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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨3

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) sleep paralysis, stress.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m so happy people are liking this story. Thanks so much to everyone reading and sorry if I’m a bit inactive lately, I’ve been exhausted and yesterday didn’t end, I swear.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

On Monday, you yawned over your keyboard as your fingers moved on instinct alone. Your eyes ran along the text but the words were just letters to you. You had a lot to think about, a lot to do.

You decided you would skip lunch and get through your work day an hour early so you could head to Clark’s right away. He was hard to deny when he asked if you could make it back so soon. You told him you worked everyday from home and you had hours beside that at the gallery three times a week at least. He accepted it with a nod but his silence was telling so you caved and said you could make it but not until the evening.

You texted Marcus as you waited for your Uber. He had a few hours to go still and you left him everything he needed to make supper with instructions; the veggies were cut, the meat thawed, and the pans already arranged on the stove. You had faith he could manage on his own.

The mansion was just as intimidating as the first time you visited. You walked up the drive and to the front steps. It was human nature to be envious of the sprawling yards and lavish estate and yet, it didn’t feel as if someone could truly live here. It would be like staying in a hotel as you were always overly aware of your every move, afraid to break something or make a mess.

You hammered the large knocker when your soft tapping brought no answer. You heard someone on the other side and wiggled your foot nervously. The door opened and square-faced woman greeted you in another language. You couldn’t tell if it was Swedish, German, or some other dialect. You were never a skilled linguist.

“Um, hi, I’m…”

“Ah, you are the lady painter,” she said, “I remember. I am Nina, Mr. Kent’s housekeeper.”

She turned and beckoned you to follow her. You closed the tall door and trailed her across the spacious foyer and behind the stairs into the kitchen. She turned through another room and led you out through the glass doors that opened onto the pool.

“Miss, would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” you said as the water moved and your eyes were drawn to the figure moving beneath the surface.

“Miss,” Nina nodded and left you.

You stood, awkward and listless, and glanced around at the loungers and the umbrella over the round table. You weren’t entirely sure what to do. Had he forgotten about you?

“Hey,” your gaze was drawn back to the pool. Clark waded to the edge, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest visible as he made his way to the shallow end, “sorry. Lost track of time.”

He grabbed the metal railing and climbed up the stairs. The water slaked off his tight trunks and down his thick thighs. He appeared even larger with less clothes. You looked away before your thoughts lingered too long.

“It’s fine, I should have texted I was on my way,” you said, “I can go wait for you--”

“No worries,” he took his towel and rubbed dry his dark hair. The scruff along his chin was thicker than before, almost a full blown beard, “you’re not in a hurry, are you?”

“No, not really, can’t really rush… painting,” you shrugged, “I just… I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.”

“Pfft, I’m ready for anything,” he grinned, “but I should also listen to the artist. I’ll go get changed and you can get settled in the studio.” He directed you ahead of him as he approached the sliding doors, “you just finished work? You should take a few minutes to unwind.”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s just, um, typing, not exactly hard labour,” you said as he followed you inside.

“Work is work,” he said, “I will never fault anyone who works hard, regardless of what they do.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you stifled a yawn behind your hand.

He let out a breath as you came out into the foyer, “I’m sorry, you could’ve… you’re tired. We could have rescheduled. I’m sorry if I came across… pushy yesterday. I don’t mean to take advantage of you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he said doubtfully, “but you let me know if you need a break.”

“Will do,” you murmured as you neared the stairs.

🎨

You weren’t even close to done just the background of the portrait. Clark really didn’t even need to be there as you shadowed the folds of the curtains around his figure and the marble bust. Your arm hurt from reaching across and up the gigantic canvas and your eyes burned from squinting at your work.

You backed off the ladder carefully with your paintbrush and palette balanced in one hand. The paint was drying and you needed to mix more. You set down your armful and wiped your hands on the rag. He was watching you, he was always watching you. Well, no, he was just looking in your direction; it was all for the portrait.

You hit the button on the side of your phone and gasped. It was midnight. You had several messages from Marcus and you blanched as you unlocked the cell and quickly texted back. You rubbed your eye as you hit send and turned to Clark.

“I didn’t realise it was so late,” you said, “I gotta go.”

“What time is it?” he asked and looked at his watch, “oh.”

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and stretched out his arms as he neared. You took your brush and rinsed it in the tinted water in the jar.

“I’ll just clean up as I wait for an Uber,” you said as you let the brush rest in the jar and lifted your phone again.

“I’ll drive you,” he said as he grabbed a rag, “it’s a long way. I’ll hire a driver for you from here on out. It’ll be easier and cheaper.”

“You don’t have to--”

You flinched as he wiped your cheek with the rag. He smiled and showed you the paint on the white cloth.

“I wouldn’t offer it if it was too much trouble,” he tossed the rag down, “and I did have something to talk to you about. The drive will be more than enough to get it sorted.”

“Oh, okay,” you eked nervously. Had you done something wrong? Were you not painting fast enough?

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he touched your arm gently.

He left you and you finished scraping off the palette and cleaning your brushes. You dumped the jar in the sink just inside the nearest bathroom and rinsed the porcelain back to white. You left everything arranged neatly on the table and descended to the first floor.

Clark stood by the door in a different jacket, his tie gone and the top button undone. He held the door for you and showed you to the garage. There were at least a half-dozen cars inside and he took you to the same silver one he drove the night of the show. You settled in and groaned as the tension left your shoulders.

He started the car as the doors rose behind him and he backed out smoothly. He turned down the long drive and onto the desolate roads of the wealthy countryside. He kept one hand on the wheel and dropped his other to his thigh casually.

“So, your job, you like it?”

“It’s work,” you said, “I get paid to sit at home and type. Half the time, I’m just waiting for an assignment.”

“I asked if you liked it,” he said more pointedly.

“Oh, well, not… really?” you answered, unsure.

He could be so pleasant and then so blunt. He made you nervous and the more you thought of it, the more you realised you knew almost nothing about this man besides his name. You didn’t know how he made his money or what exactly he did outside of his extravagant mansion.

“If I doubled your fee, would you quit?” he asked without hesitation.

“Quit? This… the painting won’t take forever,” you said, “I can’t really just drop everything--”

“This is an opportunity,” he said, “you could spend your days doing what you love. And who’s to say it’s just one painting? I already have something in mind for the dining room and I have friends asking about you.”

“Friends? Who--”

“One thing at a time,” he said curtly, “I’ll introduce you to them in time. Is it a deal?”

“I… it’s all very sudden, can I think about it?”

He looked at you in the rearview and you caught his eye. For a moment, you were afraid. There was something in his expression that left you breathless. He lifted his hand and stretched his arm between the seats, his fingers gripped the leather just above your shoulder.

“Sure, I’ll give you a couple days,” he said at last.

“I--I’m sorry…” you didn’t know why you were apologizing but it felt appropriate, “I just, I’m tired.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he assured and the epithet hung in the air.

“I have to go to the gallery tomorrow, I’ll get back to you on Wednesday,” you said as you rubbed your chin nervously. Your lips was quivering. He was smiling but you felt his impatience in the small space of the car, “if I… if I say yes, I have to talk to my boss and that might get messy.”

“No problem,” his voice softened, “you take some time and figure it out.” His thumb rubbed the leather seat and he pulled his arm away to grasp the steering wheel, “why don’t you close your eyes. We got some time left.”

You peeked over at him and nodded.

“Okay,” you murmured and hugged your bag against you as you tried to relax against the leather. You turned your head and looked out the window up at the starry sky. You closed your eyes as the fatigue settled over you but you could only fake dozing as your nerves stormed inside of you.

He was right, it was a great opportunity, but you just couldn’t believe it would last. Was it your own doubt getting to you? Or should you be weary of this fairytale buyer? It was late and you couldn’t think. All those worries could wait until tomorrow.

🎨

You crept into the dark apartment. It was after one and you foresaw a long day ahead of you. You’d get maybe four hours in before it all started again. You put your purse down and went into the bedroom, undressing in the shadows and crawling into bed next to Marcus as the colours of the tv moved around him. The playlist he was casting kept on even as he slept.

He grunted as you laid on your back and he turned to graze your arm with his fingertips.

“You’re home,” he grumbled and kissed your cheek, “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I… it’s so far out there and it’s a lot of work. The canvas is like nine feet-- I’m sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” his voice was gristly as he propped himself up on his elbow, “you’re gonna finish the job right?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Marcus insisted, “I mean, at that price, you can do anything.”

“It’s not about the money, Marcus,” you huffed, “I don’t know if it’s worth all this. Going back and forth…” you ran your hands over your face, “he wants me to quit my job and just paint for him.”

“You should,” Marcus said blithely, “why not? He’s paying you well enough.”

“And what about when I’m done,” you whined.

“You’ll find more work. Vanessa even offered to take on more of your work in her shows, so what’s the problem? Isn’t this what you want?”

“Y-yeah, it is but… I don’t know, it just seems too good to be true.”

“You do this and we might even have enough for a down payment,” he said, “something had to give after all these years. Why can’t it be this?”

You looked at him and tried to smile, “you’re only saying that because he has a pool.”

“Maybe,” he kidded, “but I also want it for you. You spend all your free time painting anyhow so why not get paid for it?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, “yeah, I just don’t know why I feel so… I don’t know. It just all seems off.”

“Sleep on it, you’ll feel better,” he leaned over and kissed your lips that time, “love you.”

“Love you,” you echoed as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv.

You closed your eyes as the darkness shrouded you and despite your anxiety, you fell into a deep sleep. You didn’t even roll onto your side before you sank into your REM but found yourself caught in limbo. The abstract and intense sensation of paralysis overtook your body and your eyelids flicked open.

It was an awful feeling you knew too well. You knew you were dreaming, you knew it was all in your mind, but your body was filled with sand and your subconscious conjured visions of doom. The tall man stood by the door as he always did and just stared. He got closer, just a little at a time, and you fought to move just a finger and free yourself from the trance.

You felt like you were drowning as your body remained heavy and unmoving. He was getting closer and closer. As he did, his figure changed and his shoulders got wider as his features came clear in the slat of the streetlight that leaked between the curtains. It was Clark staring down at you, his blue eyes sinister and sparkling.

He reached for you and you woke with a start as your name rose from his lips. You inhaled sharply and looked over at Marcus as he snored. It was only the two of you. You reached for your phone, it was just after three. You turned onto your side but your heart still raced. It always happened when you were stressed, the dreams felt so real that you never really came back down after.

You stared at the wall and curled up under the blanket. You didn’t expect to get much sleep anyway, not with the question on your mind. Should you quit and live your dream or should you kill all hope before life did it for you?

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #superman #series #portrait of a dangerous man #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mob au #mob!au #dc #dcu

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spencessmile · 3 years

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Conversations In The Bullpen

Pairing - BAU x Fem!Reader

Summary - You and the team exchange stories from past and present times.

Warnings - Fluff, Swearing & slightest mention of injury and talks about clowns.

Word Count - 1.6k

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and/or post it without my consent. Feedback and Comments are welcome. Happy reading!

Requests are CLOSED!

“What about you Y/n?” You hear Morgan’s voice as you finish up your last report, adding it to the finished pile. You slide your chair towards his desk, Morgan’s foot stopping it before it hit Garcia’s legs. “Craziest thing you saw or dealt with in LA before you quit your job as a cop? Go.”

“Oh, um,” You chuckle. “I could probably go on forever. A lot of weird shit happens in LA.”

“Top 3?”

“Top 3? Okay, first I had a case where a woman killed her husband because he refused to leave their cottage in her name. When my partner and I investigated we found out that she buried him within the walls of their house.”

“Oh my god, no!” Garcia groans.

“Second has to be when I had my right hand inside a man’s chest for nine hours. He was in a really bad car accident and he wouldn’t have made it to the hospital in time so I had to open him up in the middle of the street in order to stop him from bleeding out.”

“That sounds so cool,” Emily beamed, her chin resting on her right hand.

“There goes my dinner,” Garcia spoke.

“His sternum was severely messed up which caused his heart and one of his big blood vessels to start bleeding into his stomach.”

“Wow! It sounds just like that episode from Grey's Anatomy where Meredith had her hand inside that guy's chest. Remember the one who had the bomb inside him? How did it feel to have your hand in someone’s chest?”

“One of my favourite episodes. Uh, it was umm sor- It was bloody and it got worse,” You shrug. “I passed out on the OR floor.” You chuckle thinking about the whole situation and how ridiculous it sounds saying it out loud.

Morgan and Emily crack up laughing as you shake your head. “Yeah, I remember that whole week being so chaotic but that took the cake.”

“Third?” Spencer asks.

“Oh, this one is top on my list. In 2016, there were killer clowns on the loose in Los Angeles.”

“Nah uh. Nope!” Morgan shakes his head as you notice him tense up at the mention of clowns.

“Morgan has coulrophobia,” JJ said giggling at Morgan.

“What really?” You asked, JJ nodded.

“Oh yeah, Morgan’s not a fan of Halloween, people in costumes or masks.”

“Listen,” Morgan put his hand out. “Costumes and masks give me the hibbie jibbies. Just no.”

“Hey everyone knows you're terrified of clowns but no one here knows why exactly you're terrified of them. What’s the story behind clowns?” Emily asks.

Morgan puts five fingers up. “I had evil older cousins.”

“Oh!!” Everyone laughs.

“Morgan,” You pat his shoulder. “I was traumatized by my older cousins too but don’t worry their all going to hell.”

“I just don’t like the way they look, with the red nose, and all that face paint and masks,” Morgan explains.

“You know the fear of clowns usually stems from the feeling of not knowing what’s going on underneath the mask or costume,” You still remember the words of your captain.

“I just don’t care. If I were to see a clown I will hands down punch it.” Garcia and you just laugh at how passionately Morgan seemed about his hate for clowns.

“2016 was a fucking weird year for LA. It started out as a harmless prank but people just took it too far. I think the LAPD arrested close to 2,000 clowns,” You sounded so ridiculous saying this out loud.

“I just glad weird fucking shit doesn’t happen here in Washington.”

“What would you do if a clown showed up at your apartment?” Spencer asked as

Morgan glared at him. “Why would you ever say such a thing?” Morgan spat, getting upset. “I’d probably kick its ass.”

“Morgan you're scared of like,” Emily waves her hand around. “Everything.” She laughs. “Remember that case we had NYC, and it was Halloween? You were so annoyed that people had decorations up.”

“Oh,” JJ faces lights up. “I remember that and the woman's husband who we were trying to find had a cage full of birds! Morgan, you were terrified of those birds!”

“Okay, can we not do this right now?!” Morgan looked annoyed.

“What’s your problem with birds?” You ask.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, actually one time Mor-”

“Baby girl, don't you dare say a word!” Morgan warns her as Garcia puts her hands up.

“Hey! That’s not fair, how come Garcia knows the story but not the rest of us?” Emily asks.

“That’s because I was there,” Garcia sips her tea, looking over at you.

“What type of person is scared of birds?” Spencer asks, shaking his head as Morgan sat up in his chair.

“Reid, Reid don’t move but there’s a spider on your shoulder!” Morgan yells as Spencer jumps up from his chair, violently wiping his shoulder.

“GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! EMILY!!” Spencer continues to move around as you all lose it watching Spencer running around frantically.

“Emily, is it gone?!” He asks, as Emily is holding onto her sides, JJ leaning into her as Garcia was wiping away tears. Morgan's face was tomato red from laughing as you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Guys! This isn’t funny! Is it gone? Where is it? Please, ser-” You could hear the panic in Spencer’s voice.

“Spencer!” You called. “There was nothing there,” You say, giggling.

“What?”

“Morgan was just pulling your leg,” You playfully smack the back of Morgan’s head as he continues to laugh at Spencer distraught condition. Spencer glares over at Morgan as he grabs the small hand exercise ball off his desk and throws it, hitting Morgan in the face. Everyone bursts out laughing.

“What was that for?”

“For what you just did to me,” Spencer says, putting a hand on his chest.

“Why are you scared of spiders, pretty boy?” Morgan questions.

“I just don’t like them. All their legs and fu-” Spencer shutters at the thought of them.

“Did I ever tell one time Spen-”

“Morgan don’t!”

“Spencer called me over one time because there was a spider on his bedroom ceiling. When I got to his apartment, he was wearing doughnut and smiley faces boxers while trying to kill a spider with a mop.”

“Shut up, your lying!” Emily looks over at Spencer.

“That didn’t actually happen,” Spencer’s face was flushed red with embarrassment.

“Didn’t it?” Morgan holds out his phone, playing a video of Spencer trying to kill the spider.

“This is the best thing ever!” Emily exclaimed.

“YOU MADE A VIDEO?!” Spencer shrieked.

“And I’m not ashamed to admit that I watch it at least twice a day because that video right there is pure gold, baby!” Morgan cheers.

“Who else have you shown that to?” Spencer asked.

“Oh just you guys,” Morgan replies. “My sisters.”

“Oh my god.”

“My mom loved your smiley face and doughnut boxers.”

“YOU SHOWED THIS VIDEO TO YOUR MOM?!” Spencer exclaimed as Garcia kept replaying to the part where Spencer runs behind Morgan.

“Look at his face!” She yells as you and Emily grabbed onto each other from laughing so hard.

“One thing is for sure after watching this video,” JJ says. “Both Spencer and Morgan radiate so much chaotic energy off each other.”

“Yes!” You say, giving her a high five.

“Hey Y/n, did I ever tell you about the time Morgan showed up at my apartment drunk?” Spencer asks and you shake your head. “While wearing nothing but briefs.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh you wouldn’t!” Morgan threatens.

“Watch me!” Spencer leans over and whispers in your ear.

“OH MY GOD MORGAN! You look over at him. “Seriously?”

“What’s going on out here?” You hear a deep voice from behind you, turning around you see Hotch walking down the catwalk.

“How come I didn’t know about Morgan's dirty past?” You ask, folding your arm. Without even asking Hotch knew exactly what you were referring to.

“I’m unfriending you all,” Morgan points to everyone as Garcia leans into him, giggling.

“Everyone here knows a little bit too much about Morgan’s sex life,” Hotch points out.

“Hotch, not you too man,” Morgan groans.

Hotch leaned against Emily’s desk as he looks around at you all teasing and laughing with each other. Though Hotch could hear the laughter from his office, he couldn’t help but walk out and join the chaos. It was times like this, that Hotch was beyond thankful to have you all apart of his life. He could always count on you guys to add the sweet and spice to your guy's solemn life.

“What are you all still doing here? Your shift ended half hour ago,” Hotch looks down at his clock.

“Oh shoot!” JJ said, quickly grabbing her bag. “I gotta pick up Henry from my moms.” She bid her goodbyes and headed out.

“What about the rest of you? Don’t have any plans?”

“I have a date but that’s not until Wednesday,” Morgan says as you all just stare blankly at him. “At 7pm.” You smirk at him. “What?”

“Today is Wednesday you dumbass,” You said. “You just stood up your date by a half-hour.”

