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wincore · 3 years

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field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan.

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly.

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that.

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you.

You shake it off.

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer.

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks.

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates.

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue.

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile.

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes.

“Sungchan?!”

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!”

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face.

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity.

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.”

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns.

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on.

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention.

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys.

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling.

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love.

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile.

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation.

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on.

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones.

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts.

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you.

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm.

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes.

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls.

"Do you have any bandaids?"

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.”

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you.

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind.

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers.

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans.

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him.

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade.

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan.

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead.

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly.

“Hm?”

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that.

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field.

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding.

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave.

“You should,” he responds, honest.

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile.

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties.

Only one more match, you remind yourself.

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this.

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all.

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile.

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty.

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you.

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading.

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care.

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk.

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild.

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct x reader #sungchan x reader #nct fluff #sungchan fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios #nct x you #sungchan x you #nct sungchan #jung sungchan #nct oneshot #sungchan oneshot #nct fanfic #sungchan fanfic #moonwrites

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juletheghoul · 3 years

Text

Domum (Part 2)

I am dedicating this to you @221bshrlocked, I really hope you enjoy this second instalment of Vamp Boyfriend Max and please know that whenever I return to this world, I'm thinking of you.

There will be a part three.

Max Phillips x F!Reader

Pairing: Max x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: **TRIGGER WARNING** Max is a vampire so there will be blood talk, some of it sexual in nature, implied violence (nothing super graphic), language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), slight dirty talk, Oral-female receiving, supernatural themes, descriptions of gore

Reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Part 1

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“And just when did you forsake me hm?” You stared at Ambrose, curled up and purring loudly against Max's chest on your bed. He seemed to choose Max over you half the time and you couldn’t help but be a little jealous. He stared at you with his eyes half closed, blinking slowly and you sighed at the image of your two favourite boys in your bed.

“Fine, let Max feed you then.” You were only half kidding.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, my love.” His eyes were closed but he smiled, imagining the look on your face.

“You shush, you’re only smug because he favours you.” He laughed at your tone and made a show of kissing Ambrose on his little face and you rolled your eyes. He set him down onto the floor - against Ambrose's wishes- and pulled you into bed. “I have to go to the market-” he cut you off with a kiss. It was so hard to push him away when he kissed you like that. When his hands held your face so tenderly.

“I would like for you to stay, stay in bed with me.” he kissed your neck and you felt the ghost of his fangs caressing your pulse point. Always letting you give consent before piercing your skin. You shivered slightly but you couldn’t give in. Giving in always meant you weren’t getting anything done. It took a great deal of self control to slip out of his grip and you quickly pulled away, leaving him in order to gather the clothing you had mended.

“If I let you carry on I'll waste the day.” you scolded him without any real anger.

“Waste? You call what we do a waste?” he laid on his back, arm over his eyes in mock distress. You could see the little smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You know full well what I meant - I need to bring these things to the market or Mrs. Johnson will have my head. I will be back soon, and then we can do whatever you want.” He perked up at the last bit, like you knew he would.

“Anything…?” He had pure mischief in his eyes and you blushed slightly at the implication.

“Yes - within reason I don’t think I need to clarify.” You approached the bed and he hastily got up to sit at the edge, making space for you between his legs. You stood and stared down at him - he looked up at you like you were the very air he breathed and you wondered for a brief moment how you could be so lucky.

“I’ll be waiting for you my love, like always.” he spoke with pure devotion as he hugged you around the middle. You ran your fingers lovingly through his hair- pulling it back lightly to kiss him on the mouth.

“You better.” You smiled at him, then made your way out.

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You made it to the market quickly and found Mrs Johnson stomping her foot impatiently and you braced yourself for an onslaught but she cheered up when she caught sight of you. She was one of the nicer villagers and you had a good relationship with her.

“There you are, girl - I was beginning to worry. Let me see.” She took the garments you had carefully folded up out of your arms and inspected your work. A frown of concentration on her face as she inspected a big tear you had mended. “Perfect - as I knew it would be. Thank you sweetling, here - for your trouble.” she handed you a small purse of coins and you took it thankfully.

“My thanks - I am always available for work.” You both said your goodbyes and you stopped to stock up on more thread. You needed new needles as well and you were perusing for more materials when you heard someone calling you. It was the young girl you’d helped almost a year ago, you had learned her name was Sarah and since then she had taken a shine to you. Treating you like an older sister and you regarded her in much the same manner. The little sister you never had.

“What is all the commotion?” You raised your eyebrows at her, she was breathless with excitement.

“I knew you hadn’t heard! There are new people in the village! They came in last night!” The smile on her face was half wild with excitement, times like this you realized how young she was and it always endeared her to you.

“Okay Sarah, take a deep breath and tell me.” You half laughed as you paid for your things and walked through town with her. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet as she grabbed your arm excitedly, telling you about the band of thespians, entertainers traveling the country; putting on shows and plays. “Singers and bards travel through here from time to time-“ she cut you off.

“Yes but never this many! Seems to be a large company - they’ll finally put that playhouse to use. Isn’t it exciting?” She smiled brightly at you but you had a bad feeling. It wasn’t the same as when Max came into town, this was stronger and it left a bad taste in your mouth. “Look! That’s them!” She whispered excitedly into your ear.

There was a group of men making their way into the big tavern in town and it felt like someone had dumped ice water down the back of your dress. There was something wrong.

Max was there in an instant, Sarah didn’t notice him until he spoke.

“Good morning Sarah.” He spoke with a neutral tone but you knew that he was anything but relaxed. He usually stayed inside during the day and his body language gave him away, to you at least.

“Hello Max! Did you hear?” You rolled your eyes, knowing she would explain the whole thing over again. He had a smile on his face as she spoke but it wasn’t filled with the warmth you had become accustomed to.

This was a mask.

“Newcomers, that’s interesting.” You could see him scanning the outside of the tavern with a critical eye. He sensed whatever you had sensed, and he sensed it all the way from the cottage.

When Sarah left he spoke in hushed tones, you had never seen him like this.

“There is something here. Something hungry.” To everyone who passed by you were a courting couple taking a stroll through the village square but he was unsettled.

“I felt it too, made my hair stand on end.” You pressed yourself up against him, there was a sudden chill in the air and you weren’t exactly sure whether it was his words or the temperature.

“I don’t like this, it seems familiar but I can’t quite place it. I need to find out what it is and either destroy it or get it out of town. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” You smiled to yourself, remembering his attitude towards the town when he first arrived. Things had changed for you since then, for the most part anyway.

There were still villagers who thought you were the devil incarnate but most of them had embraced you. Sarah had advocated for you and with her being the daughter of prominent members of your community, others had followed. You had a steady stream of customers who came to you as a seamstress, and an even bigger one for your other talents.

The townspeople were wary of Max, everyone except Sarah - she treated him as an extension of you; and she loved you.

He had embraced the villagers, promising you that he would protect this place. That he would protect anything you loved. You both spoke about it as you made your way home and you decided that you would go into town that night to investigate. Go to the tavern and get a drink to see if either of you could find out just what exactly had blown into town.

The tavern was unusually full, it seemed everyone wanted to be out amongst the newcomers. You smiled at Jasper, the old barkeep, you had helped his wife with pain in her legs a few months ago. He always had a smile for you now.

“I will find us a table, Jasper favours you.” Max whispered in your ear and you laughed. You asked the grizzled old man for a glass of wine and some cider, he didn’t let you pay.

The two of you sat in a dark little corner of the tavern, keeping an eye on everyone and chatting idly, Max drinking his wine and you nursing your cider. The two of you waited a couple of hours but it was for naught. Nothing happened - although it was pleasant to be out with him, neither of you sensed anything dangerous. Chalking it up to a loss, you made your way home.

The night was pleasant and you walked leisurely through the woods towards the cottage, the two of you arm in arm - enjoying the clear night sky. You were looking at the moon, seeing it’s position - full moon in a few days you thought to yourself when Max pulled you off the path suddenly. You shrieked in surprise but you quickly recovered when he pushed you up against a large tree. You weren't too far off the path, someone walking by would have to know you were there in order to see you.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” You spoke in mock outrage, he laughed into your skin. He had you caged against the trunk; his face was buried in your neck and he was kissing every inch he could reach.

“I think you know, I believe you told me we could do whatever I wanted this morning.” He lifted your leg, hoisting it high on his hip as he ground into you. You let out a sigh at the feel of him, hard enough to feel through his trousers at your core. The bark of the tree was scratching at the back of your neck, the little bit of pain adding to the pleasure.

“I think I want to hear you say it.” Your voice was breathy, your fingers running through his hair, you guided his face towards yours, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your body. You wanted him closer, always closer. He smiled into the kiss.

“I want to fuck you against this tree my love. I want to feed from you while you cum, I want to taste your pleasure, I want to love you. Will you let me love you?” He watched your mouth as he spoke, his words exciting you so much you ached. So much that you moaned and felt your sex dripping for him. Your heart was pounding, even your blood wanted him.

“Yes, always…” You breathed it out but he swallowed your words. He reached between you to pull your skirts up past your hips, he became impatient with all the fabric and when he reached your undergarments he ripped them roughly. The act excited you, causing another wave of slick to drip out of you and onto your thigh. He knelt in front of, looking up like he was in prayer.

He lifted your leg and draped it over his shoulder and he licked at your core hungrily. You felt his urgency, he sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth with a passion that had you frantically clutching at his hair, it had you grinding into his mouth and it had you almost screaming. Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave and he drank it down, refusing to pull away until you pushed him. He started undoing his trousers, pulling himself out as he stood.

His eyes were black with lust, as he roughly lifted you against the tree- wrapping both your legs around his hips; lifting you as if you weighed nothing.

“Undo your blouse for me sweet girl, I’m going to bite you where you like it.” he held you against the tree as you hastily undid your corset enough to pull your blouse down. You held tightly onto him as he reached down to guide himself into your wet heat. Both of you groaned when he was fully seated inside you.

It felt better every time. It was bliss, it was ecstasy.

You moaned as he drove into you, the scratching of the tree behind you sharpening the pleasure of his thrusts. You saw his fangs elongate and felt him getting frantic. He wouldn’t last long. You pushed his head down to your breast and he bit it rougher than usual, you could hear the sound of your joining and it was filthy, it was obscene out in the open like this but you didn’t care. The pleasure building with his bite and your blood in his mouth.

He licked your wound closed and moved to your other breast - you saw the brief anguished look of pleasure on his face as he bit your nipple. It hit you again. It was so intense you seized up almost painfully, screaming at the intensity of it. Your cunt clenched around him and he came with a growl.

He set you down, his grip softening, he was gentle again and he licked your wound closed. This was the roughest he’d ever been with you and you enjoyed it far more than you would have ever thought.

He was pulling your shirt back up and straightening your skirts as you caught your breath, he had a little frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You touched his face, bringing his attention to you.

“I’m afraid I got carried away, I’m sorry if I was too rough with you.” He looked chastened, he hissed when he saw the scratches on your shoulders and neck from the tree. You laughed lightly but he didn’t join in.

“Max, I thoroughly enjoyed that. I will heal. I can draw myself a special bath and I will be better in a few hours. Please, put it out of your mind my love.” You hugged him to you and he relented.

He was quiet as you made your way home and although he had dropped the subject, you knew he felt guilty. You appreciated the sentiment but you weren’t made of glass.

Once you got home, you had him fill the big kettle as you gathered a few things.

When he returned you had him pull the big tub into the middle of the room, he did so without comment. Once the water was hot enough, he helped you fill the tub and you put a few things into the water; dried herbs and flowers that would help relax you. He watched as you moved about, picking a little bit of this and a pinch of that.

The steam was lovely and it smelled like lavender and wildflowers. You stripped off your clothes and ordered him to do the same but he didn’t right away, you got into the tub and raised your eyebrows at him. He smiled and stripped, joining you in the warm water.

“Here, rub a little of this wherever the skin is irritated.” You handed him a little jar full of a thick oily paste. He obeyed and you felt his big warm hands massaging it into your skin. He was thorough and quiet as he did what you asked, the two of you enjoying the intimacy and the warmth.

He kissed your shoulder when he was done and you laid on his chest between his legs. He washed you gently as you relished his sturdy warmth behind you.

“Max, can I ask you something?” The question popped into your mind and you had to get it out.

“Yes my love?” He was washing your hair, massaging your scalp carefully as you relaxed.

“You told me once that you’ve only ever turned one person, what happened to them?” You asked it casually, you were curious and he never spoke about his past. You felt him tense for a moment before he continued with his actions.

“Do you really wish to know?” His voice sounded a little hesitant, you wanted to know, but only if he wanted to tell you.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, I was merely curious.” You meant it, whatever happened before either of you met- it didn’t matter. Not now that you had each other.

He carefully poured water on you, washing the soap out of your hair in silence, taking the utmost care to not get any of it in your eyes. You thought the conversation was done but he eventually spoke.

“I’ll tell you one day, not today - allow me to tell you in my own time.” He pressed his face into your neck, kissing your ear and shoulder, his actions soothing the hurt he imagined his response was causing. He was entitled to his silence. You turned to face him, looking up from where your face was pressed against his chest.

“You don’t have to explain, if it hurts too much or if it’s something you don’t like discussing. It’s okay for you to keep things to yourself.” You smiled at him, letting him know there was no double meaning, you meant every word. He pulled you up to kiss you and you felt his devotion to you, felt him saying what you meant to him without words.

You both sat in the bath quietly for a long time.

---

A couple of days went by and nothing, no hide nor hair of whatever the two of you had sensed. You were beginning to think that maybe you’d gotten lucky, something passing by near enough for the both of you to pick up on it but not actually staying.

You should be so lucky.

There had been talk in the market of a beast, a monster ripping through the Robertson farm just outside town. Killing a few of his sheep and almost all of his chickens. The carnage was said to be disturbing and the bad taste returned with a vengeance, rocks settling in your stomach. This is not good.

Once you got back home and explained what happened to Max he made it a point to go to the Robertson farm to see if he could get a sense of what it could be. It wasn’t long before he was back - frowning deeply.

“I cannot get a feel for it, it’s not another of my kind that’s for sure. This feels more primal, more violent. I need to get closer.” You could see his frustration, it was bothering him that he couldn’t fix it.

Later on that night, Max got his wish.

You were laying in bed, curled up in each other when something flickered across Max's face. He blurred out of bed with how fast he moved, stopping to hastily put his trousers on. You felt it before you could ask him what was wrong, Ambrose shot out of bed and bounded for the door. He was hissing loudly, his hackles raised higher than you’d ever seen.

“Stay there.” His voice was iron, no room for argument. He stalked over to the door and listened, you heard it all the way from the bed; something massive was outside your cottage. It pressed against the door lightly and you could hear the gouging of the wood, whatever it was - it had claws.

Your heart was in your throat as Ambrose hissed and snarled, you quietly got up to wrap your blanket around you. Max silently moved to your kitchen to look out the window. Ambrose stopped hissing and ran towards your bed.

“It’s gone.” He didn’t move from the window and you tentatively approached him, needing his warmth to reassure you. He instantly rubbed at your arms to calm you. “You’re safe my love, nothing will happen to you. Good news is, I think I figured out what we’re dealing with. It’s a werewolf.”

You knew there had to be other creatures in this world, you yourself were a witch and you were committed to a vampire but you were at a loss for words. You would have laughed, had he not had that look on his face.

“It came straight here, it must sense us in it’s altered state.” He was pacing the room, thinking hard as you sat silent at the table. Shivering even though you had the blanket wrapped around you. You were trying to think about everything you knew about werewolves, you knew there must be something about them in your mothers notes, where were they again? You got up and put on a shift before digging through the big trunk tucked into the corner of the room.

He came over when you yelled in triumph, pulling out your mothers big leatherbound notebook.

He was silently watching you as you flipped through the pages, looking for any insight and then you saw it - she had a whole page on them. Some of the points you already knew, that you needed pure silver to ward them off. They were vicious and their bite was a curse. When they were in their animal state, they were purely primal. They would tear apart their own mothers without a second thought. Aversion to silver & iron, wolfsbane - would make sense as to why it only gauged at the wood of your door. You had fortified your protection once more after Max had come in, leaving out anything that would stop him and him alone.

“Tonight was the last night of the full moon, we have a month to prepare. We have to find out who it is, and destroy them. They cannot be cured, I hope no one gets hurt tonight.” You spoke to him as you put the book on the table. He listened intently and the both of you came up with a plan to go into the market and get as close as you could to the newcomers.

“Hopefully they'll leave before the next full moon, we should be so lucky.” He spoke as he blew out the candles you’d lit, the both of you getting back into bed. You whispered your plans to each other, vowing to warn Sarah. You thought of little trinkets you could make, talismans of protection to the people closest to you. You hoped with everything in you that you wouldn’t wake up to bad news.

---

No such luck.

The two of you decided to head into town together the next day, and there were whispers of a great beast everywhere you went. Several people had seen a huge mass stalking around the woods, luckily no one had been hurt. You did notice a few of the more unfriendly villagers giving you hard glares and scowls as you made your way through, you felt Maxs grip tighten slightly at the open show of hostility.

“We’re trying to protect them.” he spoke as you tried to calm him, putting your hand on his chest. He took it and held it there as you walked through. You caught sight of Sarah and she rushed over to you.

“I wanted to warn you- a couple of townsfolk were saying that this has something to do with you. I said that there was absolutely no way - that you’re a good person but I didn’t like how they spoke.” She was visibly upset, imagining her defending you pulled at your heartstrings.

“Oh sweetling, thank you - we’ll be okay, they’re just scared.” You hugged her tightly, trying your best to reassure her. “I’ve made you something, I brought it with me in case I saw you, put this on and don’t take it off. I’ve made one for each of your parents - this should protect you. Please make sure you don’t go out after dark. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” You spoke to her as you handed her the talismans you made. She smiled shyly and put on the necklace.

“I won’t take it off, please - be careful. Both of you.” She hugged you tightly and left quickly.

----

For the next couple of weeks both you and Max made it a point to get close to the newcomers. Thinking that maybe if you got close enough you would be able to sense it but it was for naught. They kept fastidiously to themselves, the only time you saw them was when they performed. Even then - Max couldn’t get a sense of who the danger was. You had learned from your mother’s book that it would be difficult, that the days before and after a full moon - this person could appear to be perfectly human.

——

The full moon was coming in just a few days and the tension between you and a few townspeople was palpable. Even before Sarah and other people had embraced you, things were never this bad.

You studied the book constantly, using your mothers knowledge to create a weapon that would be able to kill the beast. It would have been better to cure it but it was for naught, there was none to be found. The biggest fear would be that someone else would get bitten, spreading the curse to someone else.

Well, not the biggest fear - the biggest fear would be that someone would get killed.

——

“What do you propose we do? This is the best course of action. You know that.” He was right, as angry and upset as you were, you had to admit he was right.

“I don’t like it Max. I should be out there with you.” Your voice was soft, you were trying to argue but he looked so worried.

“I know. I cannot focus if there’s a chance you might get hurt. If something were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself- you know it makes sense- I can cover more ground without you.” He walked over to you, untangling your arms to wrap them around his neck.

He had a way of making you crack, of burrowing under your skin; into your heart. You couldn’t help but press your ear to his chest.

“I have to know you’re safe, if we both get hurt then we’re useless.” He pressed his lips to your temple.

“Very well, please be careful.” You held him tightly, as tight as you could and he let you.

---

It felt horrible to sit around and worry.

You made tea, you flipped through the book absentmindedly, it was almost a compulsion. Ambrose could sense your anxiety and he plopped down on your lap, purring loudly against your skin.

Max insisted on patrolling every night of the full moon. He was determined to destroy the beast and have your lives return to normal and you couldn’t blame him, but you couldn’t sleep until he walked through your door safe and sound. When he eventually did you would nearly tackle him to the ground.

The relief wasn’t to last though.

He burst through your door on the last night of the full moon. He was covered in blood and he held a body in his arms.

Your heart seized up, Sarah was limp in his arms. You were frantic, you could see her throat had been ripped open and you held the scream in your throat. He was speaking to you as he laid her down on the table.

