#n they were full on leering at us as we rushed past when we were being chased | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

4K notes · View notes

doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

The Right Chapter 1 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hi y’all! Remember the excerpt I posted a couple weeks back? I decided to take the plunge and start posting the full fic. Here’s chapter 1!

Contains: swearing, brief description of violence

wordcount: 1.2k

“You know, I’m sure Reid knows the exact statistic, but isn’t human memory one of the least reliable ways to review a crisis? Because the adrenaline rush makes the memories permeable? So if you think about it, these after-action reports are basically useless.” You mention to Hotch sarcastically as the two of you sit over a stack of files. It was late-- everyone else had gone home, but you stuck around in his office, happy to help him sort through the paperwork. It was a sort of arrangement you two had come to over your past year and a half in the BAU-- you left when he did, or he left when you did. You were both prone to needing the reminder to spend a night in your own respective beds.

“By all means, I encourage you to bring that up to Chief Strauss. I can only see that going exceptionally well for you.” He quips back, and you smile at him over the folder in your hands. He smiles back, one of those smiles that everyone on the team swears didn’t exist until you came around. A moment passes between the two of you, and Hotch glances at his desktop computer. “We should pack up, it’s almost 2am and you haven’t slept well for the majority of this case.”

You squinted at him. “How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?”

“I’m a profiler,” he says as he packs his briefcase, his deadpan humor not lost on you, even if you were exhausted.

“Oh, fuck off.” You laugh.

“You were drinking a Redbull on the plane. Usually you stick to coffee, but when you haven’t been sleeping, it’s energy drinks. Which, I feel compelled to tell you, is an awful habit to carry with you past college.” He told you as you sorted through your own files.

“It’s no worse than coffee!” You defended as you both stood up to walk out of the office, although only half-heartedly.

“It makes you far jumpier.” He notes dryly.

“Hotch, you’re not supposed to profile me. It’s not polite.” you complained, but there was nothing behind it. Secretly, you were thrilled that he noticed these things about you, that he noticed you.

“Is it really profiling if we spend 80 hours a week working together? At some point, you can’t blame us for being observant. I’m sure there are things you’ve noticed about me that are equally as trivial.” He explained as he placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you into the elevator.

Of course I have, you thought to yourself, although you’d never admit it. “No, because that would be profiling you, which I don’t do, because I’m polite.”

“You told me to fuck off two minutes ago.” He reminded you with a sly smile.

“Well, you deserved it.” You threw back as you slid out of the elevator, Hotch hot on your heels.

You were both surprised to see a man standing on the other side of the bureau doors, pacing back and forth.

“Josh?” You asked, opening the door and stepping out. Aaron stood behind you, trying to remember why this name sounded familiar.

“Where have you been? I called you, like, twenty times.” The man spat. Aaron locked his jaw.

“I’m sorry babe, my phone was at the bottom of my go-bag. I told you not to wait up so I didn’t even think to look.”

Ah, right. Aaron thinks. The boyfriend, he remembers, with no small amount of disdain. They had never met before-- Josh never came when the team did anything outside of the office, and from what Hotch had picked up from overhearing conversations between you, Garcia, Emily and JJ, he wasn’t exactly agreeable about the nature of your work. Aaron certainly understood what that was like.

“You’re the only car left in the lot. What’s so important that everyone else could go home except you?” Josh asked, grasping at your arm and turning, forcing you around with him, showing him the mostly deserted lot.

“That’s my fault.” Aaron said, stepping forward towards Josh, who dropped your arm when he realized he had an audience. “I apologize. I needed (y/n)’s opinion on an upcoming case.” It was a lie, and you both knew it. You willed yourself not to look at Aaron.

“Oh, so this is who’s keeping you late all the time?” Josh leered at Aaron, but he didn’t dignify it with a response. When Josh leaned in, you could both smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Josh.” You said sternly. It was a warning, but you were acting braver than you felt-- you were absolutely mortified that your boyfriend, of all people, was drunk at your place of work and implying something sordid about you and your boss.

“Again, I apologize. (y/n)’s opinion is invaluable and I’m grateful we have her on this team.” Aaron defended you, and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

“Whatever. if it’s alright with you, I think I’ll take her home now.”

Aaron shot you a glance. He was far too drunk to take you anywhere. His eyes met yours and he almost jumped back when he saw the fear in them, only for a split second, before you masked it behind a smile. “I’ll drive.” You said to both of them, answering Aaron’s unspoken question.

“Of course,” Aaron smiles graciously, although he meant none of it. “Good night, (y/n). Nice to meet you, Josh.”

Aaron tells himself that when he eavesdrops on your hushed argument as he walks away, that it’s just that your voices are carrying in the nearly empty lot. He tells himself, as he adjusts his rear view mirror to see you better, that he’s just making sure you make good on your promise to not let your drunk boyfriend drive home. And when he watches Josh strike you across the face in the parking lot of the bureau and stalk off to his car, he tells himself that the rage that he feels inside him, the rush of adrenaline that makes him fantasize about pummeling Josh into the concrete, is only because he cares about your wellbeing as an agent. Almost all of it is a lie.

He debates getting out of the car and running to you, but he’s profiled Josh well enough in the past three minutes of knowing him to know that that will only escalate the situation. Quickly, he pulls out his phone and calls your work phone-- the one you always kept holstered to your hip or in a blazer pocket.

“Hotch?” You answered, your voice shaky.

“You don’t have to go home with him.” He tells you resolutely.

“Hotch.” You said, a concession and a complete sentence.

“Come on (y/n). We’ve worked these cases. You know how they end.”

“Listen, Hotch… what you think you just saw, it was out of context. It looked worse than it was.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Listen, I’ve got to go.” You say, and Aaron peeks up in the rearview again to see Josh emerging from the passenger side of the car. He places his hand on the handle of his car door, prepared to make an unsanctioned arrest if Josh touched you again. Luckily, he hoped, you both returned to the car calmly, you in the driver's seat, and drove off. He sent you a text before leaving the bureau himself.

“Please let me know that you’re safe.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #hotchner x y/n #hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n

262 notes · View notes

embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 22

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader CW: Language, angst, violence, blood A/N: thanks for all the comments/asks xx

Chap 22 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 22: How I'm imaginin' You

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

March 15th, 1976

It was just over ten past eleven when they called it a day.

“Night, Reg! I’ll see you later!” Y/N called. Regulus beamed, waving back before scurrying in the direction of the Slytherin common room. For the past week, she had brought him to the small hidden room by the library she found over the winter break. Red and green blankets clashed together on the old couch, pillows and candles, books and even his violin was there. It became their — or mostly his safe place.

She’s kept quiet about their secret meetings, mainly because Regulus seemed so skittish at the mention of other people and simply because he was a Slytherin. It put her into a tricky position considering not many Slytherins were like Regulus — they weren’t nice to those of her blood status. Besides, house rivalry was no joke and honestly, Y/N was confused. What did he mean that he couldn’t be seen with her?

The bitter cold began to subside as April neared. The full moon had risen, nearing its peak as she walked through the empty corridors, way past curfew. Distantly, she could hear footsteps becoming louder but made no move to hide once the student came into view with no prefect or Head Boy or Girl pass. That was until the hunched figure seemed to drift closer, coming into her direct line of view. Once they passed, the student knocked into shoulder roughly, making Y/N stagger back into the rough jagged wall.

Crinkles formed in her skin, frowning. They knocked into her purposely. The first thing she took notice of was their tie, a Slytherin. Of course. But when her eyes continued to drift up, she wasn’t surprised to see who it was: Snape.

“Watch where you’re going,” he says, a nasty leer on his face.

“You better watch yourself. Must be obsessed with me.”

“Is that a threat?” It wasn’t, not really, but Snape’s ego is a fragile, fickle thing.

Snape stands taller, his shoulders squaring to appear intimidating but it does nothing but make Y/N’s lip curl up before suppressing it.

“Seems like it to you.”

Seething, his skin becomes an angry blotchy pink. Greasy hair never mattered to her, some people even rocked it but on Snape — anything on him seemed to irk her. His hair seems to stick to his face and an intrusive thought wiggles in and suddenly, she wants to ring it out — see if enough grease would come out so she could cook with it.

But, she readjusted her vision, observing the tight grip he has on his and that he managed to draw without her noticing. On instinct, Y/N slips her out too, her other hand ready to use wandless magic.

She remembers a long time ago, her mother always told her to never start a fight, but to finish it. She guesses that there wasn’t another other option but to listen.

“You’re foul — wretched trollop —” “What did you just call me?!”

Snape jabs a nasty finger into her shoulder before she slaps it down, hard. “You heard me, trollop. Things were so much better when you weren’t around.” His voice drops low, dripping in venom.

“Could say the same thing. I wonder if Lily knows the way you treat women when she isn’t around.” Y/N dangles the threat above his head for leverage. “I bet she would be in for a real shock if I told her.”

There was an ugly pause.

Snape’s nose flares and she would have backed down but since she hadn’t gotten to defend herself last time around Lily, there was no way she wasn’t going to this time.

Snape steps closer in a challenging manner. Eyes burned strong in detest that she even feels it. His hand trembles, going white from how hard he’s gripping his wand. A wild look crosses; he looks feral — like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth.

A spell is already forming on his tongue before she raises her wand, throwing up a shielding spell she learned. A bright blue sheet, in the shape of an invisible dome explodes from the tip of her wand just as Snape shoots a spell. The curse is powerful, making her knees buckle. It was at that moment she realized that maybe she should’ve just walked away. Y/N was good at defensive charms — great — but not at offence charms and clearly, they were among Snape’s specialties.

As shoots another spell, Y/N focuses and puts all of her concentration into the shielding charm — so strong that it pushes Snape back roughly and an item from his pocket slips out, plummeting to the floor. In strong silver letters that made her skin raise with goosebumps, it read: The Dark Arts. The overpowering sensation of revulsion and outrage fuels her, beginning to shake.

“You’re a fucking freak,” she blurts.

It touched a nerve. “Watch it, you dirty little mudbl —”

Most people (and Y/N would include herself with them) like to think of themselves as rational beings; civil, thoughtful, just, benevolent, humane. However, when things ripped at the seams without a given warning, people — we — are no better than wild animals. Even if you don’t know it, there’s an animal inside all of us, waiting to pounce and protect.

Without a beat, filled with pure adrenaline, hate and shock, the protective spell fell and Y/N stormed up to him, drawing her entire arm back as her fist curled into a ball. In a flurry, she delivered a sharp blow as hard as she could in the nose.

There was a loud cracking sound that ricocheted through the corridor, simultaneously, thick blood gushed out of Snape’s nose like a waterfall. It sprayed all over their robes, the ground and covered her hand.

She winced in pain, flicking her wrist a few times, noting the skin splitting around her knuckles deeply. Her ears rang like a whirling fan, radio static, a hissing radiator as Snape stumbled back, a hand shooting up to stop the bleeding. His eyes were filled with tears.

“Call… me that again…” her breathing was ragging and voice shaky, “And we’ll see what else happens.” Before Snape could retaliate, Y/N spun around and dashed off to the Gryffindor common room.

Her footsteps echoed around as she felt her eyes sting with tears but made sure to squeeze her eyes shut. Out of all people, she wasn’t going to cry because of Snape.

She wasn’t a mu — a mudl — she wasn’t that. She was more than that word.

She needed to tell Lily.

Tears were replaced with anger. There wasn’t a single coherent thought that seemed to force its way out.

Before the Fat Lady had time to ask for the password, Y/N shouted it out, nearly ripping the portrait door off. The force resulted in a large — BANG! — then slammed shut and Y/N distantly heard the portrait yell.

She took a deep breath, bending over while a hand clutched her knee. Distracted, it caused her to miss the familiar boy sitting on the opposite side of the room who stood up.

Her fist began to ache once the shock slowly wore off. A quiet, dejected groan slipped out as she stared at her clothes. She must’ve looked insane.

The sound of the wooden floorboards creaked and Y/N peered up. There, dressed in all black clothing was Sirius, staring at her bewildered. His eyes scanned her entire body, noticing the rusty blood staining her white blouse and hand.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” She gritted out defensively. She wasn’t in the mood to be anywhere near Sirius, let alone hear another insult. Without the ability to think rationally, Y/N wondered if she’d had the restraint to not punch him if he said something idiotic.

Sirius’ brow raised, not expecting that response but didn’t bite back. “I — Merlin — what happened to you? Are you okay?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to shield herself and moved towards the stairs. “Like you care.”

“I don’t,” he counters quickly. But he sighed, gravitating towards her and lightly grasped her elbow. Y/N turns around harshly, ripping away from him.

“Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me!”

Sirius’ hands raised, signalling submission; similar to a prey to its predator. “I’m not going to hurt you and I’m certainly not going to let you bleed everywhere! Come, sit — I’ll patch you up.”

She eyed him warily, then closed her eyes. Y/N’s chest rose in irregular intervals, weighing out the pros and cons.

She’s heard that he’s gotten into fights and probably wasn’t lying about knowing how to patch up wounds.

He’s an asshole.

He didn’t like her.

She didn’t trust him

Why would he want to help her?

But the stinging sensation flooded in again. Y/N desperately sought to gauge for any underlying motive but Sirius was unreadable. If anything, his grey quartz eyes weren’t as hardened; more blue bleed in, looking brighter — her heart gave a little thump.

With a nod, Sirius gave a weak smile and led her to the couch closest to the fireplace for light. He told her to stay put, took his jacket, threw it on the couch opposite, then ran up to his dorm and grabbed a medical kit along with a bowl and cloth. Rushing back, Sirius set down his supplies and with a flick of his wand, the bowl was instantly filled with water, his hands sparkling clean.

Body angled to face her while sitting, Sirius gently took her hand and submerged the cloth in water, ringing it out, then diligently worked to clean off the blood.

Why didn’t he just use magic? He wouldn’t have to touch her then…

She burned more from his touch than the wounds themselves. When it came to James or Remus, there wasn’t anything that made her skin tingle or spike in sudden shyness when she touched them. But whenever Sirius was just near, she felt her heart speed up, palms start to sweat and brain go completely blank.

They sat in silence. Every now and then, Sirius would glance up. Only when he had a disinfectant, he flicked his hair out of his face, seeming to be in deep thought and spoke;

“What happened?”

Y/N remained quiet, a faraway look now settled in her eyes. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she broke Snape’s nose. She’s seen what broken noses looked like — she grew up colouring nose and sinus anatomical charts in the O.R gallery while she waited for her mom to finish surgery. She was in deep, deep trouble if Snape were to rattle. Detention, house points, expulsion — a possible criminal assault charge.

Shit.

“Hey, Y/N.” He placed a hand on her knee, the cool metal of his rings seeped through her stockings. That caught her attention. That was the first time he’d ever said her first name. His voice was soft — the softest he’d ever spoken to her before. “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me but I promise I won’t tell a soul. Not even Potter or Evans. It’ll be our little secret.”

She breathed, “I… um —” She stopped and Sirius gave an encouraging squeeze. “Snape, he… he called me a you-know-what and I…” The rest was self-explanatory.

Sirius’s body became stiff. There was a subtle change in his micro-expressions as his jaw tensed, sharpening his features even more. His eyes, which burned with a fiery rage contrasted greatly as he cradled her hand as if she were made out of glass. Sirius huffed, mumbling out ‘thank you for telling me’ and proceeding to clean the wounds. She winced as the cotton pad touched her knuckles, her free hand clutching onto his shirt.

“I know this part’s shit. I’m sorry, sorry…”

She bit down on her bottom lip to prevent pained noises from slipping out. Sirius applied a light magical cream that helps reduce scarring and wrapped gauze around her hand; holding it in place with a magical seal that made it into a light cast. He added a few magical seals along with waterproof charms.

“There.”

She marvelled at his work, he did an amazing job and whatever he did, her pain reduced drastically. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me…” His voice trailed off, a small smile appearing, “Anyone that hates Snviellus is… okay in my books. And what are co-parents for?” He tries to joke. At this, Y/N perks up, a sharp exhale of air forced its way from her lungs; emulating a half-light-hearted scoff.

But soon their smiles disappeared and something strange flashed in Sirius’ eyes. Suddenly, the air around them shifted, becoming tense and enclosed.

Sirius was oddly close to her — since when did they become that close?

Her heart pounded wildly in her ribcage and Y/N wondered if he could hear it over the crackling fire. He’s so close that she could feel his breath fanning her skin. She registered his thumb grazing over the bandage. The warm colour from the fire illuminated his face, different from his usual cool-toned skin. His face looked sharp, more refined than usual. He looked enchanting, so regal and otherworldly without trying to — like a painting.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something but he trails off, leaning closer. His hand trailed up, touching her arm lightly and moved to cup her cheek delicately. The entire time, his eyes trained on her for any glimmer of irritability or discomfort. His thumb began to stroke her skin and she lent into it. It’s large and warm and his touch feels so, so fucking good.

Sirius chooses his next words with caution. “Can I?” He murmurs but the question is clear — louder than any screaming match she had with him. His lips are millimetres away from hers.

In times like these, that Gryffindor bravery was nonexistent.

Y/N’s mind is vacant, internally freaking out but still manages to choke out, “Yes.”

Frozen in place, his eyes flicker from her eyes, then lips, and back to her eyes. He tilts her head back slightly using his hand before it travels to the back of her neck and leans in. But, there’s something in Sirius that hesitates.

The hesitation is too long because a voice could be heard from beyond the portrait and the sound of it swinging open causes them to break apart. She misses the contact already. Sirius stands hastily, wand swishing to clean up the mess around them in a daze. A beautiful blush settles on his face; a hand runs through his hair, rings catching the low light and widens the gap between them. He put his jacket back on.

Y/N’s brain hadn’t caught up yet. Too much happened too quickly.

“Pads? Where have you’ve been? The moo —” the moment he sees her, his voice draws out, “— ooooony! Moony! He’s waiting for us. Whiskers! Ugh — h-hey!”

Peter fucking Pettigrew, in the flesh.

She makes sure to hide her hand and bloodied shirt from him. “Evening, Pete.”

Sirius coughs awkwardly and clears his throat, Peter doesn’t look suspicious. “Yeah, ugh — right. Sorry,” he takes a pause, eyes drifting momentarily to her and back to Peter, “Was busy with our Puffskein. Let’s go.”

“Night, L/N!” Peter acknowledges. He even sends finger guns.

Y/N is left stunned, watching Sirius leave. The door clicks and her body slackens.

In a haze, she padded into her dorm: quiet and dark, everyone fast asleep. She took a very cold shower, changed into her pyjamas, brushed her teeth and threw out her bloodied robes. Then, she pulls back the curtains around her bed. A floating candle burned brightly as Lily was there, writing in her journal.

“What took you so long?!” Lily chirped, sliding over to give her more room to slip in. Letting the drapes fall shut behind, she hummed in response.

“Puffskein. Oats.” She’ll talk to Lily about Snape another day — that is if Dumbledore doesn’t expel her.

Y/N rolled over to her side, facing away from Lily. The cool pillow did nothing to help chill her heated skin. It’s like she can feel the ghost of Sirius’ fingers graze her cheek still.

Lily babbled — something about Dorcas and Mary inviting them to skate one last time before the ice melted. But it all went in one ear and out the other.

God, she thought, mad at the realization. There was no point in denying it anymore; she’d been doing so for months and clearly, it was fruitless. I like Sirius Black. I really, really like Sirius Black.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

She didn’t get a wink of sleep. Her mind reeled the entire night, replacing the scenarios again and again, analyzing everything he said, his actions — that look on his face. All she thought about was Sirius: his eyes, his smile, his hair, his skin, his hands, his fucking lips — Argh! Sirius was the personification of Firewhiskey and all she wanted to do was drink more of him — and they hadn’t even kissed!

Sirius is arrogant, rude, cold, cat-called her — insulted her! A part of her felt disgusted — disgust how her heart raced wherever the mere thought of him appeared in her mind. Disgusted how her heart leaped whenever he was near. Out of all people, why him?!

She fucking hated Peter Pettigrew right now — or loved him, she wasn’t sure. Maybe he saved her from making a terrible mistake.

Okay, okay! First things first, she had to stop thinking about him! She forced herself to think about something else: Charms — Professor Flitwick — Peter’s grandma in her ‘purple knickers’ — Slughorn — Slughorn in his underwear — yes, that certainly stopped any more lewd thoughts. Her mind and body were at war.

“Rise n’shine, darlings!” Marlene sang in a high-pitched Victorian accent as she tripped the blinds back. Y/N peeked out from the small gap in her curtains, watching Marlene tiredly. Everyone groaned, Dorcas even threw a pillow at her. Y/N, unaffected, blinked and perched herself against the headboard, yawning. “Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!”