“Oh shit!” Morgan scrambled for his things, beelining for the elevator. “If I don’t get laid tonight, it’s all your guy's fault and drinks are on you guys for a whole month!” He yells behind him.

“Twenty bucks say his date going to cuss him off for being late, leaving him hanging,” You say.

“Forty bucks say that Morgan is going to get laid and that we’re all going to hear about over coffee tomorrow morning,” Hotch said dropping forty bucks on the table, walking away leaving you all in shock.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #bau #bau x reader #bau x fem!reader #bau x you #bau x y/n #bau x fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds masterlist #spencessmiles fanfics

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

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In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter eight rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“He’s such a dick!” Peter exclaimed, flopping on his bed with a huff. You laid down next to him and ran your fingers through his soft hair, feeling him relax immediately under your touch.

“What did Flash do today?” You sighed. This was a pretty common point of conversation between you and Peter. Flash always found a way under Peters skin and you were always the one to dig him out.

“He said I photoshopped our pictures together on Instagram. And he said you’d never even look at me, even if I was, and I quote, “waiting your table on your date with him”. He’s such a dick! You do look at me.” Peter protested. You sighed let out another sigh as you thought of an answer. You and Peter had been together for three glorious weeks and each of those weeks, Peter had Flash on his back about your relationship.

“Yes I do. And I love what I see.” You assured him. Peter smiled slightly, too angry to fully appreciate the compliment.

“He tells everyone I’m lying about us being together. I didn’t even tell people, Ned did. And when I said I was gonna take the day off of school to spend our one month anniversary together, he said it was probably just gonna be me alone in my room reading your articles and crying because you’d never give me the time of day.” Peter scoffed. “I wish he would believe me. I hate constantly having to defend our relationship.”

Not knowing what to tell him, you kissed his cheeks and rolled onto his chest. Your one month anniversary was just a week away and two planned on spending every second together to commemorate the event.

“Take my mind off of him, please.” He pouted as he dragged his pinkie down your nose. “What’s new in my beautiful girlfriends life?”

You two absentmindedly compared hand sizes before locking your fingers together.

“I have my final interview with Cletus next week. Then I really gotta finish my story.” You told him.

“You’ll get it done.” He said confidently. “You’re so efficient. When’s it due?”

“Three weeks.” You answered.

“You know what that means.” Peter said. You nodded.

“Balls to the walls.” You said at the same time he said “Pedal to the metal.”

You giggled and he laughed loudly.

“I like how I made a crude reference and you made one about flowers. It really highlights our personalities.” You pointed out. Peter cocked his head.

“Flowers?” He questioned.

“Yea. Petals. Petal to the medal.” You said. Peter burst out laughing, making the whole bed shake. He flipped you over so you were in your back now with him on top.

“Aw baby no.” He laughed. “It’s pedal to the metal, not petal to the metal. Why would you push petals against metal?”

“I don’t know. Why would you put your balls to the wall?” You shot back.

“I personally wouldn’t put my balls against any wall.” Peter said matter of factly. Him saying something so out of character made you snort with laughter. You immediately covered your mouth and burned red.

“That was the grossest sound. I’m so sorry.” You said with hands still covering your face.

“Don’t be sorry. I love all your sounds.” Peter said as he moved your hands to plant kisses on your face. He started with kisses on your cheeks and slowly moved down to your neck. This was new territory for the both of you so let out a soft giggle to show it was okay.

“I like that sound too.” Peter said as he perked his head up. You smiled fondly and it gave him the confidence to keep going. He placed more hot kisses down your neck and you let out another soft sound.

“I like that sound as well.” He laughed into your neck. His lips found their way under your ear in just the right place.

“Peter.” You breathed. He stopped and looked at you. His eyes were full of something you’d never seen before. Pure love and adoration for you. But it wasn’t the puppy love you were used to seeing with him. It was adult love. Committed love. You looked him deep in the eyes and nodded. Without saying a word, you both agreed to take the next step and solidify your love for each other.

That night, you and Peter laid awake and just stared each other. Neither of you said a word. Everything had already been said that night in his bed. You absentmindedly ran your fingers over his lips as he twirled your hair around his finger. You loved him. You wanted so badly to tell him. But Peter was a teenage boy. He just experienced his first time and you don’t want to overwhelm him with his first “I love you” as well. But from the way Peter was looking at you, you knew he knew how you felt.

“I want you to meet my boss.” Peter spoke suddenly with a dreamy smile on his face. “He’s my mentor and basically my father. He’s very important to me and so are you. I want us all to have dinner together. Let’s do it tomorrow night. He’s gonna love you.”

“I’d love to meet him.” You smiled. And you meant it. Peter barely gave any details about his internship. You didn’t even know his bosses name. You cuddled in closer to Peter and felt absolute happiness all throughout your body. He felt it too. Peter Parker was over the moon with joy. He had never been happier.

The next day after school, Peter practically ran down the steps to greet you. He was still on a high from the night before. You were running slightly late and Peter stood in your usually spot and waited for you.

“Whats wrong, Penis Parker? Did Iron Man forget to pick you up today?” Flash teased. Peter turned his back to him.

“No. If you must know, Y/n is picking me up. She’s just a little late.” Peter grumbled. Flash laughed tauntingly.

“Right, Y/n. Is she gonna pick you up on her unicorn and take you on a date at Avengers Tower?” Flash mocked. Peter just ignored him.

“I can’t blame you for pretending to date her though. She’s so hot. I’d like to take her out and show her a good time. Better than you ever could, Penis Parker.” He continued.

“She’s not hot Flash, she’s beautiful. She’s a girl, not a cup of tea.” Peter retorted. Flash’s cheeks heated up at Peters comeback.

“Whatever. I’d still bang her. Even if she was a cup of tea.” Flash scoffed Peters blood began to boil. He wanted to kill Flash for even thinking about you.

“Me too. That girl is straight up glorious. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me, I swear.” One on Flash’s idiot friends chimed in. Peter shot him the death glare. It was getting increasingly harder to stand there and listen to those idiots degrade you.

“You’re disgusting. Show some respect.” Peter said lowly. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Little did Peter know, your super hearing allowed you to hear the whole conversation as you approached his school. An idea formed in your head.

A nice size crowd had gathered around Peter and Flash’s goons. Peter tapped his foot and waited for your arrival.

“Aw. Penis Parker wants us to show his imaginary girlfriend some respect.” Flash laughed. At that moment, you pulled up on your bike and swiftly took off your helmet. Shocked murmurs swept throughout the crowd. Most stunned of all was Flash, who looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. All eyes were on you. Peter noticed Flash’s reaction and smirked.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m having trouble getting around after last night.” You said apologetically and shot Peter a wink. You had practiced it in your head. Peters face broke out in an embarrassed smile as boys began to pat him on the back. A few even applauded.

“It’s alright, darling.” Peter said, stepping towards you. You smirked and gave him a big sloppy kiss. It was way more PDA than you were used to but you knew it’d give Peter enough street credit for the rest of college.

“Let’s go babe. Bye Flush.” You called and gave Flash a flirty little wave. If he was gonna call your boyfriend Penis, he was gonna get called Flush. Peter climbed on the back of your bike and you two sped away.

“Thanks for what you did back there. I hate how disgusting those guys are. I’m sorry they were objectifying you.” Peter apologized once you were back in his room.

“It’s alright. It happens.” You shrugged.

“But it shouldn’t. And did you see how they all acted when you kissed me? Like all the sudden I was cool because you were my girlfriend? Don’t get me wrong, you’re incredibly hot and I’m incredibly lucky to have you. But what they don’t understand is, there’s a million reasons why I’m lucky to have you.” Peter sighed angrily. “Your beauty doesn’t even crack the top ten. There’s so much to you. So much grandeur and depth and they just reduced you to a pretty face. It pisses me off.”

You smiled at his kind words and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck

“Peter, I don’t care what a single one of those bonehead boys had to say.” You shrugged. “I only care about you. Those boys at your school are just jealous that you actually have a brain in your head and a heart in your chest when they don’t. Don’t let them get to you. And thank you for all that you said. I really care about you, Peter.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you chickened out. You had only ever said it to Andy.

“I really care about you too.” Peter smiled before kissing you. “Now come on, let’s work on your story.”

That night, you prepared to eat dinner at Peters bosses house. You wore a casual dress and did your hair in loose curls. You wanted to make a good impression on Peters mentor but you didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard. You took a cab, not wanting to ride your motorcycle and risk the helmet messing up either of your hair, to a wooden cabin near a lake. Peter knocked on the door and rubbed his hands together in excitement.

“Here we go.” He beamed at you.

The door opened and your body froze as your eyes landed on Tony Stark. The very Tony Stark who made you your suit. The very Tony Stark who knew you were Venom.

And apparently, the very Tony Stark who was your boyfriends boss.

Tony’s face fell when he looked at you and you felt sick to your stomach. Tony felt it to. He glanced from you, to Peter, to your interlocked hands, then back at you. Your eyes whispered an apology and looked equally as apologetic. He was sorry for how badly this would end when all the secrets were out.

“Come on in, kids. Dinners almost ready.” Tony said suddenly. Peter grinned at you and lead you inside. You faked a smile before giving Tony one last look.

Dinner went as awkwardly as you could imagine. You and Tony couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other. Peter was too excited about his two favorite people meeting to notice the tension in the air.

“Y/n is an investigative reporter.” Peter gushed in between bites.

“Is she?” Tony said, never looking away from you. You felt terrified by his stare.

“She took down Carlton Drake and soon she’s gonna take down Cletus Kasady.” Peter continued with a proud smile. He put his hand on your knee under the table and squeezed.

“Oh really?” Tony’s expression was unreadable. “How did you do it?”

You gulped. He knew exactly how you did it. You had told him the story the day you met.

“I just followed my instincts and didn’t let up until the truth was out.” You stammered. Tony nodded stiffly.

“Right. Y/n, will you join me in the lab? I got something that might help your story.” Tony announced. You felt fear run through your body, all the way to your scalp. You nodded and got up. Your legs were shaking and you prayed Peter didn’t notice.

“I’ll come.” Peter said, moving to stand up. Tony immediately turned around and held up a hand.

“You stay here, kid.” He kept a calm tone. “I just want a quick word with your girlfriend.” Peter sat back down with a smile on his face at the sound of someone referring to you as his girlfriend.

Once in the safety of the lab, you let out the breath you had been holding in all night. You looked anxiously at Tony, waiting for him to speak. He had his back to you, and was still deciding what to say.

“Does he know?” Tony asked suddenly. You shook your head even though Tony couldn’t see you.

“No, sir.” Your voice shook. “I haven’t told him.”

“Do you know about him?” Tony asked, turning to face you. Your face contorted in confusion.

“Do I know what about him?” You questioned. That’s when Tony’s face fell. He realized the extent of the situation. You and Peter were in love and Spider-Man and Venom were enemies. And neither of you knew the other’s secret identity. Tony’s heart broke for the young couple. He knew how much Peter loved you. He also knew how fragile Peter was. Tony wondered if the shock would hurt less if he made the teenagers confront each other sooner rather than later.

“Nothing.” He said quickly. “Here’s what I need from you, tell him the truth.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he held up his hand.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hannah Montana. You need to tell Peter about Venom, or I will. End of discussion.” Tony said sternly.

“But-“

“What did I say? End of discussion.” He repeated.

“But he’ll hate me.” You said sadly. Tony looked at you empathically, knowing you didn’t even know how bad it was.

“He’ll hate you more if you wait to tell him. You have to rip the bandaid off. And who knows, maybe he has secrets of his own.” Tony tried to hint to you. You stared at the floor, not wanting to go back to the dinning room to Peter. You wanted to avoid him, and the conversation, as long as you could.

“You don’t understand, Mr. Stark.” Your voice wavered. “The second I tell him, he’ll leave me. I’m not ready to lose him, I just got him.”

You didn’t want to cry in front of a man you idealized but your heart was breaking.

“You don’t know for sure that you’ll lose him. You need to tell him. Now. You know where he is.” Tony ordered. You could feel yourself beginning to cry no matter how hard you tried to fight it. It was that terrible feeling of needing to cry but feeling too embarrassed to.

“Don’t do that. I don’t want a crying teenage girl on my hands.” Tony said in response to your watering eyes.

“But I love him.” You whimpered. “I love him and I don’t want to lose him.”

Tony’s attention snapped to you. You had never seen Tony Stark at a loss for words before.

“You love him?” He asked. You nodded.

“With all my heart.” You said weakly.

“Have you ever told him that?” Tony asked.

“No.” You said shyly. It was an awkward thing to talk about with a man you barely knew.

Tony looked angry for a moment, then disheartened.

“This is going to crush him.” He muttered.

“I never wanted to hurt him, Mr. Stark. Please believe that. But no matter how much I wish for things to be different, they can’t be. This is who I am. I am…we are Venom. That won’t change.”

“You’ve already hurt him and you don’t even know it.” Tony sighed. You didn’t really understand what he meant.

“I know lying to him is bad.” You admitted. “But would it really be better if he knew? He’d just be afraid of me. I can’t have that.”

“You can’t have a relationship with someone who doesn’t really know you, either.” Tony reasoned

“I know. And I’ll tell him.” You promised. “Just, not yet. I can’t lose him just yet.”

Tony looked at you for a long time and sighed.

“Fine. I’ll give you one week. If you don’t tell him by then, I will.” Tony said firmly. You nodded sadly.

“Okay.” You wiped a tear that had managed to fall. “I’ll tell him.”

“You better. Now let’s go back in there and give him the best night of his life. He deserves that much.” Tony said and you agreed.

You two went back out and ate dessert with Peter. You did your best to enjoy and decide of it, knowing your time with Peter was almost up.

Peter enjoyed his evening to the fullest extent and never suspected a thing. You’d sneak glances at Tony every now and then and he was always staring back.

“I had the best time. Thank you Mr. Stark.” Peter said as you two got ready to leave.

“Yes, thank you Mr. Stark. It was a pleasure to meet you.” You shook Tony’s hand. He shook yours back firmly, both of you knowing you had already met.

“Anytime. And Y/n, good luck. I’m rooting for you.” Tony said honestly. You gave him a thankful nod.

“Good luck with what?” Peter asked.

“My story.” You answered quickly. “On Cleatus.”

You ushered Peter out the door and gave Tony one last look. He nodded at you and held up one finger. You gulped.

This was going to be the worst week of your life.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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olivetreehugger · 3 years

Text

Reiner, the king of emotional support

Notes: Modern AU!Reiner x reader

Warnings: none i think, also not edited lol

For @aestheticallly-trash

You lean back in your desk chair with a heavy sigh, reaching up to rub your aching shoulders as you stifle a jaw-cracking yawn.

Your dissertation is due in two weeks, and you’re still only a few pages in. Once you eventually do finish it, your counselor still has to look it over and edit it. You’re full of anxiety over this, as your four years of grad school have cultivated into this moment. If you can’t finish this dissertation, your research and years of stress will be for nothing.

It doesn’t help that you have a horrible feeling of failure looming over you all the time. A lot of people judged you for the topic you decided to research and claimed that you wouldn’t succeed. And now, only three pages in, at twelve-thirty three in the morning and a disgustingly cold mug of coffee besides your laptop, you’re starting to think they were right.

Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you have to bite your lip to hold back the sob that’s building in the back of your throat. It backfires when you hear a familiar, sleepy voice behind you.

“You okay, dove?”

You feel your boyfriend’s massive, warm hand rest on your shoulder and you just fall apart.

“No...” you whisper between sobs. Tears stream down your cheeks and down your chin.

Reiner pulls your chair out from the desk, turns it around so you’re facing him and encircles you with his muscular arms. Without even trying, he lifts you up so you’re standing in front of him, but he doesn’t let you go.

He lets you bury your face into his chest as you cry, and he just gently rubs the back of your head.

“I know...I know,” he murmurs, the sleep still overwhelming his voice. “It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

You pick your head up to look at him, and he smiles. You probably look so gross, disheveled and raccoon-eyed, but he doesn’t seem to care. He leans down to kiss your face, tickling you with his stubble. A giggle leaves your lips as he reaches your jaw, it’s your most ticklish spot, but you don’t jerk away.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper

Reiner presses a kiss to your temple while still holding you. He rocks you back and forth ever so slightly.

“I think you need a break from this paper,” he murmurs.

You melt against him, knowing he’ll hold your weight as the both of you sway.

“What if I don’t finish it in time? What if it’s not good enough?” You ask, a lump forming in your stomach as the anxiety starts to build again.

Reiner cups the back of your head and leans in for a kiss, his warm breath and his scent entering your nose and leaving you breathless.

His kisses always feel like a blanket, protective and warm and weighty. You love the way he kisses you, too. He kisses you so sweetly, so lovingly as he drinks your essence. You can always feel how much he adores you in the way he’s the last to pull away and the first to go back in. It takes your breath away every time.

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his chin. Another sigh leaves your body.

“C’mon, dove. You gotta get some sleep. A smartypants like you needs to rest your brain.”

You snort. “Don’t patronize me, honey.”

“I’m not. You’re the smartest person I know. I take you out on all those dates to museums and historical pop-ups and lectures because I know you’re gonna understand it. Shit, whenever we go to the zoo you’re the one naming facts about every animal we come across. You are a smartypants,” he protests, pecking the top of your head with a soft kiss.

He drapes an arm around your shoulder and starts leading you to your shared bedroom. “I’m off tomorrow, so why don’t we sleep now and work on the paper tomorrow? Remember, I’m always gonna be here for you. I love you, okay?”

“I love you, too, baby.”

“You want some chamomile tea to help you sleep?”

Your heart flutters. “Yes, please.”

As Reiner lumbers towards the kitchen, you go into the bathroom. You wash your face and brush your teeth, change into an old t-shirt and apply lavender-scented lotion to your arms and hands. Exhaustion seems to seep into your skin as you drudge towards your bed. You slide under the covers just as Reiner comes back.

He’s holding a steaming mug in his hands and ou wonder if there’s a mug big enough for those massive grabbers of his. He hands you the cup with a kiss.

“A cup of tea for my queen,” he murmurs.

You let out a breathy laugh and bring the mug to your lips, blowing on the hot liquid.

“Thank you, honey.”

Reiner carefully gets into bed beside you and rests against the headboard.

“I really do believe you’re the smartest person I know,” he says earnestly. His golden eyes rest on you lovingly, and a hand squeezes your thigh. “You’re gonna do great. We’ll take it page by page. Okay?”

You feel a smile tug at your lips. “Okay,” you sigh, sipping from the mug.

He leans forward for another kiss, and your heart skips a beat as he lingers on your mouth for a moment, nuzzling the tips of your noses together.

“I love you, Reiner.”

Your boyfriend pulls back and smiles at you. “I love you, more, dove. Now drink your tea and let’s sleep.”

