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#even if his hair is difficult af to draw like
divinefireangel · 1 year
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Hi dear¡! ♡
Can I ask SF9 how they showed their love to their partner? (Hugs, kisses, physical touches, loving words, etc)
Sorry for my english 🥺
Your English is fine hun! Plus the language is kinda stupid hehe
SF9's Love Languages 🩷
Warnings: These are what I think are SF9's top love language. Of course it is impossible for such lovely people to have just one 😔. Mention of food/cooking in Tae's. Tea is Chani's.
Youngbin
WORDS 👏 OF 👏 AFFIRMATION 👏
I will literally physically fight if anyone disagrees with me lol. Our man is so wise and sweet and his voice is just is soothing so I just think that his ultimate way to show you appreciation will be through words. Plus man's a great and creative lyricist.
Inseong
Quality time
Well, it's mostly just him trying to make you laugh by saying and making up the stupidest jokes, if you can call them that, ever. I'm also a strong believer that this man just wants to annoy you enough to start a debate with him cuz he's bored lol
Jaeyoon
Physical Touch
Maybe this is me projecting my needs maybe it is not okay idk. But let's be honest here, this man is the cutest ever and he will want to squish your cheeks, irrespective of squishyness quotient. He also likes to hug you, literally engulf you in his broad af chest and baby you although you want to baby him don't we all
Dawon
Acts of service
I just love him sm 😭. See, he's the kind to leave you sweet sticky notes with reassuring words and a drawing or something stupid on the back lol. But yeah it's all the small things that he'll do like buying you a new chapstick before your old one gets over, bringing your water bottle around even when you tell him you won't carry it, letting you use his arm as a pillow during the long car ride to your destination although it definitely hurts after some time, fixing your hair when you're distracted, etc. Bye I need a Sanghyuk
Zuho
Words of Affirmation
He is so much different that Youngbin tho lemme tell you. So Bin uses maturity and juju uses his baby voice(?) aka he does aegyo and makes you feel all mushy inside. I mean, he is cute.
Rowoon
Gift Giving
It won't necessarily be stupid gift all the time, he does give you good ones occasionally like a sunscreen stick for example. Most of the time it is something useless and weird like a spoon pillow or some shit but it's the thought that counts right?💀
But no on a real note he's super thoughtful when he gives you gifts and he thinks of it as something that'll remind you of his love when you use it.
Yoo Taeyang
Acts of Service
It could be doing your laundry or cooking for you or putting you phone on charge. It's the little things that you need in your daily life that sometimes get so difficult to manage. But don't worry, our teddy Tae is here to be your little lovely helper fairy, even if you don't ask or notice it right away.
Hwiyoung
Physical Touch
Yes he hates skinship from members but you, no. He loves clinging to you and hugging you and kissing you. He's like a mama cat and you his kitten and he wants to kith and protecc and love you so much till you physically have to be away from him lol
Chani
Quality Time
It doesn't even have to be like an eventful couple of hours. It could just be him laying on your lap taking a nap and you reading you book and playing with his hair, giving him a head massage or tracing his cute facial features. It could also be sitting on the rooftop with hot tea cups and talking about life while nuzzling into each other for warmth.
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jessamine-rose · 2 years
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New Darling Unlocked <3
NOTE:: Two months after drawing this, I gave Darling an official redesign which is more fic-accurate and stylish. Check her out here
Read my yandere! Pantalone fics first!! 15.8k words of Pantalone being beautiful, spicy, manipulative, and downright cruel(╹◡╹)♡
Housecat (Part 1)  ⬩  Alea Iacta Est (Part 2)
Now that I’ve finished the twisted tale of Yandere! Pantalone and his Kitty! Darling, I can finally post these low-quality doodles!! Even chibi Pantalone has to look stylish af xD
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Additionally, it is time to introduce my own version of Kitty!! I named her 莹霞 Yíngxiá using the characters for “luster of gems” + “rosy clouds.”
Look at how fluffy and obliviously happy she is in the Regrator’s colors~ This was drawn before the fics were written, hence the different collar design and less restrictive clothing :>
For Kitty’s post-wedding wardrobe, the color palette is mainly black and violet to match the Regrator’s aesthetic. He likes to dress her up in tight-fitting dresses and heels which are difficult to run in. Kitty’s jewelry usually features his signature violet jewels, and she always wears chokers or short necklaces. Pantalone is also fond of tying her hair and tail with pretty ribbons!!
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Thank you to everyone who has voiced their love for my Pantalone and his darling!! I hope that more readers will take interest in my fics and suffer from enjoy their dark love story (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
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ye-local-simp · 2 years
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hi! may i have a twst matchup if it’s still available?
i’m 5’1 with straight dark hair, my clothing style is rather feminine. my eyesight is also shit af and i have what you call a bitch face. my build is rectangular twig
my mbti is INTJ and enneagram is 5w6. i’m very reserved, inexpressive, and also quite shy around strangers so it’s difficult for me to open up. i make a lot of sassy and blunt remarks so people sometimes interpret that as me having beef with them or smth but i’m just so done with everyone’s shit it translates into sarcasm.
i get misunderstood a lot and i always say idc but i actually kind of do. but once you become friends with me you will then realize that i’ve spent way too much time online and really need to touch grass because my humor is weird and my speech is the embodiment of the internet. actually you’ll realize that i’m just weird in general
i’m an extremely curious person, which is good for learning new topics but absolutely bad for everything else. on the bright side that makes me studious and a high-achieving student but also perfectionistic and very ambitious so i can be too hard on myself. i highly value knowledge so my personal aim is to learn and understand everything i can.
i’m also the cursed combination of weeb + gamer so watch out. i twisted my spine doing jojo poses, got tendonitis from playing osu, and spent money on png’s. i’m dedicated. and i have the holy trinity of bad habits: neglecting my needs, overthinking, and suppressing my emotions yay. especially overthinking
i like to draw fanart, read, watch anime, and play video games (my faves are jrpg’s with gacha eg. genshin and fgo, rhythm games, and battle royales) when i’m not busy dying but i’m a stem kid so i always am
sorry if this is super long omg but thanks for reading
I am going to pair you up with ...
Idia!!
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-You are literally just like him and a relatable person is just what idia needs.Especially since he understands the feeling of being misunderstood way to well.He even has a resting b* face like you do so #couplegoals for you two.
-Idia is also one sarcastic guy so he understands the fun in sarcasm and would even chuckle quietly when you make a sarcastic remark to whatever stupid things was said.Plus,his dark jokes and sarcasm has even got you laughing too.
-Honestly a perfect match as long as you don't force him into social situations or crowds.
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reineydraws · 3 years
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the first bad guy to make me rethink my stance on bad guys
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glowingbadger · 3 years
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Can I get a nsfw fic for Diluc where he and reader are vigilantes together? I feel like that would be hot af.
Oh-ho~ what a delightful concept, Friend Anon.
I feel like I've barely had time for fic-style stuff rather than headcanon stuff lately, so forgive me if this is like... idk.. less good xD I hope it's good idk agopwgj
Side note, y'all Genshin people tend to blow up my page every time I post something in this fandom but I get SO few actual requests for it, wtf is up with that
Diluc x GN Reader - vigilantes
NSFW 18+
There aren't many of your typical "dark back alleys" in Mondstadt, but they are there if you go looking for them. If you do, you're sure to make some friends and acquaintances of the sort who also go looking for such tucked away places. And tonight, you're expecting a meeting with a coworker.
You've been tracking a particular Treasure Hoarder for weeks now. He's a cut-throat sort, in that he literally cuts throats, and quite gleefully at that. He's scum, but he's a valuable asset. He's the only Treasure Hoarder idiotic and brave enough to have set foot inside of Mondstadt's walls as of late, and you're not about to lose the opportunity to track him back to his hive. And it shouldn't be too difficult to do so- as long as a certain "Darknight Hero" doesn't decide to step in.
Somehow, you have a feeling he will.
And as you crouch atop the sloping roof of a typical Mondstadt residence, observing your pet rat scurrying through alleyways he clearly doesn't know as well as he ought to by now, you glimpse a familiar flash of red. Moving as quickly as one can with a sword that matches his height while retaining some measure of stealth, Diluc clearly has your subject in his sights. You barely contain a sigh, your brow lowered in flat exasperation.
You'll have to act quickly- Diluc is rapidly closing in on your only source of intel, blade at the ready and eyes devoid of mercy. Never taking your eyes from his dark silhouette in the alley below, you gracefully maneuver from the roof to a nearby balcony banister, then down a railing. Your feet meet the stone pavement silently just as muscles flex and the greatsword hefts into the air above a fiery mane of hair. Without a sound, you draw your own blade and press it firmly to Diluc's throat. He hesitates for just a moment, his surprise causing his footing to waver for the instant you need to tug him back against the wall.
"You-" he hisses with fury in his eyes, "What are you doing?!"
"Keeping you from killing my only lead!" you shout-whisper back to him as the Treasure Hoarder slides around the corner and into the open streets. He's a lost cause now- acting out in the open would draw unacceptable attention to both you and Diluc. For now, the edge of your sword indents his skin, emphasizing the unfortunately seductive sight of his adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
"He's a killer." he spits out bitterly.
"Yes," you reply, "And so are all of his friends. And the only way to snuff them all out is to let him live- for now."
His weapon vanishes for the time being, but you know his strength well enough to know that this does not make him 'unarmed.'
"Go join the Knights if you enjoy wasting time so much."
"Oh, perhaps I should," you say, "It was a Knight who gave me the intel to track this target, after all," the playful lilt in your voice guides him to the exact conclusion you want him to reach. What you don't expect is for Diluc to use his considerable strength to spin you back against the wall, jostling your sword from your hand and swapping your positions, with your wrists now pinned to the plaster behind you. You're startled for a moment- but not so much so that you miss the way his eyes scan your body before him.
"It was a strutting peacock that needs its beak removed, more like," he says, his voice low as he looms over you. Your bodies are so close, the space between you seems charged with electricity.
"Is that a touch of jealousy I hear?"
"You're infuriating," he gives this utter non-answer just before his lips reach yours. His kiss is deep and intense from the start, pressing you to the wall as his tongue thrusts into your mouth.
This has always been your favorite way to vent your mutual frustration. There's something about each of you that only the other knows; a part of you both that only the two of you have access to. Those cordoned off sections of your hearts instinctively reach toward one another, binding you and the Darknight Hero together despite all of the myriad ways you find yourselves at odds. Adrenaline and emotion drives your bodies together, and your pulse pounds as his tongue wrestles yours and the warmth of his body catches yours on fire.
You do your best to keep up with Diluc's frenzied need, parted lips working rhythmically against his, yet you can feel the rush of arousal through your body and the fight leaves you almost instantly. In one final act of provocation, you urge your thigh between his, rubbing it gently against the growing heat you feel there. His cock twitches with interest, hardening against the front of his pants. Diluc groans into your kiss, his hands releasing yours to travel down the contours of your sides.
When those strong hands reach your backside, they shamelessly grab at your curves, pulling you firmly against him and encouraging your thighs around his hips. Your feet are barely touching the ground anymore, and you can feel his growing cock grinding into your heat. His impatience is as evident in his touch as it's always been in his fighting style; though, the difference is that now, you're happy to match his pace. Thoroughly trapped between his body and the wall, your hands run across his chest, happily indulging in the plains of muscle beneath conservative clothing.
Then, you nip at his bottom lip, dragging it between your teeth and revelling in the husky groan this pulls from him. His hips sway against you, rubbing the head of his now rock-hard member against you. Quite suddenly, his hands leave your body, then instead, cup both sides of your face. Diluc holds you in place as he kisses you so hard and deep that your legs tremble and you worry your knees may give. And at last, the airy moan you offer him in reply seems to break the last of his restraint.
"Towards the wall," his urgent whisper grazes your skin, and it's all you can do to keep from moaning at the intoxicating, masculine tenor of his voice. Instead, you obey him, turning to the wall, only to feel him pinning you once more from behind. His lips are at your ear, his tongue tracing its curve, until he says softly,
"Truly a shame you can't always be this cooperative."
"I- I'm very cooperative when it gets me what I want..." you half-moan as his lips press heated kisses down the side of your neck. His fevered touch is everywhere, running up your sides to caress your chest, fingers briefly circling your nipples and causing you to arch against him.
"One day I'll make you beg for it." he muses softly, less like any 'dirty talk' you've ever heard, and far more like he's scolding you. Either way, it sends a hot wave of arousal plunging to your core. With a soft whimper, you urge your ass back against him, grinding onto the stiff length of his cock. Tonight won't be the night you beg, but you do need to show him how badly you want him- and he graciously complies.
Diluc's thumbs hook into the hem of your breeches and tug them down over the curve of your ass. Despite his own wants and needs, he does pause to appreciate the sight of you offering yourself to him, lower body exposed and face flushed when you glance over your shoulder at him. A single large hand runs over your backside, cupping and grabbing at it idly, enjoying the sight of your flesh over-filling his grip. Then, with a low hum, his eyes meet yours as he opens the front of his trousers and reveals his thick, twitching manhood to you. It's dark and veined, a powerful, masculine member that practically makes your mouth water- and you can't stifle an eager whine as he positions himself behind you once more.
The warm head of his cock presses to your greedy little hole, and Diluc wastes no time pushing himself steadily into you. With each inch, he splits you open around him, and your body tenses and arches against his strong frame.
"Diluc..!" you gasp out the moment he's buried into you to the base and his tip hits your core. Sometimes you think you'll never truly be accustomed to how fully he fills you.
"Quiet," he whispers harshly, though the way the full length of his cock swells at your cry tells him he quite enjoys hearing you. Yet as his hips begin to move and the veins and contours of his cock grind against your inner walls, it becomes harder and harder to keep your voice down. He feels too incredible, reaches too deep, stretches you out so nicely around him until you fit him perfectly. Your entire body burns, and you cling to the wall in front of you to take some of the strain off of your trembling legs. Before long, you're gasping and panting for him as he bucks into you, the head of his cock dragging against some indescribably wonderful spot each time he thrusts forward.
"You're so... difficult..." he grumbles, and you hear him move, unsure of what he's doing until you feel his gloveless hand sliding fingers into your mouth. Your eyes roll back, your body clenches and squeezes around Diluc's shaft. Perhaps he'd only meant to keep you quiet, but the depravity of being fucked senseless by the most sought-after gentleman in Mondstadt in a back alley while being made to suck on his fingers is simply too erotic to withstand. Your lips and tongue worship those fingers as he pounds you against the wall, railing into your desperate body until the hot, winding knot of pleasure in your gut comes undone in a sudden, mind-numbing rush.
"Nngh- gods...!" even Diluc, with all of his strict self discipline, can't keep from groaning as your climax seizes you. He can feel your body tense and release, feel your inner walls tightening and gripping around him, clinging around his cock like you can't bear to be without it. He draws closer, his hard chest against your back, his head sinking down to the crook of your neck. His thrusts lose their timing, uneven and inelegant as he nears his own release.
You feel the sting of his teeth at your flesh. Diluc silences his own sounds of pleasure, burying his face at your neck and sucking a dark love-bite to your skin. But even this jolt of wonderful pain can't distract you from the way his cock flexes deep within you, swelling and straining out against your tight hole. Then, at last, his breath catches, and his cum begins to shoot out into you. The first impact causes you to whine around his fingers, which he punishes with a harsher bite at your shoulder muscle, even as he continues to fill you. Wild red hair brushes your face as you rally your strength to keep yourself in place for him and he fucks the remainder of his climax into your waiting body. For a moment, he holds within you. You each struggle to regain composure and steady your breathing- no easy feat when his manhood is stubbornly refusing to soften even the slightest bit. Then, with a barely restrained sigh, Diluc eases out of your spent hole.
His hand comes to rest on the wall in front of you, trapping you against his body for a moment longer. You have just enough room to move your hands to tug up your clothing and cover up, and he does the same with his free hand. But before releasing you, he places a lingering kiss to the spot just below where your jawline meets your ear. It's a surprisingly tender spot, and the soft warmth of his lips seems to spread across your skin from that point.
"Be safe getting home." he murmurs, and you find yourself wishing dearly that you could see his expression as he says it. Though, perhaps he fully intends to keep that image from you. Then, he straightens his posture, the cool night air filling the space where his body had warmed you.
"And next time," he adds, having regained his usual business-like tone, "Don't expect me to be so generous if you stand in my way."
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shnowbilicat · 2 years
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Human Abathur and Human Anub'Arak
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While playing Heroes of the Storm I got the idea of drawing my main Heroes as humans! Cuz apparently I only play monsterns and creatures and aliens X'D
I decided to start with Abathur, cuz he has been on mind about this since I got the idea aaaand I love myself sum hoods and dark characters :'3
You guys have no idea how much time I spend on Abathur's and Anub'Arak's Wiki pages just reading through ther bios and what not X'D
Down below is more information if ya wanna check it out but tl;dr I adore these two and I lowkey ship them too huehuehue~ ewe
So to keep it short and simple, Abathur is the 'Evolution Master' of the Zerg's, aka he's the guy you go to for upgrades in game ... and that's basically his whole character!
Abathur is pretty much obsessed with evolving his race into more efficient deadlier creatures, even going so far as intentionally trying to wage war against the other races in Starcraft and going against the wishes of the new queen Zerg. He knows perfection is impossible, but he can at least try to get very close to it.
This also reflects in his mannerisms and speech; he speaks just using the most important words, everything else is a waste of time. He even explicitly says he dislikes using pronouns X'D
He's not a fighter, in HOTS he's a support character that specializes in enhancing his teammates to the max, while he sits somewhere hidden.
He's a calm and collected guy, but thanks to the Blizzard charme some of his in game actions and voicelines to reveal a silly side of the character ... which I intend on using 100% ewe
As a human, Abathur still has his rather calm and collected personality, but spiced up with a straight forward approach to others and a little bit of snark as well! He likes to kidnap his teammates into his lab to do experiments on and try to improve them.
Speaking of his lab, instead of the fleshy, boney style the Zerg have going on, in this AU Zerg's have something called 'BioTech', a technology that runs on Zerg essence to function, being alive to an extend too. Fluids, pods and pipes everywhere, dark and black colors and harsh metal machines that are spiky and everything is about in the same style like Abathur's stingers (See reference picture above thxx)
Abathur is basically the crazy scientist in this Human AU and Zagara (The current Zerg queen), Dehaka, Artanis and Anub'Arak have to put up with his antics while spending time with each other cuz idk the Nexus either forced them to or the Zerg's rescued Artanis and Anub'Arak from their death and they owe the Zergs something idk X'D
Anub'Arak is a character from Warcraft and if I read it correctly Anub was once I proud King of a land called Narub. After daring to stand against the Lich King he sadly died, but got resurrected as an undead by said Lich King to serve as an unstopable force of nature.
As far as I understood it Anub did die at least once more and yet again brought back to life, now serving another Lich King. He even killed his own people while serving the Lich King, against his own will of course.