“My love, I need you to focus. Is there anything in your book on how to save her?” You took a deep breath as he spoke, opening the book to the familiar pages with trembling hands.

There’s so much blood

“There’s no way to undo the curse Max, if she doesn’t die - she’ll be one of them.” The tears were flowing now, she was so young, so full of life. You walked over to her, brushing the hair out of her face. Her skin was like ivory and far too cold. Her breaths were shallow and the blood was flowing slowly. Her heart was pumping her life away.

“Can you save her?” You knew he didn’t like talking about it, but it might be the only chance she had. His eyes were on you and you could see the pain in them; inner turmoil bubbling up.

“My love, it would not be her choice and she might hate me for it. Hate you for making it for her.” His words were knives to your already broken heart.

“Please Max, I cannot lose her.” You were sobbing then, voice paper thin and up to your elbows in her blood. Her ragged breaths must have been an agony. She was bleeding into her lungs.

“Are you prepared to deal with her scorn?” His voice was cloud-soft, he didn’t want to lose her either.

“Yes.” You spoke to him but you kept your eyes on her. “Whatever it takes to save her, please.”

He changed her.

——-

You waited for her to change with baited breath. It took much longer than anticipated and you almost chewed your nails to the bone. Max fared no better, he paced the cottage while the transformation occurred and you could feel his fear. Whatever had happened in his past weighed heavy on his mind while you waited. You asked him what happened to distract him.

Max had destroyed the creature, it was one of the newcomers - he’d been taken with Sarah and they had stepped out together when he changed and in her fear; her talisman had been lost.

When you saw her skin stitching itself back together you breathed a sigh of relief, your body was a tense knot and you felt your muscles loosen slightly as her breathing regulated, as her body repaired itself.

“She will be thirsty when she wakes.” He whispered, sensing her starting to come to.

When she woke she was disoriented and Max stood between the two of you with his arms up, his body a wall between Sarah and you. He held her firmly in his grasp and spoke in clear sentences.

“Sarah sweetling, can you hear me?” He was staring into her wild eyes, for a moment it was as if she didn’t recognize either of you but a few seconds later you saw her soften, saw her take you both in.

“Max? What happened? What happened to me?” She was looking at her hands, her eyes darted around rapidly and you could see the fear.

“Sarah - focus on my voice. I need you to listen.” He came closer to her, very slowly, approaching her like one would a wild animal. He explained what had happened to her and what he’d done. What he was, what she now was as well. She looked at you with fear in her eyes and Max almost broke. This was what he’d been afraid of.

“Am I going to be okay?” She was terrified and you wanted to hug her but Max wouldn’t let you.

“You’re going to be fine - come, I will help you and once you're fed I will bring you back here and we will talk.” He turned to kiss you quickly, his unconscious need to feel you close was as much to reassure him as it was to reassure you. “Draw a bath for her my love, she will want to get clean when we get back.” With that they both left.

----

It took days for her to adjust, Max walking her through the change. His fear that she would hate you both never left him and you could hear the silent apologies in the way he treated her. The way he guided her through everything like a father would a favoured child.

At first she was afraid, terrified of herself and her new abilities but it didn’t last. She took to it well. Her young age, which he thought would be a hindrance - actually worked in her favour.

She had a long way to go until she had the same level of control as Max, but both of you would be there to help her.

To be continued...

---

Tag list: @frannyzooey @foli-vora @danniburgh @sambucky21 @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @wheresarizona @sherala007 @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @gaiuswrites @stevie75 @sweet-creature98 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @bellaorisa @hellovanessax @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @mrs-ghuleh @pedritoispunk @librariantothejedi @studythoreauly @missswriter @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @giizhkens-cedar @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @anaaaispunk @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @quica-quica-quica @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @mandosmistress @deadhumourist @felicisimor @tuskens-mando

#max x you #pedro pascal #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic

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gaitwae · 3 years

Text

Wildest Dreams [|] Loki x Reader

Sequel to Mr. Perfectly Fine

Warnings:

Summary: Loki remembers what he’s done to you. You work through the hurt, deciding not to rush whatever’s really going on.

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword

It was absolutely safe to say that when your eyes opened, you were scared out of your mind. Loki was sleeping on your couch, his fingers laced with yours. Vaguely, all too quickly, you realized that accepting his dashing-yet-blunt proposal wasn’t a fantasy.

Hurt bubbled up in your chest. Your eyes stung dully as you removed your hand from his. You checked his temperature: it was low. He was drunk. He was sitting on your couch with your smudged lip color on his. He did think you were engaged now, despite the fact that you were quickly realizing how bad that was.

Loki hurt you.

Loki hurt you real bad.

You couldn’t marry this man, no matter how much you might have wanted to those years ago. You never would have said yes! Loki just... he seemed so sad. He had never cried in front of you, not if you didn’t count Frigga’s funeral, and even then, that wasn’t anything like... well... that display. His tears were like salt in the wound, laughing right at you. You put some distance between the two of you. You cleaned his mouth off with your sleeve, wondering how on Earth you were going to explain this to Bucky.

Oh, no.

Bucky.

Bucky was going to have to hear Loki’s hungover insistance that you were now his fiancée. He was also going to have to hear about how you kissed Loki back. You had to be honest. You had to call your boyfriend. There was no skipping over the truth when you were dating a lawyer, no matter how much you wanted to avoid it.

It was better that he heard it from you rather than the ex boyfriend laying on your couch.

You dialed Bucky’s number. He picked up quickly. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Bucky, Loki came over,” you said quickly, “and he was drunk... he, uh, kissed me, and he proposed to me because apparently you were planning on asking me to marry you?” You swallowed, trying to think of how to redeem yourself. “I got so swept up with emotion from the past, I said yes, I didn’t mean to, but Loki was already crying and I needed him to calm down — he’s — he’s asleep, but if he starts getting protective by the time you come home, I’m so sorry—!”

“Wait,” Bucky said, cutting you off. “Baby, explain this again. Calmly, okay?” He didn’t sound too worried. Then again, this might be the quiet before the storm.

“Loki came by our house, drunk. He was crying, and I got nervous. He kissed me, proposed, and then asked me to marry him. I didn’t know what to do, so I said yes. I’m so, so sorry....”

“Well, you’re not going to marry him, are you?” he asked, sad humor slipping in. Your heart sank.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but hey? What could you do? You held the phone to your ear gingerly, keeping an eye on Loki’s sleeping form. “I-I mean, no. No.”

The anger slowly started to build. You understood it. You hoped he would be mad at you instead of Loki. “You don’t know? Or ‘no’? What is it?”

“James, it isn’t like that,” you protested. You bit your tongue and your cheek. If the world was perfect, you would have married Loki like you were set on. You would have had children with him, by now. As you spoke, you found you weren’t faced with the possibility of losing Bucky, but the possibility of throwing away your decade-old dreams. “I swear. I don’t want to marry anybody, right now. I don’t. I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you? What if I did propose, Y/N?” Defensive. Protective. Angry. Hurt. Why? Had Loki been right?

You hadn’t ever talked about marrying Bucky. You couldn’t imagine that life. “Bucky, can we save this for later?” you begged through the phone. “Please, I’m worried about Loki; he’s never drunk himself stupid before.” You scratched your neck. In your wildest dreams, you had never imagined falling back into Loki’s temptation.

You had finally woken up clean, and he had to try to bring you back down.

“Y/N?” he asked after a moment. Barnes sounded hollow. Hollow, but understanding. There was a shuffle over the phone and you couldn’t tell what it was. Was he leaving? Was he moving around? Would he forgive you?

“Yeah?” you managed.

“You still love him. Don’t you?”

Your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth. Your tears welled up. No wonder you were able to be friends with Loki. No wonder you weren’t able to just forget about him. With an ocean of regret in your voice, you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

James sighed. “Okay. Well, we can talk things through at home... I know you didn’t mean for anything to happen, I know you’ve been as faithful as you can be. You wouldn’t be calling and crying otherwise.” He sniffed. “I shouldn’t have planned a proposal without clearing it with you. We haven’t talked about marriage.”

“Bucky, if I do ever marry, I don’t want you to worry if it’s you or Loki. I don’t even know if I want to marry anyone. Loki clearly has feelings for me, I can’t just pretend that I don’t have remaining feelings when he could very well keep coming by... Gosh.” You sat down in a chair. You looked at your left hand, which had no ring on it. It was bare.

“I’ll head home,” Bucky said. “Sit tight. Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up the phone. You held your head in your hands, silently cursing yourself for being the world’s biggest pushover. Your ex waltzed in, gave off a teary show, and then pleaded for your heart like he was on death row, and you listened. Were you an idiot? What kind of mistake were you making? Could you up and leave Bucky for some tool who could change his mind as quickly as he had four years ago?

You sat there for what seemed like hours; it was probably only one or two, considering how long Bucky’s firm was from your home. Your boyfriend eventually stepped through the door and pulled you into his arms, millions of apologies being swapped between the two of you.

You sat at the table and talked for almost three hours. Every now and then, it was bordering an argument, but you both kept your cool. Bucky knew how hard you were trying to be there for him, to be his, but when it came down to it, you were always Loki’s. You had a raw wound. You knew how much Bucky wanted to be yours, but as it turned out, he was proposing because it seemed like what was expected of him. Through the conversation, you learned that maybe it was smarter to take a break, maybe stay roommates, and try to exist as friends again.

“If Loki makes you happy,” Bucky whispered, “then I think you should try again. He’s changed; he’s made changes for you. He’s been good to you. We’ve been barely getting by these past months.”

“I know,” you replied. “But I’m not going to turn around and just run after him. That’s not smart. You’re still in my life, Buck.”

“All I see is you,” he murmured.

“I know,” you said again.

Bucky stood up. “I’m going to stay at Steve’s tonight, doll. Um... make sure Loki has water when he wakes up. Give him a good tongue-thrashing for me.” He offered a weak smile.

You sniffled. “Take whatever you need. I’ll be up playing nurse — don’t worry about anything.”

Bucky nodded. “Got it.” He scratched his nose. “I’ll drop by in the morning and see if there’s anything I can help with.”

+-+--

When Loki woke up, the headache was the first thing he complained of. “Y/N?” he groaned. You were sitting next to him, hands tucked under your arms. You were gazing down at him, watching his face as his expression changed from pained to embarrassed. “Please tell me what happened was just a fever dream...”

You shook your head. “You proposed to me.”

“You said ‘yes’,” he breathed, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Oh, my Norns. I’m so sorry; you don’t have to marry me. I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have even come by — I walked from the bar, in the rain, with only the thought of taking you back...”

“I figured,” you chuckled lightly. You didn’t meet his eyes. You played with the hem of your shirt. “Bucky and I might break up, though. You told on him. His planned proposal, I mean.”

“You aren’t breaking up because of me, are you?”

“No; not entirely. I’m still... You’re trouble, you know that? I’m going to get a reputation.”

“You need one,” Loki joked. “People will be less likely to take advantage of you, then. Odinson’s Wife — the Terrifying Maiden.”

“I’m no maiden,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m still upset from our breakup. That’s why Bucky and I are thinking about calling it quits. I wasn’t over you when I thought I was, so just shut up and drink some water.” You handed him a glass. “You can’t hold your liquor, you know.”

Loki took it gingerly. “Oh, I hate how well you know me,” he sighed, taking a long sip. “Do I get some aspirin?”

“No.” You crossed your arms. “You said you’ve been carrying Frigga’s ring in your pocket since she died?”

“I did?” He furrowed his brows. “That’s right, I did... I’ve been keeping it for you, I must admit.”

“You said.”

Loki sat up, taking your hand. “I have your picture in my wallet.”

“You what?” You blinked. “You didn’t say that.” You scooted a little closer.

“Well, no, I didn’t; I didn’t need you to drop my glass heart, now, did I?” Loki smirked a little. “You know it always has been you, lover.”

“I’m not your lover,” you said exasperatedly.

Loki kissed your cheek. Although you pushed him off once or twice, he managed to snake his arms around your waist and hang on you. “Not yet. I will marry you, whatever it takes.”

+-+--

Sidewalk chalk was an odd Christmas tradition with Thor’s kids. It was another three years after Loki’s drunken proposal, and you and Bucky eventually sorted it out and found you were both much, much happier. Bucky married Sarah Wilson, taking her two boys as his own stepchildren. You were still in the grey area with Loki, but you wouldn’t deny that you were about ready to scream if he didn’t at least try to pop the question.

“Y/N, darling, I brought you something!” Loki’s voice came from upstairs. Thor’s house was large, and the wife he had picked opted to be a stay-at-home mother while the toddlers were toddling. He poked his head out from the upstairs balcony and grinned at you like a madman.

“What did you bring me?” you asked, arching your brow at your boyfriend-but-not-really. He stomped down the stairs, thrusting a little blue bag in your hands.

“I’ve brought glad tidings. I’ve come to free you~” he teased, poking your sides. “My undying affection. My most-ardent love for you—”

“—Can it, tell me what it is,” you said, cutting him off. Loki pulled you flush against his chest, peppering your cheek with kisses.

“I want you to imagine us... you, standing in a nice dress, me, staring at you staring at the sunset,” he whispered, lacing your fingers. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

“What is it?” you pressed, looking in the bag. It was a little picture of a house. “What?”

“That’s our home, sweetheart,” Loki said, resting his head on top of yours. “We’ll live there after the wedding, raise our children...”

“You’re still trying to get me to marry you?” you asked.

“We’ve been engaged for three years!” he scolded playfully. “Not even in your wildest dreams, I would not be trying to make you my wife.”

“What if I am your wife?”

“I’ll try to marry you again!” he laughed, kissing you sweetly.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki of asgard #loki god of mischief #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson #loki #mcu #mcu loki #loki mcu #marvel #gaitwae writes #loki x reader angst #i'll add the angst tag just so you guys don't @ me

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cultgambles · 3 years

Text

The Pro Hero Gala

Summary: Your first major outing as Hawks’ S/O turns steamy when his jealousy gets the best of him.

Warnings: n s f w ! , semi-public, not really use of pronouns referring to you, but u got a vag

WC: 2.3k!

Masterlist | Requests? open

“(Y/N),” Hawks whined, “We’re gonna be late! I’m sure you’ll look fine.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming! I’m just trying to zip up the back of my dress,” you giggled back.

“The Number Two can help you with that!” he all but burst into the bathroom, taking in your form. You wore a sparkling red evening gown, with a low back, high leg slit, and dainty nude heels. Hawks whistled, pressing cold fingers against your back, slowly zipping the zipper up. “Got a bit stuck there, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, thank you. You’re my hero,” you sighed sweetly, pecking him on the cheek. His suit was a deep black, so different from his usual tan outfit. His tie was red, almost the same shade as his wings.

“You’re gorgeous in that,” he said, taking your hand to lead you out, “but we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry up.”

“I know, I know. Just a little nervous maybe.”

“Don’t be, they’ll love you.” This was your first time at a Pro Hero Event, of course you were filled with butterflies. You definitely didn’t belong, especially just being a normal citizen. Maybe you’d look just as fancy though? “Stop overthinking, chickadee, just be yourself. Stick by me, and it’ll all be okay. We can sneak out later, if you’re really feeling it.”

“While I would definitely love too, I’m not sure your PR team or fellow heroes would commend that.”

Quietly, a jet black limo pulled up in front of your apartment building and the driver opened the door for the both of you.

“After you,” Hawks smiled, “Ww would just have to find the perfect time.”

“You just wanna look at my ass, huh?”

“You got me.”

The ride to the event was filled with mindless chatter, soft jazz drifting through the air. Hawks reached out to your clammy hand and gave it a squeeze as you both stepped out of the coach. In an instant, camera flashes blinded your vision, tens of reporters shouting your name for comments.

“Get outta here, guys, you’re making my baby jealous!” Hawks scolded lightly, a wing covering your frame. Inside was as lavish as you could have imagined, rows of chandeliers, butlers floating around, gold accents everywhere, and of course heroes everywhere. Hawks checked in at the booth, gesturing to you as his plus one. “C’mon, let’s go say hi to Endeavor.”

You shook your head at his enthusiasm, “One day I’m going to lose you to him.”

“Maybe! But not soon. Not tired of ya yet, kid.”

“Maybe!” you exclaimed in fake shock.

“He got a tight little ass,” Hawks shrugged. “Hey-yo! Endeavor, this is my partner I told you about, [Y/N] [L/N].”

You held your hand out to the fiery man, “Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise, I’ve heard a lot about you, Hawks never stops talking.”

“That’s cute,” you coo to your boyfriend.

“I’m gonna get something at the bar real quick. Want anything?”

“I’m okay, thank you. Well, actually, maybe a martini, please?” Hawks nodded and gave you a quick pat on the head.

Endeavor was already talking with some of his acquaintances and you were left alone for the time being. Soon enough, some Pro who you didn’t recognize made his way to you.

He was really laying on the sugar, standing oh so close, his hand ghosting over the curve of your hip. You laughed along, as to not be rude. Little did the two of you know, Hawks could hear every sweet word the man whispered, his feathers puffing up slightly.

“[Y/N], here, I got it just the way you like it,” he glanced at the other hero, “Hey man, haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh yes! This is my first event since my debut. Half a year, maybe?”

“Congrats! Hummingbird, I heard Miruko just came in. Wanna go say hi? I know you guys got along.”

“Sure, baby,” you smiled, feeling his bitterness seep through his mask. “Nice talking to you!”

“Wai--”

“I leave you alone for less than ten minutes and you’re already cheating on me?!” he huffed, trying to hide a smile.

You sighed dramatically, doing a woe is me pose. “I just can’t keep them at bay!”

“How ya feelin’ for ya first fancy event?”

“Feeling a little better.” After twenty or so minutes more of mingling with everyone, the presenter stands at the podium.

“My Heros, I thank you all for attending this event, hopefully crime will just pause for this evening”--a couple people chuckled softly--“and have a wonderful rest of the evening. Please find your seats! Dinner will be served shortly.”

“Any ideas of what’s for dinner?”

“Not sure, I heard they hired American chefs, though. Where do you wanna sit?”

“Maybe over there?” you asked, pointing to an empty circular table.

“Lead the way, baby,” Hawks replied.

You and Hawks sat next to each other, facing the stage. Rumi across from you, and a couple others you didn’t quite know. As the lights dimmed, a familiar voice rang over your head.

“Mind if I sit here? I can’t believe all the seats were filled by the time I got back from the bathroom.”

“Ah, of course,” you smiled slightly. It was the Pro from before. Hawks huffed under his breath. The bread bowl made its way around the table and you leaned over to Hawks, telling him how much you love sour dough bread.

“I like sour dough too!” the man next to you loudly said.

“It’s nice, isn’t it,” you agreed. C’mon, just leave me alone. Dinner continued, different groups putting on stage show shorts for entertainment. And with each comment from the stranger, Hawks’ attitude changed a little. His words a little sharper, eyes a little narrower. Of course, this was only noticeable to the trained eye. A spotlight shown on the stage, illuminating a row of women. Their beautiful display of the Thousand Arms Dance almost made you forget about the hand resting on your thigh.

In two moments, that changed.

Dangerously close to your sex.

Rubbing small circles on the inner side.

“Hawks.”

“[Y/N].”

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the show?”

“Don’t play coy with me, you whisper yelled.

“No idea what you’re talking about, songbird,” he purred, fingers prodding your sex through your panties softly.

“Okay. I see how it is.”

“What ever do you mean? Don’t go ignoring Mr. New Pro over there.”

You looked around at the table, everyone enthralled by the dance. Mr. New Pro was cutting his steak into fifty tiny meticulous pieces. Weird.

“He’s not even talking to me,” you snorted, “for once.”

“But you like the attention, don’t you?” You choked on your water.

“Hey, [Y/N], look at my meat,” the other hero said, gesturing to his plate.

Hawks’ eyes twitched. “Need to go right now.”

“Show’s not over, it would be rude!”

“Right now,” he hissed, getting up abruptly and dragging you with him. “Dinner was good, but I really want dessert right now.”

The bright lights of the lobby made your eyes take a while to adjust. A supply closet door left unlocked, now your small haven with your boyfriend. “In there,” you pointed.