---

#reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner x oc #reiner brainrot #reiner fluff

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displacedentities · 3 years

Text

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

#Coffee Shop Au #AHIT #A Hat In Time #doodledrawsthings #Snatcher #Hat Kid #Moonjumper #Clover #noticed a couple mistakes and it's too late to fix em wHOOPS #OH WELL

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Prompt 69 with Syntax, except he's the one doing the glaring but at who, you decide!

So uh... what would have happened if MK didn’t just run in to get the sign in episode 9? What if, before grabbing it, he heard a certain voice that he recognized and went to investigate? Yeah, consider this an AU. Need a name for this one, I am accruing many now.

You see that death glare means she (he) likes you

This was... not exactly the predicament that Xiaotian expected himself to be in. At all. Not after being chased away from Spider Queen by her spider trio. He had just wanted to get Pigsy’s sign back... and he did! Eventually! 100% A+ marks on that! He just... hadn’t expected to find Macaque there as well.

Or some back with him and another... straggler.

"So... Syntax, was it?" Pigsy said roughly, earning a glower from the spider demon in turn.

They were inside Pigsy’s noodles, away from prying ears but still in their night clothes. Not that they had time to change. Not when Syntax was immediately interrogated and started explaining, and then Xiaotian had tried explaining over him, and then Macaque just. Revealed everything in one sentence. And that lead to a very tense, very uncomfortable explanation of exactly what was going on.

Xiaotian didn’t tell them Macaque was from the shadow play. Or what he did before than. Only that he was someone he knew through Sun Wukong who had tried to teach him before and wasn’t on good terms with his mentor, which wasn’t exactly a lie. And oddly, Macaque didn’t say anything either.

"Care to tell us exactly what the plan was for dealing with this "immense evil power" you were tricked into assisting at the cost of your entire clan's deaths?" Pigsy continued, brandishing his spoon he was using to make an emergency meal at him.

"Pigsy!" Tang chided with an exasperated look. "We don't know if they're dead."

"Could you maybe stop saying dead please?" Xiaotian asked quietly, curled up at a table in a corner away from the others, so quiet that the only person who seemed to have heard him was Macaque.

They wouldn’t be here having this conversation if MK hadn’t heard Macaque yelling in frustration so he supposed that was a slight victory. If Xiaotian was being honest with himself... he probably wouldn’t have told the others anything about what had happened. You can’t exactly hide a suspiciously familiar monkey and a very familiar spider when the three of you crash land on a roof together.

Going to see what was up let him free the immortal from the draining webbing he was tied up in, and had alerted Syntax to their location. If he hadn’t insisted on going back for the sign and that had not lead Syntax after them.. That would not have lead to the Spider Queen almost, almost, agreeing to work with him, and if he hadn’t grabbed the other at the Spider Queen’s insistence maybe...

“We were attempting to rebuild the mech from new years, if you must know,” Syntax answered haughtily. There was a shaking in his hands that no one pointed out, but Xiaotian could tell at least Pigsy and Macaque picked up on it from their expressions, as he did something with the gadget on his arm. Schematics, bright digital holograms, displayed in the air before them. “It would have worked, I’m positive of that! The White Bone Spirit is powerful, but not unbeatable as she is right now. Unfortunately, even if the Monkey Boy-”

“Kid, but if you’re going to call him the wrong name at least call him a man,” Tang said, a slight glower shining through his glasses.

“Monkie KID,” Syntax corrected himself tersely, returning to look at the schematics with a frown. He looked... genuinely upset as he reviewed them. “Even if he hadn’t interfered by coming for the sign my bots stole from you, we wouldn’t have had enough time or material to finish it before she found us out. It was... inevitable that something like this happen if we couldn’t convince our Queen to leave. And we couldn’t.” Syntax reached up, massaging his head as the hologram dissipated. “And we weren’t going to leave her alone. If only Huntsman had started asking questions sooner...”

At the mention of the eldest spider demon Sandy frowned, something deeply sad that Xiaotian couldn’t quite understand or parse from it. But clearly something had happened between them when he went to get the flower for his hiccups. He hadn’t hid their encounter from them, even if he didn’t tell them exactly what happened.

Syntax on the other hand went quiet, the mention of his comrade seeming to be the last thing to make him need to sit down at the counter and hold his head in his hands. “You know... he was annoying. Always trying to one up me, get the approval of our queen over me. But seeing him like that... and Goliath... they didn’t deserve that. He was good at what he did and I never got to tell him I didn’t actually hate him.”

The room went quiet after that. Xiaojiao moved to sit beside Xiaotian, wrapping her am around his shoulder. Tang stayed sat at the counter across from Syntax, watching him from the side with the barest tilt of his head. Sandy sat at a table away from the others, pulling something out his his pocket and cradling it in his hand. Pigsy continued to cook, more focused on it than he had been before.

And Macaque... Macaque stood in the middle of the room and scowled. Probably because he was so drained from the webbing that if he sat down he looked like he would pass out on the spot.

“There is... one good thing,” Xiaotian said after a moment, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Maybe? I-I was kinda distracted by the, you know. Spiders. Macaque screaming he was going to ‘send WBS to a realm even she can’t escape from when he escapes’, but I passed this room full of stuff...”

That got Syntax’s attention. “What room full of stuff?”

“It had the Trigram Furnace in it,” Xiaotian continued. “And a bunch of other stuff. Like this.” He pulled his hand back out and uncurled up on top of the table, letting his prize gently float down. Bright and golden-orange and as vibrant as the day Sandy had picked the whole thing. “I thought since Huntsman tried so hard to steal it from Sandy it might be important?”

“You stole back the Crimson Jimsonweed!?” Syntax yelled, jumping up and using his spider legs to nearly catapult himself in Xiaotian’s direction. “That... that may have been the most dangerous thing you could have done! And... and the smartest!”

“What?” Xiaotian asked deadpan, looking at the spider in confusion.

“The White Bone Spirit needs that flower petal to finish whatever she is making with the furnace!” Syntax continued, now pacing back and forth between the table, a smile slowly forming on his face. “Without it, she can’t finish it properly! She may be able to try, but there is no guarantee it would work, if she takes the chance and it does work than she will be significantly weakened by the lack of a key ingredient! She-she probably doesn’t even realize it is missing yet! YOU!” He pointed a spider leg in Sandy’s direction, making him jump in surprise. “Huntsman said you were knowledgeable of the flower’s properties, and I know there is a way to make it into a non-tea like medicine. Do you know of it?”

“Y-yes!” Sandy said after a moment of surprise. “It’s not hard to make, I could make it with what Pigsy’s got.”

“Good, make it immediately before she realizes,” Syntax continued, smirking. “She needs that petal whole and in tact. If you can break it down and make multiple small doses of medicine out of it-”

“Then she wouldn’t be able to use it because it wouldn’t be enough and what is left would be contaminated by the other ingredients!” Sandy finished, jumping up and rushing to the back of the shop. “PIGSY I’M USING YOUR SUPPLY CABINET!”

“What the hell is happening?” Pigsy asked in confusion, looking around.

“Your Monkey Man accidentally figured out the best way to mess up everything that was being planned,” Macaque said with a smirk, nodding in Xiaotian’s direction. “Gotta say, Kid, I’m impressed.”

“Wait, won’t this WBS person figure out what happened?” Xiaojiao spoke up. “She probably won’t be happy about it, she’d probably going to come after it!”

“....so we leave,” Xiaotian said, looking to everyone. “Maybe not all of us, but some of us should leave the city, stay in the forest or the desert so that if she does come back for it no one else will get hurt. Besides...” he smiled, finally, kind of sheepish. “I, uh.. think we should maybe stop squashing the city when we train. I think the neighbors are starting to get annoyed.“

“I think... that’s an excellent idea,” Pigsy said with a smile, taking his finished soup off the stove. “And you ain’t leavin me behind!”

“Or me!” Tang spoke up, turning in his chair to smile at Xiaotian as well.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE AGREEING TO BUT I’M IN!” Shouted Sandy from the back.

“And you know your girl is not getting left behind!” Xiaojiao laughed, pulling Xiaotian into a proper hug.

“Great, a whole gang,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking to the everyone before smirking in Xiaotian’s direction. “I know you’re not gonna let me just walk away, so I guess I’m stuck with you. But remember how I told you that you couldn't have too many teachers? That offer’s still open.”

“Tomorrow,” Xiaotian said firmly, more serious than his friends had ever probably heard him before. “We can start tomorrow. Real training, no tricks.”

The answer seemed to genuinely shock the immortal monkey, his un-glamored eyes wide in surprise. “Uh... ok. Tomorrow it is. No tricks.”

If everyone was confused by what they meant they didn’t say anything.

Syntax, moved back to the counter, tapping his hands and fingers against it in nervous energy. “I supposed I am stuck with you, after all my Queen said to go with you, and I can give you any information you need. Help with tech. That sort of thing.”

“As long as you don’t steal my dang sign again,” Pigsy scowled, depositing a bowl in front of the spider. He looked at it with suspicion, like he didn’t trust it to not be poisoned, much the way he looked at Pigsy in turn. “Or I’ll be the one squashin ya.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Syntax countered, his bright tone betrayed the severe lack of threat he felt at the other’s words. His glower though...

“Don’t worry about him,” Macaque said with a laugh, gesturing to Syntax. “You see that death glare means he likes you.”

“I DO NOT!” Syntax protested quickly and sharply, turning back and grabbing the bowl of soup and shoving a spoonful of noodles in his mouth before pausing. He said nothing, just looked down at the bowl before proceeding to devour it like a starving man who had been trapped on a desert island for weeks.

And for a moment everything seemed hopeful again.

It was the first time Xiaotian felt like this in a long time. He just didn’t expect it after revealing his secrets and with two of his enemies in the same room.

As they left to get on Sandy’s drone an hour later, full and ready to get more sleep after landing, Xiaotian couldn’t help but notice that Macaque stood father back from everyone else. Masked in shadow at times but still close enough for him to be seen. Syntax, on the other hand, seemed to have situated himself between Pigsy and Tang, talking to the scholar and the chef spiritedly about his recipes and the science of gastronomy (did this guy just know random stuff?). Which was weird, but at least they weren’t fighting.

Things felt... like maybe they could be alright.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #this au will be named eventually #gen fic #prompt fill #ensemble cast #i already have a lot planned for this actually #I wrote an entire outline for how the finale could still kind of go down in a slightly different way #also i have a crackship planned for this and no one can stop me

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

--------------

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap.

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?”

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more.

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic.

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.”

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to.

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that.

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.”

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.”

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching.

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.”

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.”

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list.

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.”

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.”

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face.

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.”

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together.

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge.

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it.

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain.

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?”

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch.

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.”

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels.

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you.

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?”

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip.

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him.

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.”

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch.

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again.

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew.

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later.

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made.

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.”

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it?

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy.

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Text

This is my first collab fic and I could not be more excited! I'm so thankful that I can be part of the group!

The AU for this month was Sex Work. The Masterlist for this collab can be found here. Please take some time to check out everyone's contributions! There are other fics and amazing art!

That being said here is my fic, big BIG shout out to @doinmybesthere for being an amazing beta reader and sweet angel bb. ily Emme!

Please please please read the warnings. They are there for a reason!

Warnings: consensual noncon, mentions of being burnt, stabbing and blood; no prep penetration, disrespectful use of the word "whore", blackmail, psychological abuse?, Mineta (nuff said) he gets what's comin to him

You’re in the doctor’s office getting a regular checkup when you overhear the nurses in the station next to you talking.

“Look! They posted the new hero rankings today.”

“I forgot those were today, too bad they can’t have the conference during the pandemic. I miss seeing Deku all cute and blushing.”

“FUCK” In your brief moment of panic you forgot where you were. You cringe and look at the nurses, trying your best not to look like you were gonna be sick. “Sorry ladies, didn’t mean to yell.” No point in offering an explanation. You wouldn’t be able to tell them anything anyway.

As you very impatiently wait for your blood results to come back you check the tacky red cell phone you have to keep with you at all times. You had put it on silent since you were in the doctor’s office and you were glad you did. Taking a quick look at your screen had your stomach dropping into your ass.

M.M: Gonna move my appointment up to today.

M.M: You better get ready. I’m not happy.

M.M: I’m sure you saw the postings. Number 36.

M.M: I made sure to pay for any accidents in advance.

M.M: I’ll see you tonight.

Why does he have to be so fucking horrible? Accidents my ass.

The messages make your skin crawl, you should have figured the hero rankings would piss him off but honestly you never paid enough attention. With a heavy sigh you opened up your web browser and pull up the list.

“Number 36...number 36…. Number 36…” When you finally reached the hero you were looking for, you let out a sigh.

Hero Ranking Number 36: The Rainy Season Hero Froppy

Well at least you had her outfit already, for some reason she was one your client asked for a lot. Not that you wanted to ask him why, not with the way his black eyes looked whenever he saw you dressed up like her.

I don’t know if I should feel glad that he isn’t actually taking this out on her. Or upset that I’ve had to deal with this for months.

“L/N, Y/N?” The doctor walks up holding their clipboard and closing the privacy screen. Your file almost too much for the metal clip at the top. “Your test results came back negative and your burns seem to have healed very well. I would tell you that any strenuous activity should be avoided but we both know you can’t do that.”

Their poor attempt at humor had your stomach rolling. “Haha anyways Doc, I think I’m gonna need another medkit to take home today. I can schedule my next appointment online, right?”

You can’t handle the thinly veiled pity in their eyes and look down, reaching over to your side to grab your purse. You hear them moving around and a dark blue plastic box is put on your lap.

“If I remember correctly this is your favorite color, right? You are able schedule an appointment online but if you would like I can schedule it for you. How about in two days? Afternoon work for you?”

You look up after clutching the kit to your chest, you know they are just trying to be nice. All of the nurses are especially nice to you and as endearing as it might be to some people, to you it just feels dirty.

“Afternoon is perfect, thanks Doc.” You get up and walk towards the privacy screen. Before leaving you stop for a moment “Blue ismy favorite color.”

As you make your way back to your living quarters you scroll through the internet looking at every picture of the Pro-Hero Froppy you can find. Your quirk can project a person’s desires onto your body by reading them in their eyes. It’s easier when the person has a clear view of what or who they want. However, your client’s desires are such a jumbled mess that it’s easier if you know what it is beforehand.

Hopefully, I can act like her enough that I don’t have to look at his desires this time. I can’t stand how disgusting they make me feel.

You pass by a few familiar faces on your way back to your rooms but don’t pay them any mind. They in turn leave you alone, most of them knowing that when you have that look on your face you were in a mood.When you first were offered a position at the brothel you thought it would be easy money. You had been stripping for several years, known for how you looked different to everyone who saw your dancing. The beautiful, enchanting, flexible Erised. You had built up your quirks ability to be able to project almost a full clubs worth of desires. Sure, it caused extreme fatigue and chronic migraines but the money you raked in was well worth it.

A few months ago

After an especially successful night a patron walks up to you after you leave the stage.

“I have a job opportunity for you, courtesy of my employer.” He hands you a card you read “Heroes Consulting Agency” in bold silver letters.

“I’m a stripper hun, not sure I can do the type of consulting you’re looking for.” You go to hand it back, but they put their hand up.

“I’m afraid I must insist, why don’t we treat you to lunch and you can listen to our proposal?”

You put your hand back down and study them. They are dressed in a white button up with a vest, definitely out of place in a strip club. You would look in their eyes, but they didn’t really have any, their whole body seemed to be made of dark smoke. You don’t work in the nicest of places so someone with their kind of full body quirk isn’t unusual.

“Alright, I give. I’m not really one to pass up free food.” The rational side of your brain is telling you that you have more than enough money to buy your own food but the stingy part telling you to take it while you can is a little louder.

“Excellent choice Miss Erised. Someone will meet you at the address on that card tomorrow at around 5pm? Should give you enough time to recover from the side effects of your quirk.” They give a slight bow and walk off towards the exit, a large something getting up from a seat and following closely behind.

Sam, one of the waitresses walks up to you with a tray filled with drinks. Her normally short stature elevated with high heeled leather boots. “Did you know that person Y/N?”

Oh man, I do not have the energy for this.

You turn to her and survey the tray before grabbing something that looked like a fruity cocktail. “No, but they offered me a job. Gonna go have lunch with them tomorrow.” Sipping from the glass you tuck the card into your bra, making sure to not show it to the girl.

“That’s weird, don’t they know you’re a stripper? What is someone dressed that nicely want to hire you for? Also did that person look familiar to you or is that just me?” Any normal person wouldn’t be able to keep up with her unending questions, but you had known her for years. The tray in her hands tips dangerously to the left but she balances it out without a second thought.

Guess she does have to be quick on her toes to be a waitress at a strip club.

“They were here for my dance so yes they do know, either way I’m getting free food so…”

She huffs, aware of your attitude for anything “free”.

You finish the drink and place the empty glass back taking a couple bills from your bag and tucking them into her apron.

“Thanks for the drink Sam, but I gotta leave before my headache hits.” You walk off before she can say anything further. You really wanna be nice to her but her endless energy really gets on your nerves sometimes.

By the time you make it to your modest apartment, you can feel the pain starting behind your eyes. You drop your stuff by the door without turning on any lights and walk to the box safe hidden in the kitchen. After you make sure all the money is secure you grab a glass of water and head to the bedroom. The bottle of pain killers already set out on your nightstand. You should really take a shower but for now, you strip down, take a few pills, drink the whole glass of water, and lay down. It takes a while for the pills to kick in but once they do you finally fall asleep.

When you finally wake up the next morning your headache is gone, and you have to piss like no one’s business. You grumble as you stretch your tight sore muscles and get up to go to the bathroom. After taking care of business, you get into some light clothes and walk into the kitchen to make some food. Thankfully, you had some leftover rice and spam in the fridge, so you pop that in the microwave. You put the kettle on for some green tea and down another glass of water as it heats up.

Remembering the offer from yesterday and the promise of free food you pad over to your pile of things by the door and grab their card. It’s sleek looking with a plain black background and silver lettering. The address isn’t something you recognize right away so you look it up on your phone.

“What the fuck?” Why is this place in a business park?

You scroll down and check the street view; the building is a high rise surrounded by a mostly empty parking lot. The entrance of the building is blurred, probably to keep the privacy of anyone entering or exiting.

“Well, I guess it’s a nice gig. Better dress the part.” Or maybe you’re gonna get murdered.

“Wow, I really have to stop watching all those true crime shows.” You put the card in your wallet and head back to the kitchen. The microwave beeps and the kettle whistles shortly after. When you’re done eating you put the dishes in the sink to soak and head to the bathroom to finally take a shower.

By the time you have finished showering the whole bathroom is filled with steam and your body has a pink flush to it. You open the door to air it out and finish cleaning up for the day. Your outfit consists of your nicest jeans with ankle boots, a long sleeve blouse and a dark cardigan. You grab one of your smaller over the shoulder purses and leave your apartment.

One of the things you allowed yourself to really splurge on was a car. Public transportation was not as reliable as it could be and with your hours not the safest either.