I personally only got to play Warcraft 3 as a small child and always went with Anub as my Hero character cuz ... giant beetle go brrr ewe
And's what he is in game too! A tanky power machine and poops out bbys now and again pfft X'D
Even with his brainwash, Anub is a proud and strong character personality vise. He's a proud Nerubian and King and even though I sadly haven't seen a lot about his personality on wikis, his voice lines are funny and quirky and URGH luv him <33
While thinking of a Human Abathur design and already imagining funny situations Anub has to go through while living with the Zerg's I started to brainstorm Anub's design ... which was difficult af :'3
Anub is a giant beetle monster and pharaoh inspired. Love the concept to death, but making it into a more modern-ish aestheticly pleasing design that doesn't go overboard, easy to draw and still looks coolio was tough ...
I spend some time googling pharaoh costumes and even looked up what modern egyptians would probably wear and it gave me the confidence to try some things out! I decided to go with what comes to my mind first and it worked out well! Though I had difficulty deciding on the color shades as Anub has surprisingly a lot of details and colors, but I'm happy with what I decided for now.
Espacially his hair and skin. I wanted him to have deep purple hair and darker skin, cuz he's basically an egyptian mummy and I wanted to try myself on darker skinned characters ... he's so handsome I'm literally having a crush on him qwq
Anub in this AU is picking up on his personality in game; proud, strong, calm, a good sense of humor and a small dislike for Abathur; in a voice line when Anub'Arak would kill an Abathur he says 'I eat worms like you for breakfast' sooo I like taking that as a nice relationship starter for the two ewe
Of course Abathur is intrigued by Anub's undead-ness and always bugs the Nerubian for experiments and samples of his blood and what not.
In battle Anub mostly either uses scythes or gloves that resemble his ingame claws. He of course can also summon small beetles to aid him in battle and even creat two pairs of beetle wings under his cape and his skirt for better mobility and flight. He can also use his bandages to wrap people up in place (Compared to his nets and cocoons in game) and under his bandages he bares his scars for his fight against the Lich King.
I really adore him, both because I kinda grew up with him and his design, he and Abathur are now my bbys and I adore and love them so so much qWq
I do plan on creating Dehaka, Zagara and Artanis in the future hopefully, but I just wanted to upload my two favs cuz I love them already and mmmmgh they so gud :'33
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the-fiction-witch · 3 years
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Rent P2
TV SHOW PISTOL COUPLE: MALCOM X READER RATING: KINKY SMUT AF!
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He sat on the sofa staring at me and what he had done to me, eagerly biting his lip as he looked me over.. He took a hand and gently stroked my cheek the hand slipping down my face, down my neck grazing the still sore hickeys he left on me, down my chest between my breasts, down my stomach and gracing his fingertip across my clit turning off the vibe, he chuckled slightly to himself before he spoke,
“Hum, Look what you do to master, babydoll” He cooed moving his hand to his own thigh drawing attention to just how hard he was, “and I believe somebody owes me”
“No,” I said as much as I wanted to, I wanted to wind him up even more than I already had 
“No? You little brat” He growled he picked me up like I was nothing moving to have his legs on the sofa and putting me down just over his lap “Naughty, Naughty girl” He growled groping my ass hard “We have a deal”
“Pervert” I snapped trying, even more, to wind him up
“Ohh everyday babydoll, but that doesn’t change anything” He smirked, “we have a deal. I let my sweet little babydoll live up here and if you don’t pay your rent I get to take what you owe off your innocent little body and you little one haven’t paid any rent for two months” he smirked “and if you don’t then I get to put those little pictures up downstairs”
“What?” I asked in shock
“Excuse me” 
“What… what is it that you mean master?”
“Hummm have you forgotten?”
“Maybe”
“When you first moved in here what were you lacking?”
“Uhhhh”
“A deposit. You didn’t have a penny when you came here so, what did you let me do instead?”
“I let you be my master”
“Yes? And what else babydoll?” “I.. I don’t remember” “Yes you do”
“Please remind me, Malcolm,” I said starting to get a little concerned I genuinely didn’t remember what he was talking about
“My little camera ring any bells babydoll?” He smirked kissing down my neck and I froze a shiver up my spine 
“You- you mean?”
“Umm humm. My babydoll doesn’t pay her rent. Then firstly my little babydoll’s gonna her out on her bruised little ass. And secondly, you lose your deposit so all the lovely pictures on that roll of film in my bedroom I’ll get it all developed and I’ll use you as a nice model on the walls downstairs in the shop” 
“A model?”
“Well, you are modelling lots of the nice things in the shop in those pictures remember,” He smirked “In fact, my favourite will go right in the window” 
“Which one is that?”
“The one of you laid on my bed, tied up with the red rope with the nine-inch vibrator inside you” He whispered “Yep. right in the window for everyone to see. Now is my babydoll going to behave?” 
“Yes master”
“Good girl. Now is my babydoll gonna seetle her debts?"
"Yes master"
"Good, make master feel good babydoll" he smirked leaning his head on the pillow getting comfortable on my sofa I nodded trying not to giggle gently moving my hips back and forth to grind on him it felt so nice even if I emt bad grinding in his pants in my dirty panties but that seemed to only drive his lust further, still having my hands restrained made it a little difficult but I moved my hips as much as I could which he seemed to like often grinding back in me and groaning to himself "uhh! More! Faster babydoll," he groans sitting up to pull my lips to his own kissing me aggressively often pulling me to make out with him. His hands going on my ass and my breasts continuity "harder babydoll, master wants to feel how wet you still are" he growled so I did my best to go harder even if my hips began to ache fight with my cuffs in an attempt to stay upright he pulled back from an intense kiss to rest his head against my own "I wanna be inside you."
"Malcolm-" I said in shock
"Now!" He ordered undoing his pants "I wanna fuck you dirty little princess parts babydoll,"
"... Yes master" I blushed moving forward to rub my panties on his boxers but he smirked and moved me back 
"Ah ah ah" he smirked slapping my clit 
"Uhh!" 
"Did master say your pussy?"
"No… then where my master?' 
"Well how about we correct that bratty little mouth" 
"Yes master" I nodded moving back even more down his legs he smirked and pushed down his boxers setting his erection free gently gripping the vainy base and stroking up the shaft w couple of times as he looked at me "may I master?"
"You may babydoll" He nodded so I moved forward and gave his head a little kiss "umm. Down" he ordered so I opened my mouth and moved down to just below his head "I said down" he ordered forcing my head down to inches from his base I wanted to scream in panic but I gently relaxed and began to ever so slightly suck "uuumm good girl" he smirked twisting his fingers in my hair "uuhh harder! Like your as egar for your master as you where for that orgasum" he smirked slapping my ass I sucked harder doing my best to please him when his hand began forcefully moving my head up and down his shaft at this point I wasn't much of anything but a mouth as he controlled my movements completely using me as and how he pleased how fast and however hard he wanted. "Uugh! Uuhh… uummmm, so good. Your So good to master babydoll." He moans his hand getting much more aggressive, like I was nothing but a doll to me used to pleasure himself, he was rough and harsh on me forcing me to take more then I was used to causing me to choke which seemed to amuse him, as every time I would go up for air he would force me back down tears starting to fall down my cheeks from this going on so long "uhh! Babydoll! Master needs more" he ordered pushing me off him completely he smirked looking at me gasping clearly close "bed. Now." He ordered I nodded and got up but he stood and put his hand on my neck pushing gently "speak"
"Yes master"
"Good girl. Go. Master will bring your heart" he smirked letting go of my neck and slapping my butt to push me towards the bedroom.
 I did as he asked walking to my bedroom noticing the box of toys and such that he had slowly brought with him though so many visits now sat prominently on my dresser I stood by the bed nervous and yet egar for whatever he was going to do to me. He came in shutting the door behind him he undid my hands letting me relax a moment but I spotted what he got instead a length of black twisted rope "turn" he ordered so I did as he asked and turned to face him he took my hands giving each a kiss before tieing them together in front of me in intricate knots, he wound the rope around my waist twice giving me no chance to escape, resist, or do anything myself. He smirked at his work pushing me down on my bed he undid his pants again setting his hard erection free before I could say a word he grabbed my hair and forced me down to his base but this time he moved fast and hard moving my head where it was needed to roughly mouth fuck me "uuhh yeah! Oohh yeah suck my cock you little brat" he groans before pushing me to lay on the bed I giggled a little at him but felt a little kick to wind him up even more.
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yungbludz · 4 years
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Ok but like imagine jj and y/n take sex enhancement pills and they’ve been going at it all day but have to act normal in front of their friends and it’s extremely difficult
Bruuh i can imagine that:
‘Fuck jj... we h-have to m-eet the others in t-ten.’ ‘Don’t give a fuck, im still fucking hard’ he answers ramming into you. It is a boring hot Thursday when someone has the brilliant idea to take sex pills to spice things up. Well it is also your fault for agreeing but it still is jj’s idea. ‘oh my god...’ ‘yes cum for me baby’ and there it goes your tenth orgasm of the day. Unfortunately you haven’t thought this through since you’re gonna meet with the pogues in less than five minutes, so you on your clothes and fix your hair. ‘You’re late, too busy fucking?’ ‘Hahah so funny kie’ you fake a smile, sitting next to jj on john b’s couch as they start talking about the gold. However it’s not too late when jj puts his hand on your thigh. ‘Don’t even think about it’ ‘please... im so fucking hard right now’ you sigh and sit on his lap, trying to cover his obvious boner but things don’t go as expected because he grows even harder and starts to move your hips. ‘Jj’ you whisper-yell at him, you don’t want to let the others know you are horny af, but he genuinely can’t keep his hands to himself. When you feel his hard on press against your bum, you squeeze your thighs tight because he still is your hot horny boyfriend and you still have hormones. ‘jj... please’ ‘please what baby?’ ‘i wanna fuck you so bad’ ‘i know...’ he keeps it going, slowly grinding but it’s obviously not enough for neither of you. ‘Hey, you two! What’s wrong? You haven’t said a word since you got here.’ ‘Uhm... we uhm... no we totally agree with you guys.’ They frown and just shrug it off, continuing to talk while jj throws a towel over your lap and quickly slips his hand inside your shorts. ‘jj!’ ‘Shh... they won’t know shit’ you can’t turn him down when his index brush against your clit. You bite down your bottom lip and spread your legs a bit wider. ‘Look at you, so wet and needy’ ‘fuck jj, do som-ething’ you moan quietly when his two long fingers tease your entrance. Your head falls backwards and lands on his shoulder as you give him more access. ‘jj what do you think? Can you convince your dad?’ ‘Uhm yea totally’ he says and you can feel his heartbeat quickening. His fingers slip easily inside of you and you muffle your moans against his neck. ‘Good girl, gonna make you feel so good’ you can’t say anything because you know you’d get the both of you caught. His long fingers work magic on you as his thumb is circling your clit. However it’s too slow for you, since you can’t draw attention to the two of you. ‘Y/n how about you wait for us at the Wreck? Kie’s dad likes you’ you sigh and open your mouth to say something but jj speeds up and you almost let out a moan, so you just simply nod. Against your own will you push jj’s hand away. ‘What’s wrong babe?’ ‘Me and jj have to go. See you around!’ You basically run away, jj following you along laughing. ‘They’re gonna fuck, aren’t they?’ ‘Not in my van!’ ‘Too late...’
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Sleep Therapy
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A Frederick Chilton x Reader fanfic written in collaboration with the lovely and talented @pascalispretty​ . I can’t believe that we have been writing smut with each other since before we went under quarantine and this is the first time we’ve actually gotten our acts together and published it. I refuse to apologize for this, y’all were warned lol. I now dedicate this to my favorite prickly, grumpy, lonely, little asshole man, Frederick (never Freddy) Chilton.
Part One of the series A Sign That Someone Loves Me Part Two: Laugh With Me a Little
Warnings: sex, somnophelia, drug use, inappropriate use of prescription drugs, over stimulation, dubious consent, references to voyeurism, fingering, oral (female receiving), Fred being Fred
Rating: yeah, this is definitely M folks  Word Count: 6111 sorry not sorry lol Summary: It’s been a long week for you and your fiancé and you’re exhausted. Yet Dr. Chilton has always been a firm advocate for the unorthodox, and a little sleep therapy might do you both a world of good. 
The project that you had been working on all week was finally finished. No more early mornings, no more late nights, no more spending more time at the office with the coworkers you were at best acquaintances with than at home with your lovable asshole fiancé. Said lovable asshole fiancé who had also had a busy week at work. 
You had woken up this morning with the intention of dragging him to your bedroom as soon as you got home and demanding he make up for an entire week without sex, but when you finally open the door and toss your keys on the table, the thought of doing anything more strenuous than crawling into bed was too much. 
You find Fred waiting for you in the kitchen, and by the looks of his discarded suit coat and rolled up sleeves, he had beaten you home by at most a half an hour. He had already helped himself to dinner, judging by the empty takeout carton on the kitchen counter. He has the good grace to at least look guilty about having eaten without you.
“Hey, you. I didn’t know what time you’d be back, and I was ravenous.” He says, by way of an apology. You’re too tired to even tease him about it; you just want to get out of your work clothes, and fall into bed.
“Don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m too tired to eat anyway.” Your eyelids are heavy as you strip off your jacket and kick your shoes off, letting them fall next to the kitchen island. He frowns at you as you kiss the side of his head and give his hair a brief ruffle (it was soft and nearly product free at the end of the day and, even exhausted, you were incapable of not playing with it a little) before squeezing his shoulder and making your way out of the kitchen and back to the stairs. 
“I’m going to head up to bed, today kicked my ass.” You call over your shoulder, not expecting, but not entirely unsurprised either to hear the legs of the kitchen stool he had been sitting on scrape across the floor as Fred stands to follow you up to your room. He grabs your fingers as the two of you make your way up the stairs and presses them gently. 
You throw yourself onto the giant bed Fred insists is entirely necessary, not bothering to draw the curtains, thinking that you’ll just rest for a few minutes before getting undressed. Fred sits on the bed next to you and rests a hand on your leg. His hands are so broad and warm, and as tired as you are, you still sigh at the light touch. 
“Come cuddle me.” You mumble, feeling the mattress shift beneath you as Fred settles himself comfortably beside you, resting his head on your tummy. It’s an entirely deliberate choice of position on his part; he enjoys you playing with his hair almost as much as you enjoy playing with it, and you don’t hesitate to slide your fingers back into his thick black hair. 
He grumbles happily and rests more of his body against you, trapping one of your thighs between his legs as he lies half on top of you. As exhausted as you are, you don’t miss the little flick of his hips against your thigh; clearly, it’s been a long week for him as well. 
You smile sleepily down at the top of his head, fingers digging into his hair, deliberately attempting to solicit another twitch of his cock against your leg. You were so tired but he was so warm and heavy and you loved the feeling of him hardening against you. And just because you aren’t in any kind of shape to be participating doesn’t mean that Fred can’t have some fun- he’s proven that exhaustion and even sleep aren’t really barriers to his getting the two of you off before. 
More than once, you’ve woken up to his face between your thighs and halfway to a breathless climax. Even in the early days of your relationship his desire to watch you, in any sense, was evident; he liked cuddling you close and watching you fall asleep as much as he liked watching through the glass while you showered. 
You feel the satisfied and happy noises Fred is making deep in his chest where he’s pressed against you when you tug a little on his hair and drag your nails gently across his scalp. The low, almost vibrating purr that emanates from the broad body on top of you is nearly as exciting as the hands he trails up your torso to settle on top of your breasts- rubbing across your nipples through your bra and your shirt. Fred digs his face, with it’s pointy sharp nose and it’s pouty lips perpetually drawn into a smirk, into your belly and hums quietly. 
“I thought you were tired.” He murmurs against your stomach, nuzzling against your skin where the hem of your shirt has ridden up. As good as he feels- his comforting bulk on top of you, those exquisite hands on your breasts, the soft mouth against your abdomen- you know you’re far too tired to do anything. You’re so comfortable, sprawled out in the sunlight streaming through your open windows, that you feel like you’re going to drift away any second. 
“I am. Why don’t I have a nap; you can always have some fun of your own.” You manage, having to fight back a yawn in order to finish your sentence. Fred hums contentedly as you carry on playing with his hair, the silky strands so soft under your fingers. 
“As much as I would love to take you up on that,” Fred murmurs against your tummy, and gives your breasts a gentle squeeze, “I know that you’d never sleep through what I want to do to you. And you really do need to catch up on your sleep.” With a long sigh that feels warm on your exposed skin, he moves to roll off you. Tired though you might be, you don’t want Fred to stop. Instead, you clutch at his shoulders as inspiration strikes. 
“Don’t you still have those horse tranquilizers locked in your office?” 
“They aren’t ‘horse tranquilizers’.” He replies snippily, though his imperious tone is utterly belied by the image of his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions as he lifts his head up a little to look at you. You can’t resist a quiet snort at the sight of him, normally so compulsive about his grooming, and you shoot back, trying not to laugh at your “dignified” lover,
“Might as well be. I nearly slept for 14 hours the last time you gave me one of those.” He looks up at you, green eyes soft and surprisingly not offended, chin digging into your belly and shrugs. He rests his cheek on your bare skin again and you sigh, thinking that that’s the end of that as he nuzzles into your stomach, only to watch him sit bolt upright when he catches your meaning. Those sharp green eyes search your face intently. 
“You want me to drug you, and then have sex with you while you’re unconscious?” He says incredulously, the image of outrage only spoiled by the fact that you can still feel his half-hard cock against your thigh.
You shrug one shoulder at him, limbs loose and fuzzy as you try to stay awake enough to soothe his now very ruffled feathers and convince him that this is a good idea. 
“You like going down on me when I’m asleep. Why is this any different?” You ask. He stares at you, eyes narrowed, hands on your legs, silent for a moment. 
“Normally the point of that is to eat you out until you wake up. Not deliberately put you to sleep to eat you out.” He mumbles, sounding more hesitant than rejecting the idea outright. 
“True,” you grant, rubbing the backs of his hands. “But tell me you wouldn’t like getting to tell me all about the fun time we had when I wake up in the morning.” You see and feel his cock twitch at the idea of describing in detail eating you out- talking was one of life’s greatest pleasures for your loquacious asshole. 
“It doesn’t have to be a whole pill. And I do want this Fred, I swear. But if you aren’t in the mood...” You trail off and watch him carefully. You can practically see him weighing the idea up in his mind, the thought of being able to touch you and fuck you while you slept, without fear of waking you, clearly interesting him. 
“Well, Doctor Chilton?” You ask, settling yourself more comfortably against the pillows. “Am I going to have to sign a medical consent form to convince you?” He rarely looks so torn; worked up further by your use of his title, yet still bothered by something. 
“What if I hurt you? You won’t be able to tell me if something’s wrong.” He says eventually, sounding so adorably concerned that if you were less tired, you would have sat up and pulled him in for a cuddle.
Instead you smile softly at him and tug on his hands to pull him down to you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he buries his face in your neck. 
“Oh, Fred,” you soothe. “Darling you won’t hurt me, you never hurt me. You’re always so careful.” He shakes his head, nose rubbing against your neck. 
“I might though, and you wouldn’t be able to tell me to stop.” You stroke his hair gently. Fighting sleep with him so warm and heavy and soft on top of you was getting difficult. 