“You got great ideas, hummingbird,” Hawks praised, pressing you against the wall and kicking the door shut behind him. He gave you a quick kiss before kneeling between your legs. They rested on his shoulders, fingers digging into your supple thighs. “Be quiet, you don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention, do you?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Something about a bunch of Pros seeing you in such a compromising position piqued your interest.

Hawks attacked your sex, sucking on clit before dragging a tongue along your folds. You threaded a hand through his wild blond hair. Even though you two weren’t dating for a super long amount of time, he was already a master at knowing how to please you. You chalked it up to his keen observation skills.

His hot mouth brought you so close to your release until he pulled away suddenly.

“Good girls don’t get to cum until they learn to not flirt with other guys.”

“Barely flirting!”

“Not what I saw.”

He plunged a finger into your sopping entrance, massaging the spongy patch of flesh that made you throw your head back.

“What did I say?”

It took you a couple seconds to find the words, to which he pulled his digit out. “No flirting?”

“Close, baby.” Hawks gently placed you on your feet. “Turn around.”

“I wanna see that cute face though,” you pouted. It almost cracked his facade.

“Well, I wanna see your ass pressing against my hips.” You bent slightly, placing your hands on the wall to brace yourself. “That’s it…” you heard his belt buckle come undone, pants dropping to the floor in a heap around his shoes. Hawks’ cold fingers moved your dress to the side, and slowly pulled your silky panties down.

“Glad I wore this dress?”

“You plan it?”

“Didn’t think it would be in the way when we got back home,” you shrugged. “Guess it works for any place, huh?”

Hawks breathed deeply, cock in his hand, running the tip between your ass cheeks. You pushed back, trying to get some friction.

“What are you not supposed to do? Get it right, and I’ll sink into that cute little pussy of yours. Otherwise, we go back to the ballroom, yeah? Dunno if I can handle it though, what, with what’s-his-face all over you.”

“I didn’t catch his name either,” you giggled before clearing your throat, “uhm...you said to not come until you tell me. I’ll be good. I’ll do as you say. Just please--”

“Since you said please,” he hummed, “easy to slide in since you’re so wet for me. Only for me. No one else.”

“Of course!” your walls stretched to accommodate his length. Hawks let out a low groan. “So tight…”

You let out a high squeak, urging him to go faster. “Birdie, I...I can’t believe we’re doing this here…”

“A certain someone couldn’t wait..”

“I saw you getting pretty antsy too!”

“That little fucker had no business flirting with you right in front of me; and you. You allowed it, egged him on even,” Hawks growled in your ear.

“Maybe..maybe I wanted a reaction out of you!” your sentence ended with a lit when his tip kissed your cervix.

“Bad move, kid, you know I’m not gonna go easy on ya. When I came back and he was all over you, oooh, I just wanted to kill the bastard. Hero status be damned. When he leaned a little too close at the dinner table, I just wanted to bend you over the table to show him that you’re mine.” Suddenly, Hawks pulled out of you, flipping you around to face him. “Look at me, beautiful.”

You struggled to open your eyes, Hawks’ pinprick eyes trained on your own. They were honestly set ablaze.

He looked beautiful like this: hair more tousled than usual, a bead of sweat on his temple, mouth panting and parted open. “Whatcha lookin’ at baby bird?”

“Just you,” you sighed contentedly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a searing kiss.

You heard his wings ruffle, and his hips slammed into yours at a more fervent pace. Mmmffmmm, came out of your mouth. “I’m--close!”

Jealousy forgotten for the moment, Hawks nodded against the nape of your neck. “Hold on a lil longer. Can you do that for me? Wanna countdown?” he cooed.

“Y--yeah, okay,” your legs squeezed his body to yours impossibly tighter.

“Five,” he moaned. At least he didn’t start at ten, that would have been an eternity.

When four came around, you ran your hands on his feathers close to his back.

Three. Almost there.

Two, and it’s so close to one. You felt like you’re almost going to vomit, but in a good way. A tightening just about to unravel.

“One, look down at me ravaging this pussy. No one else can do it as well as me, don’t cha know?” Hawks snarled.

You peeked at where the two of you became one, his hand snaking around to rub at your clit.

“Hawks! Coming, I’m coming,” you moaned, his name falling off your tongue like a prayer. You briefly wondered when he would tell you his real name, but quickly coming to this moment when he spoke.

“Sing me my favorite song, songbird. You know I love to hear it!” His hips stuttered, wings flaring out (you loved that part) as he came, hot cum shooting out into your waiting entrance. Your pussy milked the rest out desperately as you both felt the aftermaths of your highs. He rested his forehead against yours. “I just wanna stay here.”

“In this closet?”

“No, dingus, with you,” he rolled his eyes, pulling out of you gently. “Round two back home?”

“Maybe nail me in the sky or something,” you suggested, pulling your panties up and shifting your dress around.

“Don’t tempt me,” he smirked, picking you up bridal style. He managed to fly out without being seen, and the both of you looked upon a sea of shining lights.

“I’m jealous you get this view every day.”

“It’s better with you, though,” he smiled softly.

“Hawks…”

“What is it?

“You’re hard again? Already?”

Hawks let out his beautiful laugh and you snuggled closer into his chest. “Can’t blame me that my baby bird just put that idea in my head!”

👉👈 hi this is my first smut since a lil while so hope you enjoyed it! Maybe tell me what you thought?

#hawks #keigo x you #hawks x reader #keigo takami #lemon #bnha smut #bnha #boku no hero academia #hawks smut #hawks x y/n #takami keigo x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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cheeriecherry · 4 years

Note

Hi there! I wanted to request Bakugou, Deku. And Todoroki, how they react to their fem!S/O Being sick. Like they're delirious with a fever near hospitalization( but not quite that level), body aches, wet cough. boys get worried when they don't come into work/school/text back. So they come see, and find her as well previously stated. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ofc! Stay safe everyone and make sure to wear your masks :O

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

-He’s not a clingy guy, so he doesn’t expect you to answer his texts right away or always tell him where you are or what you’re doing.

-That being said, he knows your routine. If something is off a little bit, he’ll be mildly concerned, but will ultimately chalk it up to you being forgetful or spontaneous.

-But after you don’t show up in class, he starts to get worried.

-He tries to think of whether or not you had any injuries during training that might have excused you from lessons, but he can’t think of any beyond a couple minor scrapes and bruises.

-He sends you a text in between classes, and when you still don’t reply he makes a trip back to the dorms at lunch to check on you.

-He doesn’t expect to find you like...this.

-Curled up on your bed under nearly a hundred blankets, shivering. Your lips are dry and chapped, and he can hear your laboured breathing from the doorway.

-Now, he doesn’t wanna get sick, but that’s the last thing on his mind as he walks over to you and sits on the side of your bed.

-You don’t even seem to be aware of him as he presses a hand to your forehead, wincing at how hot you are.

-He doesn’t want to leave you, but he knows you’re probably sick enough to warrant a visit from Recovery Girl. Pus you’re his girlfriend, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.

-But like I said, he doesn’t want to leave you alone, in case you start choking or something, so he sends Kirishima a cryptic text telling him to bring recovery girl to the dorms.

-Ngl the bakusquad probably tags along with her when she comes to visit, but she ultimately commends Bakugou for calling her because are, in fact, very ill.

-She considers calling the hospital to have them bring you in, but she wants to try helping you in the comfort of your own room before resorting to extreme measures.

-You’re stuck with an IV in your arm for a couple days, and receive a kiss from the old woman on the forehead every morning, and soon enough you start perking up a little. Your breathing improves, and you start to sweat off the fever.

-Bakugou barely leaves your side during the whole ordeal. He goes to classes, but every morning, lunch, and evening he’s in your room. Sometimes he just sits and works on homework, sometimes he falls asleep.

-He’s been warned not to be near you while your still contagious, but he says fuck authority and does what he wants. You’re more important anyways.

-Still, it’s a relief once you start to feel better, and eventually open your eyes. You don’t remember most of what happened the past few days, but you do recall hearing your boyfriend’s voice a couple times.

-He might not know how to take care of you but he’s good at finding people who do, and he’ll always try and do what’s best for you.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

-one hella worried boy.

-Usually you guys hang out before class starts, but he figures that you maybe slept in today or something. So he sends you a text telling you good morning and heads off to class.

-When he gets there and find you’re not there, he starts to feel bad for not going in to check on you, or at least wake you up. Like, what if something bad happened to you and he just ignored it?

-He doesn’t want to be pushy or overly anxious, but he’s also a worrier by nature so...

-He can’t concentrate during class, thinking to hard about all the things that could have happened to you. He really really hopes you just missed your alarm, but a little niggle in the back of his head tells him that’s not the case.

-He excuses himself to ‘the bathroom’ during second period, and runs as fast and as stealthily as he can back to the dorms, where he then finds you.

-You’re practically gasping for air, laying on your bed. You’ve thrown your covers off because you’re too hot, but you’re also shivering so hard you’re shaking the mattress. He knows as soon as he lays a hand on your forehead that you’re not okay.

-So he does what anyone would do and calls one of his friends...who are in class. He’s somehow surprised when Mr. Aizawa picks up and starts scolding him about his students being in class, but he quickly babbles out that he’s ‘not actually in the bathroom and that he went to check on you because you weren’t in class and you’re really sick and please sir could you get recovery girl’

-There’s a sigh right before the line goes dead, and ten minutes later the tired man himself shows up with the school nurse.

-Once they actually see the state you’re in, and hear your horrible congested coughs, they both start to get worried.

-Again, recovery girl will want to try and avoid any media hubbub involving the school, so she’ll try to treat your symptoms in your room. It works pretty well considering her quirk, but you’re still on thin ice. Your fever is dangerously high, and even with an oxygen mask on you’re still having trouble breathing.

-Not to mention your mumbling...you’re not really aware of what’s going on, but it sounds like you’re trying to have conversations. Everyone worries that you’re hallucinating from the fever.

-Midoriya tries to convince your teacher to let him stay with you, but both Aizawa and recovery girl tell him there’s not anything he can do. It’s best he go back to class...which he reluctantly does. And only because recovery girl is going to stay with you until the end of the day.

-Once classes are over he makes a beeline for your room. His hands are full of little things the rest of the class had given him to give to you, as get-well presents. He sets them on your desk and sits beside you on the bed.

-Recovery girl’s quirk seems to be working, you’re a little more restful and still, though your lungs still sound horrible. He talks to you a little bit, wondering how you got this sick with no one noticing, but how he knows you’ll scold him if he blames himself for it.

-He falls asleep beside you on your bed that night, and the next morning he wakes up to a gentle trembling hand in his hair.

-He opens his eyes to find you’ve turn onto your side, and are looking at his with a tired gaze. Your eyes are still a little glazed over, and he can tell you’re not really all there yet, but he still smiles at the improvement, as well as that the first thing you thought to do when you woke up was to touch him.

-He makes sure to keep up with his studies over the next few days, and makes lots of notes for you to go over later when you feel better. All his free time is spent in your room, despite the fact that he might catch what you have. He at least wears a mask at recovery girl’s request.

-It’s a major relief when he sees you sitting up and walking slowly around a few days later, though no matter how much you ask he’s not gonna let you try and do schoolwork until you’re at 100%.

-It’s a miracle this guy doesn’t get sick, though everyone kind of keeps a few feet away from him for a while.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

-Doesn’t think anything of it at first. He notices you’re not texting him back, but your phone might be off or dead, or you might be busy.

-He starts to wonder when you don’t show up in class. If you’d been planning to take a day off, you would have told him. Right? He sends you another text, asking if you’re okay, and promptly gets his phone confiscated.

-He gets it back at the end of the day no problem, but when he sees you still haven’t replied, he knows something is up.

-He ignores everyone on the way to the dorms, ducking in between people to try and get there faster.

-When he finds you in a pathetic wheezing ball under a heap of blankets, he instantly feels a pang of guilt. Maybe if he’d been more diligent, he would have learned that you were sick sooner...

-But it’s hard to beat himself up while he’s still got you to worry about.

-He finds a couple towels and old shirts around your room, and wraps them around some ice blocks he made, then sets them all over your body to help bring your temperature down.

-There’s no one in his phone contacts that he could really call in this situation, so he reluctantly settles for the class president. He’s always wanting to look out for fellow students, after all.

-So Iida shows up, takes on look at you, and sprints away to get recovery girl. Todo didn’t think it was that bad, but he mostly trusts Iida’s judgement, so...

-And then recovery girl comes in and confirms that yes, you are very sick. Very sick indeed.

-And the worry flares up in him again. He watches as she fixes you with IV fluids and antibiotics, and sets an oxygen mask across your face. He can’t help but notice how small and vulnerable you look in this state, and how he wants nothing more than for you to get better.

-He wonders if you should go to the hospital, if it would be better for you there, but recovery girl wants to keep you comfortable. She has most of what she needs at the school, but should your condition not improve in the next day then she’ll definitely arrange for an ambulance.

-Todoroki wonders how he’ll be able to visit you and make sure you’re doing okay if you’re off campus, but ultimately he wants what’s best for you.

-He wears a mask while he’s in your room to try and deter himself from getting sick as well, but he spends most of his time in there. He sometimes does homework, but mostly he’s just laying beside you on your bed thinking (or napping).

-He goes back to his own room to sleep during the night, but the first thing he does when he wakes up is come check on you.

-Your condition steadily improves, but you don’t regain consciousness until the third day, and when you do, the first thing you see if your boyfriend.

-He’s sitting in one of your chairs a little ways away reading, and he doesn’t notice you’re awake at first. When he does see that your eyes are open, he comes to sit on the edge of your bed.

-The first thing he does is give you a lil kiss on the forehead, and then he goes on to explain how you’ve been bedridden for days because of an illness, but how your condition has been getting better over time.

-V grateful that you’re awake now, so much so that he barely even feels the guilt from before. He’s just glad you’re doing okay.

-Gonna wait on you hand and foot for the next week or so, and nothing is too expensive. You want a square watermelon? He’ll get you a square watermelon, whatever you want. He might even try a hand at cooking meals for you, though they’re slightly burnt and overseasoned.

-He tries though, and it’s the thought that counts. He bars most of your classmates from visiting you while you’re recovering, because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but after some finagling he agrees to let two in at a time...but only for a couple minutes.

-He wishes he’d paid more attention in the beginning, but he makes up for it by doting on you afterwards.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #Anonymous

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Too Good for Grey

A/N: Sooo this is a fic that I’ve had in mind ever since I first posted my list of Imagine Ideas a while ago! Though I know Charlie’s decision not to play the role of Christian Grey is what was best for him, part of me will always be heartbroken that we all missed out on 50 Shades of Hunnam 😭💔 In this fic you’re his girlfriend; he’s considering the role and you let him... practice in the bedroom 😏

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Charlie, blindfold, bondage, punishment, light flogging (just with his belt, nothing too intense) Request: No specific request, but there’s been demand for a Part 2 of Red Carpet Rogue and I decided to write this fic as a sequel to it!

Word Count: ~3.4k

[Please read Red Carpet Rogue first if you haven’t yet! Otherwise the second paragraph won’t make much sense without that reference...]

You love mornings like this one. Lazy weekends with your boyfriend, hottest man under the sun. Completely chill and easy and carefree, nowhere to be. No work, no plans. You’re seated in his lap feeding him pancakes from your fork, since that’s the only way to get your man to focus on his breakfast. Charlie’s hands are fully occupied, roving and reckless, moving all over your robe and deep inside. Clearly still riding high from such a scandalously sexy night.

You push another forkful past his lips, then playfully lean in to lick some syrup from his chin as it so sweetly drips. His stubble tickles, causing you to giggle, while he growls and tightens his grip on your hips. “Mmm...” he hums, digging into your skin with his thumbs. “You know I still can’t get over just how fucking awesome last night was, Y/N. Thinking we should invest in a stretch of red carpet to relive it over and over again.”

“Hmm, I like the way you’re thinking...” you respond, settling deeper in his lap and slowly sinking, till you feel your man’s enormous cock grind up against your cunt. Heat burning through your silk robe and his sweatpants. “God, you were so fucking dominant. More than you’ve ever been.”

“That a good thing?” the bastard asks you, as if he has to, bursting into laughter when you shoot him a glare of the fuck do you think?!? Your dom/sub dynamic is not a new thing. “Well, chalk it up to this new script that I’m considering. Came my way yesterday before we headed out for the evening.”

He gestures at the stack of papers on the counter behind him just now, which you hadn’t noticed all morning somehow. You blink at the title printed on the front page and cannot believe what you’re seeing. Basically stop breathing. “Oh, wow...”

Charlie flashes a cheeky grin as he gets off on your reaction. Can’t resist making a stupid dirty pun, ‘cause he’s the worst. Rubbing his crotch harder against yours as he says the words. “Yeah, who could’ve seen that coming.”

“Now if you’re gonna start talking dirty to me, Mr. Hunnam... you’d better be ready to act on it,” you warn him, well aware he’s been ready and raring to go all damn morning. “I know you’d slay this role but don’t know if you really want it, to be honest.”

He shrugs as he kisses stray drops of maple syrup from the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, I’ve got my doubts. But haven’t ruled it out. Think some part of me wants it. Luckily I’ve got the greatest girlfriend in the world to help me work through my decision-making process.”

“Well, should we call it work...” your lips curve into a seductive smirk, “...or play?”

At those words, Charlie’s cock fucking jerks. That’s your answer, of course. Better than anything he can say.

And you’re so fucking ready to meet Mr. Grey.

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

“You sure about this, babe?” he asks as you hastily finish your pancakes. You’re hungry for something quite different, for fuck’s sake. Your pussy’s so wet that it practically aches. “It’s not like we have a red room...”

“But we do have a very nice bedroom,” you tell him. He’s trying to stall and you’re not gonna let him. You’re ready to go. “Plus we’ve got, you know—silk scarves and ties, a closet full of all kinds of hardware supplies. So I’m sure you can... improvise.”

Charlie’s still acting as if he has to think twice. Blinks twice, with an excited little twinkle in his eyes. “Somebody’s eager...”

“Somebody? Both of us, baby. You know you can’t wait for this either.”

“I just want to make sure you’re ready...”

“Charlie, I know you’ll take things slow and steady. I trust you completely,” you reassure him as you kiss his cheek softly and sweetly. “Besides, we’ll rely on the traffic lights code. Red for stop, yellow for ease it up. Green for go. They used those safewords in the books, right? Never read them so I don’t really know.”

“Then how do you know what—”

“Know what Fifty Shades even involves? Love, I’m not some kind of pop culture idiot,” you interrupt, taking his hand to guide him down the halls. You’re really not about to let him stand and stall. “And I may have looked up... a few things on Google. Being such a kinky bitch and all. Brainstorming new ways to play the role of your submissive little slut.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunts as he finally gives in to what he wants, suddenly slipping into dom mode all at once. Changing his tone, making you moan, slamming you up against the wall. Towering over you so big and strong and tall. “Who would’ve thought... who knew that’s what my sweet little girl is up to when you’re clicking away on your laptop? Googling filthy ways for me to fuck you up?”

You groan in desire as his dirty words start a fire. “Ch-Charlie...”

He reacts just as you knew he would, and his dominance feels so damn good. Last night he scolded you just the same, when you called him by name. “What the fuck do you call me?”

“Sir,” you instantly answer. Obviously. Filled with the urge to say more, like a good proper whore, since you feel more submissive than ever before. Thirsty for fifty shades of Charlie. “Thank you for reminding me, sir. I’m so sorry.”

“You better be,” he chides, sliding his hands down your shivering sides, then swiftly untying your robe and letting it fall open wide. His touch upon your skin is hot as hell and fucking heavenly. “Your place in life is to obey. Do as I say. To serve and pleasure me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, breathing heavily, as he cradles your face in his dominant fingers. “I promise I’ll always remember.”

You’ve known it to be true, since the day you first met him: Charlie Hunnam owns you, and you fucking let him. You’re fated to live for his pleasure and love him forever.

He reads all of the thoughts in your head as he slowly lets go of your face, slaying you with his blazing blue gaze. Though you moan at the loss of his fingers, the power and passion of his touch still lingers. You can feel it all over your sensitive skin. Fifty shades of pure sin.

And you love it. Want every damn shade of it. Already so addicted to the deep submissive state you’re in.