By the time you make it to the building the sun is starting to set, giving the sky beautiful pink to blue coloring. As you park and get out of your car a young woman walks up to you.

“Welcome Miss Erised! Please follow me and I will escort you through the building.” The woman’s blonde hair is in two messy buns, her face childlike. Her voice was high pitched enough to grate on your nerves a bit, but you ignored it.

As you follow the person through the lobby you take a glance around. Looks like a high-end hotel lobby. There is a front desk area with a marble counter top, women that are dressed in matching button ups with their hair up in buns or ponytails. Random potted plants and small trees dot the area, and a nice chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. No one besides the women at the front desk are in the area.

“Doesn’t seem to be busy right now.” You didn’t even really mean for her to hear you, but she did, and you sounded like an asshole.

They turn their head slightly with a knowing smirk. “It would seem that way wouldn’t it?”

Conversation halts while you stand in the elevator which you were thankful for. They had chosen a floor close to the middle of the building, which gave you just enough time to rethink your life choices.

By the time you got to your floor you are tired of the silence. Normally you hate small talk, but you figured you would give it a shot. “Do you like your job?”

The woman turns to you and smiles, here canines peeking out a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “It keeps me busy, plus I get to make so many friends.” The gleam in her eyes flashes menacingly for a quick second, you decide to pretend you didn’t see it.

As you get to the end of the hall, she opens a door and gestures you inside, closing it behind you. There is a nice desk to the left of the door, other than that the room is sparce. The person sitting in the chair has quite an eclectic look about him. Grey hair parted to the side, shrew eyes behind circular wire rimmed glasses, a gold chain peeks out from the slightly open white button up with a purple blazer. He reeks of cigarette smoke the evidence of his habit tossed into the half-filled ash tray on the desk.

“So nice of you to join me Miss Y/N. Why don’t you have a seat, we can talk about your new position.” He gestures to the only other chair a smirk on his face that shows of his missing tooth.

“I haven’t accepted the job yet Giran, and I thought I told you I don’t want to work for you.” You aren’t used to seeing him in this type of place. But you do know him so there is no need to put on a show. You lean back in the chair and cross your arms.

“How rude of me, you won’t be working for me, but I have been given authority to hire for this company.”

You don’t bat an eye; most large companies use outside help for hiring. “What is this position you would like offer me?”

“This company provides heroes with a way to alleviate their… desires in a safe and discrete way.”

“So, you hire prostitutes for heroes to have sex without worrying about anyone telling the press about it.”

“That is correct.”

“I don’t know if your just stupid or if you forgot but I’m a stripper not a hooker.” You sit up in your chair fully ready to leave the room.

“They would provide you with a fully furnished apartment, medical coverage with 24/7 access to their fully trained medical staff. Any cash given to you by your clients you can keep, however they would take a percentage out of the money they initially pay for your services.”

“Let’s say I’m a little interested, how much is the initial pay for my services?” You want to deny the offer, nothing wrong with having sex for money but it isn’t really your thing.

Giran doesn’t answer right away, instead putting out what is left of his cigarette only to pull another one out of his blazer and lighting it up. “The starting hourly rate is $2,500 an hour, they would take 30 percent from that.”

Holy shit, that’s as much as I make in a day and I would be making it an hour? You keep your face neutral but something in your eyes must have tipped him off.

“You would start tomorrow; most clients keep a contract with their favorite employee and we actually have someone lined up for you already. He has extremely specific tastes and you are the perfect person to fill in.”

“I’ll have to talk to the club owner; would it be possible to start later?” You don’t want to seem to eager, especially not in front of him.

“I don’t see that as a problem, they can give you one week but that’s it.”

You stay silent, making it look like you’re thinking about it. After a moment you lean forward in your chair and stick your hand out. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Giran grabs you hand and gives it a firm shake. “If you ever need help or have any questions call the number on the card. Now I believe you were offered dinner, let me take you to one of my favorite places.”

You let his hand go and rise from the chair. As Giran comes around the desk and walks towards the door, he stops for a moment and turns to you. “Welcome to the team.”

Dinner was actually genuinely nice; the food was good, and you were able to have a comfortable conversation with Giran. Of course, he didn’t tell you anything about himself, but you had no problems with that, you didn’t wanna share anything to personal about yourself either. He dropped you back off at your car after dinner and shook your hand again before driving off.

By the time you got home you had decided what you were gonna tell the club owner and mentally packed your apartment. Not wanting to take all of your things you moved most of it to a secure storage facility. Having had it for a few years already in order to store the overabundance of clothes you owned.

After the week was up you had quit your job and packed all of your belongings. You realize you don’t know where you are supposed to go so you pull out the card and call the number.

“Hello, how can I assist you?”

“Giran never told me where I would be moving my stuff to. Could you give me the address?” You pick at your nails while waiting for him to answer.

“Of course, Miss Erised. Will you be needing any assistance for your move?”

He sounds so polite; I wonder if he is always like this.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own thank you.”

He gives you the address and let you know that you can call if you need any additional information.

“Good luck Miss Erised.”

When you get back to your apartment you immediately go into the shower and wash up, using the tea tree oil that Froppy had said she uses in an interview.

I don’t understand how people can like this stuff, but he gets easier to handle if I smell like those women.

When you are done you towel dry your hair and make sure to lotion your whole body. When your hair is dry enough you straighten it and leave it down. He likes it better when its down.

You go to your closet and rifle through until finding the very skimpy version of Froppys hero costume. All it really has in common with the original is the tan harness and the green with black and yellow stripes. Otherwise, it is a one-piece bikini without a crotch. You grab your black leather over the knee boots and get dressed. After checking the time, you give yourself a moment to mentally prepare.

I hate this, I hate him. Disgusting filthy little bug. A false hero, a plague. I can’t wait to leave this place.

Standing in the middle of your room you close your eyes and take deep breaths, allowing your consciousness to drift. You have found that the best way to endure these sessions is to detach yourself from the situation. Only focusing on the absolute necessary and maintaining the effects of your quirk. Giving yourself another minute to get into character you walk to the door joining your apartment to the “service room”.

Thankfully, he hasn’t shown up yet, you shut the door hearing the lock click into place, the door seamlessly vanishing into the wall. Sitting on the edge of the bed you face the door that Mineta will walk through and wait.

No matter how many times we do this I never lose the feeling of wanting to vomit while bathing in bleach.

When he walks in you see that he is wearing his hero costume, as atrocious as it is. He never really deviated from the original design. You immediately start your performance.

“Mineta? What am I doing here? kero” You clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look around frightfully.

“Hello Tsu, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He walks up, taking off his gloves and throwing them to the side.

“I don’t understand, do you know where- “Your sentence is cut off, pain in your cheek sharp and hot.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk Miss thirty sixth hero.” He stands there with his hand still up as you cup your cheek and look up at him, the tears in your eyes real. He pulls his hand back again as if to slap you and you flinch.

“Good girl, now finish taking off my outfit for me.” Mineta walks back a few steps and holds his arms out. Your fingers are clumsy as you take it of piece by piece.

Mineta abruptly grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. You grab his hand with both of yours trying to ease his grip.

“Do you think if you do it slow enough, I’ll get bored and go away?” He pulls harder. “Huh? You really think you’re gonna get out of this don’t you.” He tosses you towards the bed and you scramble to get back on your feet.

The tears in your eyes have started to spill over and you start babbling. “Please let me go Mineta, I don’t know what I did but please pleasejust forgive me kero. I won’t tell anyone about this just please don’t hurt me kero.”

He doesn’t answer you, just finishes taking off his outfit before he is walking towards you again, a vicious gleam in his beady eyes.

You back up until the back of your legs hits the bed. You open your mouth to speak but before you can utter a single word, he slaps you again.

“I told you not to speak unless I told you to once already. Now I’m gonna have to punish you, aren’t I?” He shoves you onto the bed and follows, using his knees to push your legs open he sits up and gives himself a few pumps.” No need to prep you, I want this to hurt.”

You are sobbing at this point, your hands covering your face when you feel him push into you. A scream rips out of your throat and you reach forward to push him away.

“You know Tsu, these meetups have been the best. I’m thinking next time I will find the REAL you and have even more fun.” He closes his eyes a leans his head back, fully immersed in only getting himself off.

To engrossed in his own world, he doesn’t realize that you have gone still. Your tears have stopped, and you have pulled your hands back from him.

DISGUSTING

“Find the real me?”

VILE

You break character, bringing your full consciousness back. You voice is just a whisper at first, so he doesn’t hear you, doesn’t stop thrusting.

FALSE HERO

“Find the REAL me?!” You are screaming at him now.

He finally stops, hearing you the second time. For a second you see fear in his eyes before they fill with rage.

MONSTER

“Hey! You better start doing the job I paid you for, I don’t come here for you to question me.” He lifts his hand up, as if to slap you again. Before his hand comes down you grab it, squeezing until he yelps in pain.

This job is over, he isn’t worth keeping around anymore.

“You think I give a shit about a little piss ant like you?!” As you sit up, he yanks his arm away and pulls out of you. Stumbling back, he starts shaking a finger in your direction.

“You can’t talk to me like that! You’re just a whore!”

You dart forward before he can put more distance between you and grab him by the neck. As you pick him up you snarl and let your quirk fade away.

“I may be a whore but I not a monster like you. You are just a fake hero, a plague on this world and I will get rid of every single one of you.” You throw him onto the ground still holding on to his neck and squeeze.

“In other news, Minoru Mineta also known as the pro hero Grape Juice has gone missing after several videos of him have gone viral. He was last seen leaving a brothel that has requested to remain nameless. The videos contain triggering scenes of the pro hero having relations with a prostitute while she is dressed in various hero suits the resemble his old female classmates. He even refers to them by name. The videos contain triggering images, and it is recommended to not seek them out. The original videos have since been taken down but are reuploaded onto the internet on several other sites. The prostitute shown in the videos has also gone missing. Any information on the whereabouts- “

The T.V. turns off, the voice of the news anchor no longer filling the dimly lit bar. The people present remain silent for a moment before a man with burns all over his body starts to laugh.

“You could have really fucked that up Doll. Good thing we got enough evidence.” You sneer at him, making sure you change your appearance to match your own desire. He flinches when he sees his own face.

“I wish you had cut him! There wasn’t enough blood to keep his appearance up for awfully long!” The young woman with two messy blond buns in her hair twirls a knife around.

“I’m terribly sorry Toga, but I didn’t have anything sharp with me.” You pick at your nails and look over at Kurogiri, who is busy pouring a glass of whiskey for Dabi. “Do I get a break after this one or do you and boss man have another gig for me?”

#lillith masterlist #lillith writes #lilliths writing

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

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“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

#marvel #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x original female character #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Duplicitous

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, oral, cuckolding), deception.

This is dark!Loki and ft. some Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Loki is new to the team but receives a cool welcome from those at the Avengers compound. Assigned to complete his orientation, you try to start anew with the former villain of New York.

Note: Still working on Omerta and From Eden. Tbh, the last week has been a tough one mentally but I’m working on that. I’ve also been all over the place helping my mother get settled after moving to town. Whatever, life is life. Thanks to all your wonderful people.

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

It was a long morning. Much of it had been spent with Tony and as any other meeting with the man, it swung between amiability and antagonism. It was easy to guess why he was agitated as he was determined to thrust the crux of his displeasure upon you. Tony was never one to just roll over and he held a grudge well, but he wasn’t heartless and Thor was one of his best.

It was only unfortunate that the Asgardian had deemed himself a package deal. If his home was to be Earth, it wouldn’t be his brother’s too. Loki was different now, he sought redemption, to right his wrongs. It was a hard sell but the god was relentless and as usual, he prevailed.

“I want you to make this hell,” Tony’s words echoed in your head as you flipped through the workplace standards binder. “You are going to go through this with a fine tooth comb until that jackass can’t take anymore.”

These things were never easy. Going over protocol, safety regulations, workplace behaviour and etiquette. Usually you did your best to condense it all to make it more palatable; as much for you as the new hires. Now Tony wanted you to torture this man via dry ordinances as he wasn’t allowed to do so physically. The boss wouldn’t sign off until he was sure Loki suffered, though you were just as certain Tony had no plans to sign off on anything.

You checked the clock, it was almost noon already. You’d set up the conference room for your first session. The binders and files stacked neatly on one end as you sat in the middle.

You rose and looked through the transparent wall. Pepper’s heels raced by as she hurried to Tony’s office with her phone at her ear. The usual chaos of the tower.

You stepped out into the hall and made your way to the kitchen and popped a capsule in the machine before you found a mug. You added water to the machine and listened to the whir as it spat orange pekoe from its nozzle. You hated the little pods of leaves but you didn’t have time to wait on the kettle. You added a touch of milk and checked your watch before you stole one of the scones left in the box Pepper had strolled in with that morning.

You cradled the crummy scone in a paper towel and as you neared the conference room, you found a broad pair of shoulders awaiting you. You had still not grown used to Thor’s lack of hair. Loki’s dark head appeared just on the other side of him and your dread sank into your stomach.

“Hey,” You approached. “Just in time.”

“My lady!” Thor boomed as he turned to greet you. “How are you?”

“Well, and you?” You couldn’t help but smile. “How is the city treating you so far?”

“We have seen many things,” He announced. “Many delicious foods.”

Loki was silent, his eyes dull as he resisted rolling them at his brother.

“And are you doing more exploring today?” You wondered.

“Eh, I gotta see Tony but I figured I’d see Loki in for his first day,” He lowered his voice. “I told him to behave.”

“I can hear you,” Loki grumbled.

“Yes, well you already know I told you to behave,” Thor said. “So… behave.”

“Yes, mother,” Loki replied snidely.

Thor huffed and shook his head.

“I fear I’ve set him into a mood already,” Thor said. “I apologize.”

Loki blinked in exasperation but said nothing.

“Well, I guess we should begin and you should see Tony sooner than later,” You offered. “He called for the jet so he might not be here much longer.”

“Thank you,” Thor clapped your shoulder. “I promise, he has changed.”

You nodded and gave a weak smile. Thor left you and you turned to Loki. He stared at you a moment then his eyes drifted to the transparent door.

“Allow me,” He pushed the door inward and stepped inside to let you past.

You looked down at your full hands and thanked him as you entered. You set your mug and scone down but didn’t touch them. You had hoped to enjoy them before his arrival but for once, Thor was timely. Or perhaps that was Loki’s doing. He seemed the more stringent of the two.

“Loki,” You waved to the chair across from you. “Nice to meet you.”

“Again,” He neared slowly and grabbed the back of the chair. “Did you forget?”

“A brief meeting, yes,” You said. “But I’ve been told you weren’t yourself.”

He sat carefully and leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I remember it though,” He assured you.

“I tend to remember other events that day a little more clearly,” You countered.

“Mmm,” His brow twitched. “Yes, you Midgardians do cling to the more extreme details of my last visit.”

You wanted to scoff. Your last meeting had very nearly killed you. As creatures flew upon strange machines outside the windows of Stark Tower and buildings were decimated, you had caught a piece of shrapnel as one of the invaders crashed through the windows. You still wore the scar across your side; still remembered the god behind Tony’s bar, lecturing you upon your inferiority.

“This is a new start,” You slid a binder over to him. “Though not an exciting one.”

His fingers tapped on the blue cover as you opened your own and took a sip of your tea.

“What is this?” He opened his slowly.

“The rules,” You answered. “Combat regulations, mission protocol, office standards… the fun stuff.”

“And did my brother have to sit through this tripe?” He asked.

“Your brother didn’t try to invade New York,” You said sharply. “And Tony likes him.”

“Ah, Stark,” He smirked. “Of course.”

“Did you want a tea? Anything to drink?” You asked.

His eyes flicked up and he considered you. “Very kind, but I’d rather we just begin.”

“Right,” You looked down and took a breath. “Probably best.”

🐍

The clock at the end of the room read past six. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. All the little quizzes and evaluations Tony had tacked on were taking a lot longer than you expected. Loki looked just as uninterested though he read along all the same and had yet to falter.

You sniffed and leaned back in your chair.

“Ready to call it a day?” You asked.

“Up to you,” He said coolly. “To be honest, it has been slightly preferable to my brother’s grating presence. Slightly.”

“He’s not that bad,” You chuckled.

“He’s not your brother,” Loki countered. “Have you ever had the pleasure of eating with him? It’s disgusting.”

You held back another laugh and shook your head. Your eyes caught a figure on the other side of the clear wall. Steve squinted through and pointed at Loki with a tilt of his head. You blinked and shrugged. Loki noticed and glanced over his shoulder.

“Ah,” He slowly turned back. “The golden avenger has returned.”

“Well…” You tapped your fingers on the table. “I am, uh, late.”

“Late?” He raised his brows.

Steve went to the door and opened it carefully.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He poked his head in. But I’ve been, uh…” He looked at Loki warily. “Texting you.”

“We were just finishing up,” You assured him.

“Hello, Captain,” Loki pivoted his chair.

“Steve,” The other man corrected. “Thanks.”

“Ah,” Loki’s mouth twitched and he looked between the two of you. He stood up and turned back to you. “I didn’t realise. I shall see myself out.”

“We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Same time,” You said.

“I look forward to it,” He said dryly.

Loki took the black jacket he’d slung over the back of his chair halfway through your session and nodded at Steve as he slipped past him. He strode along the wall and offered a two finger wave before he disappeared. Steve watched him with hands on his hips.

“What--”

“You haven’t talked to Tony?”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” Steve turned to you. “He didn’t--”

“Oh, you guys need to calm down,” You rolled your eyes. “He was perfectly… tame.”

You pulled out your phone and saw several notifications from Steve, along with a few emails. One was marked with a red exclamation which deemed it urgent and you opened it up. You glossed through it quickly.

“Steve,” You looked up. “You didn’t?--”

“It was Bucky too,” He said evasively. “We were just doing our job.”

“You collapsed a bridge,” You frowned. “Why is it always you?”

“No casualties,” He pleaded.

“Only me,” You scowled. “I’ll be buried in the paperwork.”

He lowered his chin guiltily. He neared shyly as you packed up your bag.

“How can I ever make it up to you?” He touched your arm.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you collected your mug and half-eaten scone.

“Cheesecake?” He smiled.

“You can’t buy me with dessert,” You brushed past him and he followed you out into the hall.

“Really?” He said. “I know you like a little whip cream on top.” You entered the kitchen and rinsed out the cup and placed it in the rack. “But… we could try it on something else.”

You faced him and fought not to smirk. You shook your head.

“So the cheesecake is… foreplay?”

“Part of it,” He got closer and his hand settled on your hip.

“Hmm,” You hummed as his lips hovered over yours. “Strawberry cheesecake?”

“My favourite,” He purred and kissed you.

🐍

The next day, you found Loki waiting in the conference room. You had spent your morning trying to clean up after the super soldiers. You pushed through the clear door and rounded the table as you greeted Loki.

“You’re early,” You said as you took your seat. The binders were as they had been the day before.