“Then be gentle. Like you always are. And think of it this way, you can check me out like you sometimes want to afterwards, and I won’t complain or laugh at you about it,” you try, smiling down at the top of his head.
Once, after a rougher session than Fred usually indulged in, he had asked you questions about pain or discomfort, while trying to check you for internal bruising. You allowed the questions but when he tried to shuffle down the bed to stick his fingers back in and look, you pinched his ear and shoved his hands away. 
“I’m a trained medical professional you know,” he grumped at you, worried and offended now. You rolled your eyes at him. 
“Oh yeah? How many years ago did you do a rotation in gynecology? I’m fine Fred, go to sleep.”
You know you have him then. He groans low against your skin, before leaning back so he can look you in the eyes. 
"You promise me that you want this?" He asks sincerely, his fingers curling under your chin and encouraging you to look up at him. You nod sleepily, fighting off a yawn.
“I promise. As long as you tell me about it in the morning. I want all the details." You add, squeezing him as best as you can given how tired you are. Fred gives you a long look, and kisses you softly before rolling off of you and getting off the bed. He disappears, and you have to fight to stay awake without the distraction he provided, your eyelids so heavy you feel like you might well pass out before he gets back. It only takes him a few minutes to reappear, carrying a glass of water and a pill. 
"I'm only giving you half." He says, putting it carefully into your hand as you sit up enough to be able to take it. It's bitter on your tongue, so you swallow it quickly, washing it down with the water before he can have any second thoughts. He watches you like a hawk as you lie back down. 
"It'll take about an hour to kick in." You hardly hear him, falling back against the pillows and pulling the covers around you out of habit. Drowsily, you think that you should have undressed first, but you're too tired to pay it much mind. You feel Fred pressing delicate kisses to your face, one over each eyelid, one on the tip of your nose, and the barest brush of his lips to your own.
"Sweet dreams, my dear."
~X~
You wake up slowly the next morning, warm and cocooned in seemingly every blanket in your bedroom plus a heavy still snoring psychiatrist. The early morning blueish grey sunlight filters through the big windows Fred loves so much and lands on the bed next to you. Fred’s arms are loose around you, his body draped halfway on top of yours. 
You smile faintly when you notice you’re wearing one of his shirts under all of the blankets and that your hair is done up in one of the ridiculously elaborate braids that he likes to show off with on occasion. Yes Fred, you have very long, very clever fingers, congratulations, you think to yourself with an indulgent smile. You shift your legs, stretching out and tangling them with his, and Fred’s arms tighten around you.
"G'morning, Sleeping Beauty." He mumbles against your collarbone, giving you a little squeeze as he stirs. You take his use of the nickname as a good sign; certainly your body feels pleasantly loose, the hint of an ache between your thighs telling you that at least something happened last night. Pressing your lips against the top of Fred's head, you shiver a little as his fluffy hair tickles your face. 
"Morning yourself." You sigh happily, wrapping yourself around him and trying to encourage him to lie more directly on top of you. You're itching to ask him what happened last night, but you're not entirely sure yet if he's still half-asleep. He lets you pull at him, his warm, broad bulk settling over you and pressing you comfortably into the mattress as you wrap your legs around him. He must be fully awake; he pulls the collar of his shirt away from your neck so he can press a kiss there.
He continues to kiss every spot on your neck and collarbone that he can reach without moving his head and you sigh, relaxing under him. You can feel every inch of him on your body- the soft scratch of his stubble on your chest, the bare skin of his legs brushing against yours, the soft cotton of his boxer briefs rubbing deliciously against your clit. You snicker quietly. Of course he didn’t put your underwear back on. 
“Mmm, feel good this morning,” you mumble quietly, eyes closed. He nips at your collarbone and you feel a smirk stretch across his lips against your skin. 
“You should,” he mutters. “You certainly came enough.” He brags proudly and you’d slap his shoulder but the light ache between your legs feels so good you know he isn’t lying. With a groan, you stretch out beneath him and slide your fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head. 
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, letting your nails scratch ever so lightly against his scalp. Fred makes a soft, satisfied little noise in the back of his throat at the feeling; he must have missed you playing with his hair last night. Instead of answering straight away, he drags his tongue up your throat, tracing the line of your jugular vein and making you shiver at the sensation. 
“Does it bother you that you don’t know?” His breath is hot against the side of your jaw, and your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair. “Or does it turn you on?” He practically purrs, nipping at your earlobe. 
You pant lightly, shivering, your fingers clenching in his hair as his hands find their way inside of his shirt, long clever fingers dancing across your skin and brushing quickly over your nipples. You can feel yourself getting wet as his teeth nibble gently on your ear and the soft hairs at the back of your neck prickle at the feeling. 
“Turns me on.” Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and he nods. You don’t have the wherewithal right now to try and tease him; he’s so warm and heavy on top of you, and you feel so loose and satiated. It hardly matters if your words go straight to his ego. It sounds as though he more than earned the right to be smug last night. 
“Oh I can tell. I can feel you all over the front of my shorts,” he informs you, voice deeper and his erection growing between you. “Well, I suppose telling you all about it was part of the deal.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers, “You were such a good girl, you came six times last night.”
“Six?” You ask with a whimper; no wonder you feel so loose and languid and just a little sore. Your last record was four before you had had to drag Fred away from you by the hair and plead with him tearfully that you needed him to stop. Your legs tighten around him reflexively and  he nods, his nose bumping against your cheekbone. 
“Six.” Fred confirms smugly, pinching one of your nipples and making you gasp. “I wanted to try for more, but you were starting to get...twitchy.” He says with a snicker. His fingers slide lower, working open the buttons of the shirt you’re wearing. Every brush of his knuckles against your skin sends a jolt of heat directly to the center of you, and you gasp as his fingers move lower and lower down your body. 
“It’s a shame you couldn’t have seen yourself. All pliable and pretty for me.” The smirk on his face is downright feral, and you can’t help yourself as you grind your hips up against him. “You were doing that in your sleep, you know. Rubbing yourself up against my pants while I was playing with your nipples. I thought you were going to make yourself come from just that when I started sucking them.” He sounds so smug and self-satisfied, but you want more. You’re practically about to beg him to let you record what he’s saying, god his voice does things to you that you’re pretty sure are criminal offenses in some states, but you choose your words with more care than that. 
“Start at the beginning. Please Fred, tell me everything.” Your soft little plea is accompanied by another tug on his hair, another little buck of your hips. He hums against your cheek, his palms cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. His hands are warm, and broad, and you arch your back into his touch, desperate to press as much of yourself against him as possible. 
“Should I walk you through it? Step by step?” You moan and nod sharply, his nose dragging against your face. He kisses your cheek and ruts his hips softly against yours, the drag of his semi-hard cock against your clit making the muscles in your legs spasm and jerk. “Well,” he begins. “I held you while you fell asleep, that was nice. You know how cuddly you get when you’re sleepy.” He nips at your nose and kisses you quickly on the mouth. 
“That didn’t take too long, and god you were so soft in my arms.” His thumbs brush across your nipples and you gasp, hips arching into him and his hard cock again. “Then I kissed you, all over your face, all over your neck, as I unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it across the room.” 
He presses his forehead to yours and one of his hands leaves your breast and comes up to your chin. He turns your face to the side and whispers, “Look. Open your eyes and look, it’s over there, hanging off that armchair.” You look and sure enough there’s your blouse, hanging half off the chair he loves to sit in when he watches you get yourself off. He’s using the same tone of voice as he does when he sits back and orders you to take your clothes off and touch yourself, and it goes straight to your core. 
Fred chuckles right into your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Your pants were next. They seemed easier to slip off, and I didn’t know if the pill had fully kicked in enough. Once they were gone, I knelt between your legs, and just looked at you for a while. Deciding what to do with you.” You can picture it so clearly; Fred, still practically fully dressed, while you were splayed out half-naked and unconscious for him. It’s a mental image that is far too attractive for what it is. The enlightened feminist in you knows you shouldn’t be as turned on as you are by it, but when has that ever stopped you exploring some of Fred’s less conventional kinks. 
“I think I ended up kissing every inch of you last night. I started at one ankle, and covered you in kisses, all the way up to your forehead and then back down your other leg.” With the hand that’s still cupping your face, he brushes his fingertips delicately over your lips. “You were smiling in your sleep.” Fred says smugly, his smirk only broadening when you open your mouth and start to suck lightly on the tips of his fingers. If it weren’t liable to make him too breathless to continue, you’d offer to suck his dick while he talks, but you’ll happily settle instead for those gorgeously long fingers of his. 
“I could see how wet you were through your underwear by then. I’d barely touched you, but you were already soaked.” He groans, long and pleased, as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can still smell yourself on them, but all you can taste is him so he must have beaten you to licking them off. 
“Fuck, you were so wet, I didn’t even bother trying to put them back on. Even after I spent hours on you they were still damp.” You moan around his fingers and he squeezes your breast. “I slipped them off of you and spread your legs and, god, love, you were laying there so sweet and nice and ready for me.” He lets go of your breast and runs his hand down your side, stopping to hang onto your hip.
“I didn’t start there though. I still had to get your bra off- you didn’t even stir when I broke the clasp.” He squeezes at your hip, but makes no move to stop your little thrusts as you try and grind against his cock, frustrated at the lack of friction. 
“I spent so long on just your breasts; kissing them all over, sucking and biting at your nipples.You absolutely soaked the front of my pants, trying to rut up against me.” He says with a low chuckle. You can’t even fault him for sounding so smug; clearly you didn’t even need to be conscious to be desperate for him. 
“And when I just couldn’t wait anymore, I gave in and started licking that sweet little cunt of yours.” Fred pinches your thigh, and you moan as best as you can around his fingers. For having seemed so hesitant about the idea at first, he had clearly taken to it eagerly. 
You could feel just how eager he was to just tell you about it by the way he was pressed hard and hot against your cunt, letting you grind your hips against him in a desperate bid to get off. Except for the occasional tiny thrust that he seemed incapable of resisting, Fred held absolutely still and let you try to work off of him yourself. 
“And oh, you tasted so sweet. Feeling your thighs twitch next to my head every time my nose brushed or bumped against your clit- because I had to clean off such a messy, wet workspace first, I couldn’t just go for the treat I really wanted- was delightful. Every time I licked over your cunt, or dipped the tip of my tongue inside a little you’d twitch, but besides those little spasms you didn’t move away from my mouth at all. Why, I hardly had to do any work at all darling.” You drag your teeth across his knuckles and his fingers dig into your thigh as he lets out a loud gasp, rocking his erection, still trapped in those stupidly tight boxer briefs, hard against you. 
“Fuck, yes, those were orgasms numbers one and two; just me, cleaning up your mess before we could really get to the main event. And I took my time.” You were sure he did.
“Normally number three is when you start pulling at my hair like you want to scalp me.” He teases, dragging his nose along your neck and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you. Even after spending half the night indulging in you, it’s as though he still can’t get enough of you. 
“But last night, you were such a good girl, letting me suck on your clit and fuck you with my tongue as much as I wanted. I even spat on your cunt, just to see whether that would get more than a twitch out of you. I think it just made you jump.” Another low chuckle rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your neck, and you whine around the fingers filling your mouth. The idea of Fred doing that is too much; you slip one hand from his hair and scratch at his back as you try to pull him, impossibly, closer to you. 
“That was number three and number four.” He says, hissing slightly at the catch of your nails against his skin. “By then, I thought I’d conduct a little experiment. I wanted to see if you were wet enough for me to get four of my fingers inside of you.” Oh and the thought of that, combined with the rock of your clit against his cock and the drag of his underwear against that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from last night, is just too much. 
You’re on the brink of another orgasm, it feels so good it almost hurts, and you whine around his fingers as you imagine the feel of nearly all of his fingers inside you. If you didn’t think it would leave you sore, you’d ask him to do it again now that you’re awake, just to see for yourself. 
“Yes, my darling, four. We’ve only ever done three before, I know, but,” he licks lightly at your neck. “I figured now was the time to push our luck, with you so wonderfully soft and pliant beneath me.” You rock harder against him, faster and faster as he describes putting first one, and then two fingers inside you. 
“Two was easy, and after four orgasms and that sedative you were so relaxed that three wasn’t as difficult as it normally is.” He spreads your legs to give you more room to really move against him and encourages you with a few thrusts of his own. You’re so close- 
“My goodness you’re really enjoying this aren't you? Hearing all about what a good, cooperative girl you were for me, letting me do just what I wanted to you. Are you ready to hear about how slowly I worked on finger number four?” He asks quietly, and you whimper and nod around his fingers in your mouth.
“You were taking three so well, but I know how much you like to be stuffed full. You only had my pinkie to go, just my little finger, but you already felt so tight around the others. I spent so long easing you open, love, stretching your perfect little cunt out so carefully until I could just get the tips of all four fingers in.” You’re rolling your hips faster now, chasing your seventh orgasm in less than twelve hours and scrabbling at Fred’s back in an attempt to get him to meet your thrusts. You feel greedy, and increasingly sore, but you’re utterly helpless to stop yourself. 
“God, it was such a pretty sight. I couldn’t resist watching all four of my fingers disappear inside of you, so slowly that you would have felt every millimetre if you’d have been awake.” As if to emphasize his point, he pushes his fingers a little deeper into your mouth. “Such a good girl, are you going to come again? Give me another, my darling, that’s it.” He coos as you fall apart, sobbing around his fingers as you come. The heat licking its way through your veins is verging on painful, your pleasure laced with a deep ache as your hips stutter and jerk against Fred. 
“That’s it, just like that, yes, oh, that’s wonderful darling,” Fred praises you softly, petting your thigh as you ride through this, aching and jerking against him as he holds still above you. You try to whine his name around his fingers and he chuckles. “What was that?” He asks, finally pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly, grabbing onto your chin and leaving wet marks on your skin. 
“Fred, fuck, that was-” You pause to take a deep breath. “That’s only number five.” Fred grins at you, pouty pretty lips stretched over perfect white teeth. He nods. 
“Number five was with just the tips of my fingers inside you.” He agrees, wet fingers still squeezing your chin. His nose bumps against yours affectionately. “Number six was my favorite.” You can’t look away from his bright, sharp green eyes. “Number six. Wow.” He sighs happily and lets go of your chin and your thigh. Letting himself rest all the way on top of you, his bare skin warm against yours, his weight heavy and perfect, he frames your face with his forearms and cards his fingers through your hair. 
“Oh, I loved number six. Darling, I had four fingers inside of you and you were just so tight.” He ruts gently against your sore and aching cunt. “You were so tight so I just pushed them all the way in so, so slowly, and then, with all of them deep inside of you, I got to use my tongue on your clit one last time.”
You’re aching so much already, and every drag of his hips makes your clit hurt, but you need to be closer to him. Impatiently, you pull at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down just enough to free his cock. 
“Need you, please Fred. I need you inside me.” You whimper, utterly beyond caring about how smug he looks; he’s more than earned it. 
“You were making the sweetest little noises by number six, love. The softest gasps and hitches in your breathing; I thought I was going to come in my pants like a teenager.” He cuts himself off with a low grunt as he slides against your soaked entrance, one of his hands slipping between your bodies so he can guide himself into you. You cry out sharply as he fills you, the pleasure shadowed by the slightest whisper of pain. 
“After six, I took the rest of my clothes off, and finally fucked you. I thought about moving you onto your tummy for that, but I wanted to watch my cock split you open.” He stays still inside of you, despite your nails scraping lightly along his back and sides, desperately seeking for purchase. Instead, he brushes your hair delicately away from your face, utterly unbothered by your squirming. 
“Fred, Fred please, Jesus, move please...” You whine, shifting underneath him, hitching your legs up around his hips and moaning as he slides deeper into you. 
“Oh, darling, you always take me so well, even after six orgasms.” He rocks his hips slowly and you dig your nails into his sides, gasping as his cock hits a spot inside you that has your whole body aching so good. “There it is,” Fred sighs smugly. Every muscle in your body contracts as he pulls out inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him. His fingers are soft on your face as he holds still just inside you as you pant, eyes tightly shut. 
“Fred...” 
He kisses first one cheek and then the next, and then both eyelids before instructing, “Open your eyes.” You bite your lip and draw a shaky breath before doing so. His green eyes are sharp and as soon as he has your attention he pushes slowly back into you. 
“Ah ah ah,” he chastises as your eyes slip closed. “Open.” He sets the slowest pace you can ever remember Fred fucking you, staring into your eyes as he takes you apart piece by piece on his cock. He fucks you deeply, and sore or not, you feel a familiar burning feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to boil, your nerves twitching, your legs locking around his waist. It’s a fight to keep your eyes open and on his. 
Somehow it feels so much bigger, so much more, with his eyes locked on you seeing everything, seeing right through you. You need him to come; you don’t think you have another orgasm left in you. 
“This is how I fucked you last night.” Fred says, practically purring when you slide your fingers back into his hair. 
“So slowly, and so deeply that I thought I might hit the end of you. God, I’d spend all my time buried in your perfect cunt if I could, you’re always so tight, and warm, and wet for me. And you were so good last night, so pliant and pretty. My very own Sleeping Beauty.” He huffs a laugh, his breath warm against your skin and only adding to the complete sensory overload you’re experiencing. You buck your hips and try to tighten around him, trying to push him into coming faster. 
“Fred, please, I can’t.” You sob weakly, looking deeply into those piercing eyes of his and searching for a reprieve. Every lick of burning pleasure that’s coiling in your core hurts just a little more than the one that came before, and you truly don’t know how much more you have in you. 
“Oh you can, darling. I know you can, you really can.” He encourages, smile easy, eyes so sure, so confident. You squeeze your legs around his waist and tug hard on his hair. 
“Fred, god-” You break off with another sob, and Fred groans as you clench around his cock inside of you. 
“Just a little more darling, just- fuck, just a bit more.” Fred thrusts harder a few times, hips stuttering, eyes tightening and his hands leaving your hair to grip the pillow next to your head hard, twisting the fabric between his fingers. You cry out as his hips shove hard once, twice and he comes, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face in your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin. 
You clutch him to you tightly as he grumbles happily into your neck, soft satisfied sounds as he presses you into the mattress, cock still jerking inside of you. You breathe heavily underneath him, aching, sore, and content, your nerves still twitching, and your legs still clutched around him. 
You’re not sure how long the two of you lie like that for, both thoroughly worn out and satiated. It’s not long before the soreness between your legs makes itself known, and Fred doesn’t miss your wince as you try to shift your legs. In an instant he’s sitting up, pulling out of you carefully so as not to hurt you further, those gorgeous green eyes full of concern as he looks you over. As sore as you are, you try to tug him back down on top of you, but he’s having none of it.
“I think you need a hot bath. Doctor’s orders.” He says firmly. You’re in no mood to bicker with him; quite honestly, the idea of relaxing in your claw foot tub with him sounds incredible. Before he can climb out of bed to start running the water, you catch his hand. 
“We’re definitely trying this again, aren’t we?” You say, with an exhausted little laugh. 
