed him. Part of you would have thought it was a bit endearing—seeing this eldritch monster merrily falling into the ‘if I fits, I sits’ way of life. The other part was sick of nearly collapsing in cardiac arrest every time you caught sight of his very naked self reclining across some new piece of furniture.

“Yes,” you intoned, deadpan. “But you look like one.”

He blinked slowly, as if putting together a thought. “I see. The dissonance of observing a vestige of humanity which does not actually fit the mold of a human must be disconcerting to you.” He rested a knuckle lightly against his chin as he pondered. “In the same way I may feel uncomfortable if you took on the form a dragon with no teeth or tail.”

“Sure. Whatever,” you bemoaned. “Just. Pants? Please?”

He observed you quietly for a moment, amusement dancing across his features. And then he grinned, putting the pointed tips of those impressive canines of his on full display.

“Well I suppose if you’re going to ask so sweetly.”

He sat up with a stretch that was outright spitting in the face of your plea for modesty, and then spread his hands. His black-tipped fingers twisted gracefully, artfully, and the cavernous room filled with the scent of packed earth and ozone. Soft puffs of emerald light glided along his arms, and in their wake sprouted tendrils of sheer, silken, sleeves. Those dancing lights traveled merrily from his shoulders to his hips, and then back again—spinning magic into fabric like little, ghostly, seamstresses as they went.

The soft glow faded and the silk settled around him with all the delicacy of a cloud. It was stunning, certainly. A true work of beauty. With billowing sleeves that cinched neatly at his wrists, and swept into an open window across his front. The fabric wrapped itself snuggly at his waist and draped low enough to offer at least what should have been the bare minimum of modesty. It pooled across his shoulders, splaying out into a split cape that looked eerily similar to the wings he dawned in his other, scalier, form.

But this lovely new ensemble—as gloriously shiny and magical as it was—was still nearly fucking transparent. And yeah, the shadows curling along the spiraling silk did a decent enough job at obscuring what ought to be obscured. But at the same time, somehow this impression of cloth, of loose fabric that dipped below his collar bones and hung uneven and open across his pale chest, was worse than the outright fucking nudity. Scandalous. Like walking in on a seduction scene in a trashy novel.

“…maybe you should just do whatever makes you comfortable,” you managed to cough out, gaze slipping downwards of its own accord. And then more down. You gulped. “D-Don’t feel the need to change yourself on my account.”

He stared grumpily at his swanky new outfit. And then back at you. His lips pursed into a pout.

“You don’t find it pleasing.”

Your eyes rolled up to stare miserably, tormentedly, at the ceiling, and you began reciting every religious verse you could think of. Thou shall not steal or covet. In the name of the Mother, the Crone, and the Hallowed Throne. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Aye, Macarena—

“It looks perfectly nice. I just think that you have as much of a right to be happy in your skin as I do,” you reiterated. “I—I mean, you’re already keeping yourself human more often than not just so we can talk.” Which was true enough, but also mostly an attempt to make it seem like your concern was genuinely aimed at him and not your steadily rising blood pressure.

“…you’re incredibly strange,” he grumbled after a moment, his brow tugging low on his forehead. More pouting. “And impossibly frustrating to read.”

The heat radiating off your face like a fucking active volcano felt ‘possible’ enough to you, but what did you know.

“That’s why you’re keeping me around,” you reminded him.

Ten minutes later, he was sprawled out with his head in your lap, the ridges of his horns bumping your hips and inky black hair spilling over your thighs. Naked as a jaybird.

“Tell me another story,” he hummed, eyes slipping closed.

“Sure,” you agreed, gaze once again firmly locked on the hundreds of cracks in the ceiling. You’d probably have them all memorized by this evening, or at the very least have managed to count them all up a dozen times over.

You were halfway through some yarn about armies made of playing cards and worlds beyond looking glasses when Tsunotarou sighed, heavy and bone deep. Content. And then he turned to bury his cheek into the rough fabric of your traveler’s pants with a rumbling drawl that was not unlike a purr. His nose pressed itself into the inseam of your thigh and your brain fuzzed out like you’d been shot pointblank with a Wand of Lightning Bolts.

“Child of Man?” he huffed after a moment—one, neon, eye flicking open to glare up at you grumpily. “What happened then? To the cat that smiled too wide and the man with the mad hats?”

“R-Right,” you squawked. “Uhm—so as I was saying—”

You stared back at all those cracks and started counting again from zero.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 2

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mysteriesmuse · 11 months

Text

Katsuki’s hiding in his Hiding Place — your shoulder

Your reputation far proceeds you, usually too generous for your own good. You’ve always been a bit of a subtle star in Katsuki’s eyes. Always lending a helping hand in the dorm kitchen for breakfast — you flip and decorate pancakes like no other. Always updating the dorm rooms official google calendar with dorm events and extracurricular school festivities — it’s not your fault that there’s always 20 student spots already RSVPED for UA events right off the bat. Always congratulating others with those annoying little party-noisemaker things and an excited half jumping-jack as you throw an arm up for a plus ultra! Etc. It’s really just subtle glue that sticks everyone together and that’s something that Katsuki can really appreciate. And that’s something that Katsuki really needs sometimes. Someone to help stick him together — which is how he comes to end up in your dorm room extra early on bad mornings.