“All the better to get this over with,” He said as you sat and rolled your chair closer to the table.

“You know, I am starting to think it would be a lot easier if you and Tony just had it out,” You opened the binder. “Well, easier for me.”

Loki snickered and flipped through his own binder.

“You and the golden boy,” He ventured as you found the right page. “Adorable.”

You glanced up at him and furrowed your brow. You cleared your throat and looked back to the pages.

“So, we were going over required training.” You said.

“Is that allowed in your little Midgardian handbook?” He prodded.

“We will cover that,” You assured him. “Not that I think you need to worry about it.”

“Hmm, no,” He mused. “I wouldn’t.”

You sat back and sighed.

“It might be easier if you at least tried to make friends here,” You said.

“Friends?” He lifted a brow. “Who should I start with? Stark? Oh, I’m sure he’d be open to a little reconciliation. Or maybe Rogers? Hmm? He really seems the forgiving type. Or that little redhead thing? She seems peaceable.”

“You could begin with me,” You offered. “I’m not here to provoke you.”

He blinked and shifted in his chair.

“Have I been unkind?” He wondered.

“Not exactly,” You answered. “But not everything needs to be a… snipe.”

He considered you and his hand spread over the binder.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” He said evenly. “I bear you no hostility, though perhaps I do owe you an apology.”

“Apology?” You echoed.

“Regardless of the circumstance, I said what I said that day, it was cruel and there is no excuse,” He said. “You were wounded and I would have watched you die. It might have been a different version of me, but it was me. I apologise.”

“You don’t have to--” You touched your side without thinking. “Thank you.”

“And I will do my best to withhold my contempt. You do not deserve it.”

You were a bit shocked by his candour. You pressed your lips together and straightened the binder in front of you.

“That’s a good start,” You said. “So, now that’s cleared up…”

“What page was it?” He nodded and looked to his binder. He leaned it against the edge of the table as his eyes roved over the tight font.

🐍

The rest of the week went much the same. However, Tony’s plan to chip away at Loki seemed not to be working as your patience wore away and the Asgardian remained ever stoic. He was almost amused as he humoured your Midgardian codes.

Your weekend was well earned but didn’t allow for much rest. Steve was due to leave again that week so you had to squeeze what time you could out of him. It could be a couple days, or a week, or two. He could never really say and you never expected him to. You knew how it was when you got into the relationship.

All the while, you tried to catch up on the work delayed by Tony’s pointless ploy to drive Loki out. You hated that he had chosen you for this though you doubted he’d trust any other to do so.

On Monday, Loki was late. You were surprised. He had always been annoyingly early. You texted Steve and he replied with a heart emoji. The door whisked open and had your phone face down on the table. Loki sat heavily across from you, a scrape across his forehead and a split in his lip. His cheek was slightly swollen beneath his eye but he seemed barely fazed by his injuries.

“Oh my god,” You said. “What happened to you?”

“Training,” He smiled and hissed as the gesture pulled at the cut. “My brother… got a bit carried away.”

“And how does he look?”

“To the detriment of my pride, better than I do,” He said. “I did try to restrain myself, though my tongue does not obey me as well as my body.”

“Let me get you some ice,” You stood.

“Really, I’m fine.” He insisted.

“You’re bleeding.” You said as blood began to trickle from the split in his lip.

“I thought I’d stemmed it,” He reached up. “Forgive my lateness.”

“That’s the last thing I’m worried about,” You scoffed. “One second.”

You went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and the first aid kit from beneath the counter. You returned to Loki and set your wares down. You flipped open the metal box and grabbed an alcohol wipe.

“Did you clean the cuts at least?” You asked.

“I can handle it,” He assured you.

“Sorry, sorry,” You flicked the packet. “I sound just like my mother right now.”

“I do appreciate it though.”

He took the little paper packet and tore it open. He blindly wiped the cut along his hairline and that on his lip. You offered him some gauze and he thanked you before he pressed it to his lip. When the blood slowed, he grabbed the ice pack and held it to his cheek.

He stood and you quickly backed away as he tossed his mess in the bin. You packed up the kit as he sat again.

“Thank you,” He said again and you pushed aside the metal box.

“You know, it’s not too uncommon to have a bloody lip here,” You rounded the table and sat across from him. “You good though?”

“Very,” He said with a slight smirk. “I have been anticipating this section most fervently.” He opened the file before him. “Office etiquette. I suppose I am sorely lacking in that.”

You almost laughed at his quip. He wasn’t so cold as that first day and you no longer saw the villainous invader before you. You saw someone wildly out of place. For a moment, you felt bad for him. The glimmer in his eyes quickly smothered it and you wondered for a moment. This was Loki; he could more than handle himself.

🐍

Steve showed up only a couple hours later and waved at you through the glass. He had his bag. He was leaving. You tried not to stutter as you continued reading through the clauses before you and Loki seemed barely bothered by your momentary lapse. You swept a paper out of another folder.

“So, another pop quiz,” You said sourly. “While you fill that out, I’ll just excuse myself for a moment.”

“Very well,” He accepted and played with the pen.

“Ten minutes.” You promised as you stood and slid the paper to him.

He nodded and looked dully at the sheet. You hurried around the table and out into the hall. Steve retreated and you followed so you could not be seen through the transparent wall.

“Going?” You asked glumly.

“I shouldn’t be long. It’s an easy in and out.” He rubbed your arm.

“Oh? And who’s going with you?” You asked.

“Um, Sam,” He said.

“Ha, sure, easy,” You kidded.

“And what about him?” Steve nodded to the conference room. “How long’s this gonna take?”

“Well, with all Tony’s bookmarks, probably the rest of my life,” You grumbled.

“Gee,” He frowned. “I don’t envy you.”

“Rub it in,” You huffed. “I’ll miss you.”

“You too,” He leaned in to kiss you.

Your lips met and you grabbed onto his shoulder. You wanted to kiss him forever just to make him stay. But he had to go and you had to get back to work.

“While interoffice relationships are permitted so long as the proper legal protocol is followed, open displays of affection are prohibited as they are unprofessional and unseemly in the workplace and may lead to discomfort of others.” Loki’s voice cut through the air.

You pulled away from Steve and looked to him aghast. You heard Steve sigh and he hitched his duffle up on his arm. Loki held up the paper and grinned.

“Sorry to interrupt but I finished and… well, I think I’ve learned a lot,” He taunted.

“Apparently,” You turned back to Steve as he glared at Loki. “Sorry, I gotta go but… let me know when you can that you’re safe.”

“Of course,” He tore his eyes from Loki. “I love you.”

“You too,” You patted his chest. “See ya.”

“Yeah,” He shook his head and shot Loki one last sneer. “Bye.”

You watched Steve go and turned back to Loki. You hid your irritation and neared to take his paper.

“Thanks,” You said as you swept back into the conference room.

You sat and checked his work. Perfect, as ever. You were certain he didn’t care about any of this but he never wavered. You added it to the pile and looked up at him. He leaned back in his chair coolly.

“Did I pass, teacher?” He teased.

“Why did you do that?” You asked.

“Just practicing my learning,” He smirked.

You shook your head at him and flipped the page.

“Moving on,” You said.

“Must be difficult. Being apart so much.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” You said. “It’s personal.”

“Apologies,” He said. “I was only attempting small talk.”

“It’s okay,” You said. “I just… to be quite honest, I’m cursing Tony as much as you probably are.”

🐍

Another week of tedium and you were ready to tap out. And you were further irritated that Loki showed no sign of distress. He was just as cool as ever as you went through the ridiculous mandates. Just as irksome as you glanced at your phone between sections. His curious, almost taunting eyes, lit up along with your screen.

But you kept on and on Friday, you let him leave a full twenty minutes early. You stayed another hour as you caught up on the rest of your workload. You barely made a dent but you just wanted to go home and hide in bed. Your empty bed. You hoped Steve would return soon.

You yawned as you drove to your building. Your fatigue mounted as you rode the elevator to your floor and neared the door of your condo. It was unlocked. You hesitated and pushed inside. You blinked as you looked around. The lamp in the living room was on but no other light shone and nothing seemed out of place.

You stepped further inside as you dug your hand into your purse and clutched the can hidden in its depths. Another light came from your bedroom door and you carefully crept down the hall in your heels to peek inside. You pulled out the can and screamed as a shadow appeared in the doorway.

You didn’t have a chance to spray the mace as it was batted out of your hand and the surprised chuckle eased your fears. Steve grabbed your arms as he steadied you. He was freshly showered and smelled of his sandalwood soap. He wore only the pair of old grey sweats with the hole in the knee. You shook your head at yourself and smiled.

“When did you get back?” You asked.

“About an hour ago. Didn’t think I’d beat you home but I had to try,” His hands slipped from your arms and he embraced you. “You miss me?”

“Did you miss me?” You countered.

“Of course,” He bent and kissed your lips, rocking you slightly. He pulled away and lifted a brow. “You look tired. Too tired?”

You giggled and hit his chest. He released you and slid your purse from your arm.

“Don’t worry, I can do all the work,” He offered. “You just get… comfortable.”

He backed away and set your bag on his dresser. You glanced at the chair where you usually put it and shrugged. You stepped out of your shoes and tucked them down beside the dresser. You stood and removed your blazer. Steve moved slowly to the bed and dropped down on his stomach as he watched you, his head cradled in his hand.

You felt like blushing. He hadn’t been like this in a while. The last few times he returned, he’d been tired; quiet. You gave him his space and he came to you after a while. You knew he needed the chance to decompress but sometimes it felt like he thought your time without him was easier. That your job was easier.

You unbuttoned your blouse and tossed it over the chair, shimmied out of your trousers and let them wrinkle on the seat. Your back ached from sitting all day in the chair and your muscles were tense from weeks sitting across from Loki. He was easier to deal with but that little glimmer of paranoia remained.

You unhooked your bra and swung it around before you let it fly across the room. You laughed as Steve hummed and you teasing pushed your fingers under the elastic of your panties. You paused and gave him a cheeky look. He groaned and perked up.

“You need help?” He asked.

“Well, not with these,” You shoved the panties down your thighs and they fell to your feet. “But I wouldn’t mind a nice massage. My back is killing me.”

“Hmm,” He sat up. His pants did little to hide his impatience. “I could do a massage.”

He patted the bed as he shuffled back to the edge. You went to the bed and climbed up. You eased yourself down onto the mattress, your face nestled between the pillows as you sighed. His hand brushed your leg and ran up to squeeze your ass. He urged your legs apart and moved between them.

“You’re tense,” He said as he pushed his hands over your ass and up your back. His fingers traced the scar along your side and lingered there. It was always so sensitive and made you shiver.

“It’s been a long week,” You turned your head to speak.

“Oh yeah?” He wondered. “He… giving you a hard time?”

“Not really but… I don’t wanna think about work.”

“Then don’t,” He ran his thumbs along your shoulder blades and drew a groan from you.

You turned back to the pillows and stretched your arms up around your head. His hands kept moving, firm, attentive, magic. Your voice got louder and louder as he found the knots and the little aches perfectly. It was rare for him to be so thorough. Often he was thinking so much about what came next, he barely glossed across your flesh.

He gripped your hips and you felt his breath on your skin. He laid a trail of kisses along your back; lower, lower, lower. He dragged his lips over your ass and nibbled your thigh, then your other. He urged your pelvis up and you obliged. You bent your legs just a little to support yourself, your head buried in the pillows.

He got down on his elbows as he pushed his head between your legs and slid his tongue along your folds. He gently began to lap and your thighs began to tingle. The flick of his tongue grew more deliberate as he brought his hand up to tease your clit. He poked your entrance with his tongue and hummed.

Your fingers closed around the duvet and you lifted your head. You whined as you felt the pressure building. You breathed through your teeth and your entire body shook. You were surprised by your orgasm, how quickly it swelled and crashed. Your thighs quivered and you bit down on the corner of the pillow as you came.

He kept on and you whimpered. Your voice floated around you as your entire being buzzed. His purrs sent a shiver along your spine as his tongue kept on. Then you heard your name. A hollow tone. Confused, familiar.

The warmth of Steve’s mouth left your cunt and you turned. Frantic you stared at the man in the doorway of your bedroom. You looked between him and the identical figure kneeling on the end of the bed. What the fuck?

The Steve in the doorway stormed the other. They met at the end of the bed and you were almost crushed beneath them as you backed up against the headboard. Scared, you watched them tussle until they rolled onto the floor with a crash. The grunts were startlingly similar.

You crawled across the bed and looked down at the struggle. The panic brewed in your chest. You hopped off and grabbed the naked Steve’s shoulder.

“Get off! What’s going on?!” You pulled and found yourself flung back.

You tried to grab him again and found yourself drawn back by an invisible force around your neck. You were dragged back to the bed, almost choking as the blankets wrinkled beneath you as you tried to latch onto them. You stopped at the headboard and felt along your throat, a searing pain in your palm as the unearthly bound tightened.

You kicked out and the sounds of struggle seemed to fade. You heard Steve groan and watched the naked one stand. He went to the chair and dumped your clothes from it. He carried it to the end of the bed and lifted the other onto the seat. Eerie green lights wrapped around his wrists and ankles, a thicker one snaked around his throat and his lashes fluttered as he tried to blink away his daze.

“What--”

As the naked Steve turned to you, his blond hair darkened to black and his broad shoulders shrunk, a slightly slimmer and taller figure before you. You wriggled and tried to pull at the restraint at your throat once more. You hissed as your hands burned terribly and rescinded them.

“Why?” You kicked your legs and they were stilled by the same odd green glow. “Loki! Stop.”

“Stop? Why, dear…” He turned and slapped Steve’s cheek. Steve shook his head and his blue eyes seemed to focus. “...you were just starting to have fun.”

“Leave him alone,” You tried to get up but were drawn back even more. Your arms were forced out and your ankles tugged further apart. “Loki!”

“Oh, I love to hear my name on your lips,” He purred as he came closer.

He drew a slow circle in the air and your body turned so your head was at the foot of the bed. He knelt and turned your head as he pressed his lips to yours. He devoured you as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“Loki!” Steve barked and you heard the chair creak slightly before he cried out. “Lo-ki!” His voice was strained. “Don’t touch--”

Steve’s shouts fizzled out as Loki drew away. You were flipped sharply onto your stomach and you squealed as your head spun. Loki climbed up swiftly and straddled your ass. He ran his hands over your back and squeezed your shoulders.

He leaned over you and grabbed a handful of your hair. He lifted your head so your eyes met Steve’s.

“You want to hate me, Rogers, but you haven’t any reason,” He taunted. “So let me give you one.”

“What do you think Thor will do when he finds out? Tony will--”

“You can tell my brother but he’s forgiven me worse and Tony, well, he could have an unfortunate accident in that lab of his,” Loki slithered. “Or maybe this darling little toy might break before I’m done with her. Pity.”

“You--”

“Would.” Loki insisted as he dropped your head and sat back. He hit the back of your head roughly. “This isn’t love, Rogers. It’s not even a crush. This is just… fun.” His fingers crept down your back as he slid back. “Oh, wouldn’t it be a scandal; the golden avenger murders his own lover. Even if it was an accident, well, that serum of yours… dangerous stuff.”

“No one would believe--” Steve choked before he could finish.

“You think I couldn’t make them? What reason do I have to frame you? And it would be easy enough to stage it all.” Loki preened as he poked between your legs. He rubbed your folds as he spoke. “What they believe hardly matters if she’s gone, eh, Rogers?”

You croaked as the force squeezed your neck and you flailed as you gulped for breath.

“Stop! Stop!” Steve pleaded. The pressure relented and you coughed and gasped. “Loki, please… don’t hurt her.”

“Oh, I never intended to hurt her,” Loki shoved his fingers inside you and you whimpered. “In fact, quite the opposite. Weren’t you having fun, darling?” You closed your eyes and he pinched your thigh. “Darling?”

“Y-yes,” You murmured into the mattress. “Please--”

“Shhh, you don’t have to beg,” He keened. “But I do love to hear it.”

He pushed his legs between yours as he continued to finger you. You could hear Steve’s heavy, angry breaths. Your own were shallow and frantic. Loki spread his fingers and you felt another prod at your entrance. He held you open as he slipped in; two fingers still in you as his cock stretched your walls.

He impaled you and pulled his fingers out. He sighed as he wiggled his pelvis and lifted your ass. He got even deep as his hands grasped your hips. You sniffled as you fought the heat behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve uttered. You heard the chair wobble but still again as he let out an agonized growl.

“No,” You gulped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

Loki pulled back and slammed into you. You squeaked and he did it again.

“You can have your little reunion when I’m done,” He thrust so hard the bed jolted with each tilt of his hips. “Oh, look at her. She’s shaking again.”

He sped up, a little at a time, until he was hammering into you. You ached from his relentless rhythm and tugged against the bonds. He bent over you and hooked his arms under your shoulders and pulled you up. He bounced you against him, your thighs draped over his as he worked your body.

You bit your lips and turned your head. You couldn’t look at Steve.

“He can’t look away,” Loki whispered in your ear. “I made sure of it.”

You whined as he continued to use you. His hand slid down to your clit as his other arm wrapped around your chest. He pounded into you from below as he began to rub. You felt the same sudden rise. The same irresistible tickle. You gritted your teeth and moaned.

You let out a pathetic sob as you came. Your entire body convulsed and you pushed your head back against Loki’s shoulder. His breath glossed over your cheek and he bent to press his lips to your flesh. He nuzzled further down and bit into your neck. He snarled as he thrust into you hard and deep.

He shuddered as his hips spasmed and he rocked through his orgasm. He came inside you, a sickly flood of warmth. Your arms were kept suspended to either side of you as you struggled to get away from him. You hung your head and squeezed your eyes shut.

He pulled out and let you fall forward. You caught your breath and slowly moved your hand to your throat. You raised yourself shakily and looked to Steve. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted, his face pale.

“Steve,” You reached out to him.

As you made to climb off the bed, you flew back to the mattress, flat on your back. Loki strode around the bed as he snickered. He pushed his long hair away from his face.

“Now, now, you don’t think that’s it, darling.” He licked his lips as he came to the end of the bed and stood between you and Steve. “We have two weeks to make up for. Two. Grueling. Weeks.”

#loki #Steve Rogers #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #fic #one shot #marvel #mcu #dark fic #dark!fic #oneshot

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Text

the art of making a move at a kegger

jj x reader

word count: 2877

warnings: drinking, cursing, and towards the end almost sexual content but not actually

synopsis: harboring feelings for jj + getting drunk doesn’t always equal the smoothest of times but it all works out in the end

requested by @maybebanks really hope you like it!

JJ wasn’t on your radar until he slept through three quizzes in a row during your 8:00 a.m. English freshman year. He sat across from you, and you thought he was pretty cute, even when he started showing up wearing Pike letters. Which coincidentally is when he started falling asleep during quizzes.

One morning, when the professor left the room and you were packing your backpack, you heard JJ clear his throat. You glanced up, unsure if it was for you or not, and caught him smiling at you sheepishly.