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Text
Witcher of the Night (Chapter 19) (With visuals included 😉)
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THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.
UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8) (Posted earlier today, thank you very much for my thirst! Heehee!)
CHAPTER 18
WOTN MASTERLIST
Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader
Summary: Evil is evil. People and abomination may be the reason why the world can't be a better place especially in the continent.
Warnings: Blood. The 'Kikker' mentioned here ain't a real monster in the witcher. I just made it up. A bloody, thrashed reader. A maddened, feral, tired witcher. Degrading names. People being assholes. With Geralt’s visuals included but I don’t know how this is a warning?
Words: 5.6k
A/N: A story cannot consist of only glitters and rainbows. Sometimes, it's better to add darkness in it and a ton shit of angst. Heh. I’m cackling with the Geralt GIF’s I’ve included. It’s like he’s so bored and done af while talking to anyone. 😭😂😂😂 GERALT, OH GERALT. I DESERVE A KISS GERALT FROM HOW DEDICATED I AM TO YOU! Please appreciate my effort, people! LMAO 😭😂💗 ENJOY AND HAVE A NICE WEEKEND!
TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.
Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)
MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!
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It was at around nightfall when Geralt of Rivia has arrived at the foot of the castle's barbican, his swords lunched on his back with bags in his hand and a sour expression written on his picturesque face that screams he wasn't there for a peaceful negotiation.
He'd calmly walked along the aqueduct, his footsteps heavy and impatient as he dropped his bags on the ground, familiarizing over the enormous castle that stood before him and he couldn't help but sigh, atopic of the whole vibe that every castle has given the white wolf. He really didn't want to cross paths with the royals ever again after that show he had by helping Jaskier and he hoped that his help for you didn't include another child of surprise that can happen.
Group of cavaliers shielded the gates with their swords on their hands. Geralt kept silent with a stern purse of his lips and a tightened jaw, he heavily sighed another one and continued to be uncommunicative when one equestrian audibly nagged for what the butcher of Blaviken needed.
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Geralt deliberately rolled his eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, giving them a scowl in which they've didn't took it very nicely as they began to draw their swords.
The witcher has heard footfalls echoing from the castle, hasty and restive and it didn't take a second for Geralt to see the king's close friend and an advisor for the royal family emerge from the gates.
Eanraig came forth out of the port; one of Caed Myrkvid's druids and someone whom Geralt has been talking to since decades ago where he has visited Caed Dhu and having their first meeting in the black forest.
The scholar wore a brown long, surcoat as he step foot out of the gates, his white long beard and wild, unwashed gray wavy hair stopping on the tips of his shoulders. Thin lines of wrinkles crafted his face which has given him the look that he was nearly old. His grey colored eyes wholly jiggered to see the white wolf in the foot of their fortress and with an expression that simply tells him that he was pissed.
He always does look like it but the druid knew that Geralt was truly feeling that way and it wasn't just his normal face that you see everyday.
"Yield your swords this instance!"
Geralt gave him a nonchalant flicker of his eyes, opening his mouth to gruffly speak, "Eanraig." his face remained stoic, his timbre sounding utterly lackadaisical when he addressed the scholar.
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Eanraig trudged his way to where he was. The soldiers immediately surrendering their weapons down as they firmly stood from side to side, watching the two acquaintances converse in a quiet and calm talk. The druid was cordial as he gave a smile, "Geralt of Rivia. They have been expecting you,"
"Hmm." the latter hummed out of nowhere, narrowing his golden amber eyes at the Elder Druid in acrimony, "---they've taken what's mine. I've been told to never step foot within the berm of eminent citadels,"
Sardonically speaking, Earnraig tilted his head to the side. The flicker in his eyes humorous and mocking, "Yet, here you are, witcher." he throatily chuckled and croaked, his voice sounding drier than usual due to being long in the tooth, "---I shall guess, you are here to save a lover?"
Geralt kept his mouth in a tight thin line, shifting his eyes away from the druid with his question unanswered by the witcher.
"What unlucky fate you have, Geralt. Your lovers always bring out the worst in you---because you don't appear to be in the greatest and friendliest condition,"
"When did I ever?" the white wolf hoarsely mumbled beneath his breath, sighing in the process of it all as he frowned, taking heed of the feeble man before him. His tone was derisive and saturnine for what caustic comment he curtly claimed, "---How are you keeping up with their scoundrel works of art?"
Eanraig smiled; though, Geralt read that it wasn't meant to say he was jovial over the regime and changes he has noticed when the world began to change. His smile was brittle and unconvincing, "I never did. Since Tybalt arrived and has been taken as the crown for our army of gallants, destitution has taken its place. Heedless for the Kaedwenians because of how the vampire is capturing women for safe keeping, greasing his own palms by selling them to anyone who will want them,"
The witcher expected that answer before even asking. He nodded back at the druid, completely austere and phlegmatic as he kept silent; not letting the scholar know what he was thinking. Eanraig lifted a hand to give Geralt a pat on his burly, armored shoulder.
"King Veduka and Queen Makeda will speak to you once we get there," pause. "---And I doubt they'll be happy to see a witcher who has rejected their favor after two years. Come,"
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As that has been said, the gatekeepers unbolted the entryway; given the approval from the king's advisor as Geralt grabbed his belongings, stringing along with him as they walked the route towards where the gatehouse is. The earth toned portcullis at its full defense as he sees it from far north.
"I wouldn't be helping their beloved cursed prince when they haven't coerced me into complying, Eanraig."
The druid strolled objectively alongside Geralt, continuously discoursing in the subject about who made him adhere to the king's favors---taking one person for abduction and he was already showing himself to them with no begging included unlike staying thoroughly surreptitious in the deepest parts of Kaedwen's forest. Only one woman was needed for him to accept such.
"If only you would've seen how they saw this as an opportunity to benefit them. I know your woman doesn't belong to this world. They knew your weakness, Witcher."
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Eanraig has heard him hum, lower than his usual habit of susurration and it sounded like a sound of disapproval, "The sorceress has plans for her. Tybalt has hunted down a woman who exactly looks and sounds like her. But, exactly the opposite from her characteristics. She was one of Kaedwenians sly thieves."
Savia. He suddenly remembered out of the blue as he kept tacit. She was the woman who looked exactly like you despite of having the contrary of her traits over yours. Geralt pondered over the thought, finding it difficult to decipher how there was another person like you in his universe, a doppleganger of some sort that was entirety a clone of your genetics. Maybe Savia was a doppler or his midget? No. You were teleported to their dimension with no magic nor strength to do so.
What was seriously happening in the continent?
Eanraig saw how Geralt was in deep thought for what was shared; never one to beat around the bush; he enunciated straight to the point, "The king has been convinced that she's her twin. Howbeit, I never believed it nor did Ingrith or Tybalt. It was the queen's manipulation because her double has taken one of her favorite Cobalt necklaces that was given by the king,"
"---and now, they are starving her to death. Even walloped with a stick on her back till she was bleeding and wounded,"
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The sentence has given Geralt a whiplash. He ceased from walking alongside Eanraig, his stature turning rigid and immobile with his jaw clenching for what was heard. Did he heard him right?
You are being aggressed in the hands of another when he does not lay a single hand on you; being battered by humans who didn't know exactly who you are nor do they have proof that you are the person who has stolen items from the queen.
"What?"
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Eanraig's fair share of talk explains why his chest felt suffocating and utterly uneasy. They were hurting you till the heart of the sorceress was content enough.
The druid continued his blabbers, heedful of Geralt's stiff stance and his sudden reclusive mood, "---Ingrith told the queen that she was somehow cursed with a fate just like you,"
It wasn't a second of waiting till Geralt hoarsely mumbled his feelings out in the open and only for the scholar to hear, "Fuck." he raved, the witcher's thick eyebrows in a tight twist. His forehead creasing with deep wrinkles for his blood to boil even faster. He turned his head to the side, his teeth tightly gritted together as he went livid.
"That doesn't sound quite nice," Eanraig shifted his attention towards the raging white wolf who was glaring at the tall castlewalls in front of them, shooting daggers after daggers with his fists tightly clenched on his sides. A predatory glaze in his glowing eyes that stood under the pale moonlight, the ferocity bouncing back as he tried to calm him down. He reached out a hand to palm Geralt's tense shoulder, giving him a pat.  
"Now, now, now, Weccan. Do not let your anger control you."
"How can I?!" Geralt spat in his utmost feral tone; fierce and aggressive for thinking how you were drowning in your own blood right at this moment.
The witcher was growling beneath Eanraig's touch; his anger felt through his body as Geralt was breathing in deep slow breaths, trying to control how his mind instantly went straight into knowing who has given orders to hurt you. There was an ample amount of the fact that you could be cut off a limb over stealing something you surely have been accused of. The Druid stepped in front of him, clasping both his fingers on his shoulders to break whatever thoughts he was thinking as he stared straight into his wrath-filled eyes.
"I've already treated her wounds---But, I think it isn't enough for how she's raining on their blows. You should have just accepted the first time they've asked a favor before it even ended up this way,"
Geralt's upper lip twitched from how he was silently basking in his displeasure and rue; never wanting to open his mouth at the moment for fire might escape his mouth with how maddened he was feeling. The tight stones topping off his chest and making him more uneasy than he can ever get.
"Vesemir has taught you to never uphold the law," Eanraig added as a matter of fact, pursing his lip as he continued, the look in his eyes utterly amused for how Geralt's destiny was falling in the wrong places, but emotionally feeling as if it was right because you came along, "---but, you are here to save such love that will never overcome the law that people have been following,"
The Druid has heard him huff from the choices of his words, looking away to stare at the castlewalls, digging up holes that he had been gathering since the moment he arrived, "You are saving the love of your life,---" he paused, a smile forming on Eanraig's decrepit face; his deep wrinkles forming as his face contorted in sheer entertainment.
"---and the woman who shall make miracles come true,"
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Geralt was immediately taken to the abandoned round tower; where Prince Althalos has been staying since he has been cursed---bullish that they could keep him there and away from people. The prince has not been damned as a beast just like Nivellen. The prince has been cursed as a Kikker. A harmless monster in their world that only kills his own kind as well. They were found in the caves, masking in their solidarity until the full moon comes out and their hunger will be very much triggered to find something to munch on.
When they could not find their own kind to devour, they somehow manage to eat others instead.
Geralt couldn't help but snicker to his own at that, maybe the prince was kind of harmful instead of harmless that Sorceress Ingrith might have described him, peppering her words with pleasant lines that the witcher was highly disappointed of because she sounded as if she was in favor for what was happening.
He walked along the doors in an unfettered march of his feet, humming in displeasure with a scowl twisting his features that turned into tiny smirk; noting the buffet of abundant food that was left unfinished due to reasons he didn't know about as it happened before he arrived.
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The tight grimace written on his face was enough for the king to know that he has not seen you yet since the moment you've arrived. Ingrith has probably prohibited him to as she has lead him to the prince.
King Viduka sat on his chair; proud and virtuous in the middle of a long table where he was left alone. The witcher has never seen the king up until today and one thing's for sure as he noticed the pale, horrid color of his skin. Just as much as how his have been, tinted in the lightest color that can be considered as if the king has no blood to function properly like how a king should have been.
His eyes were almond shaped, but with a nebulous glow swimming in the hazel color---appearing to be like he was being cast in a deathless spell or such poison that had a long term effect.
But, Geralt mindlessly shook his worries away from the people who have given you pain. The queen has probably been giving King Viduka such concoctions that could make him submit to her on whatever she wanted---with the help of the sorceress of course.
"He needs help," he bluntly started before he was even asked to speak, raising both brows for wanting to tell the king that he also needed help for whatever Queen Makeda has been giving him. Howbeit, Geralt has shut his mouth tight and hardly tried to become forth with respect amongst the king.
The king audibly sipped on his wine, casting him a glance under the antique glass he has chugged on. His expressions incomprehensible for the white wolf because of how horrid and disheveled his beard and mustache is. Though, his response made Geralt know he was giving him a lour, "This is why you've been dragged here to serve your purpose,---" pause. "---The only thing that can get your mutations quite useful for our world besides butchering my people. I've heard you've slaughtered my men,"
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Geralt's mouth formed a tight thin line from the king's bald comment, his jaw set to create a grouch that the king has expected from his kind---the lack of emotion thereof and also the bluntness that the witcher may cannot control no matter if the person in front of was highly or not.
"Because your beloved army leader has been forcing women held captive," the white wolf stated as a matter of fact, cocking his head to the side as if it was a cocky comment.
King Viduka scoffed from his sheer honesty; skipping the dillydally that most men have been giving him due to being royal, "---and what has saving people benefit to you, witcher? must I say, you have not receive coins from it, correct? or was it because of the little woman? you are killing off my kind to save yours,"
Between them both was an understanding of protection from Geralt. He stood before him with a will that he had back in the marketplace. The white haired witcher was standing inside his castle with a purpose that he surely deciphered from using you as a bait to comply.
You were too important for him that the king could feel that Geralt will be begging for more than just your safeguard.
"Your way of asking favors can be quite disappointing for a king,"
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Out of the blue, he's heard metal slice through its own accord; both knights who stood beside King Viduka unraveled their weapons, pointing them at Geralt who stood with a nonchalant expression on his face, thoroughly not moved nor impressed by their reactions---perhaps, also in a shitty mood for ruining his week by kidnapping you in the comfort of his home.
"Sheathe your swords," the king commanded to the hostile cavaliers; not taking a second to drop their weapons as they were told.
Geralt continued to educate the king in his perspective and comprehension over his cursed son; remembering how his school has taught him countless of monsters he could never forget.
"Call your son 'the frog prince' or some hideous sort," his eyebrows jutted closer as he sternly explained, "---but, this work is not made by a monster for me to hunt,"
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King Viduka couldn't help but lean away from the back of his throne, his eyes adamant that he was not serious over telling him that his son may not be assisted by the Witcher
"---He is cursed by a witch. I do not butcher people for the sake of someone else's life,"
The words that left Geralt's mouth felt like a rejection or an offense that King Viduka has never experienced from anyone else. He couldn't believe what he was hearing---he couldn't accept such abnegation over a mutant who was crude and utterly unaccepted by humanity. His highness has quickly stood from his seat, throwing his glass on the floor which has shattered but has not surprised Geralt nor have receive a jerk of his body from his sudden anger---the antagonism coming was a result of a witcher that they have tried contacting or following around for two years; begging help for the future of Kaedwen.
Yet, he came to the palace with his foot up his mouth. Straightaway, sounding like he was declining the proposal.
The king was entirely disappointed by how useless he was being.
"---you are good-for-nothing! A hypocrite who says he does not kill another to save someone else's!" King Viduka has spat completely enraged, "---Yet, you have saved your tiny whore by killing mine!"
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The white wolf couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, clenching his teeth behind his closed mouth; his golden peepers glaring before the dependable king who kisses whatever Queen Makeda has been walking upon---a king who does not care for the people as long as he saves his.
Irritation was written all over Geralt's face, hearing what King Viduka has described you for what purpose you have in his life. Being nothing but a woman who could cater to his lechery when you had not been at all.
His midget was more than that. Definitely not his whore that people has been accusing you of.
Geralt's selfishness for rejecting the king's offers right on his face was like asking to be beheaded. He does not want to be involved by such ever again when he has no idea who this witch may have been. If being frank over the king was like asking to be beheaded, then a search for a witch that does not want to be found was waiting for a monster to put him into demise.
"I do not regret what the queen has done for punishing. Your tiny harlot has taken something valuable from her and corporal punishment was the answer that we all see fit---seeing that she might have sold the necklace for the sake of you wanting more coins,"
He subtly shook his head from the king's indefinite accusation, verbally fighting for your safety and for the truth that may set you free, "She is not the thief you have been accusing her about."
Yet, the king was determined of his opinions---the queen's opinions over you; seeming to be brainwashed by both women who was a shadow of his reign. One greedy sorceress and the other was his cunning beloved that no matter what other people say, he shall not believe because only his trusted people were right.
Geralt heavily sighed, seeing King Viduka shooting daggers towards him. His eyes wild and disappointed, utterly vexed for what he has heard.
"The world may say that you own two swords. One for killing humans and the other for slaughtering beasts," he deadpanned, bane spitting out of his mouth as he sharply stared at Geralt who sighed for his resoluted perception.
"---but, I doubt you do not know the differences of each as of now,"
After minutes of his silence, Geralt may have not realized that from the moment he opened his mouth, his teeth was barred, fangs overlooked by the king because of his unspoken thoughts; by not being heard by a person who had his mind closed for whatever he has to say and so, the butcher of Blaviken breathed a few heavy sighs, promptly shutting his eyes closed before he spoke through gritted teeth.
"Let me see her. I need...to see her, your highness."
He was stunned to hear himself plead before a disagreeable human. A selfish entitled man who knew nothing how to raise a kingdom. The rebellious son of the previous king has been forced into this madness and manipulation from everyone that he does not see.
The latter waited for any oracular answer. They've shared stares and huffs of breath before Geralt shook his head, turning on his heel to leave immediately because he knew that his request for seeing you will never be given. Might search for you instead, he silently thought to himself with a tight scowl on his face.
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"Bring her in,"
He stopped short from hearing the king's words. Ceasing himself in the midst of marching off, his back towards the king when it has not taken the horsemen a minute to drag you to where he was.
Dragging was the correct term for your feeble, shaky demurrals out of the door. Your voice echoing from a far distance and Geralt couldn't help but shot a glance over the locked wooden doors, his amber eyes turning wider as your voice became clearer when each second passed by, hinting your status that you were not feeling well by the breathless, hoarse begging you've managed to beseech.
The doors opened to release two vulnerable knights wearing their commoner clothing and a small, fragile woman who was mistreated from her limbs; dragging you by your battered arms. Patches of blue and mauve painted your skin as if they were trying to beat you to death, a law back in the historical era where it was used for criminals or sinners to speak the truth or punished for their faults.
Your other cheek was swollen, vermillion owning a cut as if somebody has slapped you---also dehydrated from starving you for a day and a half, receiving no liquid to drink or anything besides their endless wallops.
The witcher was beyond shocked to even comprehend what he was seeing, his breath stopping from the moment he has seen you enter the room; utterly downtrodden, helpless and wounded.
"S-Stop...I-I don't...I don't need any more beating. I told you, I don't have your necklace. This amulet I have is mine. I didn't steal anything. Please---please tell me Geralt's here,"   King Viduka has gestured towards the horsemen; bringing up a finger to tell that they should show the witcher what you looked like to be hit in endless battering and how they've treated you before he even came around.
The knights tightened their hold against a mahogany, wooden stick. Hard enough to fracture your bones if it was given more power; but, Geralt knew what they were ordered to do before they can even move and he was quick enough to march towards where they were; graving and in distraught for what he felt. His chest suffocating and tight---anguished to see and desperate to keep you close in his arms.
He rushed to where you were hunched down and bleeding to death, shielding you from their assaults as the witcher draw out his metal sword from his back, angling the newly sharpened blade on one of the knight's jugular; golden eyes burning with betrayal and desolation for what they have done, for what power do people with royal blood have to hurt his person this way. They've treated you like a rag doll or a monster for making you bleed and even plan to starve you to death.