The next words that he speaks... make you so fucking weak. Mr. Grey has most certainly come out to play. And he is here to stay. To make you fifty shades of horny. “That’s a good little whore. Gonna give you the punishment you’ve been so desperately hoping for. Now run off to the bedroom and wait for me... facing away from the open door... naked and down on your knees.”

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

Yes, sir. Yes, please. You’re pretty sure your cunt is leaking all over the floor as you obey your master’s orders, flinging your robe off your shoulders, stripping down and sitting back upon your heels.

It’s not the first time Charlie’s ordered you to kneel—but this right now... just hits different somehow. He’s so hot it’s unreal, too dominant for you to even deal. And you’re obsessed with how insanely good it feels.

You’ve already lost track of just how long you’ve waited. Heart racing, breath bated. How much time has passed? It may have been two minutes or two hundred. You just know that once your man arrives at last, he’ll be all set to give you everything you’ve wanted.

The moment when he finally comes... you feel his presence from across the room. Exuding vibes of absolute alpha male dom. And you’re so desperate to receive all of that energy from him. You can’t believe how blessed you are to be his woman. Here experiencing fifty shades of Hunnam.

Though you’re dying to turn behind you toward the door to see how good he surely looks right now, you stop yourself somehow. Keep both hands resting on your thighs, with lowered eyes, head bowed. Still and silent, though self-conscious that you are breathing incredibly loud. You’re so fucking aroused.

As Charlie takes a few deliberate steps toward you... rests his hand against your head, stroking your hair and tenderly twining his fingers through... you already feel dead. Can’t stop some smutty sound from slipping out your slutty little mouth.

He then reaches around, to trace his thumb across your bottom lip, shifting his grip before you can even attempt to kiss his fingertips. Needs you to know that you are not to make a sound, till he allows. That he owns you without a fucking doubt.

He’s owning you now with the tone of his voice and the touch of his hand. “Y/N. I need you to understand... that you are mine to command.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathlessly answer. And the slut in you compulsively reacts, tilting your head back, in an effort to make eye contact. Dying to look up at his gorgeous face, to meet his gaze, as you profess the shameless fact: that you belong to him, in every way and always...

And yet your man has other plans. Prevents you from catching a glimpse of him before you even can. He had arrived with something in his hands—a strip of cloth, some kind of tie or scarf, silken and soft. He masterfully fastens it around your eyes the moment that your head tilts back, and suddenly your vision fades to black.

“Now that’s no way for a good little slut to act,” Charlie scolds, as he tightens your blindfold. “Shifting from your position? Moving without my permission?”

Ugh God, he’s so hot you could die. “I...”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m sick of your worthless apologies. High time I teach you a lesson in proper submission.”

“Ohh, sir—” you moan as he pulls you closer, till the back of your head rubs against the huge bulge in his crotch. The prize that you crave so fucking much. The object of your dreams. You can tell that he’s wearing your favorite jeans, and his cock is so hard it’s obscene, bursting out of the seams.

Then he effortlessly hoists you onto your feet, the bare skin of your back sliding up against his upper body—shirtless, naturally—so that you can feel every firm ridge of his muscles and all of his raw carnal heat. “Now I know what you want... but what’s much more important... I know what you need.”

Those words murder your cunt, and it feels like time stops. Then the next thing you know Charlie has you facedown on the bed, both arms over your head. And he’s tying you up. Binding both of your wrists to the bedposts, with some fucking serious rope.

This is everything your inner slut ever hoped. And you can’t even cope.

He’s just getting started and already this feels so damn perfect you just want to cry. Fucking magic. You’re fucking ecstatic. Tears of pure euphoria rise to your eyes, fighting at the blindfold he had tied, dampening the fabric.

Charlie picks up on all your unspoken emotions, as he always does. He can tell that you’re buzzed and just wants to make sure that this isn’t too much. Leaning in near, to whisper sweetly in your ear. “How’s the traffic?”

“Huh...?” you reply in a hazy sigh, taking a moment just to realize what he means. “Oh—green. So green.”

“Mmm, good to know,” he smirks against your cheek, as you revert to being too horny to speak. “But we can always take it slow. Just let me know if we’re approaching yellow—”

All of a sudden you’re able to speak again, just then. The words are somewhat muffled as your face is partly burrowed in the pillows; you make sure that Charlie hears you loud and clear, though. “Hell no. Green means fucking go.”

“If you say so...” he smirks once more, kissing your cheek before he lifts off of your back, all fucking ready to attack. You both can’t wait for what’s in store.

Charlie has spanked you countless times before. With you facedown in bed, you would’ve guessed that’s what he had in mind—to slap your slutty ass red, then to fuck you from behind. Remind you that you’ll always be his dirty little fucking whore.

Today you’re hoping for a little something more.

And that’s exactly what he’s giving. This time around... the punishment’s bound to hit different.

You can hear the faint rustle, telltale sound of metal and leather as Charlie undoes his belt buckle. Oh, shit—surprise, surprise—for some of these supplies, he didn’t even have to venture in the hardware closet.

Everything he needs to exert his total dominance, he’s fucking got it.

And it’s everything you’ve ever fucking wanted.

“Know just how much this pretty ass loves getting punished...” he teases, taking your bare naked cheeks in his hands with a few tender strokes and squeezes.

If you had to guess—without being able to witness—he must’ve looped his undone belt around his neck to free both hands for just a minute. He must look so fucking hot right now. An absolute sex god like nobody’s business.

“This sweet ass will look even prettier in pink by the time we’re finished,” he says it like a promise, and you really hope he keeps it, to be honest. “You know I would say prettier in red, but...”

“Oh, no, that’s a bad word,” you murmur in playful laughter. Repeat the right color to make sure he feels reassured. “Green, sir. Want you to let loose and get fucking mean, sir.”

“Ugh fuck,” he murmurs, as you hear him smile while he slides the leather belt off of his shoulders. You can just imagine what the sight of you in such submission has done to his denim-clad cock. “You’re killing me, love...”

“But that’s your job. I’m the sub,” you remind him, well aware you’re coming close to topping from the bottom. Sort of. Whatever it takes, to get Mr. Grey to come out to play, to feel comfortable falling into his role as your absolute dom. “Now go crazy and get rough. I promise I want it, sir. Honest. I can’t get enough.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” Charlie rasps, slowly grazing the edge of the leather across the soft globes of your ass. “Once we’re done with your punishment... you know I’m gonna fucking wreck this perfect little cunt?”

“Yes, sir. Please punish me and use my pussy for your pleasure.”

“Motherfucker...” you hear him quietly mutter, scrambling to strip out of his jeans, because his cock is probably straining in pain against the denim, harder than it’s ever been. No surprise since your cunt’s also wetter than ever. It’s just so perfect that you two are getting off on this together. You love the way your dirty words have this effect on him, just as his do on you. You’re such a slut for Mr. Hunnam; the best thing is that he’s such a slut for you, too.

Once he’s finally naked and gets in position behind you, he takes a few seconds to soak in the view. Psyching up for what he is about to do: whip the shit out of you. Just as you want him to.

“Now with each lash that comes down, I want you to keep count. And need you to repeat the color. Loud. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you swear, yielding to his command, instinctively arching your ass up in the air, because you’re desperate for your punishment. “Yes, sir, I understand. Green means hit me as hard as you can.”

“You fucking greedy little cunt,” he taunts with a dominant sneer. “Who makes the rules here? I’m gonna go just as hard or as soft as I want.”

You realize you were stupid to think he would go so hard, right from the start. Charlie knows where your limits are, even when you don’t. He reads your body and your mind and sees into your heart. Knows just what you need even when you’re too focused on only what you want. That’s why you have no doubt that he’ll dish out the most perfect punishment.

And so he does.

From the very first lash on your ass... your breath halts with a heart-stopping gasp. You have never felt such a damn buzz. From the way the sensation bursts onto your skin, underneath the smooth leather, a blossom of sin, pain blurring into pleasure... you want this to just go on forever and ever.

Your master had given you orders, you somehow remember. “One...!” you scream, as you sink deeper into submission, so desperate for him it’s obscene. “Oh God, thank you, sir. Green.”

“Good girl,” he mutters, just before he treats you to another. Each hit makes your fucking toes curl. You are the luckiest bitch in the entire fucking world.

“Two! Fuck, thank you...” you wholeheartedly thank him again and again, with each serving of perfect pain, grateful to your dom for how fucking awesome it feels. It’s unreal. And you keep screaming green on repeat, to give him all the safety and comfort he needs.

He’s enjoying this, no doubt—his cock’s standing rock hard and proud—but this first time around, with each strike that comes down, Charlie is much more focused on reading your signals. Respecting your limits, especially when it’s so tempting to test them a little. You don’t really seem to have any with him, as far as he can tell. Which is epic on some level, but also scary as hell.

He decides when you’re finished, with getting punished, since you’re taking it too fucking well. All you want is more of it; you love it and can’t think of anything else. On your end it’s exquisite. Excruciating ecstasy fulfilling your every fantasy. All because it’s pain coming from him. Fifty shades of Hunnam. All because of how deeply you worship and love him.

If there’s one thing you love more than taking these whips from his belt, the sweetest sting you have ever felt... it’s getting ripped to pieces by his massive cock. Playing your lifelong role as a slut for Sir Hunnam to fuck. Taking him in your soaking wet cunt, letting him ravage you just as hard and as fast as he wants, rough and savage, dishing out some serious damage, till you both explode deep inside and all over each other at once.

Something about the hard passionate sex today, the way he wrecks today... feels even hotter after how you got to play.

Apparently he really likes it when you tap into his inner Mr. Grey.

You both come harder than you ever have, as his huge shaft unloads inside your hole and feeds your soul and breaks you right in half. Breathing in shallow gasps as you feel him fucking collapse, your naked back slick from the sweat off of his sculpted chest and his firm chiseled abs. His face is buried in your hair, and though you know how much he wants to unfasten your blindfold and unbind your wrists, so he can turn you over for a heartfelt kiss, and shower you with hours of loving aftercare... right now your man’s just laying there and praying for some air.

He’s just so perfect it’s not fair. You know he’ll spend the whole rest of the day talking through all your feelings, treating you to every form of healing. Endlessly obsessing over every mark upon your skin, like he committed some ungodly sin, compulsively asking you whether you’re really okay. And he’ll keep on asking no matter what you say. Although he also loves to play this way... deep down he’s doing it for you, because his love is pure and true.

And that was when you fucking knew: this man is way too good to take the role that he was offered yesterday. You’re here to help him though each step of his decision-making process, to respect him if he wants this, and support him either way—but you already feel quite sure after today that your man Charlie is quite honestly... too good for Grey.

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

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

Note

How about Nado meeting Kuny’s parents

Do with that as you please

Happy

Sad

I don’t mind

Love, Trash Monster :)

Hello Trash Monster! Thank you for your prompt. This one kind of got away with me and loved writing it. It’s actually rather angsty for me, but there is a happy ending.

CW: coming out, homophobia (mentions of potential harm to queer people), food mentions, very minor sexual content

Please let me know if you feel I need to add any warnings

Rating: T+ (sexual content is very minor, but the subject content is a bit heavy at points)

Credit for the sweater weather universe goes to @lumosinlove

"You know you don't have to tell them if you don't want to," Jackson grazed his thumb reassuringly over his boyfriend's hand where they were clenched together. They had been sat stiffly on the sofa for the last 20 minutes, waiting for the knock on the door that would announce the arrival of Evgeni's parents.

"I'm want," Evgeni sighed, his words barely a whisper. "I'm just scared. I don't know what they think. What if they hate me?"

Jackson clutched Evgeni's hand tighter, lifting it to his mouth to press his lips gently against his skin. "Zhenya, I mean it. I love you and I will still love you even if you decide you don't want to do this."

Evgeni shuffled impossibly closer, "I love you too, I'm sorry, I'm coward."

"Stop," Jackson frowned. "You are not a coward. This could get you arrested back home. Killed even. You are allowed to be scared." He let out a frustrated sigh, not aimed at his boyfriend, but at the world around him. "Look, how about we just see how things go. I'll follow your lead and there is absolutely no pressure to say anything to them. As far as they know, I'm just your housemate."

"Very good housemate," Evgeni chuckled, although his laugh seemed strained. "Okay, we play by ear."

"Where'd you learn that one?" Jackson teased gently. Evgeni was always dropping new words and phrases he'd learned, his smile quietly proud, and Jackson loved it.

"I learn from Finn. We both complain about silly boyfriends speaking French and he teach me English," Evgeni explained.

"Hmm, I'm not sure this is a friendship I should be encouraging," Jackson gave a mock glare.

"Too late," Evgeni smiled. It was a real smile this time, and Jackson felt like his next breath came a little easier than the last. "We go shopping together next weekend. He give good advice unlike you."

"I changed my mind, this is an excellent friendship," Jackson grinned. Evgeni opened his mouth, likely a clever reply on his tongue, but anything he had to say was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

Jackson couldn't understand the string of Russian that Evgeni muttered, but he'd have wagered a large amount of money that it wasn't positive. "Hey, relax. It's just your parents. You love them, they love you," he reassured, despite the growing bubble of anxiety in his own stomach. He'd met his Evgeni's parents a few times before, but it felt different now, even though they weren't aware that anything about their son's relationship with his 'housemate' had changed.

"I go now," Evgeni said as he stood, but the words seemed to be aimed more at himself than Jackson. He left the room muttering to himself and running his hands nervously through his curls.

A minute later, there was a burst of noise. Jackson smiled, letting his breath out with a sigh of relief. Some part of him had decided the world was going to implode the moment the front door opened, but all he heard was the happy sounds of a child and parents being reunited.

"Jackson," Evgeni pushed through the door a moment later. "You remember my Mother and Father?" he asked.

Smiling, Jackson stood. This part was easy. He could be polite. He was Canadian, polite was in his blood. "Of course," Jackson nodded. "It's lovely to see you again, Mr and Mrs Kuznetsov. Evgeni has been looking forward to your stay." He offered his hand out for his boyfriend's mother to shake.

"I tell you to call me, Yelena," the tall woman said, batting away his hand softly and pulling Jackson into a hug. "Evgeni only wants to see me for Syrinki," she pretended to whisper. Jackson opened his mouth to mention that he had in fact been learning to make the Russian dish so that Evgeni would feel a little less homesick, but reconsidered. The idea felt too intimate, too suspicious. Looking up briefly, he met Evgeni’s eyes, finding a sadness in them. Maybe he had been thinking the same.

“Nonsense, even big boys like us need a hug from our mom’s from time to time,” Jackson finally settled on a reply.

Yelena gave him one last squeeze, patting his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Jackson.”

He wasn’t sure if he was making it up, but the moment seemed significant. He looked at Evgeni again, but just received a shrug, so Jackson turned his attention to Mr Kuznetsov. The man really did not speak much English, so Jackson just waved and said, “hello.” The smile he got in return was almost identical to Evgeni’s.

***

It was now day 3 of the Kuznetsov’s week long visit, and Jackson was really starting to think something was up, he just couldn’t quite place what. They sat on the sofa, looking at some photography Mr Kuznetsov had taken. Jackson had been told repeatedly to call him Lev, but he still couldn’t do it in his head. It seemed like a perfectly ordinary thing to do, Mr Kuznetsov was very passionate about his hobby, but Mrs Kuznetsov kept making little comments that Jackson found quite strange.

“This is church we get married in,” Mrs Kuznetsov explained, pointing to an unassuming, old looking building nestled between some trees. “Would you like to get married, Jackson?”

The question didn’t even throw him this time, just another example of the odd little elements that kept cropping up. The reasonable part of him wanted to chalk it up to an over curiosity, however he was not entirely convinced. “Yeah, one day,” he nodded, training his eyes on the photo so they didn’t wander to look at his boyfriend.

“No have to be in church though,” Mrs Kuznetsov patted his hand, “not these days.”

Jackson wasn’t sure how to respond to that and thankfully, Evgeni came to his rescue muttering to his mother in Russian. Her reply was terse, but she slid her finger over the tablet screen to reveal the next photo.

Things moved on smoothly, and soon Jackson was leaving the three of them. As nice as it was to get to know the family, he realised it was a bit awkward for Mr. Kuznetsov and Jackson liked to allow them to spend time together without feeling guilty about leaving him out. He had almost forgotten about the incident, until lunch time the next day.

Jackson and Mrs Kuznetsov had made lunch together, which had been strange and yet oddly comfortable. He had realised midway through slicing carrots for the soup that it felt as if they had done this many times before.

“Oh! I forget,” Mrs Kuznetsov clapped her hands together excitably, getting up from the chair she had just sat on. “I see a photograph in the newspaper,” she said, rooting around in her purse, making a small triumphant noise when she found what she was looking for.

She placed the clipping down on the table proudly. The photo was of Remus and Sirius. “I think it funny that it in news all the way in Russia,” Mrs Kuznetsov chuckled. “The article was not so nice, so I just cut out photo. Make me think of you. Such nice boys they are.”

Jackson didn’t know what to say, so he just looked at Evgeni. However, his boyfriend was not looking in his direction, staring at his mother instead. Mrs Kuznetsov went about ladling soup into the bowls, humming softly under her breath.

***

It was the final evening of Evgeni’s parent’s stay, and Jackson couldn’t wait to truly release the breath he had been holding. The two older Kuznetsov’s were wonderful, but Jackson wanted to be able to touch his boyfriend, to use the affectionate endearments they had given one another and quite frankly, he was horny.

That thought was ripped from his mind, by the commotion of Mrs Kuznetsov tripping and throwing her glass of iced tea all over Evgeni. Jackson didn’t know much Russian, but he recognised the swear word that fell from his boyfriend’s lips and the scolding he received from his mother didn’t need translating. Then she began gesturing towards the wet clothing, saying something that made Evgeni’s eyes widen. Jackson would forever maintain that the sound that came out of Evgeni’s mouth was a squeak.

“Off, off,” Mrs Kuznetsov ordered, her voice firm.

Jackson sympathised with Evgeni’s reaction now. He cleared his throat, mumbling a comment about getting a mop and hurried from the room. On his return, he realised he hadn’t been long enough, finding Evgeni standing in just his underwear. He swore softly to himself, going about mopping the floor, trying his level best to look anywhere but Evgeni. It felt like forever before his mother took his clothing, muttering something about the washing machine.

“Mama,” Evgeni called, just as she was leaving the room. She looked back, smiling softly and Evgeni took a deep breath. “Jackson is my boyfriend.” He looked at his father and repeated the sentence in his native tongue. Jackson couldn’t recall loosening his grip on the wooden handle, but the sound of the mop clattering on the floor pulled him from his shocked pause.

“Zhenya,” he breathed. And in that moment, the monumentality of his words seemed to hit Evgeni. Jackson saw the panic cross his boyfriend’s features, tensing his muscles to go and offer comfort, but somehow Mrs. Kuznetsov got there first. There were tears in her eyes, and a thousand thoughts ran through Jackson’s mind. He wanted to console Evgeni. He wanted to assure Mrs Kuznetsov they were good people, that Evgeni was the same son he had been thirty seconds ago.

“I am so proud of you,” she reached out to grasp Evgeni’s hand. “I wait all week for you to tell me.”

“What?” The word came from Evgeni and Jackson simultaneously.

“Evgeni talk you, like I talk Alyonushka,” Mr Kuznetsov smiled. The words were stilted and the accent heavy, but Jackson understood well enough. Evgeni’s cheek took a pink tint to them.

“I know love when I see,” Mrs Kuznetsov wagged her finger at Jackson as if he was a naughty child. She gave a small sigh, looking between the two of them, “Russia not so nice. But you safe here in USA, and Russia get better. One day, you hold hands there too.”

Jackson felt tears in his own eyes now. Not even the fact Evgeni was standing in only his underwear could ruin this moment.

“Go put clothes on. I tell story to grandkids one day,” Mrs Kuznetsov smiled.

“Mama!” Evgeni reprimanded. His next words were Russian, but the embarrassed exchange between mother and son was universal. Jackson suddenly realised he could tell his own parents now, and that seemed both terrifying and magnificent. He wasn't at all worried about their reaction, but it still seemed big. Deciding those emotions could be left for another day, he let himself enjoy this moment.