“Marls…” Dorcas groaned. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at the clock that hung above their large window, quickly collapsing into bed and dove under the covers. “It’s six in the morning…”

Marlene hopped over and ripped off Lily’s covers only to realize she was with her. She skipped her way over, ripping the drapes back and jumped into her bed. Toulouse hissed, jumping off before Marlene snuggled up to Lily, proding her cheek.

She gave Y/N a once over, “Morning sugar.”

She continued to poke Lily who forced her eyes open, trying to swat at her. Lily flipped over, moving over to Y/N. Marlene rolled her eyes, but a hurt pang flashed her face before she covered it up. Instead, she bellowed, taking hold of Lily’s shoulders and shook.

“EVANS! EVANS — YOU TOO L/N, WAKE UP NOW!”

“McKinnon! What do you want?!”

She gave a triumphant smirk. “Quidditch! It’s Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff today!”

Marlene was already decked out in her tracksuit, ready to go on a jog around the castle with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Once everyone woke up, they all gave her one of many pep talks and ushered her off.

The morning was slow for everyone but Y/N. Her thoughts drifted away from Sirius, only to think about the next worst thing possible; Snape.

Damn… she had to tell Lily, but how? ‘Hey, Petals! One of your friends — if not your best friend, called me, a Muggleborn — which if you forgot, you are too —the cruellest word there is! And he was caught with a book about The Dark Arts!’

She would tell her, but not today, or at least until after the Quidditch game.

As Y/N got ready for the day, everyone noticed the bandage around her hand (which she lied and made an excuse using Oats), then headed down for breakfast. The Gryffindor team was huddled around Marlene and James. Mary and Alice sat close, giving her a small wave.

Downing coffee after coffee, the caffeine strangely made her sleepier as she listened to James and Marlene’s agonizing rambles. Lazily flicking through sections of the Daily Prophet, she waited for a letter from her mother. None — again. Until a hand came out of nowhere, snatching the paper from her grasp, leaving Y/N to huff out.

She didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. “Mornin’ Professor,” she mumbled, reaching over to grab it from him.

“You look like you’ve been shagging the whomping willow,” Remus jokes, shaking his head with a smile.

At this, Mary leans in and whispers into her ear, “Didn’t we suggest Remus —” “Or Black? Not a tree!” Marlene adds.

She ignored them but felt her stomach drop at the mention of Sirius. Remus wore his gold oversized glasses today. His curls were tousled, eyes slightly bloodshot and he seemed to be sluggish that morning. She scooted over making room as he took a seat next to her. She grinned back, “You look like shit too, Lupin.��

Remus’ smile turned brighter.

James floated two plates to them, filled with their favourite foods while Y/N poured Remus a mug of coffee, dumping an ungodly amount of sugar in, handing it to him. From all the times they brought coffee or tea for each other, whether that be for study groups, lounging in the common room or walking past the kitchens while heading to class, they knew how they liked their beverages by heart.

He flashed a tired smile, humming as he took a sip. Their dating rumours hadn’t calmed down yet, so when a couple of students passed by, looking between them enviously, they both side-eyed each other humorously.

“We’re such catches,” she whispered to him.

“Abso-bloody-lutely — hey!” He randomly cuts in, pointing to her bandaged hand, “We’re matching.”

He raised his hand, showing a couple of his fingers taped together before a long bandage was wrapped around his palm and travelled down his wrist, disappearing beyond his red sweater.

Y/N mused at it before grabbing a quill from Marlene who’d been sketching out the Quidditch pitch and dipped it into an inkpot, handing it to Remus.

His head tilted, “Hmm?”

“Sign mine and I’ll sign yours?”

His long calloused fingers took the quill from her, doodling on the white bandage gently. He drew Dumbledore with pom-poms, cheering for the upcoming Quidditch game, along with a smiley face, his initials and a couple magical creatures. Then passed the quill back, placing his bandage hand on the table and flicked open the Daily Prophet. A few splotches of ink splattered around as she drew The Beatles on broomsticks, all chasing a Golden Snitch. She also drew Remus as David Bowie’s cover as Aladdin Sane, using his scars to make the lightning bolt and quickly signed her name.

Lily and Peter had come in, taking a seat and Y/N had become hyper-aware of Sirius sitting down directly across from her. Both of them stiffened and she continued to avoid his gaze as she drew on Remus.

“We’re going to be fine, it’s only Hufflepuff.”

“Nope, Hufflepuffs know how to get shit done,” Peter says, his mouth stuffed with food. “Never underestimate them — what the fuck?!”

Everyone in the Great Hall collectively held a breath, looking up at the Slytherin table. Lily’s eyes almost bugged out in rage, her ears becoming red as she got up and walked over.

It was Snape, but it wasn’t his nose that caught people’s attention. No — his nose was fine — he must’ve gone to the hospital wing that night.

“What happened to him! Ahah!” Peter cried out, “He looks like my house elf!”

There, Snape stood completely bald with no eyebrows and wearing Gryffindor robes.

Y/N slapped a hand to her mouth, desperately trying to calm her shrieking laughter but couldn’t. She and Remus lent on each other, trying to not tip over the hall bench. Everyone whopped loudly, James even whistled.

But as everyone was occupied with the sight, the person who she expected to be howling in laughter that most definitely should’ve been was Sirius. He simply drank from his goblet, his eyes peered over to her with a knowing look and bowed his head ever so slightly and looked away.

Oh.

Ohhh.

She was left with more unanswered questions than ever.

101 notes · View notes

kikilefangirl · 3 years

Text

Legacy

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

(Word Count: 1k)

Your feet were killing you, and you wanted nothing more than to crumble on the spot.

“Heimdall, when will we be done?” You whined.

The great man turned to you, his swift gaze full of everything in and beyond Asgard. You would take his place one day, ascend to the position of Gatekeeper. Heimdall chose you out of millions—you had yet to see the faith he had in you for yourself.

“Lady Y/N, you are impatient. Do not let it overshadow your abilities.” He said. His voice was calm and precise, as your mentor always was.

You nodded solemnly, wiping away the exhaustion from your face. Heimdall had an uncanny talent for commanding such things from you and achieving results that way, too.

His seriousness was sobering—he saw everything, everywhere in the nine realms. All the good, but far more evils than you could imagine.

“You are to return by morning. Go.” He declared. The stoic man raised his brows at you, and gestured towards the exit.

You held in your excitement, and nodded as you all but ran out of the chamber and into the night.

...

You decided that your first night outside of your quarters—your first night in public as Lady Y/N, the future guard of the Bifrost who pledged loyalty to the Allfather and to Asgard, would be beautiful.

You shed your heavy armor for a flowing golden gown, your curls full of gold ribbons and rings were out and free. You kept your sword, though. The large blade was a gift from Heimdall. It couldn’t open the Bifrost, but it was powerful in its own right. It would be your source of strength in the midst of those courtesan vultures.

Swallowing back your nerves, you strolled into the grand hall. First kneeling to Odin, then to the rest of the royal family. Loki in particular, flashed you a gracious smile, his eyes flitting around the room as he did. He was the one to watch because he was always doing the watching. As you rose from the floor, you kept the dark haired trickster accounted for.

“Heimdall has relieved you of your duties, this night?” Odin’s voice boomed throughout the hall.

You tried not to squirm at all the attention; you were beginning to miss the solitude Heimdall offered and why he preferred it.

“Yes, Allfather. I am to return by first light.” Odin nodded, and you were free to roam the party.

Your presence at court was a rarity, and you were subsequently dragged around like a shiny, new toy. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three pulled you into their group, bombarding you with questions about your new position at Heimdall’s side. Could you see all nine realms? Was Heimdall always so stern? Had you held the key to the Bifrost?

After some time, you excused yourself, narrowly avoiding curious courtesans and leering drunkards. You found peace in a small alcove just off the main corridor. You leaned on the wall, taking in the sights from the large, open columns. The stars above sparkled in a wide arc over the kingdom, bathing your brown skin in their soft glow.

“The great Heimdall has let his dear protégé out to play, and she runs from us.”

Your hand immediately flew to your sword, only backing down at the sight of the other prince of Asgard. Loki was always a wily thing––his presence had a sneaking habit of interrupting the peace, not easing it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“My prince, forgive me.” You said, rising to your full height. Loki just laughed at your startled expression.

“It has been so long, Y/N.” He continued, stepping forward with a sort of careful precision.

Keeping Loki in the corner of your eye, you stared out at glorious Asgard, the place you would one day come to defend.

“It was too loud for me. I am not used to so many sounds.” You admitted.

You had no clue as to why you were telling Loki anything, let alone something personal. He was the cunning, observant prince who always seemed to be waiting in the wings. Nothing like his brother in the least bit. At least with Thor, you knew what you were getting.

“I find it rather unfair that Heimdall keeps you locked away.”

You tore your gaze from the great kingdom and towards Loki. His eyes told so many stories. They were a gorgeous blue, made even more alluring with how sad they were. Longing danced across his features in that closed off way he did things.

“I must be ready to one day take his place and watch over the Bifrost. There will never be enough time to learn.” You said.

A gentle hand tilted your chin upwards. You froze at the contact. One of the benefits of having Heimdall as a guide was his distinct understanding of space. Loki had no such understanding.

Effectively silenced by the unfamiliar feeling, you allowed Loki’s hand to drop from your chin to your hand. The brief break in touch forced you back into reality. You jolted back, your dress swaying with you. You craned your neck up at him in anticipation.

“I swore an oath to your father and I will not break it. I am duty bound to that bridge, not to the attraction of a prince of Asgard. No matter how endearing.” You told him, finally.

Loki’s composure never broke. His lips drew together in a tight line, but it was his eyes that gave him away. The prince’s face may have been cool and unsuspecting to a servant or courtesan passing by, but you were taught to see past the veil, even if you did not speak on it. You had to see through it.

You paused. Heimdall would have given Loki an unyielding, straight forward reply. He would have left immediately, and spent the remainder of the night in his chambers.

You were not him.

A rush of something you did not understand stirred within you. It wasn’t love or fear or sadness–– it was you, wholly you.

“Tomorrow I will be a guardian of the Bifrost again.” You started, pressing a hand on the sly prince’s chest, “Do you know what I am, right now?”

Loki was no fool. He felt the heat from your warm body and the weight of your hand on his own.

“Utterly magnificent.”

#black!reader #poc!reader #marvel mcu #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki (marvel)#loki fandom #loki x black!reader #woc!reader #I adore Tom hiddleston #maybe set during the first Thor movie #definitely pre ragnarok #tom hiddleston #he was one of my first real celeb crushes #loki angst #loki oneshot

180 notes · View notes

4stars-uswnt · 3 years

Text

You Take My Heart Away [Kelley O’Hara x Reader]

requested by anon: Kelley O’Hara x reader where reader gets into a fist fight but she’s like I won’t throw the first punch bc I’ll finish it and like she gets teased by the team but Kelley is mad at reader for it bc R could’ve gotten hurt but it was still cool

requested by anon: Can we get another Kelley O’Hara x reader doesn’t have to be anything specific just maybe along the lines of them both being crazy and maybe oblivious

A/N: i decided to combine these two prompts! hope y’all enjoy it. also bonus points to anybody who gets the title reference (there’s a lil connection to a reference within the story)

warnings: homophobic and sexist language, violence, and swearing

Conversation was flowing and music was playing in the background of the bar, as the USWNT finished up their first round of drinks and appetizers. The team had pushed together a couple of tables, where you all were now sitting, laughing at each other’s jokes.

The air was light, victory and celebration filling the atmosphere. Megan and Ashlyn had been the ones to suggest a night out after your win against Japan, not only to celebrate the 2-0 victory but also to celebrate Lindsey’s birthday that was in the next couple of days.

You were currently sitting next to your best friend, Kelley O’Hara, bridging the gap between the veterans and the youngsters.

“Anybody want another drink?” Alex asks, pushing her chair back, as she moves to get up.

A chorus of yeses ring out, the team’s orders ringing out.

“I’ll help you with that, Al.” You stand up from your seat, giving the other woman a warm smile.

Once the two of you had left for the bar, the rest of the team began interrogating Kelley, who let her eyes follow you as you moved through the crowd.

“Kel,” Ash calls out over the noise of the music. “When are you gonna admit to (Y/N) that you’re hopelessly in love with her?”

“What?” Kelley sputters, flustered.

Megan rolls her eyes at the defender. “It’s so obvious that you’ve had a crush on her for the past like six years, and a blind person can see that she likes you too.”

“I- I’m not in love with (Y/N).” Kelley’s face flushes, as she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “She’s my best friend.”

“Kelley,” Christen softly chimes in,, hoping to talk some sense in her friend she’s known since college. “You guys obviously have feelings for each other that go beyond friendship, and you’ve been dancing around them for years. We just want you two to be happy.”

Many of the women nod and voice their agreement.

“But what if it ruins our friendship and I lose her forever?” The freckled defender bites her lip nervously.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Christen gives her a knowing look. “Even if she didn’t reciprocate those feelings, she’s not gonna cut you out of her life.”

“And Kel,” Tobin adds on. “You never know until you ask her. And who knows? The risk of putting your heart out there may be worth it. But you’re just gonna live in the dark haunted by the unknown and what ifs unless you tell her how you feel.”

“I hate that you’re philosophical insights are usually right,” Kelley huffs.

Meanwhile, as the team holds their intervention for your best friend, you and Alex were at the bar ordering another round of drinks.

As you were waiting for the bartender, you and Alex were engaged in your own conversation, when you hear a boisterous voice interrupt you.

“Hey! It’s Alex Morgan!” A large man approaches the two of you, holding a half-full cup of beer in his hand, and you have a feeling he’s downed a couple pints already.

You sense Alex tense up next to you, as she gives the stranger a tight smile. “Hello.”

“Oh, and who’s this?” He turns to you, a leering grin on his face, making your insides turn. You reach for Alex’s hand in search of comfort but also as a protective gesture.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The man looks back at the star forward. “I hear your entire team is full of d*kes, but I didn’t think you were one. You’re way too hot to be a d*ke.”

Alex’s grip on your hand tightens, as anger radiates off of her. “I’m actually happily married.” She raises her left hand to show off her ring.

“Woah.” The stranger lets out a low whistle, his eyes slowly widening before he squinting to get a better look, as his movements impaired by the alcohol. “That is quite the rock. How’d you afford that with your pay? I’ve heard all about your team’s fight for equal pay and all that. I personally think it’s a load of crap. You guys aren’t even that good at soccer, and it’s so boring. The only thing that makes your games interesting is your smoking hot bodies.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust at this man’s blatant misogyny. “I’m surprised you know about our equal pay fight. I’d think it’d be too complicated for your thick skull,” you quip, throwing the insult right in his face.

“Ooooo feisty, are we?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “And where do you get off calling me dumb?”

“I’m just calling them as I see them,” you simply state, letting go of Alex’s hand, as you move to stand in front of her protectively. “Where do you get off disrespecting women and being a bigot?”

“(Y/N/N), it’s not worth it,” Alex whispers in your ear.

“I’d listen to your friend,” the man sneers and stands up straighter, slightly sobering up. “Because I’m not afraid to hit a girl, especially a mouthy one like you. Women like you deserve to be put in your place.”

“Go on then,” you challenge, probably a stupid decision on your part, but the adrenaline is rushing and you are at your wits end with this man in front of you. “I dare you.”

You thank all the gods in the universe that the stupid stranger was actually stupid enough to try and throw a punch with his blood-alcohol level because you can see his punch coming from a mile away.

Before his fist can make contact with your face, you grab his hand and twist his arm, leaning in closely to his face. “Is that all you got? My mom hits better than you.” You smirk.

“Let go of me, you bitch,” he growls, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Wait, I have one more thing,” you call out.

“What the hell are you talk-”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, rather your fist cuts him off. The man in front of you had been testing your patience and had used up all your grace, which, in your opinion, warranted a punch in the face.

You can’t help but wince at the sharp pain shooting through your hand upon the contact, but the cracking sound of his nose eases some of your discomfort.

By now, the rest of the team had become worried by your prolonged absence and then had noticed the commotion this stranger was stirring. Hearing the raised voices coming from your direction, many of the veterans, including Kelley, Christen, Tobin, Ash, Ali, and Megan, made their way over to where Alex was currently holding you back from unleashing your anger on this drunk man.

“What is going on here?” Becky asks, surveying the situation in front of her.

“This asshole was insulting Al and then had the audacity to continue being a sexist pig,” you spit out, directing your words at the man, who was still holding his bloody nose, while Alex was doing her best to keep you under wraps.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Ashlyn states firmly.

As the goalie, along with Becky, Megan, and Ali, coax the stranger into leaving you alone, and hopefully leaving the club, Alex, Christen, Tobin, and Kelley try and calm you down.

“(Y/N/N),” Christen soothes, cupping your face. “I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.” The curly-haired forward inhales and exhales, motioning for you to mimic her actions.

You take a deep breath, and upon exhaling, you feel the tension, along with the adrenaline, leave your body.

“Shit,” you sigh. “My hand.”

You lift your right hand, revealing your split knuckles on which bruises were starting to form.

“Come on, Sylvester.” Tobin claps your shoulder, letting out an amused chuckle. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, and on the way, you can tell us all about your heroics.”

You amusedly roll your eyes and lean into the other woman’s side.

As the team gathers their things, ready to call it a night after the turn of events, Megan approaches you, holding out a bag of ice.

“Here, (Y/N), the bartender gave me this for your hand.”

“Thanks, P.” You place the cool ice on your knuckles, hissing at the temperature shock.

On the way back to the hotel, many of your teammates were interrogating you about what had happened back at the bar. After telling the entire story, you received many hoots and hollers from the rest of the team.

“Damn (Y/N)!” Ash whistles. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Way to protect our honor,” Rose gushes, as many of the women nod along.

“Thank you, (Y/N), for defending me,” Alex says sincerely.

“Of course, Al. Anytime.” You give the forward a warm smile.

“Who knew (Y/N) could be such a badass?!” Emily exclaims with an impressed look on her face. “Kel, did you know that your best friend was a secret badass?”

While the rest of the girls had been teasing you about your heroic actions, your best friend had been oddly quiet.

“News to me.” Kelley answers shortly, her face hard and distant. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering if the defender was mad at you. You thought she would’ve been proud of you for standing up for the team and putting a sexist douchebag in his place.

Before going back to entertaining your teammates’s jokes and questions, you make a mental note to talk to her once you get back to the hotel, silently thanking Vlatko for rooming the two of you together this camp.

You would never in a million years admit it, but you were harboring a huge crush for your best friend, had been for the past six years, ever since you’d joined the national team. Not only did you not want to ruin your friendship and end up losing Kelley, but you knew she would never return your feelings.

Over the past several years that you’d been friends with the defender, you’d seen Kelley go in and out of relationships, and comparing yourself to her other girlfriend’s, you had a feeling you weren’t her type.

You also had reservations due to the fact that Kelley was your teammate, and you didn’t want to change the team dynamic, especially if the two of you didn’t work out.

Thoughts of Kelley clouded your mind all the way back to the hotel, only further exacerbated by her deafening silence.

Upon arriving to the hotel lobby, before you all disperse to your rooms, Alex gives you another hug and thanks you again, and Becky, ever the mother of the group, gives you a warning.

“Make sure to ice on and off. 20 minutes. You know the drill, (Y/L/N). Kelley, make sure she takes care of that hand.”

“Don’t worry about me, Becks. I got it,” you reassure the veteran defender, giving her a mock salute.

Following Kelley, you cautiously enter the hotel room. You nervously watch the other women move around the room, as she silently goes about her usual nighttime routine. Taking the hint that she wasn’t going to talk to you anytime soon, you go about your own routine and get ready for bed.

After about twenty minutes later, after both of you had showered, you were finishing wrapping your hand and were about to get into bed, when you noticed Kelley discretely staring at your bandaged hand.

Unable to tolerate the silence anymore, you break the tension. “Okay, what is up with you?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Kel,” you sigh, plopping down on the side of her bed. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since what happened at the bar. Are you mad at me?”

“Nope. Not mad,” Kelley hums slightly passive aggressively, still not looking up from her book.

You roll your eyes, frustrated by your best friend’s childish behavior. “Kelley, I know when you’re lying, and I know that you’re mad at me right now, so would you please just look at me?!”

Sensing the exasperation and frustration in your voice, Kelley closes and sets down her book. “Fine, you’re right. I am mad at you.”

You thought you’d feel relieved, hearing her confirm your suspicions, but instead, the pressure in your chest increases.

“Why? What did I do?” You practically beg, scooting up the bed, so you’re closer to the other woman.