Their actions has made Geralt's blood boil in extremity.
"Do not dare---," he breathed fire, fuming as he warned. His words said with a fiery emphasis, "---touch or lay your hands on her,"
The smaller knight whom Geralt has pointed his sword upon growled in the back of his throat, a signal which has made him aim the tip of his sword against the vulnerable part---unbending and purposive for what he wanted them to apprehend that he was not flippant for unsheathing his steel sword.
"---people who knew better of my kind are heedful that I will not bat an eye to slit down your throats with my weapon,"
Geralt has heard you call out for him in a sapless shake of your voice and the simple acknowledgement has taken his attention away from the royal guards as he slightly turned his head behind---seeing you lay on the cold hard ground that made his mouth twitch, teeth barred and gritted and he couldn't help but emit a rough huff of his breath; sounding like a growl of his frustrations for letting this happen to his family.
King Viduka spoke in command, hiding the smile beneath his unkempt beard.
"Lay down your sword, Witcher. I do not plan to create bloodshed over the mutant who will help my son,"
Geralt avoided looking into their eyes and set his focus on the battered woman behind him who was coughing out her pain. You've used all your strength to pull yourself from the floors, your vision blurry and unclear for the tears you've shed all night, finding it hard to register that your witcher was finally within your reach. You thought it was all in the sense of hallucination until he'd hastily whispered the endearment that he had for you---the nickname you've hated prior of meeting him the first time, yet ending up missing the word when he doesn't use it for you.
His appearance was making your heart cry and eventually, you did after realizing a bunch of sobs escaping your lips when he has hauled you up in his arms; crouching before you and pulling your beaten body to his, aware from the pained whimper that followed suit and he was suddenly aware of using such strength with you---immediately turning gentle from your response.
"Midget?"
"G...Geralt? you're here..." you hiccuped from the cries, feeling the sting from the salt of your tears. Lately discovering the numb, sore feeling on your left eye and Geralt has eyed it with such animosity because it was a swollen wound.
Your vision turned clear after a languid blink of your eyes, welcoming his warmth that you've missed after being hurt by people who surrounded you who'd done it by physically doing so. The information you have gathered from the four corners of the cell you were in repeatedly replaying inside your mind; not bothering to forget to tell it to him besides your other secret that you ought not to tell yet.
"Don't...Don't find the witch..I-I've heard from the person with me---he's an elf. He said that this witch can never be found---it may be just a trap or an endless hunt for you,"
The latter was stone-deaf from your wounded image; his golden eyes large as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Geralt didn't acknowledged your message and continued to state his own instead.
"They've hurt you."
He uttered in disbelief, intently examining your face near his. Your fingers were shaky as you reached up to touch his face. But, Geralt has beat you to it and grabbed yours instead, subtly shaking his head to silently tell you not to move for the pain it can cost. His rough hand was warm and comforting, giving solace in the midst of how being cold you were treated by their world. The only thing that was warm is Geralt and his family.
They were the only thing benevolent compared to their outskirts.
"They don't believe me. I--I never stole the queen's necklace. I--I have never left your home,"
"I know you didn't." Geralt gruffly muttered with a cordial, soft tone that made you sob more than ever---how nice it felt to have someone who actually believed you was like hopping in the shower after a summery day; refreshing to be hearing another person to fight for your truth rather than being forced to tell lies.
"You'll never get to find the witch, Geralt. Y-You'll never get to lift the curse because...because---"
The stammers you've emitted, how crucial it was to feel you in pain---finding ache in his chest from the moment he'd seen you in that status; painted like a rainbow shown after a heavy rain but drafted to show the suffering you've experienced in the castles of Kaedwen. His glowing golden eyes turned a shade darker, filling with sudden torment and affliction as you laid in his arms.
You've slightly turned your head, nuzzling to be shielded by Geralt's armored, hirsute chest that made you sigh after hours of trying to sleep on stones, finding home just by staying close to the white wolf.
"Your highness," Geralt abruptly spoke, making you shut your eyes open to hear what he needed to say. Based on how he set his mouth in a tight, straight line. Your witcher was setting down his bargains and favors that he certainly does not do for people of royal.
"I will seek for your witch," he stated with determination, his back towards the king; not taking the risk to let him see the ire pooling in his eyes as he continued.
"---in exchange for your people not to touch mine and if your sorceress, precious vampire or horsemen lay a single hand on her again, I will never hesitate to kill the witch and let your son die with his curse forever,"
Perturbed by his sudden declaration; stubborn to even listen for what he was about to expect by searching apparitions of a witch out in the woods. You've desperately called out his name in endless croaks, hopelessly pulling at his armor yet Geralt was having rigid opinions especially having you wounded in his arms.
"Cease her punishment. I will not save yours if I know that you are punishing my..."
Golden eyes keenly landed on yours, thoroughly protecting you in his sinewy limbs before he seriously and firmly declared another that has made your breath hitch for what he has said.
"---my betrothed,"
King Viduka briskly nodded for his request; badly in need of his aid for his son to live. There was an understanding that he will still keep you within the castle unless Geralt brings him the witch and reverse the curse. He'd kept his eyes on the witcher's back, sitting back on his throne with a smile on his face.
"You have my word, Geralt of Rivia."
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tunesscribbles · 3 years
Text
Peter Maximoff x Reader  Love Run
(to show that love's worth running to)
Peter's journey from a dumbass teen with thinly veiled commitment issues to a slightly less dumbass adult-ish person (with a range of other issues)
almost 7k words, gender neutral reader, title from ‘Not Yet / Love Run‘
tw: panic attack (begin and end marked with *)
Peter was standing in line with the rest of the X-Men while Mystique and Hank gave them the rundown for the next mission. He was fiddling with his hands behind his back. Today shaped up to become another one of his "Can't-Stay-Still-Even-If-He-Tried"-Days. He reached around Kurt's back to sneakily poke your side. This earned him a stifled squeal as well as a scalding look from Mystique. He retreated his hand quickly while mouthing an unapologetic "Sorry" at Mystique, who only rolled her eyes and turned around to show the team the location on the map. He noticed a movement on his right just in time to dodge your attempt to poke him back. You huffed silently. Peter had to bite the inside of his cheek in order not to grin as Mystique turned back towards them.
(Wait, that's not right. Best to tell a story from the beginning.)
------------------------------------------
He tried to smile, failed. "So like, no problem."
Peter can't hear his own thoughts. He doesn't recognize a word he is saying until it is too late and they already tumbled out of his mouth. For perhaps the first time in his young life, he feels as if the world is moving too fast and rushing by him instead of the other way around. He doesn't know how you two ended up like this. As far as his memories serve, this was just another friday afternoon, but something must have gone terribly wrong because you look like you are going to burst into tears any second now and all signs point to it being his fault.
"Hey, what – what's up with you?" He scrambled to get off of the couch and move over to where you were standing.
"What's up with me?", you repeated incredulously as you took a step back, away from him. Peter stopped his approach in an instand. "You want to know what's up with me, did you even listen to anything I said? Anything you said?", your voice grew louder as you went on and you pointed an accusing finger at him.
Peter threw up his arms in confusion. "Apparantly not!"
You shook your head in dejected disbelief. "I can't believe you-", whatever you wanted to say was interrupted by a choked sob. You were struggling to keep the tears from flowing.
He wants to say something – anything, but hadn't he said enough already? His tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of his mouth, so talking is out of the question anyway.
"You know what the worst thing about this is?", a shaky laugh escaped your throat. "Deep down I knew. I fucking knew there was something off! I just didn't want to believe it, so I didn't ask. God, I should've fucking asked!" You slapped your forehead.
Peter swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. He lifted his hand, as if to touch your shoulder but he dropped it again. "[Name], don't-"
"Shut up! You are such a selfish bastard. I-I don't need this. Goodbye Peter." You turned on your heel and rushed to exit the basement.
"Wait, hold on-"
"Don't worry about it, Peter. No problem, right?" The door slammed shut.
If Peter had known back then that this was the last time he would see your face for years, he probably would have gone after you. (Who is he kidding, he wouldn't have, not at the time.)
(Not the start either, keep going.)
------------------------------------------
"Hey, I like your hair!" His head whipped around to face whoever was talking to him and to see whether they were mocking him or not. They seemed honest enough.
"Thanks, grew it myself." He cracked a smile, which you returned, albeit a bit unsurely.
Might as well. "The name's Peter Maximoff, you are?"
"I'm [Name]."
"Pleased to meet ya." Peter extended his hand towards you but pulled it away right before you could grab it.
(Okay - now fast forward.)
------------------------------------------
"The hell are you doing up here?", you asked after you had to poke your head through the opened skylight to find Peter sitting on the roof.
"I could ask you the same thing." He looked around to find the source of your voice.
"You can't actually.", he heard you remark and rolled his eyes. "Because I am not currently 'up here'." When he looked back over to you, your head had disappeared but he could hear you move around inside.
"Alright then, let me rephrase that: The hell are you doing in there?"
"Got myself a chair.", you replied and reemerged from the window, now more than a head and neck. Peter couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. You grinned as if you were proud of your achievement. He suddenly felt rather warm on his spot on the roof and the afternoon sun had nothing to do with it.
"Do you ever get the sudden urge to sit on your roof?", he asked to answer your initial question and following that opened his arms as if to add: 'So here I am.'
You nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I get that sometimes, but then I remember I don't want to break my neck falling down and die."
"It's not that dangerous, come on!" He waved at you to join him. You did not look very convinced, so he added: "You're not gonna die, don't worry. Even if you should fall, I'll catch you!"
You pondered his proposition for a moment before giving in with a sigh.
He helped you climb up and you talked for a while. During the conversation you must have shifted closer because now your shoulders were pressed together. Should both of you turn to look at each other at the same time, Peter thought, the tips of your noses might just meet in the middle. He was drumming his fingers on the roof tile until you stopped him by taking his hand into yours.
He looked down at your joint hands. Peter could not remember when this thing between you had begun. It was not like he didn't like you, he did (probably more than he realised at the time), but he hoped you knew this was all just fun and goofs. He never meant to lead you on or anything. It was simply second nature, almost, for him to poke and prod when he was curious, to see if he could, to mess around with things (until they break, one might add looking back).
You gave his hand a playful squeeze and he forgot about his worries instantly. Peter grinned, just lopsided enough to convey a hint of mischief. Then with one quick motion he positioned himself so that he went from sitting next to you to leaning over you with one hand on either side of your body.
"What are you grinning at?" Was that a bit of a blush crawling up on your cheeks?
"You, obviously.", he replied in a hushed voice and grinned just a bit wider before leaning further down.
He felt you relax underneath him. Instead of rushing in to steal the kiss, Peter paused as his lips were millimeters away from yours. He found himself drawing out the drumroll, something he usually never did, being way too impatient. Warm breath ghosted over his lips; his heart was beating excitedly. He wanted to drag the moment out a little longer, enjoy the soaring feeling in his chest for another second (like the guitar riff building up to the big reprise).
Suddenly Peter's foot slipped, his eyes went wide, his body slid downwards – until he was caught by your hand on his arm. He let out a breathless whistle.
"We should go back in-"
- "Let's go back inside.", he agreed quickly. "Always preferred my basement anyway."
" 'I'll catch you', my ass!", you muttered as you cautiously made your way back to the window.
(Blah, blah, blah – Alright, jump further.)
------------------------------------------
Peter stopped dead in this tracks when he saw you at Xavier's for the first time. Well, that's one face he expected never to see again, especially not in this place.
"Hey", if he sounded breathless, he could blame it on running.
"Hey", you replied, equally surprised to see Peter again after all these years.
An awkward silence ensued. He had no clue what to say. Was he allowed to ask why you were here? Were there rules for social interactions with your "not-really-but-kind-of"-Ex? (Also, wasn't he supposed to be doing something else?)
"So, what are you up to?", you finally asked, just as he blurted out: "What are you doing here?"
This was going well. "I, uh, I live here. Well, mostly I work here, but I guess I do live here, too.", he answered first.
"You're a teacher?", you seemed surprised. Fair enough, he was, too, some days.
"Part time, yeah." He shuffled his feet.
"Ah, that's nice."
"It is. What are you doing here? I haven't seen you- " (in years) "-around."
"Oh no, I just got here. I'm actually here to talk to the Professor, I have a meeting with him, sort of." For a moment he thought you were going to elaborate but it seemed as if this was all the information he was going to get.
"His office is down the hall, door should be open, so it's hard to miss."
"Thanks.", with that you left him standing in the hallway.
Cool. Coolcoolcoolcool This was a thing now. He turned around to look for you, shook his head and went on to do what he was supposed to, albeit mildly distracted.
(Actually, this might be were it really starts.
Another start to the same story.)
------------------------------------------
Getting to know each other again after a decade was...weird. Peter felt like he should know about things that are complete news to him. (How you were a mutant, too, for example, albeit a late bloomer.) He could still see your teenage self when he looked at you but then the longer he looked, the more you seemed like a stranger in a nostalgic disguise.
At first he tried to avoid you and he could tell you tried the same. However, no matter how fast he could run, the mansion was only so big and there were only so many other people inside it. Also, dodging Ororo's attempts to get you two to talk had become increasingly difficult at some point. So now you were on speaking terms once more and kind of friends? He was still unsure about the last part.
"You've always been reckless, but now I'm starting to think you don't have any sense of self-preservation at all.", you said after Peter told you the story of Apocalypse. The world outside the kitchen window was dark. It had been raining all day and it seemed as if the storm would continue well into the night. Training had been rough, apparently he was not the only one unable to sleep. Somehow coincidentally meeting in the kitchen had turned into exchanging life stories. (Peter managed to ignore the stabbing ache of familiarity for the most part.)
"I'll have you know, I have by far the most sense of self-preservation out of the X-Men, apart from Ororo maybe." He nursed his cup of instant hot chocolate, as if that somehow proved his point.
"Sure, Peter.", you replied and rolled your eyes.
"Hey, I did a lot of maturing in the meantime! Aged like a fine wine in my mom's basement for ten years." Like that was something to be proud of.
You squinted your eyes at him. "You spent all that time in your basement?"
Yes "Nah, just-", he shrugged, "figuratively speaking."
You nodded, not entirely convinced, and took a sip from your own cup. Your face scrunched up. "The instant stuff sucks."
"Slander!," He feigned offence. "Don't you dare! I was raised on-"
"-Instant packages and Twinkies, I know.", you finished the familiar statement with a smile. For a moment it felt like no time had passed at all since late nights at his mother's house. A strong longing overcame him.
"The only things with enough sugar and chemicals to satisfy my needs.", Peter continued but his voice became choked towards the end. This suddenly felt like the bizarre reenactment of a memory. The longing sensation quickly morphed into a familiar ten year old guilt that gnawed away at his insides. (He let it.) In the following silence, the rain plattered loudly against the window.
"I think I'm gonna go back to bed.", you said after a moment passed. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight.", he repeated and was relieved the conversation was over before he had the chance to say something really stupid, like: I miss you.
(Fast forward.)
------------------------------------------
"I'm fine.", he said a bit too blatantly not fine. "Just give me two minutes."
You looked at him and hesitated. "Are you sure?"
He wished hearing your voice didn't comfort him as much as it did. Maybe it was less about your voice specifically and rather about having any kind of noise outside his own head.
"You can go." Please don't leave, don't fucking leave him here-
His thoughts must have gone through to you because you stayed.
"I don't think you should be alone right now.", you said after a moment of consideration and moved to sit down in front of him. "Is this okay?"
He doesn't know what to say, how to form words at all, so he simply nods.
"Do you want to talk about it?", you offered.
Peter swallowed and managed to glance up at you. "No.", his voice sounded so small.
It was your turn to nod. "That's alright, you don't have to. Just, try to take deep breaths, okay?"
You exaggerated your own breathing to make it easier for him to follow along. He doesn't know how much time passed while he tried to get his breathing pattern to some semblance of normal, but eventually, he got there.
And you were still there with him. Sitting on the floor in the laundry room. Nothing made sense.
He wants, but he can't have it, wouldn't know what to do with it if he had it. For the fraction of a moment, he thought kissing you would be a nice and absolutely horrifying idea.
"Do you think we would've had a chance if I hadn't been a jerk about it?", he asked instead, not quite sane yet but trying at least.
"I don't know, Peter. Would we have been anything to begin with if you hadn't been a jerk about it?", you countered with a hint of bitterness.
He laughed but there was no humor in it. "Probably not."
"Is this what's troubling you?" The bitterness made way for more concern and Peter kind of wanted to cry.
"No, it's--"
He briefly considered just spilling all his guts right then. To just lay it all out for you to see and decide which parts of him were worth keeping. To have someone else make sense of this mess.
Peter sighed and gestured vaguely with one hand. "it's a part of it but not--There's a whole thing and I don't know what to do about any of it." He looked at you as if in search of an answer, even though he knew he couldn't expect that from you.
"Have you tried taking the 'thing' apart and going at it that way?"
"I--haven't. Where would I even start?" (Basements, rooftops, prisons, deserts, mansions--)
"Is Erik a part of it?" The name made him freeze up.
"I've noticed you become much--quieter, less like yourself when he's around.", you explained and Peter is stuck on the fact that you noticed. Was he that obvious?
"I--It's not, it's nothing--", he sputtered, not knowing what he wanted to say at all. No, he didn't want to say anything. For some reason the possibility of you knowing scared him more than anything else at the moment.
"Mystique told me." you continued a bit sheepishly, "I asked her about you and she, she told me about Erik."
"Oh my god," he groaned, all fear forgotten in his annoyance. "At the speed she's running her mouth, I'm surprised he doesn't know yet!" He burrowed his head in his hands. You gave him the time to compose himself, which he was thankful for.
He lifted his head a little to catch sight of your expression as he quietly asked: "What do you think?" - about Erik, about Peter, about what this made Peter, about-
You took a deep breath before replying. "I think you should tell him if only to get some peace of mind because you are clearly lacking that at the moment. This could be a start."
He hates that you are right, he hates that everyone except himself is always right about everything in his life.
"Hey," You took hold of his wrist and brushed your thumb over the inside in a soothing manner. "You don't have to do it alone. We're all here for you if you need us, be it to talk to Erik or to tackle any other part of your 'thing'." He felt like he did not deserve the softness in your eyes.
You got up to beginn putting the laundry you brought with you into the washing machine. "I do think you should talk to someone more professional about this, too. Like the professor or the counsellor the others mentioned."
"Yeah, I'll look into it.", he lied.
(Turn back just a bit and let it run.)
------------------------------------------
Peter felt not unlike a cassette tape with its magnetic band spilling out.
*He's unsure what sent him over the edge, maybe the fact that Erik visited the school - well, the Professor, he's only ever here for the Professor and Peter can't even blame him because Erik doesn't know any better – or maybe that last conversation with you that left him confused and aching but he doesn't understand, this is over, long over and he was the one who put the nail on the coffin, or maybe the counselling Ororo and Jean kept recommending to him even though it has been a year since Apocalypse happened and he's fine or maybe, maybe this was a long time coming anyway.