And he’ll ever so quietly rasp on your door to which you shuffle and curiously wake, turning over to peer past the curtains that lead to your balcony — dark. Shuffling across the floor in your fuzzy socks as you crack open the door to reveal the murder god at your dorm door. Bakugou dressed in sweats and a tank-top — all black like the sky outside. You wordlessly hum and shuffle to the side to let him in as the boy walks into your room. His iris’s red like the raspberries sitting in the fridge, like the fresh cut tulips that sit in your vase — eyes all that much more awake than you are. Bakugou has definitely established himself as an early morning riser, which is why you’re not all too surprised that he chooses to visit your dorm before the sun rises and way before your alarm. And he’s already reaching for you the second you approach arms length, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sling your arms over his broad shoulders rubbing gentle circles across those broad angel wings of his — slumped over on top of your form as he places his forehead against your shoulder silent heaving sobs dripping against your side. And he knows you feel guilty with the way you can’t say anything — partly because he never speaks about it and partly because he knows your brain isn’t awake enough to come up with those delicately worded inquiries of yours — and it’s all in the way you embrace him with everything you’ve got. Your cheekbone pressing against the top of his head and the way you reassure him when he starts to second guess barging into your room and smothering you with this. When his arms starts to pull away you simply grab the back of his bicep and firmly pull the arm he has wrapped around you flush to your side again, let him pull his chest close to yours again in that vice-like grip he has — and that’s what’s really does it for him. The tears springing forth in double-time now. And you’re so mindful about him. Always looping your arms around his shoulders and avoiding his neck — placing your grounding circles, which you playfully like to switch into little designs when he’s starting to come out of it. Delighted in hearing the watery grunt as he catches on and tells you what it is — warm breath washing over the sleepy fabric hugging your collarbone. Smiley faces, stars, hearts; occasionally words and names. He’s never observant enough to catch onto your ‘it’s okay Bakugou’ that you press into his skin with your hand, but he does instinctively tug you close, so you suppose it’s comforting all the same. And when he’s done crying he places his chin on your shoulder — heads and ears knocking together as you press a chaste platonic kiss to those shoulders that carry the world. And he always sighs and grips onto the natural fat that curves next to your spine a little tighter in those powerful hands of his before pulling away. Staring down at you in the dark grey of early morning with those glimmering red eyes of his. Thick ashy blond lashes lined with tears as he scrubs a hand under his nose baby-ish. “Here,” you say, holding out the box of tissues you keep in his room. Sleepy face wrinkling as you brace for the unholy loud thing that is Bakugou blowing his nose. He’s watching your expression soften back to normal with a quirked brow — like he doesn’t know how loud it is. You think he might. And you know he’s far too wired despite the emotional release — stupid morning people.

“Come to bed,” you motion, already sitting back in the room-temperature covers you hastily threw off to open the door to him minutes ago. And despite you being tired and knowing you don’t mean it like that he’s smirking — eyes rimmed with pink from literally sobbing into your shoulder at this unholy hour — “Not like that!” You chastise as he crawls in beside you, half-heartedly slapping his chest on instinct.

“I know,” he chuckles, saddling in beside you and causing a big enough dip that makes you sit without an inch of space between you. “Whatcha’ wanna watch?” He asks you — you blink, he’s already got your laptop in hand. It’s a routine you started with him the first time he came knocking and he never lets you skimp out on it now. You eyes flash across his strong jaw that’s illuminated by the familiar blue wash of light — he likes the sharks. “Shark cam.” You reply, leaning your head against his shoulder to which he promptly tsks and waggles the finger that’s clicked the video right under your nose. “Nuh-uh-uh,” — gosh you wish he didn’t copy you like that, he was insufferable now, “you’ve gotta wait until we see at least two sharks before you’re allowed to conk out on my shoulder.”

He holds up a peace sign for emphasis — something else you do, except you like to waggle your fingers. Although you suppose that’s probably too nice a gesture for Bakugou. “Alright, alright,” you concede, huffing and shuffling closer nonetheless. The blue light waving off the ocean tank casting a watery background against your walls, “oh what’s that one?” you ask, pointing at the screen. A wave of butterflies in your stomach as he snatched your hand away from your own laptop and ruffles your hair. “That’s a leopard shark, idiot. You named him Lenny last time.” He grunts, a mix of elation and fake-annoyance in his voice. You can’t see, but he’s grinning watching you blink and turn you head. The same lone “caterpillar” shaped squiggly on his tail — last morning it was a double feature with the butterfly gardens. “Oh my bad,” you murmur. “S’ not your fault. You weren’t looking at the screen properly to see his birthmark.” He chides poking your forehead. You nod dumbly, you couldn’t pretend you weren’t caught. “Yeah, yeah,” you yawn, settling against his shoulder again. “Hey,” you pipe up. “Hmm, what?” “There’s a student day at the local aquarium next Saturday — discounted tickets. Maybe we can see a Lenny shark in real life?” Katsuki goes rigid against your cheek. Frantically you lift your head up, “It’s only a suggestion. They’re meant to be turned down, it’s okay, Bakugou.” You’re looking at him, the muscle clenching his jaw fluttering in-and-out before he turns to face you, “Okay, it’s a date then.” He declares — which he’s not actually proposing the same kind of platonic date that you were assuming, but you sigh with relief anyway. “Cool beans.” You smile, settling back against him and waiting for your second shark to appear. “Cool beans,” Bakugou echos, draping an arm around you when you nod off shortly before seeing that second shark you promised him. He’ll let it slide this morning — just this once.

#mysteriesmusing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou drabble #mha fanfiction #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugou

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