“As if you don’t know,” she scoffs.

Confused, you tilt your head. “I clearly don’t. Kel, please talk to me, tell me what I did.”

“You literally punched a dude in the face!”

“Yeah, but he deserved it, Kel! You heard the things he was saying,” you defend. “I couldn’t just let him get away with talking about our team like that. I thought you’d be proud of me for standing up to a sexist asshole like him.”

“I am proud, sort of. I mean that was completely badass and totally warranted, not that I necessarily expected that from you, and I’m glad you put him in his place,” Kelley babbles. “But that’s not the point, (Y/N/N). You were reckless tonight. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

Your face softens at her outburst. Taking a deep breath, Kelley confesses, “I love you, (Y/N). I’m in love with you, and I just can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, especially by some drunk idiot who doesn’t know shit about football or respecting women.”

Your eyes widen and your heart practically stop, when you process the words that have come out of your best friend’s mouth.

“(Y/N), please say something,” Kelley begs.

“You’re in love with me?” You test the words on your mouth.

“Yeah,” she sighs contently, giving you a soft smile. “Have been for the past eight years.”

“Gosh, we really are idiots.” You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, too, Kel,” you rasped, your voice laced with pure emotion. “I’ve loved you since my first camp.”

“Wow,” Kelley scoffs, an amused grin playing on her face. “Are we really that oblivious?”

“Apparently so.” You shrug. “But we’re here now.”

“Yeah, we are.” The freckled woman softens. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly, leaning in to meat the other woman’s lips. The kiss is nothing like you’d dreamed of; it’s better. It’s soft and tender, full of love and passion. You melt into each other, as your lips move together in harmony.

Not wanting things to get too heated, especially not before you’ve talked about what this meant for the future of your relationship, you pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling like a fool.

“Hey,” Kelley murmurs softly, returning your smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She takes your hand, kissing your wrapped knuckles. “But please don’t be getting into any more bar fights.”

“Hey! I would never start a fight, however I have no problem finishing them.” You smirk, boasting slightly triumphantly.

Kelley rolls her eyes playfully, but then looks into your eyes. “I mean it, (Y/N). I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. So no more fights alright?”

“I promise, Kel.” You give her a chaste kiss.

“Good.”

That night, you stay in Kelley’s bed, cuddling into her side. As you slowly drift into a peaceful sleep, you notice the woman next to you is already fast asleep.

You sigh contently, and you can’t help but feel extremely lucky that even after all these years, and everything that’s happened, life still led you to this woman and a love worth fighting for.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #kelley o'hara x reader #kelley o'hara imagine #kelley o'hara imagines #uswnt #kelley o'hara

375 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Saved

Summary- 2.6k Bucky x You. Based on a ASK from anon-Hella Bi Bitch. Hydra tramautized you and you go to Bucky for comfort. Angst/Fluff. Also written for @jtargaryen18 4k Challenge.

“Sweetheart. They are not coming.” Brock leered over your face, his hot breath washing over you, and it was almost impossible to miss the leer in his brown eyes as he cupped your face. If you had the capabilities, you would jerk away, but you were strapped down. All over, even your head was strapped flush to the hard metal table. The only thing you would do that would be satisfactory was work your mouth, draw up that last bit of spittle you had left and spat at him, making him curse while jerking back.

It would be worth the pain he would cause next, knowing that at least he couldn't break you, just tie you down. Captain would be here soon, Iron Man, Natasha, Bucky… someone, someone would come for you.

Brock retaliated by slamming an open palm across your face, biting back a cry, a burst of blood interrupted from your nose, racing down your face.

As parched as you were, you welcomed the hot iron taste swarming your mouth, even through the pain.

“Rumlow! You will step away from the girl. We need her.”

Dread filled you as his face went from rage, to a cold smirk, pulling away from you. “Don't worry sweetheart, once they are done breaking you, you and I are going to do great things.”

Your eyes flickered to the Hydra Agent, laying out his supplies, tools of pain and vials of poison to flood your system. Nauseated, you looked back up to the ceiling, and squeezed your eyes shut, clamping your mouth shut. Tears welled up, you would probably be gone, dead before the team would find you. It was what you hoped for now.

You would rather die then let them turn you evil. Wasn't there a saying? You either die a hero or turn into a villian. You prayed, prayed for death instead.

A year you were tested on, preyed on until you became a shell. Moved from base to base, handled by various people. None had a shred of kindness, and Brock especially took joy in your torture.

He was able to use the various instruments, had access to your cell whenever he wanted. Your personal bodyguard, your personal hell. In these times you sink away from yourself, your body started to work on their command, your mind an empty shell of your former self. Intelligent? Yes, but yourself, no.

It wasn't complete yet, there was still a shred of you left. Holding on, barely.

Your rescue happened one sunny afternoon, but you weren't to ever know this. You were deep underground, away from air and light. They had just dumped you in your cell when there coms went off. To weak to pay attention to the Hydra agents fear as they hurriedly locked you in, you crawled to your cot and folded yourself onto it. Another day of survived hell. Squeezing your eyes shut, you really just wished for it to end. At this point in any manner. So much pain. To much.

Alone for a while, you start to drift off into nothingness when metal on metal jolted you awake with a terrified whimper. You heard the clang on your bars and lifted your head up to see Bucky trying to see who was curled up on the cot.

“B-b-bucky?” You eased up slowly to make sure you weren't seeing things, and then right next to him Steve stepped up, flipping his shield to hang on his back.

“Doll, we finally found you.” Bucky exclaimed with relief, grasping the bars and wrenching them as hard as he could, the metal whining in protest, but it wasn't strong enough to hold him back from what he wanted.

Steve kept a watch of Bucky's six, speaking into the com at his ear. “We got her, Bucky is collecting Y/N now, have the jet ready Clint. Nat, you just about done? Sam, cover us when we come up."

“Five more seconds and data is secure, Tony can blow this hell hole to dust.”

Bucky's arm went around you for support as you went to stand, sore from earlier, he saw you hobble forward and he swept you up.

“Just faster this way Doll, come on Steve. Before Stark gets trigger happy.” Bolting for the nearest set of stairs, everything became a blur as Bucky and Steve bolted from the building. Hiding your face in Buckys shoulder, you never did see that sunny afternoon.

A shadow passed over Bucky and Steve bolting across the ground, and when you glanced up, lifting your head off Buckys shoulder, the flash of red and silver covered out the blue sky above, and you smiled to yourself, between Sam, Steve and Bucky, you were safe. Exhaustion dipped your head back to Buckys shoulder.

It wasn't long till you were back at Stark Towers, which hadn't been your home in a year. Bucky carried you down into the medic bay with Sam close by. The rest of the team went to debrief on the mission, knowing you were taken cared of. Bucky easily set you down on the table, hovering nearby, he seemed hesitant to leave you, you who were so quiet, so shut down. Sam hovered close by, his jaw clenched. Quiet at well. Not knowing what to say or do, You just stared at the floor till Bruce came in.

“Give us some privacy Bucky? I need to give her a full examination.” Bruce said softly, and your eyes welled up with tears, hiding away from them both. Bucky shook his head in refusal. “I'm not leaving her alone.”

“Okay, but on the other side of the curtain, if Y/N needs you, she will call you.” Bruce looked over at you to confirm that was okay, and you nodded, still unable to look at any of them. Your shame and fear pounding at you. Sam clasped Buckys forearm, nodding his head to the door. "We will just be on the other side." When Bucky stepped on the other side, you could see the worried look flashing across his face, somewhat in recgonition to your pain. Sam gave you a slight nod, and a smile of encouragement.

Why couldnt you be stronger?

The start of your recovery was rough, locked in your room a lot. It took some time for you to open back up to the team. Bring a sense of normalcy to you again. Your normal for the past year has been to be tortured. Everyday life was a lot. Things so simple, like going to get a glass of water, took all your willpower to do. The team, they did everything they could to make it easier. Natasha and Clint immediately made you a part of their movie nights. At first you would sit stiffly away from them, not wanting to be touched by anyone. But soon you loosened up. Curling up against Clint while his arm draped over you, your feet in Natasha’s lap while she painted your nails. “How are the nightmares Y/N?” Natasha would ask, and you could feel Clint tighten his arm around you slightly, listening. It was no secret, your nightmares were a nightly occurrence, often waking up screaming and trying to hide somewhere in the room.

“They are fine, fewer and fewer every day.” You lied, covering your shame.

Steve, you often went with Steve out for walks where he would find some subject to draw. You would lay in the sun, while your friend sketched away at some piece of nearby building, sometimes a landscape. Once he even did you while you were sitting a bit away, catching your profile watching the clouds above. Often you two would sit in easy silence, not needing to have long intense conversations, you were just happy to be with your friend. Once in a while you would ask him. “Steve, you think I can join the team soon?”

The blonde man would hum, and his blue eyes would shift over towards you a moment before going back to his paper. “Y/N, don't rush it. You were there for a year. I'm not putting you in the field before you're ready. Here, what do you think?” He would flip his pad around and of course it was his way of saying, No. Not Now. Maybe not ever.

Sam often had you over to his apartment to help with meals. You figured it was to make sure you were eating properly. At least one square meal. When you asked him, he scoffed. "Actually taking these cooking classes, I make enough for two. Lets face it, your better company then I could ask for. Besides Steve and Bucky are not adventurous like you. They wanna boil everything." Sam snorted, stiring his jambalaya. "Chop this up." He said quickly, handing you a knife. You always felt safer with something, Sam noticed this the first time you joined him, and you flinched when he drew out a butchers blade. From then on, you were set on chopping duties. You began to really look forward to cooking nights with Sam.

"No girlfriends to have cooking dates with?" You would tease when you set to chopping and Sam would give you that grin of his.

"Sure, I just test them on you first Precious. Gotts make sure they are decent enough to feed to others."

"Yea, I'm real Precious if your using me as a gineau pig." You stick your tongue out st your friend, but secretly you don't mind.

Tony, he was more energetic. Often you would be sitting down in his workshop, laughing at his attempts to improve the Ironman suit. It became a habit to keep a fire extinguisher nearby. “Tony, I don't think you should try this.” You said warily as he put on his new thruster boots. “Aww come on, what's the worst that can happen?” He grinned, and winked.

He ended up shooting around the room like a balloon just untied, crashing into walls and bouncing off the floor. When he finally came to a stop, his feet were on fire.

Jumping down with the extinguisher, you yelled “Tony!” and covered him with the foam, once it ended and the billionaire blinked it away, swiping the foam off his face.

“I had it under control Y/N.”

“Sure you did.” You squirted him one last time to retaliate before putting it away, and holding your hand out to him, helping him up.

“Payback Y/N, payback.” Tony glared before pulling you into a hug, getting you covered to. At first it was fine, until you didnt feel Tony anymore and you struggled. Tony immediately let go, and you covered your face in shame. “Im sorry, I'm so sorry Tony.” He shook his head and gently grasped your wrist just enough to uncover your face. “Y/N, it's okay to feel like that. I should have asked first.” You gave an apologetic smile and he winked. The good thing with Tony was that he moved on from your attacks like they never happened, and for that you were forever grateful to your friend.

Bucky, he was the only one that you would find wandering late at night, like you were. When everyone else was fast asleep, you would be pacing the tower, afraid of sleep. It would happen, eventually. Your body would give into its demands, and you would go under into your nightmares. But until that happened though, you found ways to distract yourself. Sometimes it was video games on mute, you would bake muffins for the teams breakfast, get lost in Tony's library he allowed you access to. It was in these wanderings you found Bucky, bumping into him in random places.

Eventually you two started to really get to know each other. Your late nights would be spent together. You opened up more and more, talking about what Hydra and Brock did to you during that year, Bucky making similar confessions while you two sat outside, away from the confines of the building. Quite a few times you both watched the sun start to come up far off to the east, and Bucky's arm would settle over you while your head tipped onto his shoulder.

“Buck, I don't know if I will ever just be okay. Steve doesn't seem to think so.”

“Doll, I came back from it.” He simply said, and you looked up at him, giving a half smile.

“Your stronger than me.”

His brow arched as he looked down at you. “That's not true. I had help, Steve, Shuri. I could have never done it alone. Why I know you will come back from this. Your not alone.”

It gave you something to think about the rest of that day.

You were so tired after two days going, you couldn't help but pass out, exhausted. You fell into bed in your sleep shorts and a tank, curling up while the world faded away.

The nightmares though, flashbacks of all those times you were helpless, unable to fight back and could do nothing more than hold back your screams. It never helped, they still fell from you till you were horse from it, rolling from your bed as visions of various doctors plagued you, Hydra Agents beating on you, and Brock he was always in the darkness, watching with anticipation. When he would finally step from the shadows, you knew it wasn't just a nightmare anymore. It was hell. It was what sent you hiding while you were still sleeping.

This night the jarring motion falling from your bed woke you, before Brock could get to you. Covering your head, you sobbed into your knees, so completely at a loss of how to fix yourself. Your shoulders shook, and you huddled there on the floor for a moment till your legs and back started to ache from being hunched over. Sniffling, you grasp the side of your bed and pull yourself to sit on the edge, wiping the tears from your face. The room felt cold. Reminiscent of your time with Hydra. No warmth, dark shadows stretching like they were reaching to claim you, in which you withdraw your feet off the floor, trying to talk yourself through what you felt was another oncoming panic attack. You had to get out of there, there was no way you could sleep in here tonight.

Grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders, you edge around your bed, trying not to let yourself get psyched out that Brock might be hiding in your room, he wasn't. He couldn't. It was impossible to break into Stark Towers, right? Into the living room you went, looking over your shoulder at what was your bedroom. Even your couch felt too close to the memories.

It wasn't even a thought, you eased into the hallway and started down familiar doors. Steve, Natasha, Wanda… when you paused in front of one. It had no special markings, nothing to signify to any other that it was a special door, but for you it was. Hesitating for a second, you reached out and gave a quick rap of the knuckles, waiting.

Bucky heard it, that quick knock knock. He never slept deeply, always aware of his surroundings, years of training and his own deep rooted fears that something was going to happen. When he opened his door to you, the blanket you had on you just about swallowed you, and your face peeked out, red rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. He knew you had been crying, were about to start crying as you were standing there. Bucky stepped back to let you in.

“Sorry Bucky, I just… don't want to be in my apartment tonight.” Your head dropped as you stepped in, and he softly shut the door behind you.

Standing there for a moment, you didn't know where to go from there, and he stepped in closer, encircling his arms around your cocooned blanket and you could feel the rush of a sob squeaking from you, pressing in against his t shirt. Bucky tucked you in close, feeling his own eyes prick with tears feeling you break in his arms, your shoulders shaking and even the blanket couldn't seem to keep you feeling safe now. But his arms did. They were strong and hard, encircling you. “Come on Doll, your exhausted I can feel it.”

You didn't struggle as he led you down the small hallway to the back bedrooms, and expected him to put you in a guest room that you knew all these apartments had. But he didn't.

He brought you right into his room, and sat you on the edge of his bed.

“Are you okay unwrapping from this?” He questioned, his hands resting on the blanket where you clutched it around you like a protective shield. You sniffled and dried your face on it momentarily before nodding, letting your grip go. He eased it off, and folded it. Resting at the end should you want it back.

“Give me two seconds Doll.” He disappeared into his closet and with the door half shut, pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxers, and switched out his tear wet shirt for a dry one. When he came back out, you were right where he left you, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and your fingers clasped in your lap. When he came around and stretched out, half propped up on pillows, you looked over your shoulder at him. “Can you leave the light on Buck? Just a little bit?”

“Of course Y/N. '' Reaching to the lamp, he turned it on a softer setting and saw you visibly relax your shoulders as you looked around, and could still see all the corners of the room. Pushing back to get in the bed, you tucked yourself in against your friend's side, letting your head fall to his shoulder.

“They must have been pretty bad this time.” Bucky said as he lifted a blanket over the two of you, and you nodded. “I kept seeing Him in the dark, coming for me.” Bucky was well aware who you were talking about, having shared with him before some that had happened to you. You lifted Bucky's arm and placed it around your shoulder, his palm pressing against your arm and tucking you in closer, dropping the softest of kisses on top of your head. “Even when I was awake, it was like he was just out of sight, waiting for me to drop my guard.”

“We won't let him get to you Doll, not again.”

There was a soft shuffle of blankets as you got comfier against him, and your arm locked around his middle, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I know Buck, that's why I came to you.”

#jtargaryen18s4k #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #marvel #marvel fan fic #bucky fic #bucky fanfiction #trauma #sam wilson #tony stark #natasha romanoff #clint barton #steve rogers

381 notes · View notes

maaaddiexo · 4 years

Text

Fugitives (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: cursing, gore

part 2/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

[part 3]

Y/N didn’t see or hear anything from the Weeping Monk for three weeks. Two days after their first official meeting, she saw him leave with Carden and a group of Red Paladins. None of them had returned since.

Boredly, Y/N twirled her fingers and the windchimes she hung in the windows sang in the wind she created. Ever since the Monk’s visit, her days had become even more bland and boring than before. Her dinner tray had been abandoned long ago when the sun was still far above the horizon. Now, not even the moon could shine through the thick blanket of clouds.

Y/N huffed and got up from her spot by the window to the round table in the circular room. As well as boring days, Y/N could no longer sleep. Her dreams were plagued with magical worlds beyond her cage, bright blue eyes filled with tears, and hands dripping in blood.

Art and magic were the only things in Y/N’s life that brought her comfort. Unfortunately, magic drained Y/N’s energy so she often resorted to drawing and painting to calm her forever-frayed nerves. After brewing herself a cup of tea, she lit the candles scattered all around her room and picked up a pencil. Instead of drawing the mysterious man – who she really believed to be much younger than he looked – she reached into the depths of her imagination and let her mind wander. When she opened her eyes, the candles were burning low and she had partially drawn a Fey community in a thick forest and disguised by moss and leaves from time.

Bang! Bang!

“Born in the dawn!” An unfamiliar voice whispered from the other side of the door and slammed their hand against the door again, repeating the Fey phrase.

Still bleary, Y/N stumbled to the door, tripping over her own skirts. With a flick of her wrist, the wooden lock on the outside of the door undid and she opened the door. On the other side of the door, a young boy covered in dirt and blood stood on the other side of the door. He had shaggy blonde hair and light eyes, but one was bruised and swollen shut. “Who are you?”

“Are you Y/N?”

“Do you know another girl locked in a tower?” The boy didn’t find any humour in her words, and if he did, he ignored and repeated his question. “I am. Who are you?”

“I’m Squirrel.” He lifted his hand up from his side and gave her the two measly daisies in his hand. Y/N didn’t know how she’d missed them. “I’m supposed to guve you these.”

“The Monk,” Y/N breathed. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“In the woods. He left the Red Paladins, but he wanted to say goodbye to you first. But he’s hurt real bad. He can’t walk. So, I’m here instead.”

“You’re leaving with him?”

Squirrel nodded. “Somewhere safe. Where the Red Paladins won’t find us.”

Y/N looked back at her table – at the picture she’d fallen asleep drawing. It was the same one from her dreams. She nibbled her lower lip but then nodded firmly. Most of the Fey were dead anyways. “I’m coming with you. Give me ten minutes. Come in.”

Squirrel sat on the bed as Y/N rushed around the room and packed things into a leather sack. She knew one day she’d leave the wretched tower but not so soon. She packed the necessary herbs and items she needed and crammed a shawl into the sack.

“Ready?”

Y/N hesitated, feeling like she was forgetting something before rushing to her wardrobe and unveiled the secret panel. They’d tear the place apart upon realizing she was gone and she didn’t need them seeing the few things she kept private. She folded them up and slid them into the bursting sack before throwing on her cape. “Ready.”

Y/N couldn’t remember when she’d first climbed the tower and was unused to the dark and narrow staircase that seemed to wind down forever. When Squirrel finally pushed open the door, Y/N got her first real breath of fresh air in over a decade.

“This way,” Squirrel whispered. He ran across the open field as fast as a fox but as quiet as a leopard. Not too deep into the woods, Squirrel slowed down and in a tight cluster of trees, they came across the Weeping Monk slumped against a thick tree. He was caked in blood and dirt and sweat, and he pressed a ripped piece of cloth against his thigh, but his pressure slackened when he saw Y/N.

“What is she doing here? I told you to give her my message.”

“I did. And then she decided she wanted to come with us. Who was I to say no to a witch?”

“Are you scared of witches?”

Squirrel bristled. “My best friend’s a witch. She’s always shown she can take care of herself. I figured you could help us.” He turned to watch the Monk struggle to his feet. “Help him.”