He was hiding in the laundry room. (No one went here, unless they had to.)
His body was visibly shaking, damn near vibrating. In the back of his mind he kept thinking the force of the vibration could rattle the foundation so much that the entire building will come crashing down on him. It would be kind of cool, if it wasn't also a dumb way to die. And he really did not want to think about ways to die.
(Desert, ruins, magnetic fields, snap—crack—twist) – Here we go again.
He reached up to grip his hair--something to ground him--and that immediately made it ten times worse. Peter sucked in a sharp breath and fumbled for his walkman instead, only to remember he left it in his room. He cursed silently.
He could go and get it, no one would see him. (He would still see other people, though.)
Just back and forth, wouldn't take any time at all. (He doesn't think he can get up, maybe his leg's still fucked up-)
Peter cursed again; it came out as a sob. He curled up more tightly and pressed his forehead against his knees.
How everyone can be so calm about any of this was beyond his understanding. People died, a lot of people, he saw the news. He had called his mother after the apocalypse. He had never heard her sound so scared before. ('Where are you? Are you okay? What happened? Did you tell him? Did he hurt you?') The last two still circle around in his head. Did you tell him?Did you tell him?Did you tell him?- How could he have? The man was literally tearing the world apart as they spoke, did Peter really want to admit being his son? Did he want that kind of connection? Did he hurt you?- No, he did stand by and watch Peter get hurt, though.
His knee jerked almost reflexively. He had never felt so helpless before, so trapped--except maybe right now, stuck in a mansion filled with so many relationships that aren't what they could be--He's not stuck, he can leave anytime. If he wanted, he could get up and run as fast as he can. They would never get him. - Would they even look for him? Or would they be glad he was gone? After all, only one person had seemed to care enough to step when Apocalypse had him by his hair. (He can't blame the kids, they didn't even know him. He can't blame anyone, it was fucking Apocalypse-) What if Mystique hadn't stepped in? What if Erik hadn't switched sides last minute? He would be dead, same as most of the world's population. Would that be better than dealing with the fallout?--The sudden thought terrifies him.--But would it?--No.
Faintly, he hears a door open and just hopes whoever entered won't--
"Oh, Peter. What are you doing down here?" He must make quite the sad sight cowering next to the washing machine, hugging his knees and back pressed to the cold basement wall. "Are you alright? Should I call someone?"
He tried to suppress his shivering and get enough air into his aching lungs to form words.*
"I'm fine.", he said a bit too blatantly not fine. "Just give me two minutes."
(We know it from here, skip ahead.)
------------------------------------------
The night before, the X-men had drunkenly built a blanket-fort in the mansion's main living room area. It had been a lot of fun and a lot of chaos, but that was not the part of last night's memories Peter kept replaying in his head. He may have been very drunk at that point and the details were fuzzy, but he knew for sure that it had happened. (--quick breaths, warm lips, tracing hands--) His face flushed at the memory.
On the stairs leading down to the training area, he finally ran into you after more than half a day spent either actively looking for or avoiding you. (When he first caught a glimpse of you, he almost let his flight instinct take over.)
You were going down, he was going up and now you were both in each other's way.
"Hey, [Name].", he said in a voice that could pass as steady. His heart was beating out of his chest.
Your expression looked pained and you tried your best to hide it by avoiding eye contact.
"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" you sounded tired in a way that caught yourself off guard. The "or never" was well implied.
Peter thought about giving in and letting go, but what good would it do to continue this state of charged awkwardness? What good would it do to try and keep this ache behind his lungs under lock and key when you seemingly felt the same? He shook his head.
You sighed. "I--we drank a lot and--"
I adore you, he thought and shoved that sentiment down as quickly as he could. It's what has gotten him into this mess in the first place.
Blood thrumming in his veins, he summoned all his courage (or perhaps all his recklessness). "I'm sorry." He said and something inside him felt like it was about to topple over. "I never apologized for what I did and I want you to know that I am sorry."
Now you were looking at him. Surprise, hurt and so much more.
"And I want you to know that I-," he had to look away, unable to deal with this part head-on, "I've changed since then." (Is it still lying when he himself wants it to be true? Yes.)
A plop, you've let yourself sink to the floor to sit down on the stairs. You hit his leg. "No, you don't just get to do that. That's not--" You cut yourself off.
He kneeled down in front of you. Dark brown eyes met tear-stained ones. For the first time it occurred to him that you could be just as scared.
"It's been so long, I shouldn't still be hung up about this! God, I feel so stupid." You buried your face in your hands.
Peter tried not to shake as he took your hands in his. "You're not stupid, at least not stupider than me. We both know that'd be a challenge!" He smiled and you let out a chuckle despite yourself. "We can be hung up about it together if you want?"
"Are you sure? Because I can't do all that again, I won't."
He gave your hands a squeeze. "I am, and we--we don't have to jump into this, we can take it slow." (Loophole)
You looked at him for a moment, searching, thinking. A slow smile spread across your face.
When you pulled him in for a kiss, it was like he saw the sun after spending days inside. He could get drunk off of just this.
(Let it roll for a bit.)
------------------------------------------
Peter caught the water bottle you threw his way.
Endurance training had been on today's schedule, so Peter let the students run laps on the compound while he zipped from runner to runner to offer encouragement and telling them how much longer they needed to go. It had gone well, some kids had to give up before the end but no one had to be brought to the nurse (Hank).
"It's still strange seeing you as a teacher."
"Wow, thanks for all this faith you're putting in me." He passed the bottle back to you.
"You can wrap that sarcasm back up, I was gonna say you're a good teacher. It's just funny to me because you were hardly present at school back then, but I guess that has nothing to do with the ability to teach." You put your hand on his shoulder. "You're great at what you do."
"Yeah, well," he felt heat rush up to his face, "...I try."
You smiled fondly at him and kissed his cheek. "I know."
Something about this little interaction made him feel like that time he tried to swallow a Twinkie in whole and it got lodged in his throat. He tried to form a coherent reply but the words were not coming.  Your hand fell from his shoulder and he was oddly dejected and relieved at the same time (the latter made him feel guilty without knowing why).
This was what he wanted, the--(intimacy)--relationship-y stuff, then why did it put him so on edge? After all, it wasn't that different from how you used to be before he had officially messed it up, right? - Wrong. This was no "fun-and-goofs"-make-pretend, this was the real deal, he agreed to it. He was going to do it right this time around. He was going to be a good--(boyfriend?partner?lover?)-- He was going to be good. He could do this, he wanted to.
You took his hand into yours and let them swing back and forth for a bit. "Everything okay?"
Peter smiled down at the way your hands touched. "Yeah, I'm good." He just wished he didn't want to run away, too.
"Did you have lunch yet? Because I'm starving! We can see what's in the kitchen.", you suggested.
"Sounds like a plan. You go ahead, I just gotta take care of some teacher-business.", he slipped his hand out of your grasp to pick up his stopwatch.
"Okay, I'll see you in a moment then.", he did not pick up on your questioning undertone.
"Yeah.", he said and left. (He didn't join you for lunch, even though he felt terrible about it.)
(Jump ahead.)
------------------------------------------
It was bound to happen eventually.
"You don't seem happy." - "Neither do you."
He should've known you could not go on like that forever. Maybe this was never a forever sort of thing.
"You keep avoiding me and I don't know what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong, I'm not-"
"If you try and deny it, I swear to god!"
He winced then, guilty. You sighed.
"You need to talk to me about these things, I can't help you if you shut me out." almost pleading.
"I'm fine," he insisted. All senseless stubbornness.
It didn't get better after that. How could it?
"I just--I've had enough, Peter. I don't need a repeat of our teenage years!" You were stressed and angry and willing to hurt, the worst combination.
"I'm trying!" He wasn't much better off.
"Are you?"
"Yes! I'm trying my best!"
"Maybe that's not good enough!", your voice broke on the last syllable.
He threw his arms up. "Well, what do you want me to do then?"
"I—I'm just sick of you letting me dangle in the air, okay? I'm sick of everything being up in the air!"
(Skip, Skip, Skip - There had to be a way to get past this.) Cold anger was worse, always worse.
"When you apologized, you told me you changed."
"I have!" He said, but didn't believe it himself.
"You got better but you're still the same in the worst places."
Something finally tipping over. "You act like it was all my fault, as if you never did anything wrong!"
"I didn't know-"
"You said you knew! You knew but never asked because then you would've had to make an effort." Spitting acid.
"That's completely different!" Voice growing louder, too.
"You told me I didn't care enough. You left as soon as things stopped being all sunshine!" When had he started shouting?
"I was a teenager, okay? A dumb fucking teenager!"
"What do you think I was?" Silence ringing in his head for days.
(Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip-)
------------------------------------------
He just finished wrapping up things on his end and was about to check in with the rest of the team. It was this deceptive part of the mission right before the end when everything feels like smooth sailing and you almost forget it is not quite over yet.
"Quicksilver here, everything's done on my end, how's it looking?"
Scott answered: "That's good. The situation looks stable so far, meet-up at-"
A scream pierced through his comms and Peter felt his blood run cold.
"What happened?"
"Guys-", your voice came through distorted, "we---we forgot---"
Static. The line was dead.
(Too far, rewind.)
------------------------------------------
It was just another friday afternoon.
Last week the attempted assassination of the president may have sent the nation into a panic but the past is the past, right? (Apart from the fact that Peter played a minor role in said past and even farther apart from the confession his mother dropped on him the other day, turns out there aren't that many guys who control metal - Nope, not going there. ) Just another friday afternoon.
All the agitated energy that had been cursing through his veins for weeks and caused him to jump at the opportunity to do anything interesting, anything to keep him busy – (Even prison break? But come on, the Pentagon!) - all that energy was back now, except it was not quite the same, was it? Last week he had a lot less on his conscience. (Last week he didn't know his father, holy shit-) If he was cruising for a bruising then, what does that make him now?
Either way, the last thing he needed right then was-
"Peter, we need to talk.", you said gravely after standing silently at the bottom of the stairs.
"Is that so?" His eyes remained glued to the screen of his stolen arcade machine. You had been eerily quiet so far and that conversation opener rarely lead to anything pleasant. Maybe if he didn't look at you, then-
"Peter. We need to talk." The repetition somehow made it sound even worse. "And I need you to listen, actually listen, okay?"
I don't know if I can, he wanted to say, but didn't. Instead he turned around to look at you.
The expression on your face reminded him of his mum, right before she told him. You looked like what you were about to say would hurt, both of you. Don't say it then, he wanted to interject, as if not saying it could somehow stop it from becoming real. There was something else there too, besides the dread. Something like morbid curiosity, which is why instead he said: "Go on then, I'm all ears!"
You took a deep breath. "I think we should break up."
Say what now?
"I like you a lot Peter, I do, but I don't feel like you...I feel like you don't really care about our relationship. You've been weirdly distant and we never really talk about what's up, it's just-" You sighed, clearly frustrated with yourself for being unable to explain.
Oh. No, that's- that's not-
- "Our relationship?", he interrupted. (Someone give him something to do, something that isn't this. Aren't there any prisons left to break into?)
"Yes. Our relationship.", you confirmed with an edge of confusion.
"Who said I was your boyfriend?" A pause, like he was watching his life on VHS and finally found the remote. Just in time to be a little too late. (He was sensing a pattern here...)
The series of emotions washing over your expression were difficult for him to read. Confusion seemed to win out for the moment. "What? Peter, we have been-"
"We haven't been anything." The blood in his veins felt like it was slowly freezing, trapping what's left of his energy inside, leaving him completely still. Even his knee stopped bouncing.
"Are you serious right now? After all the- you've got to be kidding me!", an edge of desperation crept into your voice.
(Eject, eject, eject- That's not how it works.)
"I'm not." Good God, what is he saying? Someone tell him what the hell he's talking about because he sure as fuck doesn't know.  "And we're not. In a relationship, I mean. Never were, never will be if I caught your drift there." He swallowed, found it much harder than it used to be. "If this is about what we did the last couple of-" He didn't know, he didn't know anything anymore, "-whatever, don't worry about it. It doesn't mean--not like that anyway."
He tried to smile, failed. "So like, no problem."
(Not this far back. We know how that ends.)
------------------------------------------
Peter had prepared himself for anything when you asked him to meet you after dinner. Anything, except an apology.
A small "What?" fell from his lips. The rain pattering against the windows was almost loud enough to drown it out.
"I'm sorry, Peter," you repeated. "I'm so, so sorry for all the awful things I said and did and-"
This didn't make any sense, stop, stop, stop- "Stop. I-," He sputtered for a moment, feeling like he missed something. (He didn't deserve this.) "I don't, I don't get it." was what he settled on. "Why are you apologising?"
"Why shouldn't I apologise to you, Peter?", you sounded so concerned and sad and-- It didn't make any sense.
Peter threw his arms up. "You were right! About everything!" He could feel the hysteria setting in, he didn't care.
"No, no that's not-"
"I never changed, I didn't try hard enough, I should've talked to you more, I should've--I--I-"
You grabbed his hands out of the air to hold them in a tight grip. "No! I was wrong, Peter." You held onto his hands for a moment until his breathing calmed down a little. Then you loosened your grip again and sighed. "We can't keep going like this."
Peter let his hands slip from your grasp. "So you'll leave?" (Again)
"No, I want us to fix this!", frustration with an edge of desperation. "We have to talk about this for once."
Peter looked down at his silver running shoes. "What's there to talk about?"
You laughed, it was a wet, ugly sound. "You're doing it again, I can't--I don't know what to do when you get like this!"
He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat. "Like what?"
"I feel like you're always halfway out the door." It felt like the fight with Apocalypse all over again. Your words ripped him out of his element and forcefully brought him back to reality. He almost expected someone to knock his leg out from under him. "You're never fully in but you don't want to leave either."
What could he say to that? What could he possibly say when it's the truth? Ready to run at the drop of a shoe, be it ten years ago in a basement stocked to the ceiling with stolen goods or now in a mansion filled with mutant kids who turn to him for advice.
"In my defense, " God, his voice was shaking. When's that punch gonna come and twist his arm? "do you have any idea how easy it is to run away when you're better at it than everyone else? Running away is literally my specialty!"
You cradled his face in your hands. "You are so much more than that."
The tears stinging his eyes began to blur his vision. "How? I'm scared all the time, I'm fucking terrified!"
"And that's okay!" You searched his eyes for some sign your words got through to him. "It's okay to be scared."
He kissed you then, trembling and filled with fear. He pulled back a moment later, brushing away tears with one hand. "Even if it's this I'm scared of?"
"Yes. And I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise."
"That isn't your fault."
You continued as if you hadn't heard him. "All this time, I was still angry at you, I held on to that anger instead of trying to understand why." You tried not to sob and took a deep breath. "So when you asked me to give you another chance, part of me expected the worst to happen again. I didn't question it when you got distant. I just let it get worse because I already thought this was what's gonna happen anyway."
The rain stopped falling a while ago. The resulting silence felt like a lifetime. "So did I." His voice barely more than a whisper.
"You-" Eyes went wide, tears welled up and spilled over. "Why would you do that? Why would you put yourself in-"
"I don't know." Peter shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," he repeated. The self-deprecating chuckle died in his throat when he finally looked at you again. "I guess, I missed you."
Wordlessly, you pulled him into an embrace, twisting your hands in the back of his leather jacket. Peter was startled for a second, then he returned the hug.
"I missed you, too," you mumbled, face buried in his shirt, "and I don't want to keep on missing you when you're right here." His arms tightened their grib around you involuntarily.
Resolution flooded his veins and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "We'll get better."
(Now forward.)
------------------------------------------
For a while neither of you spoke. Just two people, sitting on the roof, enjoying the view and breathing lungs full of crisp evening air. Peter looked over at you, watched your profile in the dimming daylight and found a thought cross his mind: I could get used to this. Followed by: I think I may already be.
Your face turned. "What are you smiling at?", you asked even though you were smiling, too.
"You, obviously." You pushed his grinning face away with your hands.
Peter laughed lightheartedly. "Careful! You're gonna push me off the roof!"
"Don't tempt me."
He stole a peck. "Wouldn't dream of it."
For a moment he remembered a different interaction on a different roof a decade ago, though for once he did not feel the need to ruminate on it.
He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. Right now, the world for Peter began and ended where his body touched yours, from the soothing press of your head against his own, to your intertwined hands and the line where your thighs brushed against each other.
Forever did not scare him anymore.
(Pause here - just for a moment.
Okay.)
------------------------------------------
His thoughts are racing as he speeds through unfamiliar hallways. What did they forget? What did they forget? Everything was going so well, what did they forget?
It's already over when he gets there. Nothing greets him but rubble where the failed portal used to loom over a secret laboratory. Peter shouts your name. No one answers.
He's turning over every piece of scrap metal by the time the rest of the x-men arrive, on the off chance that you're still there, just buried underneath some debris, alive, not gone. Someone is pulling on his arm, talking to him. None of the words register. Finally he is pulled back by someone stronger. The metal beam floating in the air mid-fall above where he stood a moment ago sinks to the ground.
"Peter," it's Erik, his father is talking to him, "Charles and Hank are figuring out the portal, we'll get them back." Peter looks at him but stares right through. He's more terrified than he's ever been.
(Don't let this be the end. Go back.
One more time.)
75 notes · View notes
marvelousell · 4 years
Text
The Agreement (Part 12.)
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Pairing(s): frat boy!fwb!Tom x reader, frat boy!Harrison x reader
Summary: Tom is a typical frat boy, his love for partying, drinks and girls are bigger than his ego. Y/N is a whole different dimension, she keeps her circle small, and even though she knows her best friend Tom is a total douche, she can’t say no to the little deal that was sealed between the two of them.
Word count: 3.6k
A/N: First of all thank you! Thank you for understanding that I needed to postpone this chapter. Thank you for all the love and wonderful feedbacks on this fic it means everything to me it keeps me going, you are all amazing! I’m currently writing the ideas for the end and I will most likely do 2 different endings just to make everyone happy. I would actually love to hear what you think about that? Once again thank you for everything.🤗
Warnings: Angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, heartbreak, all in all sad af at least for me
Add yourself to my tag list || Masterlist
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“I really want to kiss you, at least for the last time. Please.” He whispered, the pad of his thumb running up and down your rosy cheek. The thought of him reading your mind and body language made you tremble.
“Do it.”
Tom was a professional with girls. His flirtatious nature was something he was very proud of. Seducing a girl was something that he was the best at, always giving advices to his frat members how to be like him, how to act like him and how to get any girl they liked. Everyone saw him as a magnet for ladies, Tom was an idol for them all. Parties, gorgeous girls attached to his hip, innocent whispers and neck kisses was a tradition he didn’t want to change. The morning after full of whistles and cheering that came from the frat boys, while he was coming from his room were pumping his ego, made him feel like he was someone that could get anything and everything he wanted with his charm. Tom loved the attention both from his friends and girls.
He realized that nothing before was worth it now that breathing around you seemed so difficult and that his hand was shaking on your skin. If someone saw him at that moment they wouldn’t see the Tom who would smash his lips instantly with the girl’s in front of him, but a Tom who was so lost like it was his first time sharing a kiss. His shallow breathing and accelerated heartbeat were making him even more nervous than he already was.