“Hey,” he mumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair, “I was wondering if you had the readings for Thursday, I lost the syllabus.”

You pulled out your planner, “Yeah, it’s Act 3 of Hamlet and a part from the textbook on dramatic irony, pages 176-179.”

He quickly jotted it down on the corner of his notebook and smiled tiredly at you, “Thanks so much, I can’t keep failing these fucking quizzes, my grade is cheeks right now.”

“Is everything okay?” you cautiously asked, you didn’t want to push but you were a little concerned about the cute boy.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, “Hazing shit, they’re making the new pledges stay up. I haven’t slept a full night in two weeks.”

“That’s, uh,” you weren’t really sure what to say, “not okay?” You settled on.

With a shrug, he tugged his backpack up and pushed in his chair, “Yeah, well, I guess it comes with being a legacy.” And then he was gone.

After that first interaction, you and JJ chatted every so often. Sometimes you’d let him cheat off your quizzes because they were pointless anyway and sometimes, you’d ask your professor to repeat one of the questions so he could get a second chance to answer if he was running late.

The last day of the semester he brought you coffee, “I just wanted to thank you for everything this semester, and I was hoping I could get your number so we can keep in touch.”

The next semester you had two classes together, much to your shock. When the two of you started to hang out outside of class to study for statistics, you learned some stuff about him. He was from the Outer Banks and he had a rough childhood. He was also receiving the Pell Grant so school was totally paid for, his only expense was the frat.

You also learned that the two of you were the same major and had to take all of the same courses, so the two of you decided to try and register for some of the same classes. It didn’t always work out, you had priority scheduling as a note taker for at least one class every semester and sometimes when JJ went to schedule, your section was already full. But sometimes it did work out.

Either way, the two of you always studied together. You used to go back and forth between apartments, one week was yours and one was JJ’s, until he moved into the frat house and no work was meant to be done in those walls. That atmosphere was conducive to parties only, something else JJ loved.

One afternoon, fall of your sophomore year, JJ balled up a piece of paper and threw it at you. It bounced off your forehead landed in your open coffee cup, and you looked up and glared at him, “Was that necessary?”

He gave you an innocent look, “Do you have plans next weekend?”

“I mean, we have a test the next Monday so I’ll probably be studying.”

JJ took the last sip of his coffee, “I have a formal and I need a date, wanna go?”

“Not particularly,” you responded with a shrug.

“No strings attached,” JJ told you, “promise. My friend from home, Kie, normally comes with me, but she has her own shit to do, and me and you get along. If you don’t go, I’ll have to take a stranger and then I’ll be bored.”

You’d been to some of the parties his frat threw, you knew he wouldn’t really be bored all night, he just didn’t want to have to actually work to get a date. Not that he’d have to work hard, his good looks would pretty much guarantee him a date. But you were a little intrigued, so you agreed.

“Great,” he told you, clapping his hands, “let me know what color your dress is and I’ll get a matching tie.”

“Fancy,” you told him with a smile.

“Kie loves matching, she’ll be proud,” JJ responded, and it made you really curious about Kie and the rest of his friends, but you didn’t ask.

Eventually you would get to meet them. JJ invited you to go home with him for spring break and he showed you around the Outer Banks, took you surfing, and threw a party that almost rivaled the ones his frat normally threw. Meeting his friends was nice, but really getting to know JJ was nicer. That’s when you started to complicate the ‘no strings attached’ deal, you felt yourself catching feelings.

By the time senior year rolled around, you were the most tired you’ve ever been. School was hard, having a job while doing school was harder and your social life was suffering. You still hung out with JJ a lot, mostly to study or to unwind and just watch TV, but he was really the only person you spent time with on a regular basis other than your coworkers.

Late on a Saturday afternoon, you were already in your pajamas, studying for an anatomy test, when there was a knock at your apartment door. Startled, you wrapped the blanket you were sitting under tightly around your shoulders and cautiously walked to the door. Peering through the peephole, you saw JJ standing there, looking at something on his phone.

You threw the door open, “What are you doing here?”

He looked up and smiled, “I’m here to kidnap you.”

“What?” you asked blankly, not really in the mood.

JJ pushed his way past you and sat on a barstool before answering, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how miserable you’ve been lately. When’s the last time you went out?”

And, God, when was the last time you’d done something fun? You sighed, “Fuck, I don’t know, like maybe a month ago when we went to that basketball game.”

With a hum, JJ stood up, “Get dressed, Pike’s throwing a kegger tonight.”

You didn’t even think twice before tossing the blanket onto the couch and going to your closet to find something to wear. JJ turned the TV on while you got fully dressed, minus makeup. Peeking your head out, you caught JJ’s attention, “Can I do my makeup at the house?”

He nodded, “Yeah. You almost ready because I’ve gotta pick up the keg soon?”

“Let’s go.”

JJ locked the door behind you and the two of you walked to his truck. The music blasted as soon as he cranked it up and he turned it down with a sheepish smile, “My bad, the song playing when I got here was a banger.”

Plugging your phone in, you put on the collaborative playlist you and JJ made together. He turned it back up a little and peeled out of the parking lot to the nearest liquor store where his frat normally got their kegs.

You bought cups at the convenience store next door while JJ loaded the keg into his truck, and a few pods because you were low and JJ was almost always out. JJ was leaning against the truck when you met him back in the shared parking lot, and he handed you a Twisted Tea, “For accompanying me on this adventure, madam.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” you responded, cracking it open and took a deep sip before climbing back into the truck to head to the frat house.

JJ left you to finish getting ready while he helped everyone set up for the party. You joined him eventually, having finished your first drink, and helped lock all bedroom doors and put all valuables away.

By the time people started arriving you were happily tipsy, hanging onto JJ while he talked to some of his friends, sipping beer slowly out of your assigned cup at the house. You were over there enough that you’d claimed one of your own and all the other guys that lived there respected it for the most part.

The party started to pick up and one of JJ’s frat brothers called you over to attempt a keg stand. You’d always wanted to try but never had, so you handed JJ your cup and kicked your feet up, trusting the two guys were ready to catch you. They did and someone put the spout into your mouth.

A crowd gathered around you and started counting loudly. You made it all the way to a minute before kicking to be let down. Slowly the two guys lowered your feet and your vision swam while beer bubbled in your throat. You almost choked but managed to swallow while everyone cheered around you. JJ wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Not bad for a first time!”

He topped your cup off and guided you away. You cleared your throat, “Thought I was gonna puke for a second there.”

“You turned a little green when you first came down, how you feeling now though?”

“Feeling fantastic,” you told him earnestly, swaying in place.

JJ chuckled, grabbing your shoulders, “You got plans tomorrow?”

“Anatomy.”

“So that’s a no, I won’t cut you off then.”

“Don’t cut me off, please,” you told him seriously, trying to focus on his face.

He gave you a little two finger salute, “Aye aye madam.”

You lost track of how many drinks you had as the night went on. Sometime during the night, JJ disappeared and came back with something besides beer for you which was really nice and you thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. He just laughed and squeezed your shoulder before going off to talk to someone else.

When the party started winding down, you attempted to find the Uber app on your phone to call a ride home. JJ tapped your shoulder, startling you, and in your clumsy, intoxicated state, you dropped your phone. It slid out of your eyesight and you glared at him, “Pick it up, J.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

“Goin home, party’s over.”

“Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Can’t make it up the stairs,” you told him seriously.

JJ raised his eyebrows, “You live on the second floor of your apartment building, at least here you have me to help you up the stairs.”

He had you there. So, you nodded and he took you to the kitchen for a clean cup. JJ filled it with water and made you drink two before leading you to the stairs. You lifted your foot to put it on the first step and almost fell over. JJ reached out but you shushed him, as if his silence would help you focus more on not falling over.

On the second try, you managed to climb up one step and immediately shuffled close to the wall so you could lean your whole body against it for balance while attempting to climb. It was a really slow process, but you were too stubborn to ask for help, and JJ knew better than to try to help you when you were feeling stubborn.

JJ stayed one step below you to help in case you started to fall backwards. Eventually you made it all the way up and immediately forgot which door led to his room. Huffing a laugh, JJ grabbed your wrist and led you to the second one on the left.

You sat down on the bed and went pretty much boneless at the comfort of finally not being on your feet.

“Fucks sake, dude,” JJ muttered, pushing you up into a sitting position.

“No,” you whined, fighting to lay back down.

It wasn’t hard for JJ to keep you sitting up, “You’re going to be so pissed if you wake up in your clothes with makeup on, you need to change and get ready for bed.”

He was right again, but you didn’t have the comprehension level to remember how to do that so you shrugged in response. JJ sighed and helped you kick your shoes off before going to get you a change of clothes from his drawers. You somehow managed to get your shirt off and your shorts unbuttoned, but he had to help you get the new shirt on and change shorts.

The guy JJ shared a bathroom with’s girlfriend left makeup wipes and JJ helped you get all your makeup off. You kept making faces to be difficult because you liked the furrow between his eyebrows as he tried to focus on being gentle.

“I will intentionally poke you in the eyeball if you do not stop,” he warned.

Pouting, you poked his cheek, “Don’t bully me, I’m drunk.”

He threw the wipe away and looked at you exasperatedly, “Brush your teeth, your breath smells like a liquor store.”

Giggling, you grabbed your spare toothbrush from the drawer next to his and sloppily started brushing your teeth. JJ was standing behind you and leaning on you, trapping you between the counter and his body so you didn’t fall over or sway.

The bright bathroom lights plus the water were clearing your brain a little, but you were still gone and not really able to focus on anything for more than a few seconds at a time. You leaned back to feel his chest moving as he brushed his teeth and giggled at the feeling.

JJ sighed again and gently nudged you out of the way to spit and rinse in the sink and you followed suit, having forgotten to do so yourself. You followed him out of the bathroom and grabbed his hand as he led you back to his room.

From what you could remember, JJ slept on the left, so you climbed into the right side of his bed and stretched out comfortably. He crawled in behind you a few minutes later, and you turned around to look at him. He had a small smile on his face as he looked back at you and reached up to push a piece of hair that had fallen in your eyes out of the way.

Suddenly, you were overcome by the urge that you’d been fighting for over a year and you leaned forward to kiss him. He froze and you almost regretted it until he started kissing you back.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours but could’ve only been minutes until he rolled the two of you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. Your lips were only separated for a few seconds before he was kissing you again, more deeply than before.

Sighing into the kiss, you brought a hand up to his head and ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned lightly at the feeling and you felt a hand creeping up your thigh. Before it could get too far, you nudged his shoulders back to catch your breath. He kept stroking your thigh and you shifted, “Hey, can we wait maybe?”

“Wait for what?” JJ asked you, confused.

“To fuck,” you told him bluntly.

JJ huffed out a surprised laugh, “Oh, uh, yeah definitely.”

You grinned at him sheepishly, “Sorry, you’re my best friend and if we’re going to do this, I want to be sober and you know, really ready.”

“Right, yeah, I totally get it,” he reassured you, dropping back down next to you.

You sighed as he wrapped his arm around you again. Lifting your head, you let it rest on one of his biceps and drank in his facial features. He held onto one of your hands and played with your fingers, not looking at you directly.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, feeling a little uncertain.

JJ looked at you, furrow back between his eyebrows but a little different than before, “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

“What?” you asked, feeling the urge to press the wrinkle until it went away.

“For forcing myself onto you,” JJ mumbled.

Suddenly it felt like you couldn’t keep up with the conversation, “Wait what?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes again, so you lifted his chin until the two of you were almost nose to nose. JJ shut his eyes, “You’re really drunk, I shouldn’t have ever returned the kiss because you might regret it in the morning.”

“No, I really do like you JJ, I just,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “I just want it to be special, I guess,” you trailed off, hoping it made sense.

JJ smiled gently and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “We can talk about it tomorrow, yeah?”

With a giant yawn, you nodded and the last thing you remember is him running a hand through your hair and tangling your legs together.

#jj maybank request #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #pike!jj #frat!jj

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athela-3 · 3 years

Text

crushing defeat

1.7k words; gen/comedy; hints of shipping if you blink, look here, and look away again; if everyone gives aspec vibes that’s my bad, I have no idea how allos work; 3 am nonsense is practically its own genre; mild language (canon-typical); no content warnings.

Yuki’s never had a crush before. Normally that’s not a problem, but now that he really needs to know what it’s like, nobody else in Mankai can seem to give him a straight answer. And what does cake have to do with anything?

“You. Elite Swindler. What's it like to have a crush?”

Itaru looks up from his phone and finds himself face-to-face with Yuki's inquisitive eyes. “Um.” He blinks, stalling for time while he forces his brain to take a U-turn from his game. “Why do you ask?”

Yuki sighs, swatting aside a strand of hair and tucking it behind his ear. “My character's supposed to be in love, but no matter how many times I try saying my lines it never sounds right. The Director said I should try asking around to get an idea what it's supposed to feel like, and you're sitting right here. So are you going to tell me or not?”

“Huh.” Well, that sounds like something she would do, Itaru concedes. He sits up, placing his phone face down on the sofa next to him. “If I have to describe it, I'd say it's inconvenient. Just because you like someone doesn't mean you'd like liking them. It's kind of like pulling a gacha and getting an SSR. If it's your favourite character, cool, but if it's a character you don't like and you already have three other copies of the exact same card, and now you have to grind all over again… not cool.”

Yuki rolls his eyes, and for a second Itaru thinks he's about to be on the business end of his trademark sarcastic zingers again. “But what is it like? It can't be as sappy as it looks like in Muku's manga.” Beat. Slowly, with dread creeping into his voice: “Is it?”

Itaru opens his mouth to answer, only for a better idea to spring into mind. He cranes his head to look into the kitchen, where Homare is nursing a cup of some fragrant tea blend with a complicated, bougie name. “Hey, Homare? How would you describe the feeling of falling in love?”

There's a brief pause, filled only with Yuki's wide-eyed Oh-No-You-Didn't stare, which Itaru diligently avoids. Then Homare places his teacup on the saucer with a gentle plink and replies, with the absolute certainty of an astronomer looking at the night sky: “Devotion astride with every doki doki… a sugary somnambulism, nefelibata's mazurka of watchfulness, feather-light fingertips painting patient litanies!”

“Exactly.” Itaru grins. “See? It's not that hard.”

Yuki's expression is flat, but Itaru thinks he can see the gears turning inside his head. Eventually he sighs. “Fine. You've made your point.”

“Look, that's all I've got,” Itaru shrugs. “Besides, why don't you ask someone who definitely knows what it's like? Have you tried asking Muku?”

“Duh. He tried to hand me a bunch of romance manga for reference. But that's fiction. If I want my acting to be realistic, I need to look at real life examples.”

“Why not ask Masumi then?”

“And listen to him babble about the Director for the next three hours?”

“Mm. Kazunari?”

“I'm not an idiot. I already asked everyone in my troupe.”

“Tsumugi?”

“I would, but he's not home. Tasuku says he's out tutoring. And before you start, I already asked the Muscle Freak. He mumbled something about high expectations and ran off.”

“Citron?”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Taichi?”

“The Dumb Dog? That's… a good idea. Plus I needed to check on his sewing anyway, he's supposed to finish them this—”

“Yo, Taruchi, where are you? Don't just go AFK on me like that!”

They turn to see Banri emerging from the stairwell, phone in hand and an annoyed look in his face. Itaru waves him over at once, relieved to find a potential back-up partner. “Banri! You gotta help me out, man. I need you to describe what having a crush is like.”

Banri stares slack-jawed, caught totally off-guard. “A crush? It's distracting, that's what. I mean, they're all you can think about, right? No matter what you're doing or where you go, you just keep thinkin' about 'em.”

Itaru snaps his fingers. “Right! And you know you've got it bad when you keep finding excuses to be around them. Or when you do weird stuff to get their attention, like giving them things or teasing them or picking fights with them—”

“Why would you pick a fight with someone you like?” Yuki squints, thoroughly unimpressed. “You can't expect them to fight with you and then magically like you back afterwards. That's just stupid.”

“Well,” Itaru grins, “it is.”

“Ah, but such is love!” rejoins Homare, his sentence punctuated by a neat clink as he places his drained teacup in the sink. “Even the greatest of geniuses are fools when it comes to love. Perhaps I should write a poem about that… the overripe ache of tenderness, rotting one's mind even as it enriches the soul…”

Banri shakes his head sharply. “Yeah, whatever. Just get the interrogation done with so we can start the next match.” With that, he marches off into the kitchen, brushing past Homare without a word to fetch a glass of water.

As the poet leaves, still murmuring fancy thesaurus words under his breath, Itaru turns to Yuki and raises his eyebrows. “So? Think you got a better idea now?”

“A little,” Yuki admits. “You're not so useless after all.”

“Huh. I don't know what I expected. Guess I'll take what I can get.”

At that moment, the front door swings open, and in walks Juza, carrying a bag full of groceries in each hand. Behind him is the Director, bearing an identical bag in her arms and pulling the door shut behind her with her foot. “We're home!” she shouts.

“Welcome home, Director, Juza. Whoa, that's a lot of loot today.”

She laughs. “Turned out there was a sale, and since it's important that we save money I thought we might as well stock up ahead. I was lucky Juza came along to help, otherwise I couldn't have carried all of this back alone.”

While she stops by to talk, Juza keeps heading for the kitchen to unpack his groceries, only stopping when he realises his roommate is blocking the way. When it becomes apparent Banri has no intention to step aside, a scowl clouds over his face. “Move.”

A corner of Banri's mouth quirks upward. “Or what? You can't touch me, your hands are full.”

“Don't have to. You can stand there if you want, but the Director won't like it.”

Begrudgingly, Banri inches aside just enough for Juza to squeeze through. When he sees the topmost layer of groceries, he makes a small wolf-whistle. “Three bottles of strawberry milk? What d'you think this is, Hyodo, a damn onsen?”

“Ya gonna stand there babblin', or ya gonna make yourself useful?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Oh, Banri? Since you're already in the kitchen, and you're not doing anything,” the Director chimes in, industrial-grade cheerfulness dripping from her every word, “why don't you help me make dinner?”

Itaru snorts. “Curry duty? Ouch. I'll press F for you later.”

“Actually, tonight is sweet and sour pork. I got a deal on bell peppers, but they have to be eaten quickly,” she tells him, before calling out to Banri: “You can start by washing and chopping them, by the way.”

“The Currian chooses not to make curry?” If Yuki's eyebrows rose any higher, they'd completely disappear behind his fringe. “Did you hit your head on the door coming in?”

“I'm sorry, we can have curry tomorrow if that's what you want,” the Director smiles sweetly, and Itaru wonders if this is what she's like in the office. He tries picturing her giving instructions to her juniors and suggestions to her superiors, all in that inhumanly saccharine tone of voice. The mental image alone gives him the chills. “Oh! How's your role study, Yuki?”

“Eh, it's a work in progress.” He pauses, eyeing her with a slight squint. Oh, no, Itaru thinks, here we go again. “But now that you're here, why don't you tell me what you think a crush is like?”