Y/N wanted to ask what exactly it was the boy expected her to do but she knew the answer. They were all fugitives now and needed a place to lay low while the boys – mainly the Monk – healed. Y/N looked around the woods they were concealed in even though there wasn’t much to see in the dark. “Okay. I know a place. A day’s walking west of Travern.”

“That’s almost two days from here,” the Monk gasped. A two day’s journey wasn’t long, but time they spent in the open was time they could be caught and killed.

“We’ll only travel at night though. We’ll be able to get further knowing Red Paladins won’t be looking for us.”

“Well, what do we do during the day?” Squirrel wondered.

“Sleep. We’ll take turns keeping watch. And as long as we reach Travern by dawn, I doubt the Red Paladins will be much of an issue.”

“What does that mean?”

The Monk turned his head only slightly to face Squirrel. “It means she plans on leading us into the Dark Wood.”

Squirrel stuttered for a moment, baffled by the Monk’s words. He turned to Y/N. “Are you bloody crazy?”

Y/N’s quick wit hasn’t yet run out. “Depends on who you ask.”

“The Dark Wood is full of demons and dark gods!”

“Lies,” the girl replied boredly and moved to help the Monk to his feet and then onto the large black horse. “It’s all rumours to keep the Red Paladins out of the area so that Fey can live there,”

“I’ve never heard of a village there.”

“It’s not your average village,” Y/N explained. “They don’t let just anybody in. You need to meet certain…criteria to be accepted.”

“What kinds of criteria?”

Y/N didn’t answer Squirrel and instead looked up at the Monk. “What do the Red Paladins say about the Dark Wood?”

The man juts his chin at Squirrel. “The same thing he said. They’ll take days out of their missions to avoid journeying through it. Are you sure we should go there?”

Y/N thought back to her dreams. “I’m sure.” The Dark Wood was the only place Y/N knew they wouldn’t be sought out and the only place they could be safe. “Let’s go.”

The trek was long and uneventful. As the night went on, Y/N found herself tripping over her feet more and more and her eyes became heavy. She was grateful they didn’t run into anybody because she was sure none of them were in good enough shape to fight off Red Paladins – or worse, the Trinity Guard.

The moon and stars are hidden by clouds and the woods were completely quiet until the sky turned from a dark to a pale blue and something snapped in the distance. Squirrel, who had fallen asleep in front of the Monk on the horse, is shaken awake.

Y/N sighed. “I really hope that’s a rabbit.”

“Who’s there?” The deep, masculine voice came from the direction of the snap and Y/N’s head dropped.

“Dammit.”

“I can take him,” the Monk grunted and moved to dismount.

“You’re crazy,” Y/N remarked and instructed them to stay there and told them she’d be back. Having never gone hunting or spent much time in the woods, Y/N was loud as she approached the man, but he continuously called out for her to identify herself and so she knew where he was.

Y/N took a deep breath and steeled herself before stepping into the man’s view. Unsurprisingly, it was a Red Paladin. What was surprising to Y/N was that he was alone.

The man leered at her and showed her a full set of yellow teeth. “It’s dangerous to be alone out in the woods, little girl.”

Y/N’s hands began to tingle and glow. “I could say the same to you.” She focused on the Paladin and whispered, “Rigescunt indutae.”

The Red Paladin froze and Y/N watched his eyes go wide. His hand slackened and the heavy sword dropped to the ground. Y/N felt the energy leave her body as the magic exhausted her but forced herself to hold on a little bit longer. She made two fists and brought them together. As she pulled her fists apart and opened her hands, as if ripping a piece of paper, she yelled, “Scindo!”

Y/N felt the hot blood splatter against her face and neck, but she was falling and couldn’t find the energy to wipe the blood away. Before her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she saw the Red Paladin’s body drop to the ground in two pieces.

He’d been cleaved in half like a piece of wood.

***

The rhythmic bumping of her head against something hard woke Y/N up. She was groggy and her sight was bleary but she could see that she was on the horse.

“Stop.”

“Morning, princess.” The Monk pulled on the reins and the horse came to a halt. Y/N slid off the horse and stumbled, running into Squirrel.

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty minutes or so,” Squirrel replied. “We’re past Travern now. But we can’t stop now. Not after what you did.”

Y/N looked at the woods around them. The trees were tall and looming. Their roots sprawled through the dirt and the branches seemed to reach out, ready to snatch unsuspecting victims. Y/N shook her head. They were just rumours. Still, she didn’t feel safe standing around. She nodded and accepted the Monk’s hand to get back on the horse, this time behind him. “Okay. Let’s go.”

[part 3]

#cursed #the weeping monk #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk x fem!reader #the weeping monk x y/n #the weeping monk imagine #the weeping monk fanfiction #action #romance #fantasy #magic #camelot #camelot fanfiction

299 notes · View notes

kchuarts · 4 years

Text

Instinct 2

A/N: >:3c I need to be in h*rny jail for this.

Summary: The journey to Jotunheim takes off smoothly, no issues to report. Loki and his crew believe that the mission to close the ripped seam shouldn’t be difficult. However, things do appear too good to be true and events take a turn…

Warnings: 🔞🔞🔞 SPICY SMUT, breeding, dubious consent, impregnation, angst, etc… DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 🔞🔞🔞

“We are approaching our destination, Prince Loki.” The pilot informed the God in the co-pilot seat. He nodded in response and leaned forward a bit, brows scrunching… Something was very off. “Captain, can you change coordinates to land behind that cluster of trees? Just over there.“ Loki pointed to a clearing to where he had just mentioned. The pilot nodded, tilting the ship in that angle and safely landing in position. "What had you change your plan of landing, your highness?” An Asgardian S.H.I.E.L.D agent raised his brow. Loki looked to the agent then at Astrid who was preparing necessary medical items for the journey. “I need to make sure that we are under complete cover. I have brought my wife with me due to her medical expertise and insistence on joining us… Plus, there could be some medicinal remedies not yet discovered and I am most certain she would be quite cross with me if I had her miss out on such a feat.” He smiled slightly. The man looked to Astrid and smiled brightly, “Why your highness, I hadn’t a clue she was your wife. I thought she looked familiar from yesterday when you both brought my little girl safely to me! What can I, Brand Jorgunson of Asgard, do to repay your graces kindness?” He looked hopeful at the prince.

Oh. Well, Loki was not expecting the father of the little girl to be Asgardian. This fact calmed his nerves about what he had said yesterday. “Your hard work and perseverance is all that I require-” His smile dropped as there was a screech among the harsh winds of the planet. The fleet became silent and Loki crept over to Astrid out of his instinct to protect her. He looked down at his wife as she grabbed his arm and shuddered. “Th-That wasn’t the same noise from yesterday.” She spoke in a hushed voice, holding onto him a bit more tightly. “No, it is not. I do believe that we are as close to the tear as we can physically get without tampering space and time. There are more beasts concentrated in this area due to the high frequency of the tear.” Loki pondered, releasing Astrid. They needed to get to that seam quickly if they were to stop anymore Frost Beasts from leaking through. A familiar feeling of unease washed over the Trickster once more as he stopped right in front of the ships exit.

Loki waved his hand to signal the fleet to prepare for stepping foot outside of the ship. With haste, everyone put their anti-cold suits on and awaited Loki’s next order. “Someone needs to stay close to the ship just in case things go wrong.” One of the crew members whispered. Brand raised his hand, “I will volunteer to stay with the pilot and give the signal.” The Prince nodded in agreement as the thought of the little girl, Brands daughter Lorraine, crossed his mind. He shook his head gently, why was he even concerned about that? He shouldn’t care that much. The pilot nodded, pressing the button as the door slowly opened with some difficulty due to how strong the winds were. Loki grabbed Astrid’s hand again, whispering to her “Stay close to me.” The brunette girl squeezed his hand in reply, not even wanting to go anywhere else but his side. Almost immediately, Loki’s skin changed from it’s pale ivory tone to sapphire. Brilliant lines stood out on his blue skin and his crimson eyes seemed to pierce through anything. Astrid found herself staring at her husband in awe, captivated by how breathtaking she found him. This was indeed a rare sight as Loki almost always refused to show his true form. “Are you alright, my love?” Astrid flinched a little as she was brought out from her stare. She nodded, giving him a smile “You’re beautiful.” Her cheeks were a light shade of pink under her helmet.

His own cheeks darkened slightly from her comment and he felt a warm stirring inside of his chest. Images of her with that same blush, only more deep, flashed in his mind. She was writhing beneath him, panting, crying out his name- “Laufeyson.” He was brought back down by one of the agents impatient tone. What the hell was going on with him? To make matters worse, he felt a growing tightness in his pants... Not good. It couldn’t be mating season for the Frost Giants already, couldn’t it? Loki did his best to distract himself from that theory by leading the team behind a pillar of frozen rock. “There.” He nodded his head toward a visible hole in the atmosphere, Frost Beasts going in and being sucked into the tear. “Amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this!” One of the crew tried to push past the god to get a closer look, mistakenly placing a hand on the small of Astrid’s back. The agent was then firmly slammed against the pillar with a snarling Trickster leering at him. “You do not lay a hand on my wife!” He hissed at the agent, tightening his grip. “Loki let him go! It was an accident.” The brunette placed a gentle hand on her husbands back, getting him to do so.

Rightfully so, the agent was a bit more than upset at this sudden action. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? Maybe we should have brought Thor instead of this untrustworthy criminal!!” The agents voice became louder out of anger. “Travis! Shut up!!” Another agent grabbed the agent known as Travis’s shoulder and shook him aggressively. Ignoring the commotion, Loki’s now larger form loomed over Astrid’s, his eyes glazed over. “Are you alright, my dove?” He wanted to take that damn helmet off to feel her skin. She nodded, her brows scrunched in confusion “Baby, are you ok? Maybe we should contact Brand and get him to send for back up.” She reached up and did what Loki had wanted to do to her. The Prince’s large hand held her smaller one to his face as he still looked into her eyes. “That is unnecessary to call for reinforcements...” He walked closer until Astrid was pinned against the wall, her eyes full of fear instead of confusion. She had not the slightest idea what suddenly came over her beloved, but he had to stop it now. “Loki we should really call for back up, you’re not yourself.” She removed her hand from his grip and placed both of her hands on his chest. Her breath picked up and eyes became wide as he tried to take the helmet off, “Loki stop!!” she tried so hard not to scream.

Just as he was about to take it off, one of the agents let out a scream of terror that was followed by a ferocious roar. Whipping around, Loki saw the agents being mauled to bits by 2 Frost Beasts who had stalked them down. “This is your fault!!” Travis pointed to Loki, blood splattering in the helmet as one of the beasts chomped down on his lower half. The sight caused Astrid to yelp in horror and grab onto Loki tightly. “Brand!!” The prince pressed in on his ear piece as his mind was out of that amorous fog it had previously been clouded by. “Brand come in!!” His jaw clenched, his eyes focused on the beasts approaching. “Your highness! We heard screaming! We are on our way-” , “No!! You will call for reinforcements from my brother and get out of here NOW.” Loki scooped Astrid up in his arms without warning and sprint for the dark, dense wood. At least the stubbornly thick trunks of the frozen trees would slow the beasts pursuing just a little. A loud roar of an engine blasted to life as Brand and the pilot had done as they were told, nearly missing the tear.

As long as they reached Earth safely, then Thor would be here in no time... At least Loki had hoped. In truth, he didn’t know how many beasts could have crossed the realm at this point. “LOKI!!” Astrid screamed as a large clawed foot came down on the both of them. It was too late for the Trickster to make any proper move and Astrid was knocked from his arms. He looked up after the initial impact, frantically searching for his wife until his heart almost stopped. The prince did indeed spot her, but her long brown hair was spread out and her helmet missing. Loki leapt up, rushing over to her and hoisting her back into his arms. Her cheeks and nose were bright red with a nice cut on her forehead to match. “Shit!!” He held the unconscious woman to his body close, hearing the beasts approaching faster than he would like. As if it wasn’t hard already, spears began to fly out of no where. Thankfully, the beasts became distracted by the new intruders and gave Loki time to escape. However, the spears continued to fly in his direction and nearly hit he and Astrid both. The Trickster ripped one of the spears from the ground as he fled, still clutching the woman in his arms tightly.

Loki ran for what seemed like a while and after a brief period of time, the spears stopped. Relief washed over him as he saw an abandoned Jotun village in sight. These structures were built into the mountain and were questionable when stability was considered; but it would have to do. If they were lucky enough, this settlement would have a natural hot spring inside as well. Hastily, he entered in the cave and found that luck was on their side after all. In the cave, there were used furs, baskets that had not been touched for quite some time, some pillows, a few spears similar to the one Loki had grabbed, a hot spring and a fire pit. “Mother, if you lead us here... Thank you.” He let out an exhausted sigh as he carefully set Astrid down on the furs and adjusted them to keep her warm. His touch against her slowly warming cheek lingered a bit longer than he wanted and the unwelcome arousing thoughts returned. Loki felt his cock harden painfully to the idea of stripping the resting brunette from her suit and ravaging her mortal body. “No.” He swallowed, looking away from his wife before getting up. “I will not do that to her.” He scolded himself and took a deep breath. Perhaps scouting the area would get his mind off of these intrusive perversions.

As the prince examined the area, he found quite a few useful tools and ancient artifacts of the people who once lived here. Loki looked down at his hand, noticing he was still blue and tried to shift back to his Aesir form. No such luck. Not only that, but his length was still throbbing with desperate need. He sighed in great irritation and frustration as he concluded it was indeed mating season. “Great.” He ran one of his hands down his blue ridged face. How in the hell was he supposed to protect Astrid from everything on this forsaken planet when he was also one of those dangers? Thor and company could not come any faster or get that damn portal shut; he hoped Brand made it back. His body froze in place as he heard movement coming from where he had placed Astrid. As quietly as he could, Loki crept from the other side of the cavern and almost moaned at the sight. The girl had indeed awakened and was completely naked in the spring, warming herself up. She looked ethereal to the prince with how her skin shined with droplets of water and her long hair floating effortlessly when she sat down.

“She is ready, rightful king.”

Loki jumped slightly from the sudden voice, looking around to see where it came from.

“Do not be stupid, boy. It is your own feral side speaking with you. She cannot hear me.”

He let a shaky breath out, closing his red eyes and attempting to calm his mind and hormones.

“I know you can smell her, she is ripe and ready to be bred. Her hips are so deliciously worthy of child bearing. You will submit in the end... I know how badly you want her in that regard, I have seen your thoughts of her full with your child-”

“Enough.” He whispered to himself, grabbing his head as it began to throb. “I will not do that to her.”

“Baby? Are you ok?” Astrid’s sweet voice captured the prince’s attention.

Her body stood half out of the water, allowing him a view of her breasts, abdomen, hips...

The voice chuckled darkly inside of his head “Baby? Hmmm... She calls you what she has craved to give you all this time. How endearing, but yet you hold back... Because you know it will kill her weak mortal body. But you want to fuck her, claim her, breed her and show everyone that she is yours-”

Loki gasped sharply as he felt Astrid touch his cheek and he ripped away, his pants uncomfortably tight. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She rose from the steaming waters to get closer to him. “You’ve been acting so strange ever since we arrived, please tell me. I want to help you.” Her large teal eyes glimmered in the dim light. The prince swallowed hard, looking away from his wife before his natural instincts consumed him. His heart beat faster, blood pounding in his ears loudly the longer he looked away and fought himself. “Y-You need to go. I cannot be near you. Please, Astrid go back where I had placed you and rest.” His voice was hoarse from the panting he hadn’t realized he was doing. “I’m not leaving you. If you’re hurt please tell me-” She stopped, stepping back as Loki stood with his full height over her. “I will hurt you if you continue to be near me. Now go.” He spoke through his teeth, watching the frightened girl make her way back to the furs and wrapping herself in them; not bothering to put her undergarments or suit back on.

“I....” He started, turning away from her and picking up one of the Jotun spears. “I am going to hunt. I will try to be back as soon as I can, so please just.. Just do not leave this cave.” Loki ran a hand through his dark locks, exhaling loudly before exiting the cavern. Astrid blinked a few times, pulling the furs a little tighter to her body and laying down upon the oddly comfortable pillows. She watched the bonfire until her eyelids became heavy and sleep claimed her tired form.

For at least what seemed like an hour or two, Loki had been successful in hunting a few small creatures that were similar to rabbits. During this time, that awful voice had left him alone and it gave Loki some clarity to think. He glanced at the sky and saw no sign of back up arriving as the tear was still pulling energy into it like a black hole. What kind of trap or battle tactic was this? Sure, Thanos had managed to get Loki alone per say, but made no sudden attack yet. Was this all just an assumption that the Mad Titan was behind it? He already had terrifying numbers for his army, what more did he possibly need and why Jotunheim of all places? The dark haired prince shook his head, shrugging to his own questions before turning around to head back. A sharp thudding pain returned to his head after he thought he had finally been rid of this nasty headache. “Damn it.” He leaned against a tree, grabbing his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut. Along with this upper pain, the lower pain also made itself obviously present. He glanced down at the large bulge in his trousers and whined from how badly his cock throbbed.

“You have what you need, now go and take what is yours.”

The voice returned with an even louder presence.

“You will not gain anything from ignoring your prowess; you will continue to suffer more the longer you fight until you cannot do so anymore. Succumb to it. Breed her and take what is yours!... If you do not, then I will and there is no such thing as being gentle with me.”

“Alright!! I-I’ll do it!!” Loki felt a wetness slide down his cheek. The thought of hurting Astrid was destroying him. The thought of her dying because of what he did to her-

“Just agreeing with me will not do. So unless you want me to take over for you, then I suggest you give into your bodies primal need. This is the last time I will give you leeway before I take control.”

Letting out a weak sob, Loki trudged forth whilst dragging his kills behind him in the snow. His body ached so badly for release and freedom from this torment, but Loki knew how breeding worked and he was terrified. Astrid would be subjected to almost a week of non stop fucking until he was certain she would fall pregnant with his child. As much as he wanted to literally drag his feet and get to the cave as slowly as possibly, his body would not allow it. Within minutes, he was back inside and shedding his armor rather roughly. He had to do this lest that dark side of his do something he would regret. Once he removed everything, Loki winced at the painful pulse that throbbed through his aching member; pre-cum dripping from the angry dark blue head. Supper would have to wait for now, or at least he hoped they would get a chance to get some type of nourishment. He walked over to the sleeping girl and noticed her phone. Perhaps by some odd chance, she would have a signal? He picked it up to test that theory, but no such luck. However, something else caught his attention... She had a period tracking app. He touched the screen, opening the app and feeling his cock throb again as he read that this time she was most fertile.

His nostrils flared as he tossed the phone aside, the screen shattering in the process. She could get a new one later if help arrived quickly. Loki crawled over the sleeping girl and peeled the furs away from her naked body. A growl ripped through his chest, startling Astrid awake. Her lips parted slightly as she wanted to say something, but lost the words. The brunette let out a squeal as the god above her pinned her wrists to the make shift bed. “Loki stop. You’re scaring me.” She whimpered, breath picking up quickly. He did not respond but instead, leaned forward and captured her lips in a sloppy kiss. Astrid’s squirming of protest and small whines only made Loki want her more while she was beneath him. “Loki, stop!!” She gasps, giving a small sob as she felt his teeth sink into the flesh of her neck. This wasn’t the man she married; this wasn’t her Loki. Flashbacks to that day he tried to assault her began to play in her head, and with all her might; she shoved the god off of her and scrambled up. Astrid struggled to crawl to a near by corner of the cave, her chest rising up and down quickly.

The god growled out of vexation, quickly rising to his feet and sauntering to the trembling girl. Astrid noticed his dripping cock, her body betraying her by shooting heat to her lower lips. He was HUGE. This was not to say Loki was not well endowed, because he very much was. However, in this form his length had not only gained an inch or two but also had become more thick. He was going to split her in half with that monster between his legs. Astrid turned her gaze back up to his and held eye contact. Once Loki saw tears slide down her face, he briefly snapped out of his aroused state and knelt down. “Pet... Oh Norns.. I-I’ve scared you, haven’t I?” He cursed himself for doing so. She was still too shaken to say anything but gave him a small nod, curling in on herself. “Astrid.” He gently took her arm, pulling the hesitant woman to him. “I need you, please.” His forehead pressed upon hers and his eyes shut. Astrid began to calm down, sensing that this was not his fault at all and released a shaky breath. Loki’s head began to throb once again, the threat of that dark side of him rearing it’s ugly claws. “Listen to me.” His lip twitched, fighting that voice off as best as he could. “F-For the next week I need to breed you.” Loki felt like wanting to die saying that sentence.