Your glossy eyes and a small grin hypnotised him, the only thing moving was his thumb against your cheek. He let out a breathy chuckle after he connected the dots, feeling dumb how much time it took him to finally see how the lousy popularity and unfamiliar bodies in his bed every night were nothing in comparison with you and with the feelings you gave him. Tom felt his heart clench from the thought of the late realization, he wished that the relationship between you and Harrison wasn’t what made him get his shit together.
The fear of you turning your head, rejecting his touch terrified him, so waiting and thinking wasn’t a good thing in this particular moment.
His lips were on yours, still not moving. It was a last kiss, rushing it was not what he wanted nor you. The sad smile against your lips formed a mess inside of your body. You didn’t want to be a last one either as much as it needed to be. You were furious, disappointed because of the image and thoughts in your mind from Harrison and Emily but this kiss wasn’t because of that.
It was a pure moment, a moment that you both sought after a long period of time. Although you could get caught, you didn’t want him to stop. You owed him and he owed you.
The soft I love you was echoing in your head, making it impossible to move any muscle in your body. You loved Harrison, you tried to remind yourself but each time you tried to repeat that in your mind it got harder.
Tom’s eyes closed, inhaling the fresh air before he pressed a short kiss on your lips. They were warm just like he remembered. After he felt the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach just from a peck, Tom realized that kisses were more like an obligation for him when he was with someone else. He loved this novelty, it made him feel like a whole new person. The change made him breathless, but in a good way.
“Hope you never forget what I said.” He spoke, voice almost cracking when the last words were said.
You didn’t respond, placing a hand on his that was resting on your burning cheek spoke for you.
It felt like an eternity, your forehead pressed against his, both of you frozen not wanting to make the first move, afraid of the separation again. Small smiles on your faces that were honest but still full of some kind of melancholy were making you question everything. You were afraid that you might break if he didn’t do something.
Tom could feel your lower lip quivering, he didn’t want to see you cry because of him. You probably shed to much tears because of him and he sure wasn’t worth them.
The light grip on your neck and delicate kiss was enough to make you feel better. He lightly swept his tongue between your lips, tasting each other making up for the time you both lost while his hands cradled your small face. You shivered from his touch, moving your body closer to his. Tom wanted to make sure he poured all the love and passion into this kiss so you could at least feel everything what he didn’t say tonight. Hands were exploring your skin, memorizing every part like he won’t see you ever again. Tom enjoyed the kiss way more than any intimate moment he had with you if he could even call it intimate. This was special, he knew that this won’t let him sleep tonight. He read your desire, lips moving a bit faster against each other, however if he didn’t stop he would break the promise. Just one kiss.
You were making this extremely difficult, your grip on his hair and lips practically glued to his didn’t let him move away.
If only he wasn’t that blind, now you would be his and nothing would matter.
His words and Harrison’s image were distracting him, he promised that he will let you and him be happy, no one deserved it more than his best friends.
“Y/N.” He murmured in a low tone, bringing his other palm to cup your cheeks. Tom’s forehead was still against yours and you both breathed faster.
The lump in his throat didn’t let him speak, he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the big gorgeous eyes that drove him insane.
Tom chuckled once again, fighting back the tears that pooled in his eyes. If someone told him he would be the one crying over a girl he would laugh at them and the statement. Look at him now, he laughed at the karma that hit him. He was the one that left girls crying because of him and now you will need to let him.
Tom deserved it, he knew that. If he could he would take it all back, not letting a girl mess with his mind in the past making him all insecure and building a person he definitely wasn’t.
“Tom.” You responded, knowing how everything more than a friendship ends right here.
“Don’t forget what I said, but please don’t let that affect what you have with Harrison he deserves your love.” He said truthfully, rubbing his nose against your slowly.
“I won’t.” You chocked out, your voice so small almost unrecognisable.
“And don’t worry about tonight, Harrison is all about you. He may be a bit clumsy about things like these but believe me Y/N he is so in love with you.” Tom admitted, smiling genuinely for his friend that was always like his brother.
You just nodded, grinning after hearing the happiness in his voice while he talked about his friend. You liked Harrison without a doubt, you tried the best to keep this little deal that was messing with you from the beginning in the back of your head. Looks like it was unsuccessful after all.
Tom avoided your gaze, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.
“Guess I was the first one to break the rules huh?” He joked, trying to blink away the tears that were burning in his eyes. The famous ladies man crying over one that is taken would be a great story the whole college and his frat.
“You stupid, I broke it before we even started anything.” You thought, just giving him a half-smile to his statement.
“I-I need to find Harrison and Anna.” You responded, feeling disappointed because you didn’t express your feelings, but that wouldn’t be fair to your relationship and Harrison.
“Yeah, you should. Coffee t-this week?” He stuttered, unsure if you will accept it immediately.
“Deal.” You stroked his hand once more before you stood up on your legs that felt like jello.
Tom wanted to say something more, his mouth was open but words were not coming out. He knew you needed to go, but he still didn’t want to end it here. He looked at you walking slowly into the direction of the blasting music, not capable to stand up and go back as well.
-
Harrison was enjoying his evening, a few drinks, reuniting with his friends and frat pals. It was good, he felt complete he had a exquisite girlfriend that he could only dream of, that treated him just like he deserved. Even if he was with his company, Harrison’s eyes were glued to the group of people in the house desperately searching for the beauteous girl in the red dress that never left his mind.
He was truly happy, sipping the beer from the bottle not listening to the conversation the boys had. Who would have thought that his mood would change after he saw someone that he hoped to never see again. It was the short curly hair that was once long and the eyes that made his heart beat faster the first time he saw them. Now his heart was beating because he was shocked, his eyes were on her and he couldn’t stop staring.
Harrison didn’t feel the same butterflies he felt before with her or the same he had when he would be near you, he was just hoping that it’s the alcohol that was messing with him, that maybe it wasn’t her, that maybe he made a mistake.
His lips were dry, his eyes wide open, and when she finally looked to the couch from where she could feel someone’s eyes on her it just got worse.
That really was her. But why here? And why now?
Harrison didn’t want to see her, everything was perfect at the moment and he knew that Emily will not bring good into his life. After he said to himself that he won’t let Emily and the thoughts of her ruin his life and evening, Harrison stood up making his way to her. He still didn’t know why.
“Harrison.” She said lowly, trying to hide the smile on her face. She didn’t want trouble, she didn’t even know he was going to be here, but when she saw his eyes looking at her and not some horny frat boy’s eyes Emily almost fell onto the ground.
“What are you doing here?” He was direct, trying to end this as soon as possible.
“This is a birthday party? I was invited, I came I think it’s pretty clear why am I here.” She was awful to him, of course he won’t be all sweet and lovely towards her tonight. He wanted to marry her and she blew him off like a fool.
“Oh you know Amelia? Cut the shit and answer me truthfully, at least once.” Harrison’s eyes were on her, he fought with himself to look somewhere else but that was a failure.
“Met her in my class. She invited me since I was new here.” It was the truth, she wanted to finish college here but after her father’s death she moved away with her mother. Now she came back, trying to accomplish the thing she wanted here in her town.
“New? Who are you kidding here? What do you want Emily was the past not enough for you?” He was a bit rough, he wasn’t usually like this but he didn’t want her near. Especially after you were by his side now.
“Look I don’t want to make things awkward for you, I don’t want to fight or cause a scene here but I’m back and that’s it.”
“And I won’t interfere with your life.” She added, still a bit disappointed to see a new Harrison.
“I don’t want to sound like a dick, but good, because I’m really doing great.” His tone softened at the thought of you. He needed to tie up the loose ends with this, for your relationship.
“I’m sorry for everything Harrison even if you don’t want to hear it. Probably changed your thoughts on love and I-I’m sorry.” Emily did feel the warmth around her heart, but she couldn’t explain from what it was.
“I think we need to finish this right now and here. Whatever happened, happened. We were dumb and rushed into everything, and the mistakes can’t be fixed now.” He was like that, he never blamed others completely for the actions they did, he was too nice to do it even if he was the one that got heartbroken in the end.
“I have a wonderful girlfriend now, she is uh wonderful.” He chuckled at how he got nervous only because he was talking about you. Harrison repeated the same words, it looked like he didn’t know what to say but if he began he knew he would not stop until tomorrow.
“I really do love her Emily and nothing will change that. I don’t want us to look at each other with hate and guilt, as much as our relationship didn’t let me live it doesn’t mean I can’t forgive you.”
Emily just smiled, that was the Harrison she knew and liked. He gave all of him to her and she didn’t appreciate it, and he was the one apologizing now. Harrison was that person that couldn’t hate anyone, no matter what.
“I should be the one apologizing, I am sorry. And I know you love her, I hope you two will share endless love and happiness together.” It stung, but it was a normal feeling. That’s what she thought. Harrison could feel it stinging as well.
“It’s fine. We shouldn’t discuss the past anymore.” They smiled, not knowing what this was now. Friends? They didn’t know and they didn’t want to talk about it either.
Harrison was talking, giving her a lopsided grin not knowing that you watched all of it, that you disappeared and that you now saw him still after leaving for a while, standing with her in that corner. He didn’t even saw you approaching.
He panicked, finally looking at the red dress that he searched for the whole night.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt Anna is going to take me home now uh, see you if I don’t fall asleep.” You didn’t know what to say, you could feel her and Harrison staring.
“Is everything ok? Don’t be silly we’re going home together.” He tried to take your hand, but after he failed he knew that you saw it all, misunderstanding everything.
“No, stay. Tom is here as well he didn’t see you in so long.” You didn’t want to say much, but you squeezed his shoulder before going away.
“Y/N..”
“I’m sorry, I-I should get going too.” Emily spoke, knowing she was the reason to mess everything up again.
“You are such an idiot Harrison.” Tom’s voice stopped both of them that tried to leave from the corner.
Of course Tom was pissed, he collected himself and went back to the house. What if you couldn’t do it alone? He needed to be close to you just in case. He was looking at you coming close to Emily and Harrison, he couldn’t hear what you were talking or what he responded. However after he saw you leaving and Harrison staying with Emily, for Tom it was the last straw.
“Tom I-” Harrison began, trying to explain what was really happening here.
“I just want you to go after her, go Harrison. I swear whatever it was you don’t owe me an explanation, at least for now.” He was speaking with his arms, glancing at Emily every now and then kind of angry to see them together.
Harrison just nodded heading to his car hoping he will find you home when he comes. He never did something, he didn’t even think about it even when his mind was playing games with him and he was feeling stupid for making you think something like that.
-
“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Anna asked, stopping at his place. Your stuff was there and you weren’t angry, just feeling a bit down after this night.
“I am, don’t worry I know Harrison I won’t act all crazy because of that. I am just tired.” You rose your brows, trying to show her how this wasn’t a big problem like something else was.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
The evening was both a failure and excellence. You were looking forward to him arriving tonight, you wanted Tom to return into your life, and maybe sorting things out would finally let you be, however it wasn’t that easy. His words were so loud in your ears, and after you saw Harrison and his ex lover being close to each other it didn’t make the situation you were in any better.
You wished for a calm night, you wanted to renew a friendship and enjoy your boyfriend’s company.
And now you’re just in your bed, craving someone’s touch and presence. You were in a dilemma after your encounter with Tom and after everything he said, trying to focus on Harrison but every time your eyes would close he couldn’t make you calm like he would before.
The front door opening could be heard even in the room, and your body shifted on the other side pretending to be asleep like a little child.
Harrison was fighting with himself for the last fifteen minutes, practicing what he would say. He took a deep breath before twisting the doorknob to enter the bedroom. It's a weight off his shoulders knowing that you were on his bed, back facing him. Harrison didn’t know if you were sleeping or just pretending, but he still won’t be silent.
“Y/N.” He tried, walking slowly to his side of the bed where you were laying on. There was no response, and when he kneeled in front of you he could see that your eyes were closed.
“I don’t know if you’re sleeping or just pretending because you’re angry, but you have full rights to be.” He massaged his knuckles trying to suppress the nervousness in his body.
“Probably someone told you who she is, and I just want you to know that nothing, absolutely nothing happened between us tonight. Emily told me that she came back here, and that she doesn’t want to cause troubles and I said the same. I told her about you and how happy you make me feel, God it never crossed my mind to try and flirt or do anything with her.” Harrison was scared, he knew that he didn’t do anything and that you might not be even mad, but it still scared him knowing that if he saw a scene similar to his he would feel the same.
“I’m sorry beautiful if it made you feel shitty in any kind of way, we just wanted to leave all of our shit in the past and nothing more. You are the one I love.” His index finger went up to your cheek stroking it gently. He hoped you heard everything.
You were listening patiently, waiting for him to finish. Harrison was a guy everyone would kill to have. Caring, tender, benevolent he possessed so many good features that it was impossible to name every single one of them.
Your heart was clenching, both from happiness and sadness. He still thought you were sleeping, exhaling a shaky breath that was in his lungs for a long time.
He was so gentle with you, your palm reached out for his that was on your skin, caressing it slowly.
“You’re awake.” He mumbled, bringing his face close to yours.
“I am, and I am not angry. I was a bit insecure and shocked in that moment, but I trust you.”
“I’m sorry once again baby, you know how much I care about you.”
“All good love.” You smiled, bringing him close to your lips.
“If it isn’t me then what’s bothering my beautiful girlfriend?” Harrison could see that something was on your mind.
“I don’t know about you but for me it was more than just sex. I really love you.”
You felt nervous, Tom’s words repeating constantly.
“The fact that you need so much time to kiss me is bothering me.”
Harrison just laughed, cupping your face and kissing you as gently as possible.
“Is that good princess?” He questioned, pecking your lips in between his words.
“Come to bed and I will think about it.”
“I just need a second to undress myself and I’m all yours after it.”
His long, passionate kisses were not distracting you like they should. You were debating whether to send a message or not. Not saying what you felt was eating you up, even Harrison saw it. Your fingers slid up and down the bright screen, hoping to see a notification from him.
“I just want to cuddle.” Harrison pouted, ready to feel your arms wrapped around him, keeping him safe.
“Come here.” You said, locking your phone and placing it on the nightstand.
The message was sent and Tom’s eyes were fixed on the screen for God knows how much long, unable to type anything.
I broke the rules way before we even set them and before we agreed on anything.
-
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177 notes · View notes
wh33zy · 3 years
Note
2+94 with Romantica please
2+94 = Royal AU/Hair Braiding or Brushing with Akihiko and Misaki! 
SO HERE’S THE WILDLY CONVENIENT THING: I actually had a royal/medieval au idea for JR for a couple years. I just never had enough inspiration to really write it like I want to (maybe I will someday), but I just knew how it would go down so THIS PROMPT IS PERFECT!!: 
Usami Akihiko is a prince on the cusp of taking the throne. However there is still conflict of who is going to take over. Haruhiko would be obvious except he is what the other royals call a ‘half-breed’ so Akihiko could very much swipe the throne...except he hasn’t tried. This is mainly because Akihiko is childfree (so he never plans on producing heirs) AND he’s gay af. This conflict is all happening over Fuyuhiko’s dying body and he is very sickly to the point of being bedridden. Usami-Haha has been ruling the kingdom with an iron fist and is generally very dismissive of the people and their problems. 
Usami Akihiko is also known to be an exceptional fighter, so exceptional that he often travels without guards, either through the kingdom or when journeying to others. This has also caused conflict between himself and the rest of the royals because it isn’t just about protection. It’s also about displaying status which Akihiko also doesn’t like because it draws unnecessary attention. 
That is until Usami-Haha assigns a high ranking soldier to stick by Akihiko at all times without Akihiko’s consent. As Akihiko is arguing with his mother in the throne room, the doors open revealing Misaki already in uniform being escorted by a guard. Although Misaki looks a bit familiar, Akihiko demands he be sent back as a soldier. 
Misaki, a bit hurt at how badly he was rejected by his older brother’s best friend (who Takahiro promised would take him in), is ready to walk back out. That’s only until Takahiro, who works as a scribe and mainly in treasury (and also had a hand in picking out the guard), proposes a duel. If Akihiko wins, he’ll remain without a guard. If Misaki wins, Akihiko will have a brand new guard since he can’t even defeat a high ranking solder. 
Akihiko is super confident because how the hell could this little pipsqueak protect him anyway?????? Akihiko has a foot and a hundred pounds or so on this guy??? This’ll be a piece of cake! Misaki would just be a burden as far as he was concerned! So, he readily agrees to the duel. Haruhiko then looks to Misaki for his agreement, referring to him by his last name which continues to jog Akihiko’s memory. Misaki at first doesn’t agree to it because: “Trust me, your majesty, the prince doesn’t want this.” He didn’t mean it in a cocky way, but in a ‘I don’t want to hurt anybody unless I have to’ kind of way. This causes almost the whole throne room to laugh along with Akihiko and out of embarrassment/irritation, Misaki agrees to the duel. 
So the duel happens aaaaaaaaaaaaaand: Misaki whooped Akihiko’s ass like he stole something. It happened so quick too! Jaws were dropped, eyes wide, but Takahiro calls the duel a little too calmly. Misaki sheathes his sword and walks to Akihiko who is in a crumpled heap on the floor. He offers a hand to Akihiko, but it’s smacked away and Akihiko picks himself up off the floor. He demands who Misaki is to Takahiro, if they’re related and its a: “He’s my older brother, sire.” 
Of course, after this Akihiko and Misaki start a pretty rocky relationship. Akihiko is uncooperative and making Misaki’s life difficult at first. Misaki then gets Akihiko’s daily routines and gains access to his itineraries so he’s always one step ahead. Misaki also is crushing on Akihiko so he does want to at least be the guys friend!!! But, Akihiko is pretty stubborn and unwilling- or at least seems that way until he pretty much demands that Misaki spar with him and help him become a better fighter. They bond through this as well as hunting every so often. 
On a journey to visit another kingdom (one close by the water where Hiroki reigns as king- I also have a separate idea about Royal!Egoist), a group of assassins ambush the carriage. The two of them put down their game of cards (a game that Misaki was badly losing lol) and spring into action. Misaki sticks close to Akihiko and circles him as they take down the assassins, and they realize that they make a pretty good team for the most part! Akihiko, however, gets injured when he moves to far from Misaki’s vicinity. Misaki manages to end the fight with a few bumps and scratches. Carriage driver is dead.
Misaki pours alcohol on Akihiko’s wound before ripping one of his own sleeves to tie it around Akihiko’s bleeding leg. He then princess carries Akihiko (even though he can walk but Misaki won’t allow it) to one of the horses that hand been pulling carriage, sets him on it before getting the rest of their belongings, cutting the horse loose, and climbing on himself. All the while, Akihiko is QUICKLY becoming enchanted by him and touched by his selflessness to the point where he’s like “i’d totally bottom for you, bbyyyyyy.” 
Misaki takes them the rest of the way to Hiroki’s kingdom since they weren’t that far from it where they are in for a very warm AND VERY CONCERNED welcome. At the point, Akihiko doesn’t really like being far from Misaki and even tries to get him in the bath with him but Misaki assures him that he’ll wait for his turn. 