#jackson nadeau #evgeni kuznetsov #rating: t+#cw:coming out #cw: homophobia #cw:food mentions #sweater weather #lumosinlove #request fill

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fnf-brain-rot · 3 years

Text

We're In This Together [Pico's School AU] Chapter 2 - Donut Rendezvous

Today was the day..

Wednesday..

It was a half day, being the day before a teacher work day. They didn't have school on that Thursday. Teachers had donuts available to them in the break room every Wednesday.

Pico and Darnell have been planning this for months.

They got the whole class on their side, having started a little protest in the cafeteria. "We're tired of adults hogging the sweets to themselves!" They cried out to the other students. "This time we take the sweets for ourselves!"

They were being normal at first, all arriving when the bell rang, sitting in their seats, and listening to the lecture. Most of the students shot each other knowing glances. Pico was the leader of this rendezvous, of course. On his signal, the others would move.

Ten minutes into class now, Bee was curious about the restlessness of the other students, looking around himself, having made eye contact with a few. Right, he's new. Pico had a grand idea. He'd lead in the front with him, like his queen of the army or something. He snickered at the thought, looking down at his blank paper. Right, perfect move. He and Darnell looked to each other, then nodded.

It felt quiet. Too quiet. The seconds ticked by loudly from the clock above them. Usually the teacher that buys the donuts would buy two boxes, which should be enough for two classes to feed each student one time.

Oh, right, the other class was in on it too. This would be big.

Pico stood up from his seat, slowly, as to not alarm the other students. Mrs. Fee's back was turned to the children, the woman mindlessly explaining some math equation and writing on the chalk board. He walked over to Bee, gently grabbing his hand. "Bee-" He almost started, but Pico covered his mouth, as to not alert Mrs. Fee as well. "Follow me.." He whispered. Bee nodded and stood quietly as well. The two shimmied from between the desks, and Pico held up one finger.

One...

Two....

Three...

The cacophony of screeching desks an chairs startled the woman up front, and many children began to yell at the top of their lungs, mostly those also known for causing trouble. A thunderous rumble of feet crossed the floor, and Pico raced for the classroom door, Bee just barely able to keep up with him. He threw the wooden slab open, and bolted out of the classroom, not looking back, but he could hear the monstrous amount of kids following him.

"Beep!! Beep bop!!" Bee cried over the noise, then heard the door next to theirs slam open. The second class took the message, and now raced after the other. Pico could hear Darnell's laughter over the noise as the group of students scattered around down the hall. It was a straight shot to the break room, right down the hall. Their school had no security, all they had to worry about were the teachers.

"What are you kids doing?!" The voice of one of the teachers rang out, muffled by the sound of stomping feet and ecstatic screams. "Scatter!!" Pico yelled out. Some of the taller kids blocked view of Pico, Darnell, and Bee, entering the room in which the donuts resided. Bee stood off to the side, hiding behind the wall as Darnell closed the door behind them. "B-Beep?? Brappity-"

"Yeah, you weren't here for instructions. You see, me and Darnell been planning this for a long time." Pico began to explain it to the shorty, quickly grabbing one of the boxes. Still warm. Nice. "Darnell grab a bag." Darnell saluted and went to look for a plastic bag. They would snag a little under half the donuts exclusively for themselves, being Darnell, Pico, Nene, Gigi, by Nene's begging, and Bee, because Pico said so.

"Bep bop.." Bee breathed out. Pico could damn there hear his heart thumping in his ears. It wasn't over yet. "Darnell, assess the situation." Pico then ordered. Darnell poked his head out the door. "No teachers in sight, sir." He responded. "Good, let's book it." Pico grinned maniacally, Darnell holding the door open for him and Bee.

"Boop bepoo?" Bee pointed at himself, and Pico raised a brow. Their next stop was their secret spot, but they had to go past the main office to get outside, since the doors were chained during the day. "Why did I grab you? Well, cause you would have been left alone in there with Cassandra." Pico gagged as he said her name. the goths wanted no part in it. He didn't care, more donuts for everyone else. "Now come on, there shouldn't be anyone in the office right now." He led the two past the glass room, which as he stated, was devoid of any staff. They most likely went to deal with the kids, which the screams still echoed faintly down the halls.

They scampered past the view of some cameras, then accessed the side door. The empty area behind some trees across the walkway was visible. They were in the home stretch. "Hey, Darnell, carry one of these will ya? My arms are dying." Pico huffed softly, and Darnell snurked. "Whatever you say, sissy." He teased. "Hey, I'm the leader of this whole operation. I ain't no sissy." The ginger shot back, making Bee giggle lightly.

They made it without error to the hiding spot in the trees. Bee fumbled with his hands awkwardly, staring at the bag of donuts Darnell held. Pico laughed a little, setting one of the boxes on top of the other on a tree stump. "Wait just a second there Bee." He walked over, elbowing the smaller's shoulder, who winced a little, but rubbed it with a goofy smile. "Those are the special donuts. We're gonna go heat them up in the lounge." Bee made a face. "During lunch dummy."

"There's a part two to this plan??" Darnell quickly asked. Pico shook his head. "I just know how to get in and out. Me and the janitor are on good terms. I'm close to him letting me into his closet." He nudged the brown boy's arm, and they made their way back into the building.

_______________

"Now, I don't know what's gotten into you kids, but this behavior is unacceptable."

Mrs. Fee had decided to give the kids a lecture after they all returned to their respective classrooms. "The only one who didn't leave was Cassandra, which means the rest of you get workbook homework for the rest of the week." Darnell groaned, but Pico had a shit eating grin on his face, his cheeks flushed in triumph. "Fucking worth it." He muttered, holding his fist out to Darnell. "Yeah, I guess." He responded with quiet laughter, returning the fist bump. the other kids probably thought it was worth it. Hell, Pico controlled the distribution of the donuts. They better think it's worth it or they ain't gettin' shit.

Pico looked over to Bee, who was smiling and kicking his legs a little, fiddling with his pencil. That whole ordeal must have filled him with quite the adrenaline. "Stick with me, and you'll be on top of the food chain dude." He had told him when they were coming back in. Bee didn't seem opposed to the idea, but he still didn't wanna scare him off. They did things like this pretty often. Having the parents Darnell had, usually others had to get involved so just those two, or three, including Nene, wouldn't get in trouble.

After the end of first period, Pico waited for Bee by the door, of course being teased by Nene and Darnell as they left. Bee stumbled a bit as he threw his big bag on his shoulders, walking over to Pico with a big smile on his face. "You like that chaos, huh?" He asked the boy, returning the grin. "Beep boop!" He responded, bouncing on his toes a bit, and they left the room.

"That's just how it is in this school. Of course I'm the instigator, got kind of a reputation. I make my father proud." Pico laughed a little. His ego was inflated as hell considering the dads he has. Well, dad. Steve didn't like to entertain the chaotic nature those two shared. Said he didn't like to lose sleep while those two jousted with frying pans at two AM.

"Bep bop.. Skdoo beep.." Bee muttered softly, a bit of a bitter tone to his voice. "What, your dad doesn't like that kind of mess?" Bee shook his head in response. Must be on closer terms with his mom huh? Yeah, he's lucky he had a dad who didn't suck ass. "Well when lunch rolls around, you can have your donuts, okay?" Pico reminded him to reassure him. He didn't wanna see the sad look on the kid's face. He was too bright to be frowning like that. "We could work on that homework together too, if it'll make you feel better." He then offered him. There it is, that bright smile.

Man this kid was just so precious..

_______________

History was mostly uneventful, save for Bee falling asleep in the middle of writing a sentence. He must have crashed from all the excitement. It was so abrupt that his face banged against the desk, and his head shot back up as he let out a yelp. Pico snurked from beside him, and heard some others begin to laugh as well.

Once the class had ended, Pico made sure he and Boyfriend were the first ones out, so they could run and grab the donuts. Thankfully the boxes were still there, untouched. "Come to papa." Pico rubbed his hands together, and lifted the boxes. he hoped all the glaze didn't melt off, it's hot out here.

They made their way back into the school, walking in through the side door to the cafeteria, where all the students waited eagerly for their treats. Darnell, Nene, and Gigi caught up to them when they saw them enter. "Wow, you actually managed to pull it off. I'm impressed." Gigi commented lightly as they set up the boxes on the end of one of the lunch tables. Pico cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening as he put a hand on his chest. "Well, they don't call me Pico "danger" Neil-Griffiths for no reason."

"literally no one calls you that." Nene snorted. Bee held back a laugh, turning his head away, while Darnell just openly cackled. "Whatever, I like my name." Pico scoffed in response, then opened one of the boxes. He was right to be worried. It's a mess in there. "You sure they'll want these?" Nene asked him, doubt in her voice. Pico waved his hand dismissively. "They're idiot kids, they'll take anything with sugar in it." Bee reached for it, but Pico smacked his hand away. "We get the nice donuts. Darnell?" Said boy held up the large plastic bag of almost half a box of donuts. "You sneaky.." Gigi mumbled, sweating nervously. "That's capitalism for you. Now take the best looking ones outta here, and we'll let them have the rest- quit your yappin', you'll get your turn!" Pico glared at some kids that had gathered around the table, and allowed his buddies to grab whatever ones they wanted. He had a mind to sock one of these greedy children in the face.

He often forgets he's a child himself, but he doesn't associate with these gremlins.

Once each of them were satisfied with what they got, the group began to move to leave out of the cafeteria. Pico stayed behind to whistle, signaling to the others to come get their donuts. And like a pack of starving dogs, the children rushed over, once again, save for the goth kids, who glared at Pico knowingly. the ginger only flipped the bird at them, and ran off with the others.

"What are you guys doing for the half day?" He heard Gigi talking to the others. She and Bee were walking pretty closely. Pico stayed back a bit, narrowing his eyes at the little pit in his stomach. He felt nauseous, or something. He didn't know, but he didn't like it. He didn't linger on it for too long though, noticing Bee glance behind him. "Bep!" He slipped between Nene and Darnell, who looked to see where he was going. They cooed when they saw Bee grab Pico's hand, which made the taller flush exponentially. Geez this guy could pull. He must have been an annoying toddler.

"C'mon man, how are we gettin' in?" Darnell then asked as Pico was brought to the front. Pico laughed to hide how flustered he was, then cleared his throat. Literally everyone, except for Bee, weren't buying it. Oh whatever, he didn't need to convince everybody. "Simple, just walk in." Pico walked over and opened the door. "We're on schedule, so the teachers should be on their way in a little bit. Hurry and throw that in there." The others filed inside, looking around and snooping through drawers. "Nice. Sharp scissors." Nene pulled a pair of scissors out of the metal cabinet, and Bee flopped onto the couch, letting out a content, "Beeeeeeep.." Gigi laughed and sat beside him, causing his face to go red.

Pico forced himself to look away, as to not seem weird.

_______________

As everyone wouldn't shut the hell up about, school ended early. Pico was so ready to leave, he even had a couple spare donuts. He stashed them away in his backpack for safe keeping. "Geez P, how do you understand Bee so well so fast?" Darnell had asked them, the group hanging out in the front of the school. "I dunno, it's like.. telepathic." Pico looked to the blue headed boy in question, who was mindlessly tapping away on his phone a a bit away from them. "Bee, you're sitting in the middle of the staircase, someone can trip over you." Pico pulled him closer, just barely missing some kid who wanted to launch himself off the top stair. Dumbass..

"Bop.." Bee mumbled softly, turning his body to face Pico, then continued what he was doing. Gigi and Nene talked with each other some bit away. He didn't care to listen in, they were probably chatting about girl stuff.

"Hey, who the hell rides a limo?" Darnell grumbled in question, and Gigi's head shot up. The horn from said vehicle honked loudly, and some people stared at it. "God, that's so embarrassing.." Gigi covered her face. "That's mine.."

"What?!"

"Beep?!"

The group had shouted simultaneously, and the red head girl giggled. "What are you, rich??" Darnell questioned her, and she made a nervous sound. "I'll explain some other time. See you guys!" She gripped her backpack and ran off, the group watching as the door opened for her, and she hopped in. It left just as quickly as it came. "Huh.." Darnel murmured thoughtfully. "New objective. Find out if Gigi is rich." Pico joked lightly, and Nene scoffed.

"Knock it off. You've done enough today." She went and sat with the three. "Hey Bee, you wanna hang out with us today? We always stop at this playground on the way home." Pico then offered. Bee hummed in thought, but paused when he noticed Pico give him the puppy eyes. He giggled, then held up his phone. "Bee bo bop." He responded. "Is that.. a yes?" Nene questioned. "He'll text his mom." Pico answered for her, standing up from his spot. "Wizard." Darnell mumbled, and followed suit.

Thankfully Bee was able to go. Pico thought he would have to rant to his dad about mean parents.

_______________

Pico wanted to do everything and absolutely nothing all at once.

He sat in his favorite spot near the slide, Bee sitting beside him. "Behp beppo." He muttered nervously, and Pico scoffed. "We steal the playground every day, those kids should know better by now." He huffed. Bee went quiet after a moment, and Pico looked up to him staring at him. His cheeks flushed red. "Uh.. What?" He then asked. The boy only responded quietly with "Hm?" as if he were spacing out. Pico clicked his tongue and looked away again. "Hey, you got your mic, right?" He then asked. Bee popped out of his trance almost immediately, and nodded excitedly. He reached into his back pocket and pulled it out. "Bee-dep?" He then asked the other, and he nodded, a light smile on his face.

Bee seemed ecstatic to sing for him again, and so he did, gaining Nene and Darnell's attention as well over some time. Just like at P.E, they listened to him sing for quite some time. It was calming, Pico would argue he enjoyed it the most.

"You know, you should hang at my place sometime. I got games and stuff." Pico offered, about an hour after Bee's little jam session. "Beep?" He turned to look at him. leaning against the bars of the playground structure. "I mean, I live with Darnell when my dads go off in the army. Oh, you get to meet my dads sometime! They're cool. I'll be completely honest, one of them will tease you for speaking in bee-bops." He then snickered lightly at the thought.

"Baps?" Bee tilted his head, holding up a two with his fingers. "Yeah, technically, I call them both dad. They're real close, but they're not married or in a relationship or anything." Pico then hummed softly. Sure they also sleep in the same bed when they're at home, but that's just because it's more comfortable than bunkers out where they are.

Bee hummed in thought, then nodded. Cool. It's a date.

Yes, he meant to think that.

It's a date.

Pico's mind swirled with thoughts of what he could do when they met up again. He pulled one of the donuts out of his back pack. It was a little mushed, but still good. He ate at it slowly, wanting to savor the taste. He could eat cold donuts, they were fine. He caught Bee staring at him again, then raised a brow. "What? What's up?" He then asked, his voice muffled with food. Bee's cheeks flushed, and he pointed at the donut. "Oh.. I can give you a piece." Pico looked down and tore off a piece of the treat, handing it to Bee, who took it thankfully. He popped the entire piece in his mouth, a happy "mmmmffff" emitting from his throat. Pico laughed a little. "You like donuts, huh?" He teased him, and Bee curled up a bit, still chewing away happily so he could get every little bit.

Pico spent the rest of that afternoon with the three. Darnell and Nene definitely understood Bee a little bit more after today.

Even if it is just a little bit.

#picos school #darnell pico's school #nene pico's school #boyfriend x pico #fnf boyfriend #fnf girlfriend #cassandra pico's school #nene x girlfriend

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

Text

The Last Toll

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3865

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Trying to protect the boys from having to witness your death, you leave the bunker to die alone. Dean and Sam desperately try to find you before time runs out.

Notes: Here it is. The final part in this trilogy of twists and lots of angst. I am super proud of how this series turned out and I hope you guys enjoyed the ride. As always, let me know what you think! (But hey, keep an eye out in the future for possible continuations)

Warnings: Death, gore, sacrifice, lots of angst and tears

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

Monday 6:00 A.M.

You had exactly 18 hours left on Earth. 18 hours until a big invisible dog carries you in its mouth down to the eternal Big House. After arguing with Dean last night, it was finally hitting you. You were going to hell. An endless circle of torment that you had no escape from. Beside you, Dean turned over, still fast asleep. You smiled to yourself. You were going for him.

Carefully lifting the blanket, you silently got out of the bed. You grabbed some clothes and stuffed them into your bag. It would be easier to change in the car. You couldn’t risk waking anyone up.

You snuck out into the kitchen, quickly ducking behind the wall when you saw a trench coat laid over one of the chairs, it’s owner flipping through a book. Why can’t angels take naps? You tiptoed towards the entrance, making as little noise as possible.

“You won’t get far.” Cas scolded, not even looking up from his cookbook. You sighed heavily. Busted.

“I can’t stay.” You stepped into the kitchen, putting your bag on the table. “I’ve put them through enough. I have to do this alone.”

“You know what Dean would say?” Cas inquired. You hated when he tried to guilt trip you. “He would say,” the angel lowered his voice to impersonate your boyfriend, “‘You’re one of us. And none of us goes down alone.’ Don’t you want to be with the people who love you? With the man you love so much you sold your soul?” It was odd to hear him speak so emotionally. You could feel tears welling, but you forced them back. If you cried one more time, you’d scream.

“I got to see him one last time. I got to see those eyes bright with life again. I got to kiss him again.” He looked ready to rebuttal so you stopped him. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, Cas. I can’t make Sam watch that again. And Dean…” You sighed, “The only thing that would come from them being there when the bitch comes is more trauma for them to carry around.” You put a hand on his shoulder, urging him to understand. “Let their last memory of me be a good one.” Cas was silent for a moment.

“Alright.” You exhaled a breath of relief. You knew he would understand. Cas stood and grabbed his trench coat. “But I’m driving.” Your relief was replaced with frustration.

“Cas, no-”

“Spare the Winchesters if that’s really what you want. There may not be a way out of this, but you will not go alone.” He was using his angel voice and there was no fighting him on this one. With a huff, you conceded.

“Fine, but I am picking the music.”

9:34 A.M.

You’d kept your phone on silent, ignoring all of the calls you had anticipated. If you heard his voice, you would make Cas turn the car around. You did, however, try and read the avalanche of text messages you were receiving from both brothers.

Don’t do this.

You don’t have to face this on your own.

Please baby, answer the phone.

One of Sam’s messages in particular sent a pang of guilt through your heart.

Dean’s going nuts over here. We both are. Please just come home. If only to say goodbye.

“Regretting your decision?” Cas wondered gruffly. You shot him a look and turned on the radio. Cas changed the channel quickly as ‘Highway to Hell’ played, muttering that it was inappropriate given the circumstances. Instead, he found a station playing Night Ranger’s ‘Sister Christian’. You felt that ache in your chest come back.

“Now what?” Cas read your expression.

“Nothing, it’s just this song.” You had to laugh at how sentimental you were being. “Dean played it all the time when we first became a couple. He liked to joke that he was the ‘Mr. Right’ I’d been so desperately looking for.” The memory made you smile and you imagined being in the impala with Dean singing from the driver’s side.

“Motoring!” He would belt. “What’s your price for flight? You’ve got him in your sight. And driving through the night.” You would both sing the guitar part and laugh.

“Y/N… Y/N.” Cas broke you out of the memory, seeing the sadness in your eyes. You hadn’t even realized that he had stopped the car. “I figured you would want some coffee.” You looked out the window and saw the gas station he had parked in front of.

“You’re a saint, Cas,” You exclaimed, the grumbling in your stomach finally getting your attention. The angle looked very confused.

“Y/N, I can’t be a saint. I’m an angel.”

“It’s just an expression.” You laughed, opening the car door. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Cas knew that if you were anything like your boyfriend, you’d pursue the aisle for some pre-packaged junk food for a while before checking out. Which gave him about ten minutes to return a very angry call.

“Where are you? Is she with you? What the hell Cas?” Dean yelled into the receiver. Sam sat at the table, still trying to find you, but you must have turned the tracker on your phone off.

“She’s okay, Dean.”

“Bring her back. Now.”

“I can’t. She’ll run if she thinks I’m taking her to you.” Cas explained, keeping an eye on you as you moved through the candies. “We’re stopped at a gas station in Topeka.”

“Where are you headed?”