Astrid gaped, her heart racing at what he just said. “But I thought-” She was silenced with a needy kiss. “My feelings about that remain unchanged, but for the time being,” He looked at her “I need you to endure me. I understand you are mortal and have needs. I will do my best to let you eat, sleep, bathe and relieve yourself but I will not stop fucking you. Not until I am sated and positive that.. That you are with child.” defeat laced his voice. Astrid removed her forehead from his, lifting his chin gently to look at her as he had cast his gaze aside. “I love you, Loki. I love you with every fiber of my being.” Her hands moved to cup his face, her thumbs stroking his sharp cheek bones. “I know you know how I feel about it but, we can work something out if anything happens....” Astrid smiled softly, placing a smooch to his forehead before continuing with a nervous look in her eyes. “I will do this, for you but I-I need you to promise me something. If I do end up..” She began to choke up. “I want to keep it. I’m contradicting myself by saying this but Loki.. I love you so much and I want to give you a family of your own. I want to have children with you and raise them together-”

The woman is cut off by Loki scooping her into his grasp and going back to the furs, placing her down on them. “You are so willing and ready to carry my child-” He growled, nipping at her neck. “Yes I- O-Oh Loki!” Astrid moans, breath hitching as she felt his fingers stroke her clit in small circles. She felt his cold lips trail down her collar bone to her breasts, taking a hardened bud into his mouth. Her back arched slightly into him as he sucked and kissed at her breasts hungrily. “I cannot wait to see these swell with milk for our child.” He growled out, abandoning her pearl in favor of kneading her fleshy mounds. “I have dreamt about taking you like this and feeling your quim flutter around my cock as you scream for more.” He reached down, chuckling as he felt how wet she had become just from dirty talk. “My, my... I’ve barely touched you and here you lay, your tight pussy dripping with desire from my words.” He slides two of his slender digits inside of her, drinking in the sound of her moans. Loki hummed at how her walls clenched around his fingers as he pushed them in and out.

“F-Fuck!! Loki!” Astrid whines, throwing her head back as she feels him add a third finger in preparation for his length. She panted loudly, her hips bucking upwards for more friction. Loki grinned at her movements, his thumb now applying pressure to her clit as he continued to finger her. “Look at you, bucking your hips. My fingers feel good, don’t they? Mmm yes, but nothing quite like what I am about to give you.” He pulled his fingers from her cunt, slurping her essence off of his fingers crudely. The brunette whines, she was so close to orgasm before he had to- Oh.

A new pressure stretches her walls, making her gasp a little out of surprise and a bit of pain. “You’re so tight.” Loki moans into her ear, pushing his hips forward into her heat. He does not have time to go slow or slow down for her, his instincts were kicking in. Both of them stilled for a moment in equally and impatiently panting messes before the prince bottomed out and withdrew completely from her before slamming his cock back in hard. Astrid’s nails sunk into her lovers back as his pace was brutal. His hips slammed into her and he growled into the side of her neck, biting the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “You’re g-going to tear me in half!!” The brunette held onto the god for dear life, her whimpers loud from pain and pleasure. It was all too much and had Astrid thinking second thoughts, but it was too late for that. There was no going back and no escaping a horny Jotun male needing to breed.

Loki made a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan as his hips stuttered, spilling his seed inside of her. Astrid moaned at the feeling of his hot seed filling her up, but yelped as she felt him start to jackhammer into her again. He wrapped one of his large hands around her slender neck, staring down at her through animalistic eyes. One of her hands grasped at his wrist lightly in case she needed to signal him when she was at her limit. Astrid’s airflow was cut off, her pussy clenching down on Loki’s cock and milking him on his way to another orgasm. “Mmm my little cock slut.” His voice was rough, heavy with desire. He reached down with his freehand, playing with her clit and laughing as he watched her squirm from overstimulation. Loki squeezed her neck harder and brought her to the edge of sweet bliss as he thrust into her. “Cum. Now.” He ordered, releasing her neck and watching his wife come undone on his cock. There was a sudden glint of fluid that escaped Astrid while she came, Loki had managed to make her squirt.

His pupils widened at this and he came on the spot, groaning loudly. Again, Astrid whined from the ropes of cum he shot inside of her. The girl panted hard, her limbs quivering and exhaustion not too far behind. Loki pulled his rock hard member out of her, placing her on her hands and knees. He watched as his cum dripped from her reddened cunt, making him lick his lips. “Ah!” Astrid jolted forth slightly from Loki entering her again. His pace remained the same and the sound of their fluids smacking together bounced off the walls. The brunette squeaked as a strong grip pulled her back flush to the prince’s chest, his breath hot on her ear. “Such a good girl taking my cock like this, my sweet girl.” He moaned into her hair, breathing in her scent and growling. While his right arm held her against his lithe torso, his left hand traveled back down to play with her sensitive nub. “Oh my god!! L-Loki I’m still sensitive!!” Astrid cried out, her legs spreading a little wider and shaking. It was not long before he had her coming hard over and over again. He would not relent or back off to let her rest as his hormones raged.

Loki took her hand, placing it over her womb and grinning “Do you feel it? My cock fucking you? Burying my cum deep inside you?”

“Y-Yes” she said breathlessly as her husband continued to pound away.

“Yes what?” He growled

“Yes, my king!!” Astrid’s mouth fell open and her clit throbbed from overwhelming pleasure as another orgasm ripped through her tired body. Her eyes were so heavy and her core already ached from the relentless abuse. Astrid tensed up slightly as she felt his fingers on her clit again and another large amount of his cum spilling inside her. “T-Too much!! Too much!! Loki let me rest! Please!” She whined, gasping as he pulled out of her. Astrid was spent. She could not move at all and sleep begged to claim her. “Please.. Let me-Mmm!” She winced, feeling his cock slide back into her but Loki unmoving. “I-I’m sorry my love.” He panted into her ear, cock twitching inside of her. “I will allow you to rest for a bit until I can no longer take it. I am so sorry.” He buried his face into her long, now slightly dampened hair as he curled his body around hers. Loki would certainly try his best to give Astrid what she had required, but the voice still nagged in the back of his mind.

---------

“Brother?!” Thor called out into the cave and made his way in.

His cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as he heard panting, moaning, and skin slapping against skin. As he walked into the room, he immediately regretted the decision as he witnessed Loki holding a very limp and exhausted, yet still coherent, Astrid. With a final cry, Loki spent the last of his seed and energy inside of his wife, collapsing on top of her and his Aesir form returning.

“Hey, buddy what’s going on in here?” Bruce had attempted to poke his head in but Thor quickly pushed him out, his pants embarrassingly tight. “Er, my brother and Lady Astrid have been fornicating. Let us just be thankful that Stark is not here.” He gave the doctor a sheepish smile. Bruce felt his cheeks become a bit warm, “Right, right. Ahem,” He cleared his throat “Well it has been about a week and a half and I know they’re married so I can’t say I blame ‘em.” He coughed again, wanting to get the show on the road. “Oh for the love of- I’ll go get them.” Brunhilde scoffed, rolling her eyes and walking in to retrieve the debilitated couple. Thor gave yet another awkward smile, “That is exactly the issue, Banner. Loki is a Jotun... He... He has these times where he er, he goes into a..” To save Thor anymore trouble, Bruce waved his hands and nodded “I get it.”

Thankfully, Loki and Astrid remained entwined and unconscious in each others arms the entire ride back. Thor and company had arrived a day or so ago to take care of the portal and find the missing team. The reason why it had taken them a week and a half was due to the Frost Beasts also breeding.

----------

2 weeks later

“I-It’s negative.” Astrid smiled sadly to Loki, showing him the test stick. His brow raised and he sighed out of relief. Just to make certain, Loki even had Bruce, Doctor Cho and a few Asgardian healers check to be absolutely sure.

“Darling, I know-” The god paused for a moment, thinking of how to word what he wanted to say without causing any grief. “I know that you want to and I am beyond touched that you would go that far for me.” He took her arms gently and rubbed them, “Please understand that I am scared for your safety. We do not have enough research on cross breeding or if you will even survive the pregnancy let alone childbirth. Not to mention Thanos is still actively destroying everything in sight” He paled slightly and shook his head of that thought before looking back into Astrid’s eyes and pushing some hair from the frame of her face. “If I may speak freely, I am terrified that I will be no better than Odin or Laufey. I apologize for withholding information from you, but now you know why I... Why I do not want children.” He quickly placed a kiss on her head. “Be safe and have a good day at work. I will see you later.”

With that, Astrid was left alone and tears sliding down her cheeks. She loved Loki so much and wished he would at least try to understand... But if she had to give up that dream, then she would have to-

“O-Ow..” Astrid bent over all of a sudden, her hand on her scar. She felt.. Cold. She placed her other hand over her womb and felt the same chill. Quickly, she ran to the bathroom in hers and Loki’s shared apartment and turned the light on. Astrid lifted her shirt and saw that the skin where she held her hands was red as if she had laid in the snow. Swallowing hard, she pulled her shirt down and picked the test stick from the trash. It still read negative... “I-I must be imagining things.” She laughed nervously, swiping her clean hand through her hair and turning to wash her hands. As she turned the light off and made her way to work, the test stick changed from negative, to positive.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

Man why am I not writing their story out as one big fic? idk. Anyways! I hope you enjoyed this <3 It definitely wasn’t as spicy but eh, I still think it was.

taglist: @lucywrites02

#lokistrid #loki x ofc #loki x oc smut #loki smut #tw: pregnancy #tw: breeding #my writing #mcu loki #mcu oc #writing #loki fanfic #fanfic

126 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 11: You Don’t Come Around No More]

A/N: I apologize profusely for the long wait. Thank you all so, so, so much for your support. Every single reblog, message, comment, emotional rant, and/or screech of despair makes my day, and I couldn’t do this without you. 💜 Only THREE more chapters left!!!

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “More To Life Than Baseball” by Petey.

Chapter Warnings: Language, angsttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Word Count: 7.5k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

The Rain

I wish I felt empty.

I’m supposed to feel empty, right? I’m supposed to feel steeped in grey, oceanic misery; I’m supposed to dip in and out of depressive naps all day and sob delicately over creased photos and fading, wistful memories. I always envisioned heartbreak as a soft and inherently feminine sort of affliction: the hems of nightgowns and bathrobes sweeping along hardwood floors, Kleenex boxes and concave couch cushions, weepy phone calls to friends and aunts and mothers, Queen Victoria wearing black for the rest of her life after Prince Albert’s death, Mary Todd Lincoln sinking into dark and hushed obscurity. Women, hollowed out by despair, cross the history of the earth like lines of latitude.

I don’t feel empty at all. I don’t even feel sad. I feel razored by sharp, red, ceaseless anxiety. I am consumed by thoughts of what I did wrong, what I said that started the wheels of doubt spinning in his mind, if he had known how it would end from the start. I dream of white, clawed hands dragging me down through cold waves. I hear words scream to me as I toss at night in my suddenly too-spacious bed, words that now hit me like knuckles to the gut: Shhh, hey, it’s just me, don’t get up, as Joe slipped beneath the Arizonan blankets, wrapped an arm around my waist, kissed my collarbone as I tumbled back into sleep; I love you to death, as his Subaru idled in Charlie’s driveway; Baby Swan, listen to me, nothing is supposed to hurt, okay, so if anything hurts, ever, at all, you tell me and we stop, deal? as we stood in the doorway of our hotel room at the Four Seasons in Chicago. And now...and now...

And now everything fucking hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense; and yet it does. Look at him. Look at me.

The Polaroid photo from Homecoming was still taped to the top of my full-length mirror. I peeled it free like a layer of translucent, friable reptilian skin, tore it straight down the center, burned both halves over a brand new three-wicked, lemon-scented Bath And Body Works candle—a gift from Renee and Paul—and closed my eyes like a child casting a wish over her birthday cake like a spell. I wished for my memories to vanish with the photograph. I wished to get hit by a truck and wake up in the hospital with no recollection of the past two and a half months. I wanted the Lees to dissolve into distant, enigmatic mystery; I wanted to join the rest of Forks in believing that they were nothing more than bewildering and yet harmless freaks, barely worth noticing, one of those glitches of the matrix that were better off ignored like liminal seconds of déjà vu. I wished to carve out every part of myself that they had ever touched.

And Joe’s voice came rushing back from where we stood by that star-lit fountain outside the Church of Saint Lawrence, accompanied by falling raindrops and a crooked grin: I can make wishes come true.

The three tiny flames flickered in the breeze that sighed through my open window. The bright, citrusy scent of the candle reminded me of Lucy. I couldn’t fucking win. What else is new?

I turned back to the mirror. I flinched when my gaze snagged on my reflection: bloodshot-eyed, swollen-faced, utterly unbeautiful, restless like a caged animal. Look at him. Look at me.

I ripped the last memento off the mirror—Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!!—and watched the yellow square of paper catch fire, curl up around the edges, become unrecognizable, turn to ash. And I wished over and over again, like a poem, like a prayer: Let me forget, oh god please let me forget.

Charlie keeps asking if I’m okay. The answer, of course, is no; but I can’t tell him that. So I wear a serene smile like clip-on fangs, a cheap polyester cloak, crimson smudges of lipstick like trails of spilled blood down the side of my neck. Every day is Halloween for me now. I dress up as someone who isn’t haunted, who hasn’t become a ghost.

And when Charlie turns up the World Series or I’d Do Anything For Love on his geriatric, staticky kitchen radio—the same radio he’s had since my mother was the one joining him for daybreak coffee and Pop-Tarts—I choke back tears like dragonfire.

Missing In Action (Revisited)

Joe wasn’t here. Neither was Ben.

Lucy, Rami, and Scarlett were sipping cups of tea at the Lees’ usual table, their eyes downcast, their voices low and murmuring, their pristine lunches neglected. Lucy and Rami were dressed in matching charcoal grey turtleneck sweaters; Scarlett had come from Fencing Club and was wearing royal purple yoga pants and a black tank top, her duffle bag of gear on the floor by her sneakered feet. Her hair was in a long fishtail braid. Archer hadn’t mentioned her since Joe broke up with me. That either meant that it was going blissfully and he didn’t want to injure me further, or that Scarlett had ended things as well.

Since Joe broke up with me. That sounds so fucking pedestrian.

I stared at the three present Lees, almost leered, commanding them to see me, to acknowledge me, to admit that I had once meant something to them, that this hadn’t all been some transitory delusion to fill the cavernous void of losing my home, my life as I knew it in Arizona. They took no notice whatsoever.

Jess kicked me beneath the lunch table. My attention snapped back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You want to go shopping with me and Angela tonight?” Jessica’s hands were folded just beneath her chin, her voice gentle, her eyes large and sympathetic and watery. This was her version of being supportive. I appreciated it...in a perpetually tormented and preoccupied sort of way.

“No thanks.” I forked my cold, sauceless spaghetti listlessly. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch. I didn’t have an appetite anyway. I had deleted the GrubHub app from my iPhone and had no intention of using it ever again in my comparatively short and calamitous human life.

“You could come to temple this weekend,” Jessica pressed.

“Uh.” Mingling with a churchful of sociable, wholesome, marriage-obsessed adolescent Mormons sounded like the absolute last thing I’d want to spend my evening doing. “That’s a really generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Well you have to do something,” Angela said. “You can’t just sit in your bedroom alone all weekend and stare at the wall and wallow in self-pity.”

We’ll see about that. I turned to Jess. “How’s Vodka Boy from your Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class? Did he ever reappear? What’s his name again, Elmo? Ellington? El Chapo?”

“Ellsworth.” She frowned as she slurped her patron-drink-of-Mormons Sprite. “And no, he definitely failed out or overdosed or something, because he never came back.”

“Tragic,” I noted.

“But I’m pretty sure Mike’s coming over this weekend, so we’ll see if I can get some Netflix and chill action going.”

“Jess,” Angela chastised, widening her eyes and nodding to me subtly (but not quite subtly enough). No talking about getting lucky in front of the heartbroken single loser, that look said.

“I think I can be emotionally supportive without taking a goddamn vow of chastity, Angela!” Jessica hurled back.

“I gotta go.” I stood, threw on my backpack, discarded my nearly untouched lunch.

“You’ve barely eaten anything!” Angela protested. “You’ve barely eaten for a week!”

“I’ll live.” I picked my umbrella up off the slippery tile floor—peppered with muddy shoeprints and pearlescent drops of water fallen from coats and limp, sopping locks of hair—and headed out into the pouring rain. I hated the rain. I hated it. Maybe I had forgotten that for a while, but it all came hurtling back now like a hurricane, like a hand cracking across my face. I ached for the desert, for blatant and unapologetic heat, for palm trees and cacti and naked stars in the night sky. I had been researching marine biology graduate programs in the Southwest. There were good ones at UC San Diego, UC Santa Barbara, Texas A&M, the University of Southern California, UCLA. I would miss Charlie and Archer—and maybe Jessica and Angela on occasion—and absolutely nothing else about Forks. At least, that’s what I promised myself.

This is a no-giving-a-fuck-about-Lee-boys zone, I thought morosely.

Ben was brooding at our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom. It was the first time he’d shown up to Chemistry since that day Joe met me on the beach at La Push, since the place I’d once occupied in his universe had closed like a wound. I took my seat beside Ben. The window was shut today, the downpour outside torrential. Ben recoiled, just enough for me to notice; he was wearing his oversized black hoodie and practicing his Welsh, his handwriting messy and unbalanced.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

Ben didn’t glance up from his notebook. “Would that have made it any easier?”

“No,” I realized in defeat. I guess it wouldn’t have. I pulled my own notebook, my favorite pen, and a can of Diet Coke out of my backpack.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben said. “You really need to know that. It had nothing to do with you. And none of us are happy with the current situation. None of us.”

None of them. That included Joe. “Interestingly, that didn’t stop him from creating it.”

Ben was thoughtful, debating his next words. “We’re probably going to be moving soon.”

“What?” I startled; my turquoise blue pen dropped out of my grasp and rolled across the table. Ben snatched it up and returned it to me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And what, just redo this whole college thing?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ll probably start our junior years over again. Gwil will say there was some horrible family tragedy and we needed a few semesters off. I could use the extra time to figure out Calc anyway. Parametric equations make me want to kill myself.”

I just stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. “But...why would the whole family leave Forks? Because of me? One pathetic, aggrieved human? Do you all pack up and relocate every time Joe fucks and dumps someone? That must be exhausting.”

“It’s better for everyone if we get some distance. Put more space between our world and yours.”

“But...” I tried to imagine never seeing any of them again: no Mercy humming merrily as she tossed handfuls of homegrown carrots to the alpacas, no Dr. Lee dabbing away my blood with an ageless sort of patience, no Scarlett or Lucy or Rami, no brief glimpses of Joe as he avoided me in the campus library. It’s exactly what I wanted; and yet it wasn’t. It so, so, so, so wasn’t. It keeps getting worse. How is that possible? My voice was flimsy and quivering, absolutely pitiful. Disgustingly pitiful. “Who will be my lab partner?”

Ben peered over at me with wide, confused green eyes. And then—gingerly, awkwardly, like holding an acquaintance’s baby for the first time—he laid his hand over mine. “I’ll miss you too.”

Professor Belvin lectured about coordinate covalent bonds. I didn’t absorb a word. I conjugated Italian verbs with my turquoise blue pen, sketched disordered whirlpools of ink, tried not to think about whether this was my last-ever Chemistry class with Ben, whether it was my last-ever weekend sharing Forks with the Lees. Those rageful, frantic thoughts were back. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do right? Why did he have to leave?

My nomadic gaze caught on a flier on the wall next to our misted window. I had assumed it was a leaflet for some club or protest or seasonal dance that I would definitely not attend, but it wasn’t. It was a missing poster.

Have you seen this student? the flier asked in bold, businesslike black font. It was urgent, but not quite despairing; not yet, anyway. I could hear a Dean of Student Affairs cajoling some affluent, strings-of-pearls-adorned mother over the phone: Yes ma’am, you have my full attention and I can assure you that we’re very concerned, but I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding...he’s probably gone backpacking or sailing with some friends and forgotten to call home. You know how college students can be. Beneath a large photo of a grinning blond kid—pink polo, flushed cheeks, clever crop job to nix a can of Natty Light clutched in one fist—was a name: Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin.

Ellsworth, I thought, my stomach plummeting. The guy from Jessica’s Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. He hadn’t failed out. He was missing. Missing like a 20/20 episode or a true crime podcast, missing like the pregnant stillness before a murder is confessed in some glaringly florescent-lit interrogation room, before a distended and bloodless corpse washes up on shore.

I turned to Ben. He noticed me eventually, crinkled his brow, shrugged in that way that seemed so petulant if you didn’t know him well enough to not be offended.