THOUGH Misaki decides to compromise by sitting in the bathroom with him, thinking that he may still be spooked from the fight earlier. While Akihiko is relaxing in the bath, Misaki pulls Akihiko’s hairbrush from one of their bags and gently brushes Akihiko’s hair to try to help ease his anxiety. They have a more heartfelt conversation that ends with Akihiko being glad that he lost the duel AND an invitation for Misaki to stay in his quarters tonight *eyebrow wiggle* 
That’s all I’ve got for this one! Thanks so much for the ask!
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toastedbuckwheat · 5 years
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Hello! May I ask how you draw? I'm currently learning how to myself and would be highly interested into a step to step process by you! Like from sketch to the done thing (no color necessary)
Hello there!
I dunno how I feel about showing how I work/giving advice to someone who’s learning (and I say it as a pro artist who went through years of traditional art education) because when I do the illustrations you see here on my tumblr I BREAK THE RULES you’d learn though life drawing routine, and give in to bad habits, and my methods are rather unplanned and chaotic which makes it difficult to pinpoint significant stages. But I used my portable potato to take some photos during working on my last piece, so I’ll throw it here with a bit of an explanation of what’s going on.
Before I begin - and because you’re about to look at a mess of a WIP - I’d like to give you some general advice that generally makes life easier when you draw (again, things that I learned in traditional arts education - another artist might advise you the complete opposite, dunno!)
Work holistically. Forget them satisfying-to-look-at clips on instagram showing someone produce a hyperrealistic portrait starting from an eye, with each and every element emerging being finished before they proceed to another part. It takes a lot of talent, yes, but these are ppl redrawing a photo in a kind of a mechanical manner. Most artists don’t work this way. Especially if you’re working without a reference, or if you’re doing a life drawing - your process will be layering and changing and finding what works best to give an impression of what you’re drawing rather than reproduce the exact image, and your artwork is likely to look messy most of the time.That said: don’t start with the details. Don’t spend too much time on a particular part while neglecting others. Your goal is to keep the whole piece at the same level of ‘finished’ (even though it’s unfinished - do I make sense?) before you’re confident that everything is where it should be and proceed to the details. So sketch out the composition first. See how things fit, what’s the dynamics. You’ll save yourself from limbs sticking out from the frame, odd proportions etc etc.
Because it’s a game of relationships between different parts of the picture/scene. I ask you not to worry about finishing a single element before laying out the rest because you’ll find that said element will look different once the other part appears! For instance - you might think that the colour you picked for a character’s hair is already very dark. But once you’re done with the night sky background, you’ll find that it’s in fact too light, and doesn’t work well with the cold palette. You’ll have to revisit different parts of the image as you go to balance these relationships and make the picture work as a whole.
Give an impression of something being there without actually drawing it ‘properly’- because details are hard, mate. You’ll see that my lineart usually has hardly any, and my colouring is large unrefined stains, but the finished thing looks convincing. Like, fuck, I can never focus on how Crowley’s eyes are really shaped. So I just turn them into large glowing yellow ellipses crossed by a line, and heard no protests so far.
Don’t panic if you messed up (you probably didn’t anyway). It might turn out to be a completely unnoticeable mistake - because, remember, things work together to balance each other, so another finished off prominent element will probably drown that badly placed line that looked so visible and out of place a second ago. 
It might not look good before it’s finished. I’m mostly immune to it after years of drawing, and my recent illustrations all follow a specific method (ykno, my sunset glow effects and all that) so I can kinda predict the next stage. But I do my linearts on a specially picked crap paper, I don’t bother erasing the smudged graphite, and it looks messy af until I make the background white in Photoshop. Conclusion: you might have a moment of doubt as you work through a piece, but try to break through it - I often suddenly start to like what I cursed a minute before! - and try to finish it even if it’s meant to be bad. This way, looking through your past pieces, you’ll see the progress. And trust me, I can’t even look at my art from literally three months ago. It’s normal.
Now, pics! The sketches are paler in real life, but I increased the contrast a little so you can see something.
1. Laying out the composition! 
I wanted to just show them kissing, but I got carried away due to some Art Nouveau inspiration. As you might have noticed, most of my illustrations are quite self-contained (ykno - they look like a sticker on a plain background). So I wanted a tight swirl bordered by Aziraphale’s wings creating a sort of rounded, yin-yang like bubble around them. Consequently I made the whole composition revolve around their heads. 
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2. Adding more details to the sketch. It’s messy af. It will be messy until I’m done. It’s fine.
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3. These are the fineliners I use for the linearts! They are made by Uni-ball and come in light and dark grey. I also sometimes use the guy on the left - ‘Touch’ sign pen by Pentel, when I want more brush-like, wider strokes. I work in grey because when I scan it and do my usual boring trick with sunlight highlights - which is an Overlay mode layer in Photoshop - the highlights ‘burn out’ the lines too and make them vanish a little, and the lighting effect gets more striking. I also like to use the light grey ones to make something look pencil-y without actually using pencil, because pencil fucking smudges.
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4. It smudges! So because I am right handed, I start inking from the right hand side, no matter how tempted I am to do their faces first.
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5. You can see the composition directions here. I made it intuitively, but ofc some ppl actually use grids etc to lay out their drawings.
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6. See how pale ans thin the lineart was at first? I kept adjusting it as new inked parts were appearing. It starts to look nice and consistent now! 
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7. Finished lineart? There are some mistakes which I later corrected in PS. Notice that Aziraphale’s face has hardly any details on it - I tried to make the drawing suggest his expression rather than risk overdoing it. 
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8. Photoshop time!! You can totally do what I did here even if you don’t have a graphic tablet. I used Curves tool to enhance the lineart, then Quick Selection Tool to select the background around around my sticker-like piece and filled it white (on a new layer ofc). I keep this white layer on top of the layer order so it works as a mask as I colour. I decided I did not like the hatching shading underneath Aziraphale’s halo, so I erased it with a Stamp tool (because I wanna keep the textured grey fill my crap paper naturally gives me!). It’s done roughly but won’t be visible once the thing is coloured. 
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9. And the reason why I keep the grey shade instead of easily getting rid of it by using Curves/Levels is because when I set this layer to Multiply mode and colour underneath, it gives me this nice desaturated look like from an old cheap paper comic page. It works as a natural filter! But of course I can’t do bright colours this way, so all my glowing highlights happen ABOVE the lineart layer - on a separate layer in Overlay mode! 
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Finished thing here!
_____
Commission infoBuy Me a Coffee - help me with my transitioning expenses!Prints and stickers and things on my Redbubble!
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philthepegacornfics · 4 years
Text
Limits: Part 2
Sam Wilson x Sibling!Reader, Peter Parker x Reader
Request by Anon: you're sam wilson's little sister who has been recruited and given tech of her own (or joined the shield) and peter ends up really, really liking you but sam is overprotective af- Bird
Word Count: 2.3k
Trigger Warnings: Probably some swearing, Reader is in a wheelchair
A/n: This request reminded me of Limits and so I wanted to continue on with the story and just make it a Spiderman x Reader. I hope you like it! There will be more parts to this. I’ve just written a lot, and decided to break it up.
Part 1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sam, you really shouldn’t be here,” I muttered. I looked up at my brother who was pushing my wheelchair towards the high school entrance.
“And miss supporting you on your first day back to school? Not a chance,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
“This isn’t funny!” I exclaimed before lowering my voice. “You’re a wanted man. Don’t you think they’ll be watching me too, to see if you show up?”
“I’m keeping a low profile,” he shrugged.
“Wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap is not keeping a low profile.”
“Yes it is, people see less of your face.”
I rolled my eyes at him and turned back around, crossing my arms. Captain America broke Sam out of prison just over a month ago. How could he possibly think it to be a good idea to even be out in public?
As we approached the doors, Sam quickly hit the button to make the automatic door open. The halls of the school were full of groups of teenagers huddled together with their friends. Trying to get as much time with them as they could before the first bell rang.
People’s eyes found their way to me and stared. I could hear a few whispers among them wondering out loud of what happened to me. I tried sinking down as far as I could into my chair and looked down on my lap, trying to hide the embarrassment on my face.
“Where’s your first class?” Sam asked from behind me. I’m sure he noticed my dwindled spirits, but he didn’t mention it.
“My first class is Chemistry… Room 301?”
“You don’t sound confident in that.”
“I’m sure it’s 301!”
“We can double check the schedule if-”
“I studied that schedule for over a week. It’s 301.”
“If you say so.”
Sam continued to push me as we wandered the halls, following the numbered rooms up to 301. When we got there he pushed me into the room. The walls were covered in various pictures of different bones and muscles of the human body. There was a skeleton in the front corner of the room.
A blonde woman who looked to be Sam’s age walked up to us, giving a kind smile, “Hello, I’m Mrs. Nelson are you new here?”
I nodded my head and stuck out my hand, “I’m (Y/n) Wilson and this is my brother Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, (Y/n),” she shook my hand. “As well as you, Sam.”
“Likewise,” Sam’s voice came from behind me.
“I don’t remember seeing you added to my class roll… Are you here for Anatomy?” she asked.
Heat rushed to my cheek as I could hear Sam failing at stifling his laughs. Mrs. Nelson gave him a curious look before looking back down at me.
“I… um… I’m sorry, I think… I think we’re in the wrong room,” I stuttered.
“What class are you trying to go for?” she smiled at me patiently.
“Chemistry,” Sam answered for me.
“Oh, you’re probably with Mr. Harrington. He’s a few doors down, across the hall in room 306,” she directed.
“Thank you,” I said to her with a wave of my hand as Sam backed me out of the room.
Once we were in the hallway, Sam muttered, “I told you that we should’ve looked at your schedule.”
“Shut up,” I hissed at him.
The first bell rang out through the school. All the kids in the hall started scurrying off to class. We made our way to room 306 and entered. At the front of the class was a man wearing a white button up with a tie and khaki coloured pants. Like Mrs. Nelson, he looked to be about Sam’s age. He had brown floppy hair, a scruffy bread, and wore round glasses that were too small for his face.
“Ah, you must be (Y/n),” the man walked over towards Sam and I.
“I am,” I smiled and took his hand, giving it a firm shake.
“I’m Mr. Harrington,” he introduced himself before looking past me to Sam, “And you are?”
“Sam, (Y/n/n)’s brother,” they shook hands as well.
“Firm hand shakes must run in the family,” Mr. Harrington joked, retracting his hand. “How about we seat you here by the door, so that way you have easier access in and out?” He quickly moved behind the desk and grabbed the chair to move it out of the way.
I gave a small shrug as Mr. Harrington found a place for the chair, “Sounds good to me.”
Before Sam could push me, I started rolling myself to get behind the desk. It took some effort, but I eventually got it. I twisted in my seat and grabbed my back pack that was hanging off of my wheelchair. Setting the bag on the table, I pulled out the notebook I decided to dedicate chemistry to and a pencil.
The second bell rang, indicating that class should start. Sam made his way to my side of the table and leaned down to give me a hug. “Love you, I’ll be in touch. Call me or Steve if there’s an emergency.” 
“Love you too. Thank you for coming, though it’s a dumb move on your part,” I muttered the last bit.
Sam smiled at me, “Anything for you, (Y/n/n)” He then ruffled my hair knowing that it’d piss me off.
I glared at him while fixing my hair as he started walking out. A thin boy with brown hair and pale skin ran into the room smacking right into Sam.
“I’m so so sorry,” the boy sputtered.
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Sam said before brushing past him and out of the room.
“You’re late, Peter,” Mr. Harrington sighed.
“Sorry Mr. Harrington, I overslept this morning,” Peter apologized.
“Just go take your seat,” Mr. Harrington instructed.
The boy walked towards the back of the room. I couldn’t help but watch him. His brown hair was slightly gelled back to help keep it in place. That didn’t stop a few strands from falling forward into his face when he ducked his head down. He was wearing a plaid button up shirt that poked out beneath a navy blue sweater with grey jeans.
“Ned, why didn’t you save me a seat?” Peter whined when he got to the table he was looking for.
An Asian guy with straight almost black hair that was parted in the middle, who I assumed was Ned, shrugged. “MJ wanted to sit here.”
Both of the boys turn their attention to the girl who was sitting at the table. She had tan skin and dark brown, curly hair. Her nose was in a book as she ignored the boys looking at her.
“Peter, please take a seat,” Mr. Harrington spoke from up front.
The brown haired boy looked around the room. His eyes landed on me before they drifted to the empty spot next to me. He took long, quick strides back to the front of the room before plopping into the chair to my right.
I grabbed my backpack and moved it to the floor, leaning it against my chair. That way I made sure I wasn’t taking up any space on his side.
“Good morning class,” Mr. Harrington started, now that everyone was in a seat. “We do have a new student joining us. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
I turned my body in my seat to see everyone’s eyes on me. Some people in the back were moving around trying to see from behind the person in front of them. 
I gave an awkward wave of my hand. “Hi, I’m (Y/n).”
“And what’s something about yourself?” Mr. Harrington asked while he was taking attendance on a clipboard. 
“Umm… I recently moved upstate, but decided I wanted to attend Midtown Tech because I felt it was a better school for me than the one’s around there.” I left out the part that I lived in the new Avengers compound and I didn’t want people to see me going home there.
“What happened to your legs?” a boy shouted across the room.
“Flash, that’s not appropriate,” Mr. Harrington scolded.
“It’s okay!” I spoke up before the boy got in trouble. I could tell he wasn’t the only one who wanted to know. “I… I um…” I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts. It wasn’t common knowledge that I worked with the Avengers, and I’d rather keep that information on the down low. “I got caught in one of the Avenger squabbles and a building fell on top of me.”
A couple of gasps and murmurs broke out across the class. 
“And you lived?!” Flash exclaimed.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” I joked.
Peter was looking at me with wide eyes. I watched them travel down to my legs.
“I’m actually getting my casts off today, and I’m going to start physical therapy,” I told Peter, but spoke loud enough for the rest of the class to hear.
“I’m sorry you got caught in that,” Peter apologized to me.
“Don’t worry about it,” I waved a dismissive hand.
“Did you get to meet them though?” He asked before quickly adding on, “Never mind, they’re probably busy.”
I let out a small laugh, “I guess you could say that I did meet them.”
“Really?” He looked excited.
“Yeah. Maybe if I wasn’t getting my cast off today, I might’ve called them up to see if they could sign it,” I joked. Everyone did sign the first cast that I had on. Everyone was excited. Writing small ‘Get better’ notes with little drawings. They wanted to sign this one too when I got it, but I asked them not to.
“Alright class, settle down!” Mr. Harrington called out above the noise.
Once everybody started to quiet down, Mr. Harrington started his discussion today on Vibranium and would occasionally write things down on the white board. I took notes and kept up the best that I could. But it became obvious that this wasn’t the first day they had discussed this element.
When the bell eventually rang to signal the end of class, I looked over my notes and sighed. The page was full of half thoughts. Some things I wrote, ‘What?’ next to it, as a reminder to look it up. I knew it was going to be difficult to catch up, but the reality of it was now settling in.
I quickly started packing up my things as well as taking out my schedule so I could make sure I got to the correct class. Peter stood up and was about to leave the classroom with Ned when Mr. Harrington called out to him.
“Peter, I need to speak with you. And (Y/n),” He looked over at me.
I nodded in acknowledgement, twisted my body and hung my backpack to my wheelchair, then rolled myself over to his desk. Mr. Harrington waited until the class was empty before turning to speak to me, “How was your first class?”
“It was a little difficult to keep up,” I answered honestly.
“As I suspected it would be,” he nods before turning his attention to the boy. “Peter, I would like you to tutor (Y/n) and help get her caught up on our curricular.” 
Peter shrugged his shoulders and turned to me, “When would be a good time for you?”
“I’m available everyday after school for about an hour,” I smiled at him.
Suddenly Peter’s face seems to fall and the tips of his ears turn pink. “I uh… I can’t at that time, I have detention.”
“Everyday?” I asked in surprise. From the looks of Peter, I wouldn’t have pegged him for the type to get detention.
He nods his head solemnly. 
I turned back to Mr. Harrington ready to ask if there was someone else that would have the time to help catch me up. He looked deep in thought. The question I had sat at the tip of my tongue.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine for you to cut detention to help (Y/n). I will speak with Principal Morita about this.” Mr. Harrington finally spoke. “Go ahead and start today after school, if that works for the both of you.”
“Actually, could we start tomorrow?” I asked. “I’m getting my casts off today.”
“Oh yeah,” Peter nodded his head.
“That’s right,” Mr. Harrington recalled.
“Yeah, we can totally start tomorrow,” Peter said, still nodding.
The room filled up with students as Mr. Harrington wrote us slips for our next class to excuse our tardiness. 
“So, what class do you have next?” Peter asked me as we left the room.
“English, I believe.”
“Really? Who do you have?”
I paused wheeling myself to unfold my schedule I had resting on my lap. “Mrs. Campbell. Room 221,” I read out loud.
“That’s where I’m going!” He laughed.
“That’s awesome! I could use your help in this class too,” I smiled up at him.
“I mean, it’s pretty common for a lot of people to have similar classes. I wonder if we have any other classes together?”
“Why don’t you take a look?” I handed him my schedule.
He took the paper quickly and read over the page. Peter shook his head in disbelief. “We have every class together. Even our electives.”
“That’s insane. It’s like some higher power wanted us to meet.”
“Seriously!”
“Now I don’t have to worry about getting lost,” I giggled. “I get to just follow you around.”
The late bell suddenly rang through the hallways, interrupting our conversation. Peter looked down at his feet and scratched the back of his neck. “We should hurry to class.”
“I agree.”
“Do you… uh… would you like me to push you there?” he stammered.
I nodded my head. “My arms could use a break. I’m not too used to moving around this much.”
Peter stepped behind me and pushed me to our next class.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist: @galcalirwin @frontmanash @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @aneclecticwriter
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mendesxruel · 3 years
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hi lovely! can i get a harry potter ship please - no gender preference, my pronouns are she/her! i'm a slytherin with a leo sun! my mtbi is estj. i don't really have hobbies but i like reading , writing and drawing, i also play like animal crossing and minecraft. i'm pretty funny, smart and cool to be around i guess but i'm also bossy, i have a superiority complex and an individuality complex. i'm 5'5" and i have shoulder length curly red hair, and massive titties 😍 i'm thick af
hi there! i have to say it, the end got me lol-ing - the way you wrote it, so sincerely, made me giggle sjhdjshdjs
i ship you with...
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Ginny Weasley
ok this was difficult because i couldn't think of one person exactly but i think ginny would be a good ship. i feel like you too be a power couple, two bad bitches yk? you two would always be doing cool stuff and she would think you're smarter than anyone in school. i feel like she would appreciate your hard work and your logic side, which would kinda let her keep her feet on the ground and be rational when making hard decisions.
also two red heads?? thats even more powerful
you two would have study dates (she would ask for your help) and you guys would wear matching clothes on animal crossing ><
i spent a while on this woah
hope you liked it!
join my picnic:3
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