“She won’t say.” Cas sighed. “She just tells me what turns to make and what roads to follow. Although, she did mention something about ‘seeing the old place again’, whatever that means.” Cas watched you pay for your items and head for the exit. “I’ve got to go.”

“Cas, wait!” Dean said, but the line was already dead. “Damn it!” He tossed the phone across the table. Sam caught it before it could slide off.

“He wouldn’t tell you?”

“He doesn’t know!” The older Winchester exclaimed in frustration. “He said Y/N is just telling him as they go. The only clue she’s given him is ‘seeing the old place again.’”

“Did he say where they were stopped at least?”

“Some gas station in Topeka, so they could be heading anywhere.” Dean paced back and forth. He should have known you would pull something like this. You thought you were protecting him by facing this alone. Hell, you’d been doing it since you were a kid. Dean stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” Sam asked and his brother grabbed the keys to his car.

“I know where she’s going.”

2:14 P.M.

You hadn’t seen the house in about twenty years. Then, it was a family home- bikes left on the lawn, your mother’s tulips overtaking the garden, your terrible chalk drawings covering the driveway. Now, the wood was rotting and a tall chain link fence surrounded the premises.

“What are we doing here?” Cas wondered, turning off the truck as you hopped out. The bottle of anger liquid practically glowed in the afternoon sun. You took a swig.

“This, my friend, is where I grew up.” You surveyed the house and nodded. “And it’s where I want to die.” You tucked the bottle in your bag and climbed the fence, landing on the other side with a dramatic flare. Cas let out an exasperated sigh.

“What happened here?” He asked, reading all of the ‘Condemned Building’, ‘Do Not Enter’ signs. He followed you over the fence, clumsily tumbling onto the other side.

“When I was fifteen, my brother came home from college for the weekend. Only, it wasn’t my brother.” The old wounds didn’t hurt as much anymore, but being here again certainly made them sting a little. “It was a shifter. Now, my parents were hunters before they had us, so they figured out something was wrong…just not fast enough.” It all felt so far away now. “After he killed them, he came after me. Somehow, I got the upper hand and sent a silver kitchen knife through his heart. That’s how I started hunting.” Cas put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” You just shrugged sadly.

“It was a long time ago.” You were able to pick the lock on the front door, the smell of mold and dirt filling your nostrils. Home sweet home.

Somehow, the kitchen table was still standing and the sliding glass door leading to the back porch was intact. Your father always used to joke that it was bulletproof. The last time you were in this room, you stabbed a creature that looked like your big brother. And that was shockingly the least complicated your life had been in twenty years.

“Make yourself at home Cas. I’ve got about,” You looked down at your watch, “nine hours and forty minutes until I become a chew toy and I’m going to spend it reminiscing and getting very, very drunk.” Cas gave you a look of disdain. “Hey, I didn’t ask you to be here.”

“You are handling your impending damnation remarkably well.” He sat down in a creaky chair as you started to empty out your bag.

“I’m not going to spend my last few hours cowering in the corner, Cas.” You opened the small tin box that you had brought. “I can’t fight what’s going to happen to me. The most I can do is stay here, away from Sam and Dean, and wait.” You repeated it over and over in your head as if you could convince yourself. Every bone in your body wanted to fight. It’s just who you were. You survived. But now, you were staring down the gaping mouth of hell for the man who taught you to live.

4:36 P.M.

You may have had a three hour head start to St. Louis, but Cas couldn’t drive like Dean could. Both brothers continued their attempts to call you but it was still to now avail. It didn’t matter. They knew where to find you.

The exact address of your childhood home was not hard to find. Your parent’s deaths were well publicized so Sam just followed the trail of articles. Sure enough, Cas’ truck was parked in front of the condemned building.

“Why would she pick this place?” Sam asked, taking in the sad sight.

“This is where it all started for her.” Dean answered somberly. “It’s where she wants it to end.”

Inside, a half empty bottle of Jack sat beside the pile of photographs you had been looking through. You told Cas dozens of stories, some through laughter, some tears, and some both. With music playing from your phone, you didn’t hear the new set of footprints until the Winchesters were standing in front of you. You jumped up from the table, the alcohol in your system making you dizzy.

“You told them!” You cast an accusing glare at the angel beside you.

“This isn’t what you want.” He replied in a quiet voice. You turned your panicked face back to the brothers. Sam’s expression held a sad understanding, but you couldn’t read Dean’s. He stepped towards you.

“You have to leave.” You ordered, backing away as he got closer. “I don’t want you here for this. Get back in the impala and leave.” You backed into the corner and Dean towered over you. “Please, Dean.” His eyes searched yours and knew. He pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

You didn’t fight him. You let him hold onto you as your body started to shake. It was another one of your selfish reasons for leaving. If he wasn’t here, if you couldn’t look at his face, you could pretend that you weren’t scared. Now he was here and all of that tough-girl bullcrap was gone.

“I’m right here baby.” He kissed your forehead, taking all of your stress and putting it on his shoulders. You would carry this together.

“Why did you leave?” Sam asked gently. You turned, Dean keeping his arms around you from behind.

“Because you shouldn’t have to see this, Sam. You watched it happen to your brother, I couldn’t make you watch it again. Neither of you should be put through this.” Dean lightly kissed your shoulder.

“You can’t do this alone.” He whispered.

“I had Cas.” You smirked. The three of you laughed, Cas even cracking a smile.

“Why don’t I go to a restaurant with quick service and get food?” Cas suggested.

“Fast food. It’s called fast food.” Dean snickered into your shoulder. You elbowed him.

“That would be great.”

The sound of a clock chiming startled all of you, Dean instinctively pushing you behind him. Sam sighed.

“It’s okay, It’s only five.” You were all so on edge that it felt later. The clock echoed still, connecting a memory in your mind.

“No way.” You broke away from Dean and found the living room. You must not have heard it earlier because of the music. Sure enough, the gigantic Grandfather clock was still ticking. “I can’t believe it still works.” You mused, running your fingers over the dust covered glass. “My dad loved this thing. He never let us play around it because he was scared that my brother and I would break it.” By some cruel irony, it lasted longer than he did.

10:29 P.M.

With stomachs full of fries and mediocre burgers, you had climbed up onto the roof- which was surprisingly still sturdy- to look at the stars. Five hours passed in a blink and you were all getting anxious. Sam and Cas were inside, giving you and Dean time alone.

“I want you to have this.” You began, talking over the music playing from your phone. You handed him the small tin that you kept all your pictures in. Dean raised a brow and you playfully rolled your eyes. “And no, there’s no playboy material in there so you can wipe that smirk off your face.” Dean chuckled and draped around your shoulders to pull you closer.

He opened the box and spilled the contents into his lap. The first image made him laugh. It was of you and Sam, fast asleep on a motel sofa, your head on his shoulder and half of his body dangling over the arm of the couch. Someone- aka Dean- had drawn mustaches on your faces.

“I forgot about this.” Dean put each photo back in the box as he looked at them. Some were from when you were a kid, but most were from your time with them. He paused at one in particular. It was of you hugging him from behind as he worked under the hood of the impala, both of you laughing at something he had said. You were at Bobby’s. Ellen had taken it.

“Damn,” Dean muttered, putting the picture on top of the others. You knew what he was thinking. He’d lost so many people. His parents, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, and countless others. Now he would have to add you to the list.

“When it comes, I’ll need to borrow your gun.” You said suddenly. He gave you a strange look, taking a second to understand. “I figured it would be a better way to go than becoming dog food.” Dean winced. This was not a subject he wanted to address. A part of him still had hope.

“Maybe there’s still a way.”

“Dean,” You sighed, “there would need to be an act of God or the gates of hell closing.” You had a little less than an hour now. Dean’s eyes lit up and he shifted to face you.

“That’s it. That’s how we can fight this.”

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

“When Sam was completing the trails, he was able to kill a hellhound with an angel blade. We can kill it.” His voice had a new sense of determination.

“Dean, there would just be more.” You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious.

“So we kill them!” He said it as if it was simple. “It’ll at least buy us more time to undo the deal.”

“Dean…” You looked at him like he was crazy, but the new found hope on his face made it impossible to rebuke.

“It’ll work.” He said, more to himself than to you. “It has to work.” You both fell silent, listening to the music. You almost laughed. Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’. You sang along in your head.

“And it’s whispered that soon, if we call the tune then the piper will lead us to reason. And a new day will dawn for those who stand long and the forests will echo with laughter.”

Surely, somebody up there was laughing. Whoever God was, he sure had a twisted sense of humor.

11:57 P.M.

“We need to get inside.” Dean announced, grabbing the tin and putting it in his jacket pocket. “It’ll be easier to corner the bitch so we can kill it.”

You both climbed down into the back yard. Sam and Cas were waiting, already filled in on the plan. Neither were overly confident, but if there was a chance, they were willing to try.

“You ready?” Sam asked. You gulped and gave the three of them a solemn nod. Each man filed inside, weapons at the ready. As soon as Dean was in, you slid the glass door shut, jamming a metal bar in between the door and the wall.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, trying to force it open. “Y/N, what are you doing?” The door wouldn’t budge. “Let me out!”

You put your hand against the glass, palm splayed out where Dean’s fist pounded. You gave him a small, sad smile.

“It’s okay.” You mouthed. His hand flattened against yours. “It’s going to be okay.” You exchanged a glance with Sam and he gave you a wordless promise. He would make sure his brother would get through this. You locked your eyes with Dean’s. You never got tired of those emerald irises. Knowing that you put the life back in those perfect green eyes would give you enough courage to face what came next.

You closed your eyes, feeling a lone tear slide down your cheek.

12:00 A.M.

This time, the clock’s chiming didn’t make you jump. The howl did. Both Sam and Dean were desperately trying to get the door open, but Cas knew that this was what you wanted. He turned away.

“Damn it, Y/N! Open the door!” Dean shouted again, hitting the glass as hard as he could. You spoke just loud enough for them to hear you.

“I love you.” You opened your eyes only to find the heartbreak in his. “I love all of you.” You cried out as a set of claws dug deeply into your calf, yanking you backwards onto the concrete.

“No!” Dean screamed. He pulled so hard that the handle of the door snapped off. Sam was frozen now, neither brother able to tear their eyes away.

You tried to hold back your screams, but it was useless. The hellhound flipped you onto your back, claws ripping through your shoulder like paper. Your shrieks were loud enough to fill the kitchen.

“Baby, please.” Dean cried, his efforts in trying to break the glass merely giving him bruises. He was forced to watch the invisible beast create claw marks along your arms and chest. He felt every tear as if it were happening to him all over again. A pool of blood started to pour out beneath you.

Your most agonizing scream came when you felt the dog’s jaws clamp around your side. You looked up at the men above you. Dean’s face was stained with tears, as was his brother’s. They both looked so anguished, so shattered. So you remembered last night. You remembered their laughing faces and off-key singing. You remembered Sam’s comforting embrace and his knowing smile. You remembered the taste of Dean’s lips and the feeling of his body tangled with yours. You remembered their eyes in the sunset, sparkling and alive. And you smiled. Your boys.

“Y/N! No!” Dean screamed in horror as a chunk of your flesh was violently torn away. You stopped moving. “Y/N!” The last toll of the clock echoed throughout the entire house and the old Grandfather clock stopped ticking.

Sam pushed his brother to the side and fired his gun at the glass until it shattered. Dean bolted through, not caring if he got cut. The hound was gone, leaving only carnage in its wake. He fell to his knees.

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet now, hoarse from screaming. Your eyes stared blankly up at the stars, blood splattered across your face. He cradled your head in his hand. “Don’t do this to be, baby. Don’t do this to me.” He pulled you into his lap. “Come on sweetheart, don’t make me lose you too. Please.”

Sam’s chest tightened, watching his brother break down. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Dean cry this hard. Cas had vanished, so it was just the two of them now. After a moment, Sam let out a heavy sigh.

“Why don’t you head out the car? I’ll clean up.”

“No.” Dean growled, head jerking up to look at him. “I have to do this.” Dean straightened and he scooped your body up into his arms. Blood rushed down his clothes like rain, seeping through to his skin. It would stain him for the rest of his life. He pressed a kiss to your forehead one last time and gently closed your eyes.

And she’s buying a stairway to Heaven.

Tuesday 8:33 A.M.

The ride back to the bunker was silent. Even when they got back, Sam knew better than to say anything. Dean went to take a shower, shoving the small tin to the back of his drawer. Sam poured himself a drink. He looked out on an empty library and lifted his glass, as if he were toasting you.

Dean turned the water to a scalding temperature, feeling it burn as it rinsed off the sticky crimson liquid that covered his chest and arms. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your smile going blank as the hellhound tore away your skin. And all he could hear was that stupid clock. Before he even realized it, his hand punched the tiled wall over and over again until it cracked, his knuckles splitting open and oozing blood. He didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything.

It was dark, but you could still see the blade hanging above you, glistening menacingly. Spiked restraints pierced your wrists, holding you down on the table.

“Sam? Cas? Anybody!” You cried. There was no hiding the terror in your voice. The saw screeched to life and slowly lowered down towards you. “Help me! Somebody please!” You struggled, only making the spikes dig further into your skin. There was no escaping this. Your screams filled the darkness. “Dean!”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

The Deal Series: @writeroutoftime

#gore warning #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural imagines #winchester takeover #october #jensen ackles #Jared Padalecki #to be continued?

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cherishedkids · 4 years

Text

ignoring them prank on the pretty setter squad || hcs

(kageyama, oikawa, kenma, akaashi, semi, and sugawara)

A/N: thank you to anon for requesting this!! i love the setters in haikyuu.. they are just so cool and also... they are so many?? wtf . i dont really know if i wrote them well or if its in line with canon, but i hope you still enjoy it! thank you for reading! 💕

kageyama tobio

kageyama tobio is slow to realize it.

he’s too caught up in his own shenanigans that he doesn’t notice when you haven’t been talking to him the entire day.

you don’t buy him milk that day.

usually, you’d hand him one during lunch.

but he chalks it up to you being busy.

when he asks you a question, you continue to read your notebook.

he thinks that maybe you’re too engrossed in it, so he leaves you be.

it irritates him when you talk to the shrimp and not him, but he did not want to be clingy.

still, that did not stop him from shooting hinata glares from the corner of his eyes.

during practice, you arrive ahead of him.

he thinks that maybe you got too impatient as he admits that he was a bit slow in packing his things up after dismissal.

when you start joking with the team and and laughing, he joins everyone.

but you stop once he gets close, and you turn quiet and go to sit at the bench.

only then, does he realize something was wrong.

he doesn’t perform well during training, too caught up in his own thoughts.

coach ukai scolded him for not being attentive, and he can only apologize.

he asks hinata multiple times if you had said something to him.

“___? no, not really.”

he even asks the team if you had told them anything.

to which they all replied with a resounding ‘no’.

he did not notice the sly smiles on their faces.

had tobio accidentally done something wrong?

had he missed something? a date perhaps?

as far as he knew, nothing special was happening today.

was it your birthday?

no, it was in a few months.

after training, he hurries to ask you what happened.

you stay to watch them train, for tobio, and tonight, you also stay.

he doesn’t really know why, because if you were really angry, you would’ve hurried home.

he expects to see your normal and stoic face.

but he’s treated to your angry one.

what did he do?!

“tobio!”

he has a confused look on his face.

you put your hands on his shoulder and shake him.

“you didn’t notice my prank!”

again, confusion.

“...what prank?”

you stop, then pull your hands away.

“i ignored you the whole day! and you didn’t notice it!”

did he really not notice it?

he smiles at you and sighs.

it was one of his rare genuine smiles.

“it was a prank?”

you nod.

“thank god.”

you look at him in confusion.

he was affected by it?

if he was, he didn’t show anything.

kageyama tobio really needed to be more expressive.

well, he was expressive, when he decided to return the prank on you the very next day.

he was that revengeful.

oikawa tooru

“___!”

oikawa tooru yells out as he sees you from outside the school gates.

he runs up to you, like a weird and needy puppy.

but you ignore him.

tooru is surprised when you don’t even try to scathe him.

“___?”

at first, he’s confused.

last night, the both of you were texting.

nothing was wrong, and you even exchanged “i love you”s.

so he was one hundred percent sure he was in the clear.

so he runs up to you and walks beside you.

he starts being irritating.

it’s the one thing he knew would drive you insane.

he keeps repeating your name, in different tones, pitches, and intervals.

when you keep walking, he pouts.

it was time for phase four.

“___, c’mon, pay attention to me!”

you would not even budge when he stands in front of you.

you just dodge him and look ahead.

but he catches a slight goofy smile on your face.

when he sees iwaizumi, he clings to him.

“tell me i’m not invisible iwa!”

the “trashykawa” insult and cursing given to him by the former reassures him.

during lunch, he speeds to your classroom to catch you.

he follows after you when you don’t even accept his peace offering.

melon pan—your favorite!

now he was sure something was wrong.

when you were seated at the canteen, he sat beside you.

“you won’t be able to resist my charms,”

he cooed, and he could see the blush that was forming on your cheeks.

even though you were ignoring him, you could still hear his words.

and if that was the case, you could still feel him.

so, he sneaked his hands around you and attacked.

in a few seconds, he had you laughing from his tickles.

still, you didn’t dare say his name.

“notice me and i’ll stop!”

the laughter coming out of your lips continued on, refusing to yield.

you didn’t even answer him, as you’d be acknowledging his existence.

“okay, okay, fine, tooru! just stop!”

you say, in between laughter.

the moment he hears his name, he stops.

“i. won.”

he whispers right in your ear, and you feel tingles run down your spine.

“not fair!”

you try to ignore him again, but he only finds ways to get your attention again.

oikawa tooru never lost a game.

especially when it was about ignoring him.

that egotistical asshole.

kozume kenma

after seeing a viral video online about a prank called “ignoring your boyfriend”, you wanted to try it on kozume kenma.

you knew it was going to be hard, as you wanted nothing more but to hug him as soon as you saw him.

but you had to endure it.

when kenma sees you at the canteen, he sits next to you.

as soon as he nears, however, you move away.

you know that you won’t be able to ignore him if he was close.

so you add more distance between the two of you.

he misses your warmth, but thinks that you’ll come back soon.

when minutes pass and you still haven’t come back, he looks around but doesn't see you anywhere.

he asks kuroo where you are, but he just shrugs.

he texts you multiple times.

‘___, are you not going to eat?’

no reply.

‘do you have something to do?’

no reply, but he does see the tick that signifies that you read his message.

he waits for your reply, but it never comes.

he sighs, maybe you were busy.

today, there isn’t volleyball training.

every time he has free time, you usually come over.

so he texts you again.

‘___, are you coming with me?’

no reply!

god, kenma was close to losing his mind.

he sees you walking out of the building, and he dashes towards you.

it’s the first time you see him run to you, so you’re caught off-guard.

“___!”

he exclaims, waiting for you to hold his hand.

but you don’t say his name back or answer.

you simply look away.

“are you playing a prank on me?”

when you walk away, you almost feel your heart break.

was this going too far?

when you turn to look back at him, he’s crouched on the floor, head on his knees.

oh god, you didn’t mean for this to happen!

it was your turn to run over to him.

“sorry, kenma! it was a prank! i was only doing a prank, i swear!”

you try to explain, but when you wait for him to reply, you don’t hear crying or sniffles.

he raises his head, a slight smile on his face.

“i know. i saw that video days ago,”

what a punk.

he makes you promise to him that you won’t play a prank on him again.

especially a popular one.

you agree, as you almost died of guilt from not paying attention to him.

kenma learns to watch out for viral trends, to better figure out how to pay you back.

akaashi keiji

akaashi keiji is a shy man.

but he doesn’t let that affect him when he notices something is wrong.

so when he sees that you haven’t been talking to him the entire day, he confronts you about it.

you usually hung out around him, ranting about anything and everything.

but today was quiet, and even if he cherished it, it was not normal.

he preferred hearing your voice.

his brain has already thought of different scenarios before approaching you.

“hey. what’s up?”

he asks, leaning against the wall.

you don’t look at him or anything, just continuing to scroll through your phone.

he sighs, were you giving him the cold shoulder?

“did i do something wrong?”

when you don’t reply, he takes your hand in his.