I pointed to the flier and raised my eyebrows. Ben twisted around in his chair to look. Then he sighed, scribbled a sentence in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tore it free, and slid it across the table.

Ben’s note read, in atrocious penmanship: Are you seriously asking me if I ate that guy?

Maybe, I wrote back after a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what I was asking; maybe I just wondered if he knew anything about it.

In either case, Ben’s reply was swift and resounding, and underlined three times: No.

Sorry, I wrote, abruptly remorseful. I am a jerk. And I added a frowny face for good measure. Ben chuckled when he saw it, shook his head, gave me a drawn little smirk. His words tiptoed around in my skull, leaving searing imprints like footprints in the sand. I’ll miss you too.

I have to forget about them. I drummed my turquoise blue pen against my notebook as Professor Belvin drew families of molecules on the whiteboard with squealing dry erase markers. I have to find a way to make myself forget.

Jessica was waiting for me in the hallway after class. It was part of her convince-Baby-Swan-not-to-jump-off-a-cliff initiative. “Hey.”

“Okay,” I told her with steely resolve. “I’m ready for you to set me up with one of those guys from your church or temple or whatever. I’m ready to be a nice wholesome wife, pop out like six kids, learn how to scrapbook, give up caffeine and horror movies, do the whole white picket fence thing. Sign me up.”

Jessica blinked at me. There were flecks of fallen mascara on her cheekbones like ashes. “What?”

“You’re a Mormon, right?”

“Girl, I’m not a Mormon,” Jessica said, puzzled. “I’m a witch.”

Lucille

I found Joe where he usually was these days: sprawled on the sofa, engulfed in the same blue Snuggie he’d been wearing for thirty-six uninterrupted hours, gazing catatonically at the big-screen tv. A 90 Day Fiancé marathon was on. Some rodentish guy named Colt was apologizing to his gorgeous, aspiring-green-card-holding Brazilian love interest for calling the cops on her during their last screaming match. He was also apologizing for the fact that they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his mother. I didn’t need clairvoyance to see where their future was headed.

“Hey,” Ben said when he spotted me. He was sitting next to Joe and occasionally tried to shove pieces of popcorn into his mouth, which Joe accepted passively like coins plinked into a gumball machine. Ben had been his shadow for the past week; he was perhaps the best equipped of us to understand this degree of melancholy, of hopelessness.

“Ciao.” And then, to Joe: “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv.

“I figured.” I squeezed between them on the couch, curled up next to Joe, rested my chin on his shoulder. He ignored me completely. I could hear Mercy tapping at her laptop keyboard out in the dining room; she was browsing through Zillow listings in Portland, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Dear god, please don’t let us end up in fucking Cleveland. “Guess what.”

Joe stared at the tv for a long time before he answered. “What.”

“I had a vision of you. Just now, as I was doing laundry. Crystal clear and very scenic too, I might add.”

“Fascinating,” Joe said flatly.

“What happened in this vision?” Ben asked, far more invested, which I was thankful for.

“It was pretty far away, maybe a year from now. I saw you in the desert at night, under a full moon. There were cacti everywhere. The shadow of the Milky Way was threaded through the sky, and the stars were very bright. I could make out the constellations Pegasus and Cassiopeia. You were filling up a tiny glass bottle with dirt.”

“That’s remarkably helpful,” Joe said.

“It is, a little bit,” I insisted. “It means you get through this. That you have a future. I get nervous when I go too long without a vision of someone in the family. But now I know you’re going to be okay.”

The reflections of the feuding 90 Day Fiancé couples danced in his glassy eyes. “Being alive doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“That’s dark,” Ben said. “Even I think that’s too dark.” He pushed a handful of popcorn into Joe’s mouth. “Are you gonna hunt at some point or what?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna sit on this couch and waste away?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to bring you anything? Grizzly bear? Brown bear? Fuck it, I’ll get you a polar bear if that’s what you want. There’s probably some on the black market. Rami would know.”

“He what?” Mercy called from the kitchen. Her typing had stopped.

“Nothing, Mom!” I shot back.

“I don’t want anything,” Joe said. That was a lie, of course. We all knew what he wanted. Rami couldn’t stand to be around him; the thoughts were relentless, smothering.

I linked my arms around Joe’s neck, laid my head against his chest, sighed deeply and mournfully. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll help however I can. We all will.”

And I had accepted that Joe wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally whispered: “I just wish I could forget.”

Cato

My rolling suitcase snagged on the cobblestone driveway. The tiny spinning wheels bashed against concrete as I scaled the front steps. As the taxi pulled away, I dug around in my suit pocket for my keys, found them, unlocked the enormous front door, stepped inside the palace as my suitcase trolled along the marble floor.

“Cato’s back!” Charity announced as she breezed down the nearest staircase, beaming and embracing me. She was a lovely, innately warm woman from Pointe-Noire, Congo; she still wore the silver cross necklace her mother had once given her around her neck. “Did you have a nice flight? Wait, let me check.” She pressed the fingertips of her right hand to my cheek. I felt the memories rush up like blood to a flushed face: the bite of sipped champagne against my tongue, the thin semi-transparent newspaper pages gliding between my fingers, the husky voice of the bearded, bearish naval officer who sat in the seat beside me, the misted silhouette of Vladivostok as it rose up out of the Pacific Ocean. “Uneventful, but pleasant enough. You flew commercial?”

“The jets were otherwise occupied, apparently.” Charity could see things with the predictability and precision that Lucy so often lacked, but only the past. I pushed her hand away. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re not mad,” Charity declared, confident, impish, helping me shed my suit jacket and draping it over her arm. “You’re never mad.”

She was very nearly correct. “Where are the rest of the kids?”

“In the kitchen. Go say hello, they’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“I know the feeling.” I kicked off my Berlutis, ran a palm over the wiry fur of the Irish Wolfhounds that appeared to greet me before they resumed padding watchfully around the palace, and went to the kitchen, my black socks slipping a bit on the marble floors.

I could hear their voices before I reached the door: laughter, teasing, complaints, requests. The scents of pancakes and cold butter and maple syrup were thick in the air. Charity was one of our four newest recruits, and they all still had that energetic lightness of being human, a youthful enthusiasm, a relative normalness. I spent quite a lot of time with them. It was my job—to help with the transition, to keep them happy, to facilitate the welding of their individual parts into the beastly machine that was the Draghi—but oftentimes it felt more like a reprieve. Some would stay close to me as they matured, others would grow in different directions, like ambitious vines climbing the skeleton of a garden trellis. I usually missed them when they ‘grew up,’ so to speak...although there were exceptions. I had never liked Liesl. I had always liked Ben. I opened the door.

“Ah, you are home!” Ksenia cried from where she stood over the stove, a spatula in her right hand, bouncing excitedly in place on her small bare feet.

“Hey!” Max and Austin called together. They were both sitting with their shoes propped up on the unglamorous kitchen table. There was a massive formal dining room that could accommodate up to twenty-five guests, but we rarely used it.

“Good morning,” I said, aware that I was smiling for the first time in days.

Max groaned as he scrolled through his Google search results on a burner phone. “What the fuck. My name is one of the top five dog names again. I think I’m gonna have to change it.”

I ruffled his long blond hair, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. Max had grown up a trust fund kid in Perth, Australia. His mother was old money; his father was a professional surfer. “Your name is fine.”

“Really, Kato Kaelin? Is it really? How am I supposed to intimidate people when I have a fucking dog name?”

“So make them call you Maximilian,” offered Ksenia in a heavy Ukrainian accent. She’d only been with us for eight months, but her English was coming along swimmingly. She flipped a massive A-shaped pancake on the sizzling griddle. That one was for Austin.

“Seriously?” Max said. “That is just way too many syllables. They’ll be halfway down the block by the time I’m done introducing myself. ‘Hey, come back mate, I haven’t killed ya yet.’”

“At least you aren’t stuck with a basic-white-boy-circa-1992 name for all of eternity,” said Austin Tyler McInerny, originally of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. He was chomping on a multicolored Fruit Roll-Up, which swung from his mouth like a lizard’s tongue. He’d been working at an ailing skatepark when Larkin found him. He still enjoyed showing off his kickflips, and kept insisting that he was going to teach me how to ollie. I didn’t have the faintest idea what an ollie was.

“Do you want a pancake, Cato?” Ksenia asked, passing Austin his plate and wiping her hands on her pink apron. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon. She looked so young. She was so young, actually. Nineteen. And she would be forever.

“No, thank you dear. I’m alright.”

“I like Alaric,” Max decided. “First king of the Visigoths. Alaric is a name fit for a vampire. Creepy, yet dignified. Or maybe Silas. Or Draco.”

Austin shook his head as he swirled a river of viscous maple syrup over his A-shaped pancake. “Definitely not Draco.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Harry Potter connection is unfortunate. People will hear Draco and think of that obnoxious white-haired kid from the evil snake-people house or whatever.”

“Oh, right,” Max sighed. “Like I said. Alaric would work.”

“So many A-shaped pancakes!” Ksenia poured a K on the griddle for herself.

“It’s good for you,” Austin replied, pointing at her with his fork. “We’re practicing English.”

“Alaric Luther,” Max mused, scrolling through his phone. I didn’t think he’d find that on any list of trendy dog names. “Alaric Lothaire...Alaric Lucian...”

“I like your name, Max,” Larkin said from the doorway. None of us had heard him arrive. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a deep maroon suit and a ring on every finger, grinning hugely. He was exactly as I remembered him: stunning, captivating, terrifying. The kitchen fell quiet. I could smell Ksenia’s pancake beginning to burn.

At last Max chuckled nervously, pushing soggy pancake hunks around on his plate with his fork, averting his gaze. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Larkin told me.

“It’s always a pleasure to be home.”

He nodded out towards the hallway. “Come. Regale me with the stories of your travels.” Then his eyes flicked down to my socks, and he grimaced—slightly, briefly—before turning away. “And find your shoes.”

I followed him through the hallway, the living room, the grand front foyer with the crystal chandelier, into the elevator. Larkin did not speak, but he hummed as we ascended: House Of The Rising Sun.

It hadn’t always been like this. It was difficult for me to pick out the details of what had changed—the tone of his voice, the proportion of wonder and gratitude I associated with him versus fear, the way this palace (or the one in Reykjavik, or Juneau, or Ivalo, or Murmansk, or any of the others) felt when I stepped inside it—but I knew something had. It had begun before Ben left. It was much worse now. Older vampires, in my fairly learned opinion, are something like the stars. They mellow as they age, temper their character flaws, grow wise and patient like Nikolai or Honora or Gwilym Lee; or they rage until they burn away every last atom of humanity, until they destroy themselves and take entire solar systems down with them. Increasingly, I harbored fears that Larkin was a vampire of the latter variety. And we were all his planets.

In his study, Larkin dropped into the chair behind his desk, brought a hand to his forehead, surveyed a disarrayed flurry of papers: letters, notices, deeds and titles, meticulously managed accounts of finances and disciplinary actions. Larkin had a laptop and burner phone, of course, as we all did; but he liked to work in paper as much as possible. That’s how he’d done things for centuries, since long before the name of the inventor of the internet (or harnessed electricity, for that matter) was a whisper on his parents’ lips. The sky outside was clouded and seeping soft rain.

“Things have been busy?” I ventured.

He frowned, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “I’m in purgatory.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“The Lancaster coven says they’ll need an extension for their dues. That’s the second year in a row, now it’s not just an exception, it’s a precedent. If you let one coven bend the rules, others will follow. So something will have to be done. Then there’s Stockholm. Anders’ coven has eaten a few too many locals—including the mayor’s favorite niece—and now the city is launching an investigation. Fucking idiots. They’ll probably all have to relocate. There’s some new territory dispute in Lima between Alejandro’s coven and a group of strangers that just came out of the Andes. We’ll have to make their acquaintance, of course. And as if all that weren’t enough, Rigel accidentally fed on a heroin addict and he’s currently detoxing in a cell in the basement. Would you check on him for me? I’m sure your presence will be a...” He waved his hand distractedly, almost dismissively, searching for the words. “A comfort to him.”

“Of course.”

“How are the Lees?”

“Fine. Typical. Gwil’s putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. Rami’s planning to get another law degree. Ben is, uh, adjusting. Slowly, very slowly. He’s not particularly content. But he hasn’t murdered anyone that I’m aware of.”

“How nice.” Now his eyes darted up to catch mine: focused, luminous, unreadable. “Nothing new at all?”

And instantly, I wanted to tell him everything. I forgot why I had ever planned to blunt the girl’s existence, to conceal her talent entirely; I felt her name rising in my throat. And then I remembered again. I’m doing this for Gwil, for Ben.

I pretended to ponder Larkin’s question, as if it was so difficult to remember, as if there was nothing left to sift through but a trunkful of mundane details from the trip like a grandfather’s tattered correspondence and tarnished war relics. That was something an average family might have squirreled away in their attic, I assumed; I’d never met my own grandfather, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have had anything to leave me if I had. “Joe’s got some new girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s serious. I doubt she’ll be around long. You know how Joe is. Scarlett’s seeing someone too, actually. A Quileute kid.”

“Poor boy.” And Larkin grinned like a shark beneath burning eyes. “He’s in for a lifetime of disappointment. Who will ever be able to hold a candle to those memories?”

Larkin had a moderate preoccupation with Scarlett’s beauty, her...tenacity. Her lack of talent was a great disappointment to him, a somehow more egregious fault than Joe or Gwil or Mercy’s. What a shame, Larkin often said. And I believed I knew what came after in his mind, although never aloud: What a partner she could have been.

He was still grinning at me. His expression was hollow, vacuous. A shiver clawed down my spine. He was waiting for something. No, he was searching. I stared back, and I willed for that intangible, contagious harmony I carried around like a wedding ring to hit him like carbon monoxide or bromine: undetected and yet inexorable, knocking him off his path of inquisition.

What does he suspect? What does he already know?

“Anyway,” Larkin continued abruptly, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “I’m glad there’s nothing to worry about in Forks. Liesl will be back in the next few days, Rigel will be ready to work again, I’ll come up with a plan to handle all this and my mood will improve tremendously.”

And where has Liesl been? I almost asked; and then I didn’t. It was a good sign that she was coming home. I had looked for her once while I was in Forks. When I made up my mind to find someone—when that switch flipped in my skull or in the tangle of nerves of my solar plexus or wherever it lived—it wasn’t like poking around on Google Earth: zooming in here, scrolling over there. A goldish trail lit up on the floor, a ‘Yellow Brick Road’ Honora and I sometimes joked, and I followed it. And I had no way of knowing how far that trail might lead. A route heading dead east from the palace might stop in the next town over or continue across the Pacific Ocean; my search might last one day or a hundred. In Forks—as I perched in a soaring western hemlock tree in the forest outside the Lee residence on a cool October evening—Liesl’s trail had led north. North to Vancouver, to Victoria, to Dawson, to Alaska? Who the fuck knew. I was just relieved it hadn’t led to the tree next to mine.

“Well, as always, I’m happy to assist however I can,” I told Larkin. “Just let me know and I’ll be on the next flight out of Vladivostok.”

“I appreciate that, Cato.” He smiled, paternally this time. And then he spun his chair around to peer out the window into the episodic flares of lightning that illuminated great dark clouds like neurons in a celestial brain. I hate thunderstorms. They remind me of South Carolina. “But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

After checking in on Rigel—irritable, frenetic, pacing, and yet predictably pacified somewhat by my visit—I trotted up the main staircase to the second floor of the palace. I found her in our bedroom: sitting at her easel, a paintbrush held in one graceful hand, an image like a photograph on the canvas. I promptly pried off my Berlutis for the second time today and tossed them into the closet.

“Ciao, amore,” I said.

“Ciao!” Honora replied, beaming. Her curly brunette hair was pinned up and away from her face; wayward tendrils spiraled down to brush her bare shoulder blades, the back of her neck. “Just give me five minutes...I have to finish the shadow of this tree...”

There weren’t many in the Draghi who survived the transition from Nikolai’s leadership to Larkin’s, but Honora had. She was gentle to a fault, a hopeless warrior, turned into an immortal on her forty-fourth birthday when Rome was still an empire; and she was without any talents whatsoever, except for one which was useless in combat. Her paintings, drawings, and sculptures adorned every palace the Draghi owned. Each year, Larkin would ask her to paint all of us together, incorporating any new faces, erasing the memories of those who had proven themselves unworthy. One such portrait, I knew, hung in Gwilym Lee’s home office.

I went to the woman I called my wife, laid my palms on her shoulders, leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take your time, love.”

“Everything’s alright?” Honora asked, looking hopefully up at me with large, wide-set jade eyes. No, not just hopefully. Trustingly.

“Everything’s alright,” I agreed, not knowing if I believed it.

Shadows And Spells

“He just...just...disappeared?!” Jessica sputtered, scandalized, gaping at me as she held a Styrofoam cup of spiked apple cider in her clasped hands.

We were on a quilt near the outskirts of the sea of beach towels and blankets that circled the bonfire. Women—wearing flowing dresses or robes or tunics or not very much at all—flounced around the flames banging tambourines and reciting chants that I didn’t know the words to. Some carried torches, beacons of heat and light in the darkness. Jessica was wearing a short black shirt, fishnet tights, and a black crop-top turtleneck sweater; I had opted for a bohemian blue dress patterned with stars, an old thrift shop find and the closest thing I owned to Wiccan festivities apparel. I had a cup of hot apple cider as well, enhanced with a generous splash of Captain Morgan, but hadn’t quite conjured up the rebelliousness to drink it yet.

I suddenly recalled Mercy bringing me an endless supply of virgin autumnal sangrias as Joe and I swam in the hot tub on the Lees’ back porch. As soon as you turn twenty-one, you can have the real thing. I frowned, shuddered, took a bitter and burning sip.

“Yeah,” I replied. “He told his roommate he was going to a frat party or something and never showed up and never made it back home either. The parents are blaming the university, the university is insisting he must be off with a girlfriend or on some hipster soul-searching nature adventure or whatever, it’s a mess.”

“Jesus,” she murmured. “What does your dad say?”

“He’s been helping the state police with the investigation. There’s really no evidence of anything. No witnesses, no footprints, no surveillance footage, no handy anonymous tips...”

“No body,” Jessica finished.

“That’s morbid.” I downed the rest of my cider. Was the world already beginning to list like a ship on choppy waves, or was that just my imagination? I guess it would be possible. I’d barely eaten all day.

“You were thinking it.”

“Well, one’s mind does tend to wander towards homicide under such circumstances.”

“It is the season of the dead.” She grinned wickedly, then took my empty cup. “He’s probably fine. I bet he wants to drop out to become a weed farmer and hasn’t worked up the guts to tell his parents yet. You want another?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” Jess rose to balance on black boots with five-inch heels and staggered off to the foldable table piled high with cans and bottles and snacks. I was getting the impression that her Wiccanism was more of a novelty than a spiritual commitment.

The season of the dead. Now that’s VERY morbid.

There were some guys laughing, smoking home-rolled cigarettes, and toasting glasses of red wine on a nearby mandala blanket, bespectacled intellectual types who were probably getting PhDs in Anthropology or Medieval Studies at the University of Washington. One of them—curly-haired, pale-eyed, wearing a sweater vest and a cautious smile—raised his wine glass in my direction. I waved back without much enthusiasm.

“He’s cute, right?” Jessica asked, plopping back down onto our quilt and shoving a full cup of spiked cider into my grasp. She motioned for me to drink. I did. “That’s Sebastian, but he likes to be called Bash. He’s twenty-three and speaks fluent German.”

“Charming.”

“He’s very...uh...gifted. I’m not saying I know from personal experience, but I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. And his parents own a beach house in Monterey. You could go skinny-dipping.”

“In the ocean?” The world was definitely wobbling now. I was warm all over, numbed, fuzzy; it was becoming difficult to picture Joe’s face, to hear his voice. This was good. I kept drinking. “No thanks. Too many sharks. They have great whites down there.”

Jess tossed her long, loose hair and sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So you should pursue that.”

“I’ll totally consider it.” I lied. I would not consider it.

She smiled, sympathetically, fondly. “I can’t believe you thought I was a Mormon.”

“I can’t believe I’m out in the Washington wilderness commemorating the Gaelic festival of Samhain, but here we all are.”

Jess glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“Ugh.” I craned my neck to see. Sebastian—whoops, my mistake, Bash—was approaching. “Please distract him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Also I’m pretty sure I’m getting drunk and I don’t want to do anything humiliating, like sob uncontrollably about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchu, Baby Swan.”

“Hey Jess,” Bash said, but he was looking at me. He pitched his cigarette off into the trees. What the fuck, who does that?