“Me? I haven't had a crush since…” her voice trails off. She walks to the kitchen, places her groceries on the counter, and starts unpacking them alongside Juza. “I don't remember. What I do remember is that when you've fallen in love with someone, you want them to be happy. You remember the little things they like and don't like, because there's no feeling like seeing them smile and knowing it's because of you, or something you did. If they're happy, you're happy. But if they're upset about something, then you feel bad too, even if it wasn't your fault.”

Yuki hums a wordless acknowledgement, face scrunched in thought. “And you?”

Silence. After a few seconds, Juza looks up from the cabinet he is currently stuffing with raw pasta. “…Me?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Who else?” Banri snorts. “Oi, gimme the pineapple. I can't find it in this mess.”

“Didn't get any.”

“What, so we're making sweet and sour pork without pineapple? Who eats sweet and sour pork without—” Realisation dawns in his eyes. He blinks, as if startled, glances at the Director, and looks away again. “Oh. Huh. Well, that's interesting.”

“Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Settsu?”

“None of your business. Now answer the damn question already so we can cook in peace.”

“We ain't cooking, you are,” Juza points out. “An' I dunno.”

“You don't know?” Yuki presses impatiently. “Or you're not telling?”

“Dunno. Never had a crush.”

“Tch. Of course you've never liked anyone. All you like is cake.”

Itaru nods comprehendingly, shooting up in his seat. ”Banri's got a point, you know, the cake does kind of give it away. Bet you also like dragons.”

“Wait,” Yuki interjects, “what's cake got to do with anything?”

“You don't know?” Itaru twists to face the boy completely. “Aw, man. I thought you of all people would know. Do you like cake?”

“What does it matter?”

“C'mon, it's just a yes or no question!”

“They're OK? I'm not that big on sweets, but I like the really pretty cakes. Especially the ones with edible flowers on top.”

“The real question is,” Banri looks up from the cutting board and points the knife at Yuki, “would you rather fall in love or eat cake?”

“What kinda stupid question is that?” Juza mutters, still playing grocery Tetris with the cabinet and therefore completely missing the death glare Banri sends his way.

“Shut your cakehole, nobody asked you.”

Yuki's brows furrow, and Itaru notices his eyes flickering to Juza before he settles on a reply. “If I had to choose, I guess I'd choose cake. Having a crush sounds so exhausting. Besides, I know what cake's like, so I know what I'm getting myself into.”

Itaru claps his hands together, triumphant. “See? Congratulations, you're Team Cake! Don't worry about the dragons, we'll get there when you’re ready.”

“But what does any of it have to do with—you know what, forget it.” Yuki throws his hands into the air, mere millimetres away from clocking Itaru's head. “I should've asked someone who knows what they're talking about. You guys are hopeless.” With that, he turns on his heels and makes his exit, presumably off to interview the next hapless sap to cross his path.

“Good luck!” the Director calls out.

Itaru shakes his head. “And here I thought we'd get more affinity points than that,” he mutters. “Talk about being hard to please.”

“Don't blame him, it is a tough subject to crack,” she points out. “Oh, does that mean you're free right now? In that case, can you please make some rice while I get the pork ready?”

“Welp. Is this a mandatory quest?” She nods, and he sighs, slowly stretching to his feet and pocketing his phone. “All right. But you owe me cake. All this talk's got me craving a slice.”

“I'll grab you some tomorrow, how's that sound?”

Banri's head snaps up again. “Hey, if he gets cake for helping, then how come I don't?”

“You don't even like cake,” Juza grumbles.

“I’m just sayin’, it ain’t fair. And don’t pretend you don’t want some.”

She reaches past them to grab the packet of pork on the table and laughs. “All you had to do was ask. You know what? I'll get you cake. Both of you.” She pauses to scratch her chin. “Come to think about it, maybe I should just get a nice big cake for everyone to share. I've got a feeling we're all gonna need it come tomorrow.”

#a3!#yuki rurikawa #itaru chigasaki #homare arisugawa #banri settsu #juza hyodo #izumi tachibana #sort of. it's actually my kyoko but i kept her unnamed here #you can tell she's a liiiittle different from canon tachibana #but it doesn't matter here i guess #did. did i just write and post my first a3! fic.#...it's 2020. lots of weirder stuff happened.#happy asexual awareness week folks #that's what i was thinking about last night when this... happened #ari's stuff #ari writes #(imagine being so hyped about your writing you forgot to tag it as your writing)#kyoko tachibana #might as well i guess

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solarwindswriting · 3 years

Text

Oh, The Places You’ll Go

Chapter 6

First Chapter / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Loosely inspired by the song Greek Tragedy by the Wombats

Pairing: Scotty x FemalePresenting!Reader

Word Count: 1802

Summary: Y/n and Scotty get to know each other better over a late night cup of tea.

Warnings: none that I can think of

A/N: I mentioned it in a separate post, but something came up recently that has taken my will to write fluff like this right out of me. So sorry, but since this is the last prewritten part I have, I’m going to take a bit of a break. Thank you guys for understanding!

Tags: @mournthewicked @damalseer

Scotty had finished his prep for the away mission after his break with Y/n, Sara, and Keenser. That was the first time in about 10 years since he’s danced, let alone with someone else. It took him twice as long to finish preparing as he got lost in his thoughts. How Y/n’s hands held so tight to his, or how her hips swayed to the music, or how laughter fell from her lips like the song of fairies on the Scottish hillside. Scotty shook his head as he walked into the mess hall. Grabbing a tray, he looked around the room to see who was there. He saw Y/n sitting with a group of the younger crew, he’d hate to be the oldest one sitting there. He finally saw Spock and Bones eating at a table in the corner. On his way, he hears Y/n say something rather enthusiastically.

“Fine! Yes, I like Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott in an unprofessional way.” she laughs.

He makes eye contact with Sara who was facing him, Y/n soon turning to see him as well. Y/n jumps up and leaves before he can say anything. Sara follows her soon after stopping in front of him.

Sara’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, trying to find the right words. “If what I saw earlier is true, you need to tell her.”

His brow still stitched together, he sits with Bones and Spock.

“Oh, good. Someone who can settle this debate...” Bones starts.

Scotty mindlessly eats his food as the two commanders continue to debate about whether a certain civilization is ready for the first contact or not. He finishes his food about 30 minutes later, getting up to leave.

“Woah, Scotty, you’re not even going to add a story about your grandmother?” Bones asks.

“Ah, not tonight, gotta prepare for tomorrow,” he lies, leaving the mess hall without another word.

Scotty goes to deck 5 to go to bed. But before he realized it, he’s knocking on someone's door.

***

Y/n opens the door, shocked to see Scotty standing there, bright red cheeks and all.

“Um, can I help you?” Y/n squeaks out, pulling the robe tightly around her body.

“Ay, lassie, can I come in?” He asks with a slight cough coming up.

“It’s sort of late, shouldn’t you be in bed?” She starts. “We have a pretty big mission tomorrow, after all.”

“ I couldn’t help but overhear what you said in the mess hall and thought I ought to come to talk to you,” Scotty almost whispers, looking at the ground.

“No need. I know you don’t feel that same. I’m fine with leaving it at that. Have a goodnight, Lieutenant Commander.” Y/n steps back to close the door, when Scotty sticks out his foot, preventing it from doing so.

“Lassie, will you just listen for just a minute?” He looks at her in the eyes finally.

She steps to the side, lifting her arm, motioning for him to come in. He looks around her personal quarters. Shelves littered with nick nacks from all over the galaxy, and books with worn spines in languages he couldn’t recognize.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? A beer?” She asks, walking to her replicator.

“Tea sounds nice,” he mutters, looking around still.

On the wall hung four certificates; two bachelors in biology and physics, certification in the handling of hazardous material, and training for command of a ship. He walks up to the mall table with two chairs and takes a seat. On the table sat a bowl of fruit and a framed photo of younger-looking y/n, and Sara, an older woman that looks shockingly like Y/n except with completely black iris’, and a dog at what looks like a fair.

Y/n sets a mug in front of Scotty, and peers at the photo. Scotty notices how her hand shakes as she sets down the mug.

“That was from my first year in the academy, back when I thought I was going to be a captain of my very own starship,” Y/n hums to herself, shaking her head side to side softly, taking a seat across from Scotty. “So, go ahead, you have a minute.”

“You have a dog?” Scotty procrastinates the topic as long as he can.

“Yeah, he belongs to my mom. Full bred German Shepard. Why she insisted he be full-bred, I’ll never know. He’s the dumbest creature in all the galaxy though.” She pauses before continuing, “You’re deflecting.”

Scotty takes a deep breath and sips from his mug before starting. “Now, lassie, I’ve been doing this job a very long time. And I threw myself even deeper into it once I thought I’d never find someone to spend my spare time with. I even tried a few times, getting out there and doing the whole dating thing. With this line of work though, there were times when I simply couldn’t be there like I should have been and I hurt those I care deeply about. But I’ve got to be honest with ye, I canne stop thinking about you. And I truly thought myself selfish. You’re so much younger than me, you see. I assumed you’d never think the same of me, some old man who works in engineering. But then we started to have tea most evenings, and I let myself lean into getting to know you, which just made things worse for me.” Scotty chuckles, sipping from the mug, looking anywhere but Y/n.

Y/n noted how his words became thicker with his accent the longer we went on and how he said that all in seemingly one breath. She didn’t know how to respond, that was the last thing she had expected him to say. So she stayed silent, sipping from her mug, waiting to see if he had anything left to say.

“Wait, you were training to become a captain? Well, that explains the odd Starfleet insignia you wear.” Scotty chuckles looking at the woman he was pretending he didn’t just admit his feelings to.

Y/n looks at him confused, shaken by his sudden shift in demeanor and topic.

“I um, yes. But I don’t see how that pertains to what we’re talking about,” she looks at him, head tilting and eyebrows stitching together.

Y/n, quite frankly, didn’t know what to say. She just looks at him for a good long while.

“Should I go, lassie?” Scotty starts to stand up.

Y/n stands, letting go of her death grip on her robe, and grabs his hand.

“You’re much better with words than I am, Montgomery. And I think you think I’m much younger than I am,” her words come out rushed, almost as quickly as her heart is beating.

“How old are you?” Not until now does he realize he never found out her age.

“I’m 29,” she chuckles.

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed a day over 24,” Scotty speaks, almost shocked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/n chuckles out before looking up at him with hope filled eyes. “Does that mean you’ll stay and finish your tea?”

Scotty smiles and sits back down, “I’ll stay as long as you’d like, Y/n.”

“I think that unwise, Lieutenant Commander. We do still have a mission to attend to tomorrow.” She chuckles out, sitting back down, herself.

Only now did Scotty notice her robe had fallen open to reveal a strawberry speckled nightie. Shifting slightly in his seat, he averts his gaze, sipping from his cup, and notices something interesting in the photo.

“Oh! I’m sorry, should I go change?” Y/n asks, slightly uncomfortably.

“No, no, it’s fine, lass.” He hums, reaching for the photo to take a closer look.

He squints at the ruby ring on Y/n’s left hand in the photo.

“Were you once married, Y/n?” Scotty asks inquiringly.

Y/n chokes on her tea, coughing to catch her breath. That’s not a question someone had asked her in a long time.

“Um, almost,” she coughs, still clearing out her throat.

“What happened?” He looks to his right, so he can make eye contact with her.

“She, um, wasn’t a very good person and I wasn’t doing great when I was with her. Took me almost getting married and dozens of people telling us we were too young to finally realize it though.” Y/n sighs, finishing her tea and placing the mug in the little sink.

“Ah, I see,” Scotty responds, setting the picture down. “Sorry, for asking.”

“No, it’s fine. I should expect people to ask when I have a photo of me wearing an engagement ring for everyone to see.” She says, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

Scotty stands up with his mug, walking to one of the shelves filled with books, and scans the spines. He likes to think of himself as a reader, but he never reads things in different languages. He barely knew other earth languages, not to mention any alien ones. Sure, he picked up a few phrases, but that was it. He notices how many series of books there were among the singles. He reaches for a thin book that was in English as he sips his tea. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin. He looks over his shoulder as Y/n, eyebrow raised. Y/n was now leaned up against the wall her bed was propped against, legs crossed, robe discarded, and blanket on her lap.

“Isn’t this book for young girls and hopeless romantics?” Scotty questions, sliding the book back into its place on the shelf.

“Until a few moments ago, you thought I was both,” she chuckles.

Scotty finished his tea, placing the mug into the sink like Y/n had done just a minute before.

“I should probably leave. We have a big day tomorrow lassie.” Scotty turns to Y/n.

Y/n stands and follows Scotty to the door. He turns around before opening the door and sees she didn’t put her robe back on. He willed himself to look at only her face. She leaned in, placing her hands on his shoulder, and kiss’ him on the cheek. Before she can pull away, he gently places his hand on her lower back, pulling her in for a kiss on the lips.

Time seems to stop for only a moment. The only thing in the galaxy that mattered to him was her in this moment. Y/n, with her soft lips, her silky nighty, and her soft grip on his shoulders. The moment ended just as quickly as it had started.

“Goodnight, lassie,” He smiles, still holding her close.

“Goodnight, Monty,” Y/n breaths out before stepping away from him.

I made a Spotify playlist to go along with the story since I use music a good bit. There will be music from unpublished chapters though. So listen at your own risk.

#scotty x reader #montgomery scott x reader #montgomery scott aos #montgomery scott imagine #star trek aos #solarwindswriting

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mcwriting · 3 years

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sweet home alabama (2)

Hi all! Between marriage project and some one shots, I decided to upload this chapter!

Reminder: Characters have strong southern accents (save for Tom in the present).

Masterlist

Word Count: 2618

Warnings: slight injury mention

∆ present ∆

The weekend came and went, allowing Tom some time to get a new wardrobe for farmwork and acquire a pair of boots, as his last pair had been passed down and worn out by Sam years ago.

Tom had been enjoying a peaceful rest when he was jolted awake by two hands forcefully shaking him.

“What the- Sam! What are you doing?” Tom exclaimed, sitting up.

“You gotta go to Mel’s today, right? Sun rises in an hour. Better get up and eat ‘fore you head over there,” the younger brother explained. Tom tossed back his head and groaned.

“Fine. I’ll get up,” he replied, tossing off his quilt and sheet.

With the money Tom had made in recent years, he had been able to send some home every so often, which helped fund a much needed expansion of the family home. Unfortunately, they hadn’t added enough bathrooms for each brother to get their own.

“Tom! What in God’s name is taking you so long! You’re gonna be working cotton not modeling it!” Harry yelled, pounding on the door.

“Alright alright! It’s all yours!” Tom exclaimed as he opened up the door. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at his brother.

Though Tom had dressed in a button up, jeans, and boots, he had also made sure to style his hair until every wisp sat straight.

“You know you’re gonna sweat that gel off in ten minutes, right? Especially if you wear a hat.”

Tom rolled his eyes.

“Harry, you know me. There’s always a camera somewhere. Gotta be ready for anything. And it’s pomade, not gel.”

The other young twin just rolled his eyes back and slammed the door shut.

∆

A few minutes down the road, y/n was getting ready to start her own day. She rose at dawn like always, stretching a bit and hopping out of bed.

Though she was living a country life, she still took the time to do a full skincare routine, being especially attentive to the products she used and how much sunscreen she applied.

Since she wouldn’t be at any farms in the morning, y/n put on leggings and tshirt and headed out the door, a granola bar in hand. She only had to drive a mile away to get to the “s.h.e.d.”

As usual, she was the first one there, so she keyed in and turned on all the lights. She took in a deep breath of the smells of the soil and chemicals around her as she tossed on her lab coat.

You didn’t think she was any ordinary farm girl, did you?

In reality, she had actually gone to UCLA, getting degrees in both chemistry and environmental engineering. Now she had spent the last year doing research thanks to a grant to improve the agricultural health of her hometown so she could eventually receive a master’s degree.

But we’ll talk more on that later.

Now that the sun was finally peeking above the horizon, her two lab assistants finally showed up.

Her assistants, Ciara and Jacob, were students at a community college in the town 45 minutes away. They were bright and the three always enjoyed working together, as they played fun music and conversed while recording research.

“Hey! Glad y’all could finally make it! Y’all know that last week I collected more samples from Mel’s, so today I want to prepare a gram from each jar in solution so we can run samples and start looking at what nutrients need supplementing and where so I can put a fertilizer together for tomorrow.”

The two were happy to follow their boss’s instruction, and y/n couldn’t help but smile as she scanned over her lab, remembering where she started.

∆ 16 years old ∆

Y/n had always been good at school.

A straight A student, never one to act out or deliberately miss work. Everyone knew she was bright, and she continued to prove that as she aged.

By sophomore year of high school, she was already an above-average scorer on the ACT and was taking courses above her grade level to keep from boring herself.

But in a town as small as hers, one could only get so advanced in high school alone.

Thankfully once she was a junior, the community college Ciara and Jacob were now attending allowed students to enroll in some basic online classes and receive credit, so long as they had good enough internet connection.

Because she was ahead, y/n had a free period where she could mooch off of the school’s wifi in an empty classroom. However, she didn’t have the same luxury at home, and had to go to Tom’s to complete any assignments after school.

By this point, Tom had been going to small auditions for a couple years, picking up the occasional commercial role and making a few bucks here and there, enough to get his family better TV and internet, anyways.

“Hey, y/n?” Tom asked one day, late in the fall. He laid back on the bed, tossing a foam basketball above his head while y/n worked on her college math class from the floor. She hummed in response, holding a pencil between her teeth.

“What are you plannin’ to do with all this college stuff anyways?” he asked. His accent was still as strong as ever. He hadn’t taught himself to let it go yet.

“I’on know. Maybe git a degree and move out of this town for a while. Find a real job that ain’t baling hay or planting stuff. You know I really love science,” she replied. She knew she had a lot of options, she was only a couple points away from that perfect ACT score by now.

There was a pause as she continued to tap numbers into a calculator and record them.

“I got another audition ‘fore thanksgiving,'' Tom announced after a while. Y/n didn’t look up.

“Oh yeah? What for, toothpaste ad or somethin’?”

“Uh, no actually. This one’s for a movie. A real movie.”

Y/n dropped the pencil and looked up at Tom, pushing up from the ground to sit on her knees as he sat up straight.

“Really? You’re serious? You ain’t pulling my leg or something?”

Tom smiled big and nodded.

“I mean it. I really got this audition coming up.”

“Oh my gosh, TOM!”

Y/n quickly stood up, tackling her best friend in a hug, practically ending up on his lap. They stayed that way for a while.

“Tom, this is seriously incredible. You’re gonna be in a movie!”

He pulled back quickly.

“Don’t be too quick, now. This is only an audition, there’s no way to say I’ll actually get the part-” he started, but y/n got off him and kneeled on the floor, so that her eyes were level with his and she could grab his upper arms to look at him directly.