“i did, didn’t i? at least tell me.”

you stuff your phone in your pocket and walk away from him.

he stares at your fading figure.

the next time he sees bokuto, he’s sure to give him the cold shoulder himself.

after classes, he waits for you at the gate.

he’s with bokuto, and he yells and shouts.

when keiji sees you, he waves.

he breathes a sigh of relief when you wave back.

but he sees that your eyes aren't directed at him.

it was towards bokuto.

argh!

“bokuto!”

you only look at bokuto, completely ignoring him.

“hey—“

“___! so nice to see you!”

bokuto smiles at keiji, and you look at him.

maybe you just did not see him?

“bokuto, who are you looking at?”

it seems like bokuto forgets something.

“ah, you’re right! my bad.”

so bokuto had something to do with this.

he forgets his politeness and grabs your hand.

“can you tell me what’s going on? why have you been ignoring me this whole day?”

when he sees the frown on your face and the guilt in your eyes, his heart softens.

for the first time that day, you actually talk to him.

“promise me you won’t get angry at me,”

again, a hundred different reasons start popping up in his head.

he nods, concerned for you.

“it was a…”

you whisper out, and he listens to your every word.

“prank!”

you place a quick peck on his cheek before he could react and run away.

“hurry bokuto, before mr. straight face catches us!”

he spends the entire afternoon chasing the both of you, eager to get his hands on you.

he definitely was not going to let this one slide.

semi eita

semi eita had a scowl on his face, like any normal day.

you were hesitant about doing this prank on him, as he was quick to anger.

but what was life without any fun?

the moment you saw him walking down the halls, you switched on your best impression of him.

stoic, cold, and intimidating.

as soon as he approached you, he hung his arm around you.

“where are you going?”

he asks, but you shrug his arm off and continue walking.

but he persists.

“sorry if i did anything wrong,”

it was a nice try, and if you were not merely acting, you probably would’ve forgiven him on the spot.

but you keep walking.

he follows you, and you see tendou.

yes! this was a great set-up!

“tendou!”

he turns around and sees the both of you.

“hey ___, semi,”

but you act as if he didn’t say anything.

you only start to walk on pace with him, and eita follows the both of you.

tendou turns to him, confused, but he flinches at the look eita gives him.

you start talking about your day, and tendou shakes in his shoes.

whatever it was the both of you were going through, he did not want to participate in.

“i think semi wants to talk to you,”

you only look at him weirdly.

“eita? where is he?”

now, semi understands what you were doing.

tendou laughs at the situation.

eita stands in front of you, pointing at himself.

“___, i’m here,”

even if he says those words, you keep looking around.

“tendou, i think you’re lying. i just don’t see him anywhere!”

there’s a slight smile on your face, one that you couldn’t hide.

“if i were you, i’d drop it,”

tendou advices, before escaping from semi.

you don’t heed his words, though, and start to mutter to yourself.

“i’m pretty sure i’d see him immediately… he usually wears uncool clothes…”

he explodes at this.

“take that back!”

when he yells, you lock eyes with him and flash him a wink.

you maniacally laugh as you explain that it was just a prank.

“but i wasn’t kidding about your clothes,”

he sighs, as he takes you in his arms again.

as long as you weren't ignoring him, you could insult him whenever.

sugawara koshi

first off, you wouldn’t dare throw a prank on him.

just his worried face would melt your heart!

and it was hard trying to ignore such a sweet and kind boy.

but after much coaxing from the karasuno team, you gave in.

they planned a whole prank on him, and they were going to ignore him the entire day.

you weren’t really sure where this came from, but when they brought it up, everyone was willing to participate.

sugawara koshi started his day normal.

wake up early, get dressed, and eat breakfast.

there was no morning practice today, so he could take his sweet time.

he breathed in the fresh morning air.

he was ready to face the day smiling.

when he got to karasuno, he could see you standing talking with daichi.

he approached the both of you and yelled out your names.

but you both didn’t look.

so you hadn’t heard him.

instead, he hurried his pace and tapped you on the shoulder.

before he could say your name, you told daichi that you still had a club activity to take care of before classes.

sugawara heard this and waved goodbye, even though you didn’t see him.

daichi had disappeared as he watched you walk away.

sugawara thinks that today is a rather busy day.

it takes him a few minutes to get to his classroom, taking a few detours to stretch his body out.

he’s classmates with you, so when he sees you sitting on your desk, he greets you good morning.

weirdly enough, your head was down.

he lets you rest, as he thinks you probably are tired from your club activity.

when lunch rolls around, he goes to fetch daichi and asahi.

he asks you to go with him, but you are already gone.

he checks the other classrooms and sees that daichi and asahi are also gone!

when he bumps into kageyama and hinata, they don’t even spare him a glance.

gosh, what was happening!

as he walks to the canteen, he sees the three of you eating together.

he sighs out of relief.

ah, so you decided to go ahead.

he only wishes that you told him.

as he approaches the group, they start to stand up and walk away.

where were they going?

sugawara eats lunch alone, wondering why everyone is acting so weird.

it’s finally dismissal, and he goes to the gym.

he doesn’t wait for anyone, as he figures, they might have gone ahead again.

he was correct, as everyone was inside.

they didn’t wait for him though, as they already started warming up.

you were sat on the benches, watching them.

after he changes, he goes to ask daichi what they were going to do.

daichi doesn’t reply, so he looks at the others, who are weirdly smiling and avoiding eye contact.

“is something the matter?”

he asks, and none of them answer.

but he hears you sigh from the corner.

“i can’t take this anymore!”

the rest of the team exhale, as if they were holding in their breaths.

you approach him and put your hands together, raising them in front of your head.

“i’m so sorry suga, we were playing a prank on you!”

to be honest, he was kind of expecting that when you didn’t talk to him the entire day.

but he spared you from his anger, as you promised to make it up to him with a kiss later.

needless to say, coach ukai was shocked to see the rest of the karasuno team, tears streaming down their faces as sugawara held a victorious and vengeful expression above them.

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine Being the Nurse Who Cares for Alfie During WW1

just a quick thing i thought of bc apparently tonight is Alfie night lmaooo enjoy, i might do tommy and arthur with something similar!

In spite of your family wanting you to stay home and support the war from afar, you left to become a volunteer nurse. The number of men being horrifically injured just kept growing as the war dragged on. You were stationed at a hospital in France, and because of the good work you’d been doing, they moved you to the makeshift “hospitals” that brought men straight from the trenches. You didn’t tell your parents about this change, not that you ever found time to write to them.

A soldier was brought in on a gurney, and in spite of his wounds, he was cursing and trying to sit up. He was in a terrible state; not only was he shot, he and several other soldiers got caught in gas on their way to the hospital. He was a delirious, rambling mess by the time they got him into a bed.

You have to push him down more than once - how did he still have so much strength? - and you tried to soothe and talk to him while you worked. You wished there was more you could do for the pain, but supplies were limited. Finally he quieted down and you were able to finish and move onto the next patient.

The next day, you learned the soldier’s name. He told you to call him Alfie, because somehow he was lucid, and had been cursing and mumbling to himself for hours before you came in. Your fellow nurses threw you at him because they were tired of dealing with him. It wasn’t unusual for soldiers to be panicky when they woke up after a terrible sleep and found themselves in a new place filled with groans and the smell of blood, so you comforted him the best you could. Before and after each shift, you visited Alfie and asked how he was doing, and he gradually began to be more obedient for the nurses.

Alfie always had something to say, even when you were treating his wounds and he had to stop to wince and groan. You really talked in the evening, when you’d have a spare ten minutes and you two would play cards and talk. He talked about a bakery he had back in London, but he was more interested in you: He’d ask where you were from, what you were doing here, what you did before the war … if you had a husband or boyfriend, and so on.

Now and again you were able to sneak him a drink or a cigarette, and he’d give you so much praise it made you blush. In general Alfie is a shameless flirt, he has a handful of sweet pet names he calls you with no regards of whose around to hear. He has names for the other nurses, but they’re in Yiddish and you’re positive they aren’t “kitten” or “princess”.

Once, he pulled you back to his bed by your waist. The suddenness of it and the strength of his hands flustered you completely. You totally missed what he said as he did it.

The makeshift hospital was cramped, often too warm and full of foul smells. One of the patients next to Alfie decided to pull you and curse at you, and before you could respond, Alfie had hopped from his own bed and grabbed the man so hard you thought he broke something. You had to pull them apart and shove Alfie back in his bed. He managed to open his bullet wounds back open, but he wasn’t fazed at all.

“Alfie, you can’t do that again, if the head nurse had seen that -” “Next time I’ll smash ‘is ‘ead if ‘e tries doin’ that again, right, thinkin’ ‘e can bring that sorta shit in ‘ere - you tell me if ‘e ever does -” “Alfie, for christ’s sake, your bandages are soaked. Lie down.”

Alfie’s sudden aggression had startled and frightened you, but you chalked it up to the poor, stressful conditions of the hospital.

Whenever you were cleaning and working, Alfie liked to make you giggle. It wouldn’t matter if he had to yell the joke from across the room. You’d whip your head around and try not to smile as you told him to go back to sleep.

As you’d give him water, help him eat, check on his wounds, you made a point not to leave lingering touches. The large man was starting to affect you, and you didn’t want it to show. It didn’t help that he’d touch hair that’d fallen out of your bun and brush it behind your ear, or gently pull you by your loose waist ties and offer to tie them.

Eventually he began to recover and was able to walk around again. He didn’t want to go back to the front, no wounded man ever did. It was like walking back into hell. You had selfish whims of telling your superiors that he was too wounded to go back, but that was wrong.

On the day he had to leave, you caught him right as he was shambling out of the hospital. Alfie gave you a kiss on your brow and told you to be safe, and you told him the same. You tucked the pack of cards you both played with into his pocket.

You thought about him through the war, wondering if he was okay, or even alive. Afterward, when you returned to Britain, he still lingered on your mind. It was hard to go back to your peaceful village, seeing your happy parents, everyone assuming you’d go back to whatever you were doing before.

Eventually you had to get away, get out of the place that pretended everything was okay. You found yourself travelling to London with a stupid idea. A fantasy. For several days you asked after a man named Alfred Solomons and his bakery. Most people didn’t know the place, although you got a few fearful reactions that were a little strange.

You knocked on the door, and a nervous, tall young man looked you up and down and asked what you were doing. You felt awful, it was nearly closing time, and it felt stupid to ask a stranger if a “Mr. Solomons” was there. But the man looked startled, and from behind him came a very, very familiar booming voice.

The young man was all but pushed aside and before you knew it, you were pulled into a very close, very tight embrace. It was strange, in the hospital, all you could smell was sick and blood and the residue of gunpowder stuck on the men’s skin, but Alfie’s scent was still … familiar. You couldn’t believe you actually found him.

Plenty of memories came flooding back, and Alfie quickly offered you a handkerchief so you could dab your eyes. He ordered several men around (why did this bakery have so many young men just standing around?), telling them to close up, because he was going to take an old friend out to dinner.

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader

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wannawritefast · 3 years

Text

Whiplash: Ch. 4- Pretending

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the love on the last part! I totally didnt realize there was no title or link to the previous part. I distinctly remember doing that... maybe Tumblr had a goof... Just a heads up that a fixed it and all that jazz.

Pt. 3

Pairing: Gwilym Lee! Brian Lee x Reader

Donna left the end of that weekend grateful to have spent time with her sister. And you felt equally as grateful to have gotten some bonding time before the holidays rolled around.

You and Brian continued your charade until before long it was time to leave for your family’s house. There was a plethora of Christmases where you didn’t want to go back home for the holidays or even want to celebrate the ‘happiest time of the year’ at all. But this Christmas… this one took the fruitcake.

The night before you left you didn’t get a wink of sleep. You often chalked it up to the fact that your cat was not present (having been put in a kennel earlier that day) and the subsequent lack of him in your bed. But you knew deep down that it was because, this time, you would be coming home with a boyfriend. A fake one.

That seemed to scare you more than you thought it should. If they didn’t believe you or if they found out, you would NEVER be able to live it down. And then there was Brian.

He was too kind and sweet and caring and goofy to you. He treated you better than you deserved. Sometimes you didn’t think it was real. Brian was your best friend and you knew that you could always depend on him. If anything ever happened to jeopardize that, you didn’t know what you’d do.

The two of you left in the mid-morning on the 21st, Brian picking you up and getting breakfast along the way. It took a few hours but you got to your parents’ house by mid-afternoon. Even though you jammed to cassettes the whole way there, your nerves still wracked your body.

7 days at your parents’ house in the English country and 7 days at his. Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

Finally the two of you arrived at your family’s big country house, pulling up in front of the large property. Brian put the car in park and turned off the engine. He reached to unbuckle his seatbelt in the now silent car but you grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Brian, we don’t have to do this,” you looked him right in the eye.

He coughed out a chuckle. “What?”

“We can turn around right now. I can just say I got sick,” you reached to turn the ignition but he shooed your hands away.

“We’ve come this far and you want to turn around?” Brian questioned. You nodded emphatically. “Oh, come on now. I’m ready and you’re ready.”

“No, Brian,” you let out a panicked breath. This was such a bad idea. You should have just been honest with them from the beginning. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“We’re basically at the front door,” he turned in his seat. “We can’t go back now.”

“Watch me,” you reached for the ignition again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Brian grabbed your hand and held it. “We’re here. It’s going to be alright.”

You looked out the windows nervously for any sign that your parents or siblings had seen you arrive. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not.” Brian fiddled with your fingers and kissed the back of your hand, stirring up butterflies again. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that, he unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his car door and went straight to the trunk, making sure that his keys were in his pocket. You jumped out after him. He was smart. Leaving the vehicle before you could object further…

He opened the latch and was beginning to take out the luggage. “Brian, I mean it. We can still leave. No one’s seen-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” His green-eyed gaze was fixed on the front door.

“Y/N’S HOME!!”

“Y/N’S HOME!!” Donna exclaimed, throwing the door open. Her voice echoed down the driveway. She was clad in a Christmas jumper that your mum had made for you, your brother, and your sister a few years back. Mum always insisted that you wear it for at least one day when you visited. As per her request, it was folded neatly at the bottom of your luggage.

“It’s too late,” you whispered to yourself. “If we regret this, it’s not my fault.”

“We’ll be okay,” Brian put an arm around you and you leaned lazily into the hug.

“Y/n! My baby!” That was mum. Although your mum was loud at times, you loved her a lot. Your mother hustled from the front door clad in a loudly patterned apron, which itself was covered in flour and sugar.

“This doesn’t seem too bad,” he mused to you.

You looked at him from the side of your eyes. “Oh, just you wait.”

You took Brian’s hand and moved to meet them in the middle. Your sister practically jumped on you and knocked you over when she gave you a hug; the two of you tumbled as you hit the ground in a burst of laughter. Brian and your mother both rushed to help the two of you up.

“Hey, Brian,” Donna gave him a friendly hug. “So did she drive you crazy on the way here?”

“Absolutely bonkers.” He teased. You scoffed and bumped him with your shoulder.

“Hi, mum.” You moved to embrace your mother and she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. She held you at arms length.

“I missed you so much.” She gushed. Her fingers moved to hold your face. You couldn’t help your smile.

“It’s only been like a month and a half.” You laughed at her emotions.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss my daughter!” Your mother exclaimed. “Of course your father misses you too! I tried to get him to take work off today to come greet you two but you know him!” Unfortunately, you did. She rubbed your arms soothingly, turning her attention to Brian. “Now... introduce me to this strapping young man!”

You rolled your eyes but, deep down, it was your stomach that was really rolling. “Mum, this is Brian, my boyfriend.” That word still felt weird.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Brian,” she said as he extended his hand for her to shake. Your mother brushed his hand aside and pulled him into a tight sweet hug. Brian took it with a chuckle. “You don’t need to be formal with me. If you’re good enough for Y/n, you’re more than good enough for me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n,” he replied politely. Brian put an arm around your shoulders for emphasis. You wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Please, call me ‘Y/m/n.’” She froze all of a sudden. “Wait a second… is this the Brian from university?!” Your mum turned to you.

“Yes,” you smiled at your mom, “that’s where we met.”

“Oh my heavens! I remember you talking about Brian!” Your mother excitedly recalled. Uh-oh…

You laughed nervously and feigned forgetfulness. “What? I don’t think I remember-”

“I do!” She insisted. “You were her best friend.”

“I’d like to think I still am,” Brian replied. “I’m honestly surprised she didn’t run for the hills the moment I opened my mouth.”

Your mother chuckled, “Nonsense! I can see why she said you were so charming. And I remember one time she called me and said that she thought she fancied-”

“OKAY MUM!” Donna cut her off. Brian gave you and her a confused look. Thank God for Donna… “Don’t we have something in the oven?”

“Oh, good heavens! You’re right! Donna will show you to your room.” She turned and ran back inside. “JAMES!” She screeched. “HELP YOUR SISTERS AND BRIAN WITH THE LUGGAGE!”

There was grumbling from inside the house and you steeled yourself for the arrival of your brother. You turned to face Brian quickly as the two of you went back to the car to grab your bags. “I apologize in advance for anything that he says.”

“I can handle it.” He assured you. “I’ve already heard snippets of his typical vocabulary. I’ll be okay.”

As if on cue your brother materialized in the doorway looking classy as ever in an old pair of denim trousers and a stained t-shirt. He tiredly hobbled over, giving Brian a strange look as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You must be Brian,” James grumbled out. He looked him up and down suspiciously. “I see my sisters weren’t lying about you.”

“I am very much real. Were you expecting a bloke that looked like me? Perhaps less poodle-ish,” Brian called out, trying to lighten the mood up a little bit as he pulled another suitcase from the trunk.

Your brother hummed, unsatisfied, and finally looked at you. “You brought him.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t lying,” you said, cocking your head up proudly.

James hummed again, eyeing your, unbeknownst to him, fake boyfriend. Brian leaned against the car, having unloaded the last of the luggage, nodding a greeting at your brother.

“We’re definitely dating,” you urged. You stood next to Brian and he kissed the side of your head, while you stared down James.

James hummed a third time, oddly quiet. He glanced between you and Brian as if trying to see through the ruse. You were getting nervous.

“Yeah,” your brother stared right through you, “we’ll see about that.”

You, Brian, and Donna fidgeted nervously, not quite sure how to respond to what he said.

You cleared your throat and attempted to diffuse the tension. “Is this any way to greet your sister?”

He gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and a half-assed hug. Ah, yes, the depth of your brother’s affection…

Brian and James went to work grabbing the luggage wordlessly. You grabbed one of your bags and walked arm-in-arm with Donna. The two of you shared a look as you went inside and up the stairs.

“Here you go, lovebirds.” James half-tossed the luggage into his old room.

So this was where your mum had placed the two of you… It was the quietest and most isolated room in the house. Sitting above the garage, in the corner of the second floor, it was hard to disturb anyone with noise especially since the other two rooms on the floor were a decent distance away.

You wouldn’t have minded the space so much if the bed wasn’t a full-size and Bri wasn’t such a tall man.

“Are…” you started, “we sharing?” You hadn’t prepared for this. You couldn't even look at Brian.

You hadn’t counted on this being a part of the deal. And, of course, neither had Brian. God… you should have asked! At the very least to prepare yourself… To prepare Brian. You felt a pit forming in your belly.

“Yep,” he responded. “Mum figured the two of you would want to stay in the same area during your stay.”

“She and dad were okay with that?”

James leaned against the doorway. Donna stood behind him sheepishly. She had left that part out conveniently during the phone calls. “Mum was insistent. Dad put up more of a fight. They agreed though eventually.”

You looked at him with your mouth ajar, much like a fish. “Oh.”

“Is that going to be an issue?” James looked you and your fake boyfriend in the eye, a challenge.

Brian jumped to action. “Not at all. Thank you, James.”

He gave a tight-lipped smile and walked away with his arms crossed. You waited to hear his footsteps go down the creaky stairs before tearing into Donna.

She lowered her voice with her arms outstretched in front of her. “Before you yell at me, I didn’t know how to tell you. There are ears everywhere.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You couldn't have mentioned that? Like at all?”