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” I told him in a woozy, mock-Smokey Bear voice.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Jess said quickly. “So what’s up? Come on, sit with me. Keep me toasty. Teach me some German...”

As they chatted and giggled and snuggled closer together—I’m starting to think that Jessica might have been her own reliable source—I studied the forest, watching to make sure the cigarette didn’t begin to smolder in the damp brush. The voices and crackling of the bonfire and sharp ringing of the tambourines faded into one muted, uniform drone. The trees reeled in the haze of the spiked cider; the cool wind moaned through them. And then, for only a second: a glimpse of something impossibly quick, something silvery and reedy and sunless.

What was that?

I blinked. It was gone. I blinked again, staring penetratingly. The swarming heat from the cider evaporated from my skin, my blood. There were goosebumps rising all over me.

What the hell was that?

I remembered how Calawah University students sometimes reacted to Ben: flinching, withdrawing, autonomically fearing him on some primal, evolutionary level. They knew he was a predator. They knew they were prey. It was chillingly similar to what I was feeling now.

I have to get out of here. I have to go home.

I shot to my feet. Oh, wrong move, that was too quick. I swayed, and Jessica reached up to steady me. “Are you—?!”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I gotta go home now.”

“What?! We just got here! Look, chill out, let me get you some vegan samosas or something—”

“No, seriously, I have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica conceded. “I’ll finish my drink and we’ll call an Uber, alright?”

“Really?” Bash asked, crestfallen.

“I’ll call an Uber,” I told Jess. “You stay, I’ll go.” Maybe she shouldn’t stay, I thought foggily, irrationally. Maybe it’s not safe.

“I can’t let you go alone. I got you drunk and now you’re a mess and if you end up murdered it would be my fault. There are unsolved mysteries going around, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Girl, there’s no way I’m gonna—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get in the Uber and I’ll stay on until I’m physically inside my house, okay?”

Jessica considered this. Bash leaned in to nibble her ear. I could smell the red wine and nicotine and animalistic lust sweating out of his pores. And unexpectedly, agonizingly: a biting flare, a muscle memory, Joe’s fingertips skimming down the small of my back and his scent like winter nights saturating the capillary beds of my lungs. Stop, stop, stop. “Okay,” Jess agreed at last.

“Awesome.” I was already opening the Uber app on my iPhone.

My driver was a Pacific Northwestern version of Santa Claus: wild grey beard, red flannel, L.L.Bean boots, rambling about his upcoming trip to hunt caribou in British Columbia. I honored my promise to Jessica and kept her on speakerphone for the duration of the twenty-minute drive. I rested my whirling head against the seat, let my eyes dip closed, watched the intermittent streetlights appear and disappear through my eyelids. I let myself into Charlie’s house when I arrived, wished Jessica goodnight (and reminded her not to get pregnant), and meandered clumsily into the kitchen for a glass of water and a cookie dough Pop-Tart to ward off a possible hangover. Charlie was snoring quietly on the living room couch. I watched him for a while, smiling and achingly grateful, before heading upstairs to my bedroom.

My window was wide open; that’s the first thing I noticed. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I was always neglecting to lock the window, sure—I kept forgetting that there was no one to leave it unlocked for anymore—but I hadn’t left it open when I went to meet Jessica this evening. Icy night air flooded in. The stars were bright and furious in an uncommonly clear sky.

“You trying to give me pneumonia, old man?” I muttered, thinking of Charlie. I tossed my iPhone down onto my bed and crossed the room to close the window. And as it creaked and collided with the sill, I heard my closet door open behind me.

Someone’s here. Someone’s in this room with me.

I turned, very slowly; it felt like it took a lifetime. She was standing in the doorway of my closet, sinuous and white-haired, wearing black leather pants and stiletto heels and a long-sleeved lace blouse the color of blood, the color of her eyes. And she was harrowingly beautiful; not like Lucy or Mercy, not like Scarlett. She was beautiful like a prehistoric jawbone, like a serrated crescent moon, like a blade.

The owl. The goddamn albino owl.

I recognized her immediately. I heard Joe’s words as he introduced each vampire in the immense painting hanging in Dr. Lee’s upstairs office to me, though I desperately didn’t want to: She’s literally Satan, only blonder.

Her name tumbled from my trembling lips. “Liesl.”

“Wonderful, we can skip the introductions.” Her voice was like windchimes, cutting and brisk, with a hint of an Austrian accent like a shadow. Now she was at my bedside and picking up my phone, scrolling through it with lightning-quick and dexterous thumbs. “Hm. No texts from any of the Lees in the past week. So we don’t have to worry about them dropping by, I suppose. Joe got bored with you already, huh?”

“Evidently.” My own voice was brittle, anemic, weak; just like my ineffectual human body.

“That’s quick, even for him. How sad.” She sighed, tucking my iPhone into her red Chanel purse. “There’s a private jet waiting at the Forks Airport. Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

“Please don’t hurt my dad,” I whispered, scalding tears brimming in my eyes.

“Of course not,” Liesl replied with a savage, saccharine smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

51 notes · View notes

americas-golden-boy · 3 years

Text

Worth a Thousand Words

Summary: “Steve Rogers, every inch of his All-American glory, was looking at her expectantly with that same boyishly mischievous expression he had been sporting the few times she had seen him up close. One that really shouldn't blend in so easily with the rest of him but was an integral part of his persona, or at least that's what she gathered from the bits and pieces of conversations about him she'd been subjected to hearing.

Because that was definitely what she had predicted, and definitely made all the sense in the world.”

AKA Steve has never talked to the woman that sits in the front row of his lecture hall twice a week but that doesn't stop his hopeless crush on her.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

Word Count: 3,159

She was being watched.

She had absolutely no proof other than a gut feeling, but the sensation of eyes on the back of her head burnt with a heat strong enough to brand her, and more than once has the skin of her arms and neck prickled uncomfortably with goosebumps despite the surprisingly warm temperatures of late fall.

It made her feel silly, really, and more than a little narcissistic, to think that anyone would invest time in watching her. She couldn't even write it off as the uncomfortable leering that she had been victim to on a couple of occasions she had gone off-campus at night.

No, it was the most random of times, in the most obscure places, always busy enough that she could never pin down the source of her unusual company when she chanced a scan of the area.

It's a Thursday night, and after three weeks of enduring this cat and mouse game she's found herself in, she's strongly considering just going up to each person in the common room when she feels the sensation tickle its way down the nape of her neck again.

Before she got the chance to weigh all the pros and cons of embarrassing herself, the cat made itself known.

By sitting right across from her at the otherwise empty table.

Startled by the sudden presence in front of her, her eyes snap up from the book they'd been buried in, the hand which had been steadily dictating her notes pausing in the middle of a line as her train of thought came to an abrupt stop.

Sharing her space with unfamiliar company was not an uncommon occurrence, for her or any of the other people that frequented the open areas available to students at all hours of the day, but at a little past 11 P.M., there were few people spread out across the expansive room, and even fewer reasons for anyone to sit so close.

She found herself being thankful for carpeted floors as the man abruptly pulled the chair out, spinning it around and sliding forward to straddle it all in one movement, draping his crossed arms across the back with a practiced sort of elegance that did not quite match the situation or his size.

And his size was, frankly, quite hard to ignore.

Her immediate response was to be intimidated by the broad expanse of solid chest and wide shoulders that made the chair look almost uncomfortably small as the muscles in his arms strained under the stretched material of his shirt—really it was almost another layer of skin, as tight as it was—to prop his chin on an open palm.

But then she met his eyes and—

Oh, she thought dumbly.

Steve Rogers, every inch of his All-American glory, was looking at her expectantly with that same boyishly mischievous expression he had been sporting the few times she had seen him up close. One that really shouldn't blend in so easily with the rest of him but was an integral part of his persona, or at least that's what she gathered from the bits and pieces of conversations about him she'd been subjected to hearing.

Because that was definitely what she had predicted, and definitely made all the sense in the world.

With the way his smirk grew, she had a feeling he was perfectly aware of the confusion he was causing in her.

Perfectly justified confusion, she reminds herself before any misplaced guilt can creep up on her, considering they had never interacted properly.

In fact, as she tried racking her brain for any reason he would have for approaching her, she came up with exactly zero. Possibly one, if he was trying to bum notes off of her for the lecture they shared two days a week.

Not that he made a habit of doing that to people, as far as she knew anyway, but she wouldn't put it past him to use his charm and prestige for his own benefit.

As unfair as she knew it was to him, her expectations of the widely popular were subpar at best, and considering his reputation stretched far enough that even she recognized him, he certainly fit into that category.

Seemingly satisfied that he had her full attention, he reached out the hand that he had been leaning on, smirk stretching out into a full smile, laugh lines pulling on his cheeks matching the soft crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

He really is handsome. It's almost unfair.

"(Y/N), right?" He said by way of greeting, breaking the near silence of the room with ringing clarity even with the low level of his voice.

The fact that he knew who she was added a fresh layer of bewilderment to the mix, and she couldn’t even begin to sort through the possible implications of him possessing that information.

Looking between his hand and his face, she placed her pen down and took it in her own, just a moment shy of an awkward pause before nodding.

His grip on her hand was confident but gentle, shaking it once before letting her retract it back into the safety of her lap, leaning on the top of his chair with crossed arms once again.

"I'm Steve, it's nice to meet you."

Of course, she already knows that, but isn't sure if admitting it would be awkward or a boost to his ego, and since neither one really sounded like a good option, so she opted for another weak nod of acknowledgment and a half-smile.

If her lack of response was odd to him, he did a good job of hiding it, face still as open and unfaltering as the moment he sat down.

"So, I admit, this is...odd. I'm sorry for disturbing your study session, I just haven't had a good chance to talk to you before or after class and I saw you while I was cutting through on my way to my friend's dorm so..." he trailed off with a soft huff of a laugh, eyebrows faintly pinching together with the slight tilt of his head.

He wanted to talk to me? She repeated to herself. He doesn't seem angry, so I probably didn't upset him unintentionally. Not that I would have had a chance to, I don't think I've ever even sat by him before.

There was a long string of questions that she'd like to unload on him but with the way his smile was starting to falter she decided to put them both out of their misery and settle for one to start.

Flipping the notebook laid out in front of her to a blank page she wrote as quickly as she dared, aiming for both speed and legibility, knowing from experience that her nerves can reduce her handwriting to chicken scratch if she wasn't careful.

Are you the person who has been following me?

She lifted the note for him to see, watching his eyes flick across the line before his eyebrows shot towards his hairline, wide eyes meeting hers as his hands rose to wave almost frantically in front of him.

"No!" He exclaimed, the sudden volume of his voice drawing a wince from the both of them as she glanced at the only two other students in the room, who had both paused to look over at their table.

Steve's head dipped in an apologetic nod in their direction before turning his attention back to her.

"No, I wasn't following you," he started, voice much quieter but not lacking any of the conviction of his initial outburst. "I promise, I really haven't been, I just—we have a class together, and we live in the same building. The campus is only so big, so I, uh, I see you around sometimes," he rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes dropping from hers briefly in a moment of sheepishness that was a stark difference from his usual self-assured bravado.

"Honestly I didn't think you would have noticed, and I'm really sorry, but my friends, they uh—" he continued on, his words beginning to come out in a rush of air— "when I mentioned wanting to talk to you they took it upon themselves to tell me if they saw you around. Trying to help me find an opportunity I guess. I would have made them stop sooner if I had known it was making you uncomfortable," he reassured quickly, taking note of her baffled expression.

All she could do was stare, eyes flittering around his face in an attempt to find a tell that he was lying. When she found none, she was honestly relieved, not just because he didn't seem to have any malicious intent, but also because she now had confirmation that she wasn't crazy.

Now that I know I'm not just paranoid, what is it you needed to talk to me about?

She flipped the notebook around once again, watching as he hesitantly turned his attention to it, his fear of a negative reaction clear as day across his face. It was endearing, really.

"I just wanted to—actually, if you don't mind me asking first, why are you writing your responses? I feel like I need to get my own pen out, breaking the quiet all on my own."

The question wasn't an unexpected one and she was frankly surprised it had taken him as long as it did to ask. That didn't stop the uncomfortable pang in her chest that usually came with that line of questioning. While it wasn’t necessarily uncommon for her to use a pen and paper to communicate, the select group of people that wanted to converse with her had more efficient ways.

I can’t speak. Most people don't know ASL, and I thought a text-to-speech app might be too awkward if you weren’t expecting it. Sorry.

And she was, really. While she knew it wasn't her fault, she also knew how tedious a transition process it could be for someone who had never held a conversation with her before to adjust to the pacing. Some people just weren't patient enough, or it made them feel awkward.

He read the note, and then reread it, and then read it once again. He gently worried at his bottom lip, releasing it as he opened his mouth, only to shut it once again as his lips pinched together.

He seemed to finally decide on what to say, straightening his shoulders a bit and clasping his hands together.

"So, you're...mute? Is that the correct term to use?" He asked , articulating his question slowly while watching her face.

She found the corners of her lips quirking up at his concern of possibly offending her. That alone was already more than she got out of similar exchanges.

I personally don’t mind it much, but it’s normally frowned upon. Non-speaking is your best bet.

She slid over the notebook, trying to gauge his reaction for a hint of how the rest of this conversation is going to go, if he didn’t simply excuse himself to avoid a situation that he most definitely did not predict or ask for.

And then felt like she would have tipped straight over from the way he beamed at her, if not for already being securely supported in her seat.

There has to be something wrong with him, she found herself thinking.

"Okay. I’m glad I didn’t offend you, thank you for telling me. I honestly don't know much about what to do to make this easier for you—" was he pouting now?— "would yes or no questions be better? I don't want to make you write a lot if you don't want to. Or...would you like me to leave?" By the time he reaches the end of his ramble, his nerves had obviously caught up to his mouth, head dipping and jerking his thumb in the general direction of the door leading to the outdoor walkway.

If anyone else had asked her that, she would have assumed it was asked as a chance for an out, a polite way to say, "I think it would be best if I left, are you going to let me?" But with the way he prefaced it so naturally with eager attempts at maintaining and extending their time together in a way that benefits her, she couldn’t find it in herself to immediately presume the worst.

In fact, the entire situation was so absolutely bizarre and random and Steve is staring at her with this disarmingly charming expression looking like he is about five seconds away from bolting for the door, and she just can’t help it.

She laughs.

~~~~~

She’s laughing.

Or at least that’s what he’s assuming, with the way her head tips back and the warm flush across the bridge of her nose spreads to her cheeks as she smiles. They’ve been in the same lecture and dorm for months and he’s not sure if he’s ever seen her face light up quite like that.

The sounds that push their way past her lips are short and clipped, raspy in a way that suggests disuse but warm enough to be melodic despite their discordant nature.

Just as suddenly as she started, she stops. Slapping a hand over her mouth, she snaps her head back down to look at him with wide eyes before quickly checking across the room where the last students had been sitting previously, shoulders slumping with obvious relief to find the seats empty.

For a moment he truly feels ashamed, because as wary as she seemed to be about the sound, he’s already dying to hear it again.

The hand that had been resting over her mouth moved to her brows, tilting down enough to hide her eyes from his view but not the harsh scarlett that was crawling across her visible skin, from the tips of her ears to the base of her throat. If he wasn’t feeling ashamed before, he certainly is when he has to cut off the burst of curiosity that cuts across his mind wondering how far the flush could go.

Shaking his head like it will physically remove the risqué thought, he reaches one hand forward to softly tap the table near her notebook.

“You okay under there? I’m not quite sure what I said, but there’s no one else in here but you and me.”

He feels like he’s done something very wrong and he’s not even sure where to begin to backtrack as he combs over his last statement.

She thinks you’re an idiot, you probably managed to offend her.

He really, really hopes that isn’t the case though, because he’s been trying to build up the courage to talk to her properly for months and while he’s become a bit better about socializing since he got back from the army, he’s still absolutely hopeless with women, something that Bucky likes to remind him of frequently.

The second Natasha found out why her attempts at getting him to go on blind dates were being shut down so quickly, she was absolutely ruthless in her ribbing, as harmless as it may have been.

Before he can fully consider standing to leave, she’s dropping her hand to her pen, meeting his eyes with a slight pull at the corner of her lips before leaning down to write.

Waiting for her to finish writing is the most nerve-wracking thing he can remember going through in recent memory, and the soft thump of his heel against the carpet is almost as fast as his heartbeat by the time the action even registers and he forces his leg to still.

Coming to a stop almost halfway down the page, her pen rests against the paper for a beat before she hastily caps it with a firm nod and pushes the notebook onto his half of the table.

This might be the most thorough rejection I’ve ever faced, he thinks sardonically, spinning the notebook around.

Then he reads the first line, and his head shoots up to look at her. He must look a bit ridiculous, if the growing smile on her face is anything to go by.

She gestures with a wave of her hand towards the notebook and he clears his throat with an awkward chuckle as he looks back down at the paper.

I would really like it if you didn’t leave. I’m sorry for laughing, but you’re just so nice I was surprised. I would be lying if I said I didn’t already know who you are, but I just didn’t expect you to be interested. This whole situation is very random but I think that’s the first time I’ve laughed out loud in a long time. I understand if you change your mind, or if I’m overstepping, but if it’s not too forward, I think I’d like to talk to you too. Maybe when it’s not the middle of the night.

~~~~~

As soon as she slid the notebook across the table she itched to grab it back. She nipped at the tip of her thumb between her teeth to fight the urge, pulling her other arm to curl around her stomach.

What if I misunderstood what he was trying to tell me? He seemed so nice but maybe he’ll regret it now that he’s actually been around me a bit. When was the last time you even went on a date? Oh god, he’s already reading it, maybe I—

“Are you busy tomorrow?”

She’s abruptly pulled out of her spiraling doubts so fast she gets mental whiplash, and she focuses back on him as she considers if she misheard.

He’s beaming at her again, the corner of his eyes crinkling and one side pulling on his cheek just slightly higher than the other, the same boyish charm from earlier peeking its way through. He tilted his head as he leaned in towards her, and the cage holding her butterflies was absolutely demolished, sending her heart fluttering at a pace that’s almost painful.

The question finally caught up to her at his expectant look, and with a shake of her head, he let out a satisfied hum and smacks the table lightly with both hands before reaching to grab the pen, scribbling down a hasty addition to the bottom of the page before putting both items back in her space.

Pushing himself to stand, he spun the chair back into its original position before addressing her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow (Y/N),” he said with a wink, walking backwards a few steps before turning and making his way out of the doors.

She stared at his retreating back with a small smile that only grew as she peered down at his note.

Steve

XXX - XXX- XXXX

Text me when you’re free, hopefully I’ll have enough time to learn to greet you properly next time.

#steve rogers #steve #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america fanfiction #marvel #mcu #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #avengers imgagine #avengers fanfiction #fluff #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #college au

36 notes · View notes

stevenbasic · 4 years

Photo

“Oh good god…” I muttered to myself, scrolling to the new pic Melissa had posted, just an hour ago, “what the fuck is she doing..?” I’d finished my sad little meal, at my sad little table, and now sat on my sad little couch in my sad little apartment, and knew - despite the disquiet this post brought me - I’d need to unzip and-

<knock knock> came a rap on the door.

Who the..?? It was 9pm, on a Tuesday night. Who would be...knocking...now?!? No one knows I’m even here unless it’s…

I dropped my phone, jumped up off the old green cushions, and tucked everything back.

...Sheryl??

Could it be her? Here to talk? Maybe start to fix things? In a rush of anxiety, I looked about. The harsh fluorescents of the overhead room lights were off, the main illumination in the room cane from a cheap gooseneck floor lamp aside the couch, painting shadows onto the far wall. I’d cleaned up a bit...if by cleaned I meant pushed aside most of the cardboard boxes holding my roughly-packed stuff. I wanted the place to look nicer if this was indeed my newly-estranged wife but nonetheless I stepped towards the door, reaching out my hand for the knob, when I heard the voice:

“Dr JJJJJJJ….” it came, unmistakably both nasal and smoky - and then a series of new knocks, “...let us innnnnn….”

Oh no. Randi.

My heart stopped, sank, then picked up. Randi?!? How did she know I was here?!? I hadn’t said a word to anyone in the office and now-

I looked through the peephole:

There’s three of them!!?!

Randi, Josie and Lakshmi, all dressed up for a night out, two of them carrying what looked like trays of food, and all giggling wide-eyed in the hallway outside my “secret” apartment…not so secret anymore, I guess. I had wanted, for as long as I could, to keep this all hush-hush. I didn’t want anyone at work to know that Sheryl and I had separated, that she’d thrown me out of the house, that I’d be living for the time being in a pathetic little apartment above the office. But, it seemed, my secret was out. And if these three knew, I thought with a shiver, Melissa must-

“C’mon..!” Randi demanded, her face abruptly filling my entire view through the peephole, as she tried to gaze through it herself from the other side, “Let us in!!”