“You’re gonna get that part,” she smiled, unable to contain her excitement. “You’re gonna nail that audition, and you’re getting that part. This is gonna be your big break, I just know it.”

“Thanks for believin’ in me. Hopefully I won’t prove you a liar this time,” he replied, pulling her up into another hug.

She ended up being right, too, because after his first audition, he got a callback during Christmas break and secured the role which he’d film the summer between junior and senior year.

The pair knew they were really starting to grow up, but didn’t let their different pursuits come between them just yet.

Tom was the one who drove her to her final ACT where she got her perfect score (since she didn’t have a car yet), and the movie filmed a few hours away in the Birmingham area (where y/n drove Tom’s truck in his absence since he was still too young to live there alone).

It worked, for the most part.

∆ present ∆

Tom drew in a sharp breath and winced, limping through the barn and plopping onto a hay bale as he gulped down some water. He had been walking up and down the rows watering the plants, as the four-wheeler Melanie’s dad typically used to water was broken.

“How’s it looking, Mr. Carmichael?” he asked, dabbing away the sweat on his forehead with a towel as he rehydrated.

The older gentleman stood up and looked at Tom.

“Well, son. I’ve almost got this thing here fixed, but you ain’t looking too good,” he pointed out.

“What do you mean, sir?” Tom asked. He may have lost his accent, but didn’t forget his manners.

“Looks like you’ve been ridin’ horses the way you’re walkin’. New boots? Not to mention that sunburn you’re startin’ to nurse. Why don’t you run up to the house and have Mel fix those up. I’m sure her momma fixed some lunch for ya, too.”

“A- are you sure, sir? I’ve only got about 10 more rows before I’m done.”

“No, no. It’s alright, boy. Run along and fix yourself up. I’ll handle the rest.”

Tom thanked the man and slowly got up, immediately remembering the pain in his feet and now aware of the stinging on his cheeks.

He’d forgotten that boots don’t really break themselves in and he hadn’t worn very thick socks. He also had somehow neglected that the sun beats just as hard in the farmlands as it does in Malibu.

He waddled up to the house, where Melanie was on the porch reading a book.

“Well by God, Tom. You’re walkin’ like you just got your back blown out for the first time,” she laughed, causing his cheeks to redden more.

“They’re new boots, alright? Now could you help me out? Your dad said you might know of something?”

She looked past him towards the barn, then closed her book and nodded her head towards the door, standing.

“Come on. Momma made you a sandwich if you want it. You can leave your boots by the door.”

They headed inside, a large living room on the right and the kitchen to the left. Tom wiggled his shoes and socks off in the entryway as Melanie ducked into a hallway to grab a few things.

“Oh Tom! I’m glad you came in! Are you hungry? I’ve got lunch for ya,” Mrs. Carmichael said as she appeared from the kitchen.

“That would be really nice, Mrs. Carmichael. Thank you,” he replied as she sat him down at the kitchen table, placing a plate with a turkey sandwich and some chips in front of him along with a glass of sweet tea.

He dug into the meal, immediately realizing just how hungry he really was. By the time he’d finished the sandwich (which really didn’t take that long), Melanie appeared with a laundry basket full of stuff. Tom washed down his meal with some tea before speaking.

“Jesus, Mel, how much does it take to patch up some blisters?” he asked.

“First off, don’t be takin’ the Lord’s name in vain in this house,” she commanded, pointing her head towards her mother in the living room, to which Tom covered his mouth and shot a thumbs up. “And second, I figured it best just to grab all my stuff than dig through it.”

She plopped the basket on the table and herself into the seat next to Tom, stealing a chip from his plate. It crunched in her mouth as she began pulling out random things like a stethoscope, a blood pressure cuff, and meds.

“What’s that all for?” Tom asked, brows furrowed. Melanie gave back an equally confused look and went back to digging.

“What do you mean? They’re just medical supplies.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean why do you have a stethoscope and stuff?”

She paused what she was doing and looked back up at Tom.

“You do know I’m a nurse, right?” she asked. She immediately knew he didn’t by the way his eyes popped open.

After high school, Melanie had been able to go off and get her nursing degree, now working in the closest hospital which was, you guessed it, 45 minutes away.

She usually worked 12 hour shifts at the hospital Tuesday through Thursday, spending her other days at home so she could respond to small needs around town, especially on weekends when people liked to get drunk and be reckless.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize that. Good for you,” Tom replied, unsure of what else to say.

“It’s alright. You’ve been gone quite a while and we all know you ain’t checking in on what happens ‘round these parts no more. Now take this and let me grab the aloe from the fridge,” she said, dropping two advil on his plate and getting up.

Tom did as told, feeling the weight of what she had dismissively said. He really hadn’t checked in since leaving. Sure, his brothers and Harrison sometimes kept him in the loop. At least, he thought so.

He was trying to remember what the last big piece of news he had heard about home was, but came up short. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen anything on social media about home, since he’d unfollowed most of the people back home after his career took off.

They all reminded him of y/n anyways.

“You mind if I put some of this on your face?” Melanie asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He obliged and she spread some of the cool aloe gel over his sunburn.

“Feel better?” she asked, to which he nodded. “Good, now let’s take a look at those blisters.”

She cringed when she saw how beat up his feet were. She pulled out a bit of numbing gel, hydrocolloid bandages, and fabric tape. Soon enough, she had his blisters all covered up and was handing him some more bandages and tape.

“Now I want you to leave these on as long as possible, alright? When they fall off or the spot in the middle gets too big, you’ll switch ‘em out for new. You should be in ship shape here in a few days. And you best not forget sunscreen from now on.”

“Will do. Thanks again, Mel. Hard to believe I’ve been gone long enough for you to become a nurse and all, huh?” Tom asked, half joking. Melanie nodded.

“Yeah, well. ‘Lot’s changed around here, even if it don’t look like it. You’d be surprised… Now before I forget...” Melanie quickly got up and left the room, returning with two wood and metal contraptions. “Here’s some boot stretchers to put in your shoes when you get home. Should help stretch ‘em out and I’m sure the boys would lend you some leather conditioner.”

With that, Tom put his boots back on and thanked Mrs. Carmichael for the meal, heading back outside. He found Mr. Carmichael sitting on the now-functioning four wheeler.

“Well, boy, you all good?” the older man asked.

“Yes sir. Melanie got me all taped up and your wife made a great lunch. So what else do you need me to do?”

Mr. Carmichael looked around for a moment, staring at a few things, then back at Tom.

“Well I got the rest all watered and y/n won’t be around with fertilizer till tomorrow so why don’t you go home and rest up those feet, eh?”

Tom tried to object, as it was still quite early in the day, but the old man wouldn’t have it. He eventually conceded and gave one last thank you, hopping into his old truck and heading home, pondering why y/n would be bringing fertilizer in the coming day.

∆

A/N: hope you guys are liking this story so far! I really love the time jumping, and the progression of it in future chapters is really cool!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @mortallythoughtfulgurl, @onebigolemess, @justafangirlduh,

#sweet home alabama #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland story

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creativeskullcreations · 3 years

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Outside chapter 23: Final Showdown (part 1)

Just as a warning everyone this chapter, and the next one, both have quite a bit of violence. Bones will break. people(and Puppets) will bleed, and somebody may or may not be dead by the end of this. So don't say I didn't warn y'all.

Also chapter 24 should be up next week, cause I wrote out both parts of this as one whole thing before splitting it. It just needs to be edited now, but that can be done tomorrow after work. Also we’re pretty much at the end now. But more on that later, for now enjoy the Final Showdown.

Stacy stayed limp, even as she was tied up by her wrists. Her eyes remained closed, as Mortimer grabbed her face and turned it this way and that to check for consciousness. As she suspected, he refused to even try anything until he knew she was awake to experience it. Even after she'd been feigning sleep for hours.

'You freaks are all the same...' She thought as she swung gently against the wall, listening as Mortimer stalked around the room, muttering under his breath. 'Oh wow, I think he's practicing his villain speech. Loser.'

Her inner monologue of mocking Mortimer did little to keep her fear down. It was only old habits from her childhood that helped her facade stay up in the face of Mortimer suddenly slamming something. The sounds of pages being flipped, and more muttering, this time about Riley. Or maybe about Owen, it was difficult to tell.

Listening to him walk back and forth, muttering and turning pages in a book, Stacy found herself in a tense boredom. It wasn't the first time, and wouldn't be the last, but it made it difficult to keep up her facade. Briefly, quietly, she wished something would happen to get this show on the road.

Unknown to her, however, the door to the Sound Stage had slowly been pushed open, two humans peering around the edge. "Looks pretty safe." Will muttered as he eased the door open wider. "Remember, just grab and go."

"Right." Scout whispered back as she crept into the room. It seemed empty enough, though there were runes and magic symbols scribbled all over the walls. And, hanging in front of one that seemed to be drawn in blood, was her Puppet body. Biting the back the cry of her Host's name, she made her way over to her.

Trembling hands reached up to try and fight the knots around the fabric wrists, but stopped at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw the slow, lumbering approach of a Sock Puppet, one that was quickly speeding up.

"Shit!" She hissed out as she dodged around it, noticing Will coming inside and drawing his gun. He didn't get a chance to use it when the sound of wood hitting wood came, and the Sock Puppet relaxed, stepping to one side to reveal Mortimer.

"I can't say this is much of a surprise to see." He started as he walked his Host forward. "I knew that you would make your way to me. Why don't you join me now for some tea?" He stepped aside and gestured to a small, round table set up for tea. He turned to go take his spot at the "head" of the table, and Will raised his gun to aim at his head. Scout grabbed his arm and forced it down, looking pointedly at the Sock Puppet. He stuck it in his pocket and they went over to the table, followed by the Sock.

They stood next to each other, across the table from Mortimer and very aware of the Sock behind them. Neither of them touched their cups, though Mortimer himself did take a long drink from his.

"So you've made it this far in, and all for little Scout." He started after finishing. "Tell me now, how were you planning on getting back out?"

Will held up his gun in response, and it was almost immediately taken by the Sock Puppet. He glared after it as it stared down the barrel, but didn't try and get it back.

"Ah well, a model attempt at the very least, but guns are not allowed. Far too messy, annoying, and loud." A poor rhyme, in Scout's opinion, but Mortimer did seem pretty distracted. She didn't miss the way his eyes kept darting to Stacy.

"Has she woken up yet?" She asked, blatantly turning her head to look. In the corner of her eye she saw him follow her gaze.

"Sadly, not quite yet. I feel there are conditions still not met. Perhaps you know why she remains still unconscious. I feel like I've missed something quite... obvious." His eyes roamed over her, and she avoided meeting them, suddenly scared he could see right through her.

"Well, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." Will replied nonchalantly. "But if you give back that Puppet, I promise my friends and I will leave, quickly and quietly and with no more harm done."

"Somehow, I don't believe you." Mortimer took another sip of his tea, staring unblinking at the man. "How do I know that what you say is true? No, better to take care of this problem now, and put all of you down."

"Put us down?" Scout repeated quietly.

"Of course! Can't have defective hosts running around. You'll ruin all of our carefully laid plans, before we can take a final bow." He explained, drawing himself up and gesturing grandly. "No, it's better to deal with you now."

Grabbed from behind, Will almost gagged on the necrotic smell coming from the Sock Puppet Hosts. Scout seemed unaffected, probably used to it even now. He kicked back, catching the groin and yanking out of the one handed hold. Leaping over the table, he grabbed the pot of hot tea and flung it, catching both Mortimer and his Host in the face.

The howls of pain distracted the Socks, allowing Scout to escape and run over to Stacy, who by now was watching with wide eyes. Puling on the knots with trembling, clumsy fingers, she couldn't get them loose before being pulled away and thrown.

"Scout!" It was weird hearing her own voice from the outside, as she scrambled to get up. She pushed that thought from her mind, more worried about how Stacy had just blown their cover.

Luckily, Mortimer seemed too preoccupied with Will, who was throwing the tea set at him one piece at a time. He hadn't gotten him with anymore tea, but it certainly distracted him. Noting the Sock lumbering towards her, she dodged around it, grabbing the dropped axe as she went.

'No time to try those knots again! Aim properly, and don't fucking hit her or I'll never hear the end of it!' She ran straight for Stacy, chopping the rope with it as she went by. It was a little high, but she heard the soft thump of the Puppet hitting the floor as she led the Sock around.

Turning a tight corner, she intended to grab her swapped Host on a second pass, but almost stopped when she couldn't find her.

'Oh no!' Mortimer and Will were still fighting each other, and the Sock certainly hadn't grabbed her, so where was she? 'Fuck I am so dead!'

-----

Sammy sat next to the bag, surrounded by small, evil Puppets. Canon was in his lap while Bit was on his head, and the other two were sat next to him watching as their Hosts paced in the narrow hallway. They had some makeshift clubs, and Mason had rigged up a quick trap, but other than that they were pretty defenseless.

"We're gonna die." Bonzai muttered. "They're gonna come for us and all we have is three Hosts to defend us. Not even any vents to escape into."

"Quiet you!" Bit snapped. "They're so much bigger than Riley and Nick, and they took out Daisy!"

"They're not bigger than Rosco, however. To him, they would surely fail to come out better." Stitch said quietly. It was hard to tell what that one was thinking, in Sammy's opinion, but he thought she seemed rather sad about that.

"Ooh, Stitchy, bad rhyme. Do better next time." The red haired one told her sister mockingly. She got a glare in reply, but the yellow and orange Puppet said nothing more.

"Or just stop. They're gonna kill us all anyways, so why even bother." Bonzai piped up.

"Nobody's gonna kill you. Don't be so negative." Sammy told him, only to receive his own glare. "Look, once they get back we're all gonna leave and burn this place down, and we'll bring you guys with us. It'll be fine."

"Also we kinda don't have a choice in the matter anymore." Lisa added, pausing in her step and leaning against the pipe she'd found. "Pretty sure if you guys die, then so do we."

"Which is so, so creepy!" Mason muttered with a full body shudder. "Ugh..."

"Oh quit your whining. Scout's gonna love that we rescued her siblings!" Lisa said, and both Sammy and Mason just gave her blank looks.

"I don't think so. She's never even mentioned them." Mason pointed out. The blonde just shrugged, unending optimism still in her voice.

"Maybe she just didn't want Stacy to worry? You ever think about that?"

Sammy just rubbed his temples as the two devolved into arguing. "I really need a joint." He muttered. The Puppets stared at him in confusion, and Bonzai started counting his actual joints to make sure he had them all.

Anymore arguing or questions were stopped, however, by the sound of heavy, slow footsteps approaching. In the distance was a soft glow, slowly growing larger and brighter. And closer.

Lisa and Mason brought their weapons up, and Sammy stood and forced the Puppets behind him. He had a broken broom, while Mason had another pipe, but none of the weapons felt like they'd be enough as they saw the giant, mutilated dog Puppet.

"Oh." Lisa swallowed thickly, voice small and quiet. "That must be Rosco."

-----

Will had never fought anything like this before. Even the most violent and aggressive of haunted dolls had been just that, dolls. But Mortimer had a full grown, if severely malnourished, adult man attached to him which made it very difficult to get the upper hand on him. And he was all out of things to throw.

'Gotta get that gun back.' He kicked the Host and knocked him away, before turning towards where Scout was trying to deal with the Sock Puppet. She was definitely making use of the prosthetic, however clumsily. But, he could still see the gun held in it's free hand, even as it tried to grab her with it.

"Hey! I need that gun!" He called out, dodging another attempt at being grabbed. Whether Scout even heard him he couldn't tell, but a few seconds later the gun went whizzing by his face, hitting the far wall before he could even register it. Thankfully, it didn't go off, but he and Mortimer did take a second to stare before they went back to fighting.

"Thanks for the fucking warning!" He called out sarcastically, trying to find an opening. At least now he had a chance to get it, if Mortimer would let him.

"Fuck off!" Was Scout's reply as she repeatedly smashed her fist into the side of the Sock's Host. It seemed to be working, as it was starting to go down, or at least act disoriented, and it was giving Will ideas.

There weren't any chairs, and he was out of tea sets, but there had to be something else he could use for a weapon. Some half-rotted cardboard set pieces, the table, but nothing really useful. So he punched Mortimer in the face, hearing a snap as he broke the Puppet's nose.

A howl of pain, as a thick, red sap leaked out. "You horrible, defective Host!" He snarled out, nose snapped and bent.

"Ha! Oh shit..." He turned and ran as Mortimer chased him down. "Shit! I fucked up!"

Scout watched this with the dying Sock Puppet. "Hell yeah you did." She punched it again as it tried to stand back up, and it sank to the floor. She then grabbed the axe and yanked it out of the wall. She went to go help Will, but stopped when she saw more Sock Puppets coming out of the doors.

"Oh fuck me..." She whispered, as half the group went straight for her.

-----

Lisa was screaming. She was aware she was screaming, but could not stop screaming even as she repeatedly whacked Rosco on the head with her pipe. She had no clue what she was screaming, but Mason would tell her later that it was a mash of swears in both English and French.

Mason, on the other hand, was struggling against two out of three Puppets by himself. Yes, three, as Riley had managed to grab the bag and reattach Daisy's head, and also put her eyeballs back. Luckily she was still without a real Host, so it was fairly easy to kick her away when she got too close, but it was annoying and a distraction. And Riley only had one arm, oddly enough, though it didn't seem to stop her from putting her all into her attacks, with him barely able to hold her back at times.

Nick hung back and gave mockingly encouraging words to the other two, but didn't do a lot to help otherwise. He only joined the fight when Sammy managed to sneak up behind him and stab his Host with the broken end of his broom.

"You ass!" Was the artist's response, already feeling his Host begin to bleed out. He stumbled after the stoner, who managed to keep just out of reach while smacking his head, the sound of wood against wood echoing in the small space.

"Diediedie why won't you die?!" He sang out as he drummed against the Puppet's head, disorienting him enough he couldn't fight back, even after Daisy switched her attention to Sammy. Clawing her way up his body, he had to quickly start smacking her until she finally let go and dropped off. He then stomped on her until Nick managed to come to and grab him, pulling him by the back of his shirt and choking him.

Mason saw this and brought his pipe down hard on the arm holding Nick, feeling more than hearing the bones snap under the metal. He howled in pain, letting go of Sammy as he flopped down, other hand flailing trying to catch himself.

Mason grabbed Sammy and started pulling him back towards the door, taking Riley out with a well-timed head-shot as they passed. Which, conveniently, distracted Rosco and gave Lisa an opening to escape.

As she joined them in their attempt at fleeing, pausing only to grab up their Hand Puppets, Sammy and Mason kept their weapons up. The Handeemen were starting to recover, and they had inadvertently trapped themselves.

Backs to the Sound Stage, where Will and Stacy were possibly fighting Mortimer, and in front of them were three royally pissed off Puppets and a dog-monster. Lisa wasn't sure if they should push forward, or try and fall back, but looking at what was ahead of them made her blood rush from fear.

Survival was not looking good.

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