“I’m sorry!” She whisper-yelled. “What would you have wanted me to do? Say that the two of you shouldn’t share a room? It’ll be easier to communicate with the both of you in the same space. Could you imagine being separate for a week while you try to pull this off?”

You supposed she was right. “No, no. You’re right.” You took a deep breath and changed your tone of voice so the rest of the house could hear you. “Thank you, Donna. I think we’re going to nap.”

She matched your tone. “Of course! I’ll let the two of you get settled in!” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ at her before she closed the door behind her and skipped away.

And then there were two.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Br- What are you doing?”

Brian was setting up his luggage next to the loveseat in the room and had found the spare blankets from the closet. He was making a bed on the couch. If he thought he was taking the couch, you’d be damned.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re making my bed, how kind of you! But really I’m the host so I must insist that you leave your accommodations to me, Mr. May.” You grabbed the spare pillow out of his hand and kicked his bag toward the bed. You began lugging your bag close to the couch. Brian stuck his foot out and stopped the bag.

“‘Your’ bed? I’m taking the couch.” He gently grabbed your bag and chucked it onto the bed. Your jaw dropped.

“No, Brian. I’m taking the couch. You’re too tall for it.” It was true. You could fit the couch much more comfortably than he could.

“Ah, but you see, as your boyfriend,” you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, “I must be chivalrous and relinquish the bed to my beloved.”

“You’re being an ungrateful guest,” you countered.

He winced. “Low blow.”

“I’m not above it.” Brian snatched the pillow back and began rubbing his hair on it. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Staking my claim,” he answered, matter-of-factly. His hair was a static-y mess. As if to prove his point he tossed his body haphazardly onto the couch and sprawled out, limbs and all. “This is mine.”

“You act like you laying on top of something is going to deter me in any way.” You laughed at his logic. “Being on the couch does not mean it is suddenly uninhabitable.”

“It does.” He pointedly stretched his limbs out more. “Watch me.”

“This argument is going nowhere.”

“I agree. Which is why you should just let me take the couch.”

“What if we-”

A knock on the door sounded. Brian shot up and the two of you tossed the blankets and pillow haphazardly on the bed. You answered the door with Brian hovered closely behind you.

James. He had a smirk on his face. How much of the conversation had he heard?

“Yes?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it or not but I thought I’d be thorough and tell you that this room gets rather cold in the winters. The garage isn’t insulated and neither are the walls that this room shares with it.”

“Oh, really?”

“I mean, you’re already sharing a bed so that’ll help but you might want to grab some extra blankets on top of that. Perhaps a second bed’s worth.” He peeked in to see the mound of blankets on the bed. “But it looks like the two of you have already figured that out.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yep. Thanks for the pointer.”

James hummed a laugh. “Anytime.” And like the asshole he was he sauntered away humming a Bob Dylan song. You pushed the door closed and rested your forehead on it.

“We could switch nights?” You offered. Brian knew you better than that; of all the sensations that you hated (fatigue, hunger, headache, etc.) being cold was what you loathed the most.

“Or we could just share the bed like they suspect us to…” He suggested. You looked at him. He didn’t seem to be pulling your leg.

“You wouldn’t be uncomfortable with that?” Your fingers picked at the ends of your hair.

Brian had his hands on his hips. “Not at all. Unless you would be.”

You looked him in the eye and then to the floor, your arms crossed. “I’m fine with it.”

“I guess we’ll share it then,” he affirmed.

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p.’

The two of you looked at the surrounding room and its four walls. The couch. The bed. The windows. Anywhere but each other. This was real. All the time you had pretended to be dating before you got to your parents house suddenly felt like dress rehearsals. This. This was real. And things were different.

This was showtime.

“Well, then,” Brian filled the silence. “Now that it’s settled why don’t we set up the room? We did tell them we were taking a nap. We can get settled a little bit.”

You nodded.

“I’ll do the bed if you do the closet?”

You nodded wordlessly again and took a deep breath before kicking off your shoes and opening the closet. You heard Brian take off his coat and toss it onto the couch. You set yours on top of his and reminded yourself to put in the coat closet downstairs by the front door.

As promised you began hanging some of your items and with Brian’s permission began helping him with his. The bathroom that was conjoined to the room soon had your various shampoo, tooth brushes, and regular hair brushes strewn across the counter top and among the shelves in the shower.

Amongst the thoughts of how absolutely spoiled rotten James had been up here while you and your sister had to share a smaller room was another more alarming notion. As you put yours and Brian’s shoes down on the floor of the closet and split the drawers between the two of you your mind drifted to the small part of it that realized how naturally it looked, how naturally it felt to have the items in the same space. To have Brian’s giant shoes next to yours. To have his various hair brushes that resembled Medieval torture devices right next to your own weapons of choice. To dance and bustle about a small space in a rhythm so natural that an onlooker would swear it was rehearsed.

“You’ve been awfully pensive,” Brian snapped you out of your stupor as you pulled a dress of yours onto a hangar and set it on your side of the closet trying to move in such a way that maybe you’d forget your hands were shaking and maybe Brian wouldn’t notice your hands shaking. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I…” you took a breath. You didn’t really know what to say. Instead you just turned and let yourself fall onto the couch back first and stared up at the blank ceiling. “This is really happening.”

“Hey.” Brian appeared into view as we walked to you and looked down. “Are you alright?”

You finally made eye contact with Brian and shook your head. Trying to will your tears back into your ducts with the help of good old-fashioned gravity you stared back up at the ceiling again.

Brian rushed to crouch at your side. “Woah, woah, woah. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You turned to face him and sat up so that he could sit next to you on the couch. “No, it wasn’t you. I’m just overwhelmed. I still can’t believe I’m in this mess. That my family sees so much of my value in my relationships and not me. That it went this far. That I actually care so much about what they think even though I shouldn’t. That I dragged you into this.”

Brian hummed in understanding and pulled you into a hug. “Well, first of all, you didn’t drag me into this. I body slammed myself into this. You didn’t even really need to ask me to help you; if anything I dragged you into this. Remember our little moment on the driveway?”

Yes… How infuriatingly encouraging he had been. How embarrassingly frantic you had behaved. He was right. Brian was unfailingly loyal to you. If he hadn’t backed down then, when you had offered him a way out.

“You know you’re earning your ‘poodle’ title more and more,” you commented.

Brian cocked his head. “How so?”

“Lanky, tall, high-maintenance-”

“Feeling the love. Thank you.”

“But still an excellent companion and unbelievably sweet.”

Brian gave you a soft smile and rubbed his arm up and down your back. “If I was a humbler person I might tell you to stop.”

“Oh I’m stopping,” you said, sniffling back your tears and exhaling the panic. “If your head gets any more full of hot air, your hair is going to start defying the laws of physics without any assistance.”

“Yeah, you’re feeling better,” Brian quipped, feigning offense.

“I’m sorry… which one of us brought more brushes and styling products?”

“I want to make a good first impression! I may be a fake boyfriend but I still want your family to like me.” He defended.

“You’ll be great! Aside from James, you’d have to do something really out of character to get them to not like you.”

“Not this ‘be yourself’ stuff again,” Brian complained and threw his head back to rest on the back of the couch.

“It’s true. They’ll love you!” You encouraged him.

Brian’s face took on that infamous cheeky expression. Uh-oh… “Is it because I’m… so charming?”

Your face flushed in remembrance of what your mother had almost let slip. You leaned forward and covered your face with your hand. “Why did I know you were going to bring that up?”

“Because you know me better than anyone else.” He replied, matter-of-factly.

“I think your mum might contend with me on that, Bri,” you offered.

“And I knew you were going to say that.” Brian shrugged in consideration. “Fine. You and my mum know me better than anyone else.”

“Well,” you set your hand on his knee. A once platonic gesture, it felt different this time. You continued, hurrying your way through what you were going to say so that it wouldn’t be as awkward when you stopped touching, “since we know each other so well, I’d say we stock up on rest while we can.”

“You talk like we’re going to be running a marathon for the next week.”

“Trust me, Bri,” you responded, standing up and laying down comfortably on the bed. “You’re gonna need it.”

Brian looked at you in disbelief. “Oh please. I’ve dealt with concerts for years. How bad can it be?!”

TAGS: @andtheswordwentsnickersnack @phantoms-lynn

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petersasteria · 3 years

Text

Past is Past - Peter Parker AU

Pairing: Peter x Reader, Harry Osborn x Reader Requested? Nah. It based on one of @writing-prompt-s’ prompts. 2.5k words Warning/s: character death, confusion, a satisfied ending

PP Masterlist

Big thanks to my friend @croissantwriting for the help! She’s doing a little gift-giving this Christmas, so if you want a gift from a stranger who’s super nice and friendly, check it out!

* * * *

“She’s not getting any better, Mr. Parker. I’m afraid she’ll be going soon.” The doctor told Peter with no expression on their face. The doctor kept their face neutral, so that it wouldn’t be an issue for anyone. It was also protocol at the hospital.

The doctor excused themselves and left Peter standing alone in the cold hallway outside of his wife’s room. Peter couldn’t believe that he would lose the person he truly loved; he would lose her to cancer. ‘Fuck cancer.’ He thought. He wanted his wife to live long; to see their children grow up to be the people they’re meant to be. Alas, it was just wishful thinking.

You see, Peter was immortal. In a world where 2% of the population are born immortal, he was one of them. It could be anyone, really. One’s parents don’t have to be immortal for one to be immortal. They were just cursed that way. Being born immortal was God’s cruel way of letting people stay on Earth to be His stewards of creation for eternity. Whether they like it or not, if they were born immortal, they are immediately tied up and forced into the duty of being God’s steward.

The duty of being God’s steward felt wrong. It feels wrong to watch mortals move on with their lives while some get stuck, getting caught by the sorrow of this immortality that has been given upon them.

Peter had the saddest eyes for a long time, but it all changed when he met the love of his life. Peter has seen things; someone’s last breath, some more heart breaking scenarios, etc. But everything changed when she came into his life. She appeared as someone new... and well, unexpected. She was a great surprise, though. She gave Peter a brand new purpose, she gave him happiness. Every time Peter was with her, he would forget about his curse.

Peter’s eyes held sadness again and it broke his heart to know that he couldn’t do anything to save her; his one true love. His heart broke at the harsh reality that no matter what happens, he’ll eternally stay on Earth while he watches his loved ones pass on.

Gathering up his courage, Peter took a deep breath before entering her hospital room. He quietly entered her room and slowly shut the door behind him. He observed the sight in front of him: his wife slept peacefully with their youngest son next to her on the bed while their two older children were asleep on the couch.

He silently approached the bed and held his wife’s hand as he sat on the chair that was next to her bed. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. This caused her to stir awake and look at him with a small smile adoring her face.

“Peter.” She breathed.

“Hey there.” Peter said softly as tears clouded his vision. It pained him to see her like that; weak and fragile and ill. If only there was a cure for her cancer, he would’ve given it to her in a heartbeat.

“I love you, Peter. So much.” She whispered.

“I love you more than everything else.” Peter said as tears freely streamed down his rosy cheeks.

“Please remember that my love for you is eternal. I’ll look for you in the next life just so I can love you the way I love you now. I promise you that, Peter.” She smiled softly. Peter could only nod, not trusting his voice to speak.

That was their last moment together. She died in her sleep, her youngest cuddling up to her as Peter held her hand.

The moment life left her body, God took it and gave it to the baby girl of the woman giving birth at the same hospital on a different floor.

“Baby, wake up or you’ll be late on your first day.” The man’s voice whispered in her ear. “Y/N, seriously. It’s time to get up. I’ll have the car ready for you.”

Y/N groaned and rubbed the sleep off her eyes before stretching and sitting up. She slowly opened her eyes and the sight of her boyfriend of three years greeted her. She smiled at him and said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning!” He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. “Breakfast is ready.” She hummed in response and got out of bed. Her boyfriend, Harry, led the way to the dining area and as soon as they arrived there, they sat down and ate their breakfast in peace.

Today was their first day in college and they decided it would be best to live together in an apartment near their university. Harry Osborn, Y/N’s boyfriend, was privileged and he was able to buy an apartment unit that suited his standards. After all, his girl deserved the best. Harry is kind and generous which surprised a lot of people considering his lifestyle. Y/N was truly lucky, but Harry claims that he’s the lucky one.

The couple parted their ways when they arrived at the university; both of them studying different courses. The rest of the day was alright. Nothing really significant happened and Y/N kept to herself most of the time. Only mingling when she’s supposed to. It wasn’t until her last subject when things started taking a turn.

Y/N sat at the back of the class and texted Harry as student after student came in the classroom. About ten minutes later, Y/N’s professor walked in.

Her professor was undeniably handsome. He had brown, curly hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. His height was just right. He looked like he was in his thirties and he had the brightest smile. Naturally, the girls in her class swooned over him which made her chuckle. While she would admit that her professor is handsome, her loyalty remained with Harry. He was her endgame and she was sure. They wouldn’t last long if he wasn’t.

“Hello, everyone! My name is Noah Parker and I’d let you guys call me by my nickname, but that would be unprofessional. So, Mr. Parker or sir would be really nice.” Noah smiled at everyone. He wasted no time in teaching.

“Welcome to history 101 and I’ll be your professor for the whole semester.” Noah smiled and grabbed a chalk to write something on the board. Seeing as the class is for three hours, Noah started with the first lesson.

It was obvious that Noah was passionate about history. Everyone listened and he made history fun. They did some ice breakers and a short group activity and a quick game before the class ended. Noah gave them their first assignment which was really easy and it would be passed two days from now.

The class was dismissed and everyone gathered their things and left. Y/N took her time and Noah was erasing the things he wrote on the board. Y/N approached him and cleared her throat, “Excuse me, Mr. Parker?”

Noah turned around with a smile, but it quickly faded when he saw her. He dropped the eraser as his jaw dropped, his gaze remaining on her. Y/N was confused, so she just picked up the eraser and put it on his desk to avoid Noah’s gaze.

Noah shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, it’s just- mom? Is that you?”

Now, it was definitely weird

“Excuse me?” Y/N chuckled awkwardly.

“I can’t believe it.” Noah said in amusement. “I thought dad was crazy, but he’s right! You’d be in the next life after all. Well, your next life. You and dad can be together again! This is so cool. Oh my god.” Noah rambled in excitement.

“I’m so confused right now.” Y/N confessed. “I’m no one else’s mom and I don’t know who your dad is and I’m definitely not getting back together with anyone because I have a boyfriend. You must be mistaken, sir.”

Noah cleared his throat and said, “Um, was there anything you needed before?”

“Oh, yes!” Y/N’s eyes lit up at the change of topic. It was her saving grace. “I have a question about the homework, actually.”

Y/N asked about the homework and Noah happily explained it to her once more. After that, she left Noah all alone in the classroom.

Since then, everything has been awkward between them. Noah informed his father, Peter Parker, about what happened and Peter wanted to see her; to see if it was true. Now, it was Noah’s mission to get you to meet Peter.

One day after class, Noah asked Y/N to stay behind. She awkwardly sat on the seat in front of his desk and Noah sat on his chair behind his desk.

“I would just like to apologize for my behavior last time.” Noah started. “Second of all, I must tell you that I have this weird connection to you. No matter how far I stay away from you, there’s a force pulling me closer to you. Lastly, if you won’t believe me before, you might believe me now.”

Noah took out his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He opened his gallery and clicked on the album full of photos from his childhood, most of them had his mom in it. He handed the phone to Y/N and she gasped at the sight of the photos.

It was like she was looking at a window to the past. The woman in the pictures looked similar to her; not completely alike. She returned the phone to her professor, Noah, and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Um, I don’t know what to say.” Y/N said.

“Could you maybe meet my dad? It would mean a lot to him. I told you about him and he wants to see you.” Noah pleaded.

“I find this really weird, to be honest.” Y/N said. “I don’t know anything you’re talking about and frankly, I’m not curious about my past life...sir.”

“I understand, but could you maybe reconsider? My dad would love it if you’d visit.” Noah pleaded. “If you meet my dad, I’ll give you extra credit. You kinda suck at this subject, no offense.”

“None taken.” She said as she thought about it. “What if someone becomes suspicious about my grades going up?”

“I’ll just say that it’s because of your extra work and just say that you’ve been studying a lot recently. So, does this mean that you’ll meet him?” Noah asked hopefully.

“Fine. Mainly because I need extra credit.” Y/N agreed. She wordlessly grabbed her things and left the room. Later that night, she received an email from Noah.

Noah Parker To Y/N Y/L/N

Good evening, Ms. Y/L/N!

My father would like to meet with you at my childhood home at 123 Hamilton Street, this Saturday at lunch time, 12 noon. Please confirm if you’re available at this time and if not, we can reschedule.

My personal phone number is: xxx-xxx-xxxxx. Please contact me there for more details.

All information will be kept between the two of us .

Thank you and stay safe!

Lo and behold, Y/N stood outside the Parker Residence. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It didn’t take long for a young man to open the door. He looked similar to Noah, but he looked younger.

“Please come in.” The man said as he looked at her. She entered the home and the man led the way to the living room. Y/N made herself comfortable on the couch and the man who opened the door sat across from her.

“Um, I’m Y/N.” She smiled.

“I know.” The man said. “I’m Peter Parker and oh my god. It’s really you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your relation to my professor, Noah Parker?” Y/N asked innocently.

“He’s my son.” Peter answered. “And you’re my wife.”

Y/N stared at him as Peter had happy tears streaming down his face, “We can finally be together again and we’ll be happier than ever! We could be a family.”

“I’m so confused. How can you be Mr. Parker father when you look like you’re twenty-three?!” Y/N shrieked.

“I’m immortal, honey. I stopped aging at twenty, but I’m still me! I love you and you love me. We can be together.”

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t know who you are and I can’t just start a life with someone I don’t know. If you think I can do that, then you’re sorely mistaken, sir.” Y/N said.

Peter shook his head, “But you said , on your deathbed, that you’d find me in another life. I’m here! We found each other. I don’t understand why you don’t want to stay. You said that your love for me is eternal and you’d love me the same way you did then. What happened? Why can’t we pick up where we left off?”

“With all due respect, if what you claim is right; if I’m your wife in the past, then I’m sorry I can’t be your wife in this life. I have my own things going on and I’m in a committed and happy relationship. I can’t leave him for you. Besides, you’re way older than I am despite your looks. I’m really sorry.” Y/N said softly.

“This is more heartbreaking than when we found out you had cancer.” Peter chuckled bitterly and nodded in understanding. “You may go now, Y/N. I’m sure your boyfriend would wonder where you are.”

Y/N stood up and walked to him to put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m really sorry, but I’d like to get to know you… as friends.”

Peter nodded, “Alright. That’s better than nothing.”

After that encounter with Peter, Y/N saw him a few times after that even after she graduated from college. She got a decent job and her friendship with Peter and the rest of the Parker family remained. Though they never saw each other after she got a job, they all remained in contact.

Y/N and Harry Osborn finally got married after being together for so long. The Parkers were invited to the wedding, but Peter never showed up. He was crestfallen upon finding out that the woman he loved was getting married to someone else.

A year later, Y/N and Harry welcomed their first born in the world. They have been graced with a son and the couple agreed that if they were going to have a son, Y/N would name him.

As she laid there with the newborn baby boy in her arms, she racked her brains for the perfect name. After thinking about it for a long time, a smile formed her mouth as she looked down at her son. They were alone in the room, her husband was buying some food outside. This moment was very soft and peaceful.

“I know what name to give you now.” Y/N whispered and kissed her son’s forehead. The door opened and revealed her husband with a paper bag with take-out in it.

“Have you thought of a name?” Harry asked quietly as he set the food down on the table.

“Yeah.” She nodded, sure of her decision.

“What’ll you name him?” Harry asked.

“Peter.” She smiled fondly at her son. “His name is Peter.”

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @sandystoriess @heeeyitskay @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @yaya4302 @lil-mellow-bunbun @starlight-starks @swiftmind @alexx-stancati @sovereignparker @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @pearce14 @cherthegoddess @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy @parkerlovebot @supred12 @peterspidey @givebuckyhisplumsnow @beverlythrillz @slutforsr

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @pearly-pisces @theonly1outof-a-billion @u-rrose @speedymaximoff @theliterarymess

#peter parker #peter parker one shots #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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