Oh Jesus.

Knowing I shouldn’t, I found myself opening the door. “Hi, uh- how..?”

In a moment, the girls were inside: first Josie, then Lakshmi, then Randi. I was shocked as - parading past me with their party heels on - they were each at least as tall as me, Josie and Randi certainly taller. I tried to hide my dismay, and acutely felt my lost inches as they strutted into my space. Randi eyed me up and down, and aside from feeling short I suddenly also felt silly, dressed for bed already in my thin cotton shorts and grey tee shirt while they were all made up to the nines, hair and make-up. “We heard Sheryl kicked you out,” Randi said, bluntly, as she and the others glanced around the room, taking it in, in all its...meagerness, “so we brought some food.” The look on their faces, as they scanned the bare walls, the crummy furniture, was a mix of distaste (Josie), pity (Lakshmi), and amusement (Randi). “Well, I can't cook,” Randi added further, “so I just dressed up pretty.”

She certainly was, uh...dressed pretty, all three girls were. Party dresses on them all, each one smaller and tighter than the next. Randi’s, a sleekly strapless black number that ran high up her shapely thighs and showed off the top shelf of two surprisingly full breasts, was the raciest of the bunch.

As if catching my eyes roving Randi, Josie tossed her long, silky, brown hair and spoke up. “Don’t you like Lakshmi’s dress too?” she said, “We’re taking her out dancing. I let her borrow it.” As I admired the fit of Lakshmi’s form-fitting, sleeveless minidress - orange and grey with criss-crossing stripes - Josie continued. “Mimi, show him how nice your ass looks... ” Lakshmi looked shy but obviously proud as she turned, swiveled her womanly hips in a liquid, casually sultry move, one I didn’t think she’d be capable of, and giggled. Her rear was much larger than I’d imagined, maybe just accentuated by her four-inch heels and the way her dress clung to her narrow waist. Anyway, it looked round and shapely and soft and the way it rolled...god, this is Lakshmi?? Where had she been hiding that thing??

“We’re due at the club soon…” Randi explained, obviously ignoring my near-outright leering of her friend, primping her own hair in the cheap, plastic-framed mirror on the back of the door, “...but we wanted to stop by here first...”

“...in case you were lonely...” Josie continued, smiling at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“...or hungry…” Lakshmi offered, having turned back to me with her plate of food, covered by tin foil. In the meantime Josie had placed her tray down on my little coffee table, and was competing with Randi for space in the mirror, adjusting the fit of her ensemble. From behind, both other girls were no slouches either. Josie in particular had a remarkably fine butt, high and round and obviously gym-toned. She looked coltish in her tight little dress of scalloped orange chiffon, like a girl that had just grown into her curves.

“...but it looks like you’re just thirsty,” Randi concluded, catching me ogling Josie’s ass, our eyes now meeting in the mirror.

I turned away as she - mocking me already with her smile - continued to primp aside Josie.

Not knowing what to say, I looked to Lakshmi behind me, who was once again innocently gazing about the one-room apartment, such as it was. “D-don’t you girls normally do happy hour on Tuesday nights?” I awkwardly asked, steering conversation as far as I could away from myself and my...home situation.

“We do,” Randi answered, taking my attention again as we both now watched Josie struggling to straighten her too-short skirt, pulling down on its hem, “but Missy’s... going through some things. So we’re just going dancing, meeting the other girls out.”

“And, we wanted to cook for you,” Josie added, finally turning back towards me, smoothing her dress with both hands running down her youthful curves.

“I made empanadas..!” Lakshmi chirped, causing me to turn again. The bright white teeth of her smile gleamed proudly from the rich brown of her complexion as she held her plate up, an offering. “Are you hungry now, Dr. J?” she asked, eyes wide, “We can make you a plate?”

Thinking back for the moment on the takeout styrofoam meatloaf I’d had, I answered. “n-no, I just ate,” I said, flinching as a hand was suddenly on my shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you sit down, then…” Randi purred, urging me backwards the couple steps it would take to get me back to the couch, “...the girls will put the food away.”

“My mom made this lasagna,” Josie said, “it’s really good.”

Before I knew it, I was slumped back on my couch, watching as Josie and Lakshmi had taken their trays and moved to the kitchenette in the corner, trying to find room in the half-size fridge for the meals. Randi was seated close, perched on the coffee table facing me, our knees nearly touching.

“Your place is really nice,” Lakshmi called, rearranging the few things I had on the shelves of the fridge, making room, “I like it.”

“Th-thanks,” I offered, painfully aware of the pity in her voice, and the pitiful state I’d found myself in. It was humiliating! Here I was, their employer, a man nearly twice their age living like a shamefaced dog in his abject little den. I knew I needed to stand up for myself, exert some confidence and authority to these girls and put on a brave face, but I was still emotionally reeling from the events of these last 48 hours. How did they find out, and how much did they know, about what had happened at home?

“It’s kinda small, this place,” Josie said, finally closing the door of the refrigerator, both girls turning back towards us, “it’s your wife’s, right?”

There you go.

“y-yeah…” I answered, hating how small my voice sounded, feeling Randi’s gaze boring into my skin as the other girls began to make their way back towards us, “sh-she bought it as an investment, y-years ago. Sh-”

“She owns the whole building, doesn’t she?” Randi asked, her tone making my skin crawl, “The offices, the parking lot, the property? And you just rent from her?”

“Well, y-yeah, sorta…” I answered, looking up now at Josie and Lakshmi, who were stepping in to stand on either side of where Randi sat, “she doesn’t really charge me...rent…”

No, I found myself thinking, she takes it from me in different ways.

“At least she made it nice for you,” Lakshmi offered warmly, gazing down at me in commiseration, “I like the furniture.”

“yeah…” I replied, looking around. The mismatched furniture, here in this apartment, was probably an afterthought of Sheryl’s, some of it likely leftover from a corporate redeco she’d overseen, some of it cheap stuff she’d had delivered wholesale. The bed was flimsy, the tiny dining table plain. The whole place was austere, to put it gently. It felt lonely, spartan...just enough to get by. This couch, though, was beginning to feel crowded. “Listen,” I began, appealing to the girls as all three now stared down at me where I sat, “how did you find ou-“

“Don’t you have any money of your own?” Josie asked, cutting me off. I noticed how, with the goose lamp aside the couch, curvy silhouettes of the standing girls were cast onto the wall, across the panel of the electric box unceremoniously situated aside the doorframe.

“W-well, Josie, it's complicated…”

“Complicated? How is it complicated?” Randi asked, obviously baiting me, trying to get me upset, off base, “She owns everything, you don’t. Without her you’d be homeless. It must be humiliating, being that dependent on your wife…”

“Yeah,” Josie said, biting her bottom lip in thought, all three girls regarding me with a maddening sense of pity, “Were you scared, when she kicked you out?”

“S-scared? No, I just, uh-“

“I dunno...it might be nice to be on your own for awhile,” Lakshmi added, brightly earnest, “have some space, have some freedom.”

“But you’re going to have to cook, clean...all the things she used to do for you…” Josie said, turning herself and tucking her skirt to sit, next to me on my right, on the couch. She crossed her gorgeous, bare legs, right over left, towards me. I couldn’t help but notice the muscularity of her calves, her pretty knees and thin ankles. ”We can all chip in, help out,” she offered, “Can’t we, Lakshmi?”

“Oh, for sure, yes,” Lakshmi replied, excitement in her voice as she now sat her voluptuous butt to my left, “We can help take care of you, we’re good at that.”

“Yes you poor thing…” Josie cooed, cocking her head on her long, thin neck, tucking a lock of smooth, medium-brown hair behind her left ear. She and Lakshmi both sat taller than me.

“...we’re good at a lot of things,” Randi purred as, smoothly, she lifted herself off the coffee table and turned her own shapely rear towards me, to...oh god...sit in my lap.

Surprised at the audacity of their friend, the other two girls giggled, as my eyes goggled. What am I letting happen here?? I can’t be...sitting...like this...alone in my apartment...with three young girls…one of them on my lap...the other two nestling in closer...

Perched coquettishly on my thighs, Randi tossed her thick, darkly wavy hair over her shoulder and looked down at me with smoky eyes. ”Now that Sheryl’s kicked you out, we’re all you’ve got, aren’t we?” she pouted, taking the moment to tuck a stray lock of my own hair behind my ear, “Dr. J’s girls…”

“You poor, poor thing…” Josie cooed, left hand going to my shoulder.

“Yes poor Dr. J…” Lakshmi followed, her soft hip pressing into mine.

They nestled in closer, the air now filled with their perfume, the smell of their shampoo and hairspray. “Good thing you’ve got us,” Randi said, smiling wickedly at my predicament, “and we’ve got you.”

“We’ve got you…” Josie cooed softly, following her friend.

“...we’ve got you,” Lakshmi repeated, now a mantra.

What the fuck is happening?? I thought to myself as I felt myself sinking deeper into this cheap couch and further under the spell of these three comely girls. I can’t...I can’t do this, I knew, if indeed they had plans for me tonight, plans beyond just dropping off some empanadas and lasagna. I knew that if I was going to get back into Sheryl’s good graces, save my marriage, this was not a way to start.

Somehow, from some deep wellspring of strength, I was able to muster my resistance, even as I felt Josie’s firm breast press against my right arm, even as I watched Lakshmi’s young, brown thighs as she crossed them towards me, even as Randi’s hand slid down the back of my neck. “uhhh...ladies,” I managed, “It’s getting late, w-we all have to be in the office tomorrow.” Was I really going to be able to do this? “Thanks for, uh, dropping by, bringing the food,” I said, “but I think you should be going...”

“Awww…so soon?” Lakshmi purred. .

”...but we just got here…” Josie followed, plumping her lower lip in a girlish pout.

“w-we all have to be in the office tomorrow,” I repeated, this time not sounding even half as determined.

Randi paused, letting me squirm, hearing my indecision and knowing how hard a battle I was fighting. ”Is that really what you want?” she finally asked, her dark eyes looking confidently into mine, nicely big breasts bulging above her top right at my eye level.

I could barely say anything, but managed to pull out a semi-convincing reply. “uhhh...y-y-yes.”

Randi chuckled, and the air in the room changed as - surprisingly - Randi was telling the girls it was time to go, as they clucked in disappointment but backed away; as they stood, straightened their dresses, and started to step towards the door. I don’t know what to call the feeling I was dealing with, roiling around my chest. Disappointment? Regret? But it seemed, at least, like they were listening to me.

Randi, though, was still on my lap.

The girls were taking one last look at themselves in the mirror, Lakshmi running her hands through her thick black hair, and I began to move t-

“No. You stay right there,” Randi said commandingly, left hand suddenly onto my chest, pushing me back. My eyes went wide, and before I could mount a protest, she was telling the girls, “Meet me down in the car. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“n-no, Randi, really,” I began, again moving t-

Her right hand fell to my left thigh, grabbing my cock, pressing it into my leg through my cotton shorts. Semi-hard already, my entire body shivered and all the strength to fight fell from my body, drained suddenly away. I fell back to a slump against the couch.

“I’ll see you in a sec,” Randi told the girls, “Dr J. here just needs a chat.”

Lakshmi and Josie both glanced our way, both chirping something casually in assent. If they noticed that their friend more or less had their boss’ penis right in her hand, they gave no sign and each fluttered a goodbye wave as they left.

The door closed behind them.

”Randi I think you should leave,” I said, meeting her gaze with what was the last of my resolve - only to feel that die, withering away as she squeezed me through my shorts and...god help me...I moaned.

She smiled as she saw my eyes flutter. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere...” she replied, her hand already starting a slow rhythm, my disobedient shaft responding, already growing, “I’m staying right here.”

“Y-you can’t…” oh god...oh god….

My vision’s swimming.

“Randi, stop…” I moaned, knowing right away I had too much arousal in my voice, “you’ve got to l-leave…”

“Oh, but Dr J…” she purred smokily, shifting herself on my lap, getting comfortable, all the while still working me, “I don’t want to leave. Remember our night in the car..?”

Oh my god if I could take that back, that drunken night in her Dodge Neon. One of the best blowjobs of my life, but the collateral damage it had done... “Y-Yeah?”

“Does your wife know about it?” she asked, simply, setting her shoulders to draw my eye.

Oh crap. “N-n-no, uh...she d-doesn’t...” My mind was struggling more and more as blood left it, abandoning me to swell into the monstrous thing that grew uncomfortably down my left thigh, under her hand.

“Want to keep it that way?” she asked, as she saw my distress and moved me, took the effort to start to rearrange me in my shorts, pulling it up, pushing it up to my hip.

Despite the stars that danced in front of my eyes, the pleasure that was clenching my gut into a fist, I managed to speak. “R-Randi, are you...blackmailing me?”

That made her laugh, a gravelly chortle. “Blackmail? Omigod is that what you think I’m doing?” She squeezed me again, just to see me shudder. She pushed my now rock hard dick hard into my hip, making me spasm. Then she started stroking it again, through my pajama shorts. “God, I have such power over you, don’t I…?”

At that I groaned, despite myself, certainly doing nothing to refute her.

“You love that idea, don’t you?” she mused, “You love women with power. You love that I fucking own you...just like Sheryl. I fucking own you…” With that, her hand left me, she sat up straighter - just to watch me slump, surrendering in acceptance that I was basically powerless here. My cock crawled against my flesh, sliding needy and abandoned, shifting towards me, across my hip and skin, centering itself.

“You’re owned by women and you love it,” she pushed, watching how her words just excited me more, watching now as the great mass of my unmanageable manhood tented my shorts, my taut waistband pulled away from my lower belly by its brute size, “you submissive little man…”

I was defeated, she knew it, and she could do anything she wanted with me. Defeated, and my cock was here to prove it. She watched, wide-eyed - we both did - as it slowly pushed itself up past my waistband, the head sliding just proud of the elastic, then emerging further.

Her eyes flashed. “Oh, there we are…” she chuckled, looking down at it, “there’s my friend…”

As if feeding on the attention, needful of more, my dick continued to grow, pushing further and further up past the waistband of my shorts, which began to slide down my shaft. The cooler air of the apartment swirled around me, onto my skin, exciting me even more.

“God fucking almighty it’s huge,” Randi marveled, as she sat back a bit to allow it space, sliding off my lap now and down onto her knees, onto the floor, still watching it.

“R-Randi...no…”

”Speaking of us doing everything your wife used to do for you…” she hummed, ignoring me and gingerly grabbing the sides of my shorts. She pulled them down, freeing my huge stiffness completely. ”Oh god is this even bigger than before?” she marveled, smiling wickedly and readying herself, as she moved my shorts under me, pulled them down my thighs, to my knees, “Or are you just skinnier?” Her eyes were plastered, now, on the dancing, waving, wobbling thing that hovered there, as if self-willed, over my hips and belly.

My lord it did seem bigger than ever, thick veins throbbing under taut purple skin, head swollen and spongy. The thing was monstrous.

“P-please, Randi...you don’t have t-to-”

“It’s okay...my jaw is nice and loose these days,” she said, as she settled herself more solidly on her knees, pulling my shorts all the way down so she could sneak between my thighs and - in a lurid display, opened her mouth and jaw wide...uncannily wide...for my benefit.

What the fuck?? I’ve never seen a human do that, I thought, as I saw her tongue, her teeth, the glistening pink halfway down her throat.

Chuckling at my bewildered shock, Randi just closed her insanely big mouth and continued blithely on. “Is this going to be your first blowjob in your new apartment?” she asked, as she casually took hold of my bullish member with one soft, feminine hand, “or did anyone else sneak up here earlier?”

My vision swam again with pleasure. ”Wh-what..? What do y-y-you mean..?“

“Oh, sweetie, all the girls like you, y’know,” she began, as she idly began to stroke my shaft with her right hand, “Brittni and Bobbi, Josie...they think you’re adorable. Lakshmi was, like, all giddy on her way up the stairs here. Aubrey’s basically in love with you. Even poor chubby CiCi. They alllll want to get into your pants.”

Ugh, what? Nnh...Oh my god, no...this was too confusing, the thought of that swarm, buzzing about me, and I was oblivious. Was I surrounded, and didn’t even know it?

“And now that your wife’s kicked you out, now that you’re out on your own,” she continued, her left hand reaching under me to cup my hugely turgid sac, “now we have you all to ourselves.”

“nnnngh…” was all I could manage, as her fingers began to have their way, playing in gentle massage with my outsized testicles.

“We can do everything she used to do for you,” she said, gravel in her voice keeping it from being a whisper, “we can tend to you, now that your wife’s not around. Would you like that?” Her soft left hand palmed me, squeezed me from below as her right urged me harder and harder and harder. She was stroking me, getting me ready. “Did she used to do this for you? Help you relax, after a long day..?”

“N-n-n-nnnngh….nnn-nnn...” I groaned, worried suddenly that soon I might come, just like this.

“No? Not really…?” she asked, wide eyed and falsely earnest, “Well then..life is better already, isn’t it?”

She leaned over, and spit onto its head, a big frothy glob that clung and began to dribble.

We both watched as her hands played with me, spreading her saliva down, somehow controlling the beast that rose from me with her thin, delicate grip. It really was a sight, her manicured fingers in a tender fist, sliding up and down the column of my beefy hardness. As if on instinct, though, after a time, my gaze drifted behind it, to the swells of her breasts bulging from the neckline of her dress, watching them move, jiggle, fill with her breath. Images of them growing, of them becoming...oh god...hers...coalesced, and suddenly it was like the scent of Melissa’s perfume was wisping around me. I took a deep breath, any resistance I had buried and forgotten, stared at Randi’s tits, and thought back to the post Melissa had put up earlier, the invitation…

After several moments of allowing my reverie, Randi spoke again. “I know you’re thinking about her, Missy, wishing this was her,” she said.

“n-no…” I lied.

“Haha liar,” she said, “I know you more than you think I do. You wouldn’t have lasted five seconds here with her…”

fuck…

“So I'd watch out,” Randi said, all the while still casually stroking me, “before, Melissa didn’t want to be a homewrecker...”

I gasped as she slid two fingers further under me, exploring.

“No, Missy didn’t like the idea of getting between two people in a marriage. Me? I never cared...I’m a fucking wrecking ball,” she continued, as I tried to keep from squirming as her fingers crept closer, “Missy, though, had her stupid standards. Now, though, now…”

She squeezed my sac, tickled my nethers. Bit her lower lip and leaned in closer.

“Now everyone wants a piece of you.” She looked at my huge cock, brutally hard in her hand, and then up at me. I saw muscles in her throat working, her jaw flexing as she prepared herself for me and leaned in closer still. Still keeping eye contact, she rubbed her smooth cheek against my tightly stiff shaft, and told me right before she swallowed me: “But right now, tonight...this part is mine...”

==================================

#Growing Into the Job #Randi #Lakshmi #Josie

68 notes · View notes

gerberbabey · 4 years

Text

euphoric | two | JJ Maybank

a/n: JJ’s here but there aint a lot of jj action. we’ll get there though

summary: It’s the day of the kegger

masterlist | previous | next

warnings: cursing, slow shit, terrible writing, underaged drinking, underaged smoking, grinding

two - ♫ RATCHET SATURN GIRL by Aminé ♫

“Wait lemme see her Instagram again.”

Kie’s face scrunched up in distaste as she pulled her phone away from JJ’s grabby hands. The Pogues were hanging around the Chateau, trying to figure out how to waste time before they had to set up for the kegger. It was about 10 in the morning and the sun was already bearing down pretty harshly.

“Ew no, I don’t need to watch you leer,” Kie chastised and JJ scoffed as he blew out a puff of smoke.

When Kie had gotten there earlier in the morning, the boys had hounded her about what happened during the Kook party and how she could’ve possibly been willing to not only stay at the party but also personally invite Kooks to their kegger. Kie told them about you and Isaiah, describing the experience as clearly a good one and even showing them your Instagrams.

JJ being JJ had jumped onto looking through your Instagram almost immediately. Social media wasn’t something they tended to care about but JJ was not only a boy he was also an idiot. Your Instagram was littered with a variety of posts; selfies, outfit pictures, pictures of scenery, pictures of people who were likely from your hometown, intricate eye makeup that was clearly being flexed. Kie knew not to use social media as a basis for a person’s life or personality but from the short time she’d gotten to talk to you, Kie saw you as much more bubbly and down to earth compared to what you posted.

“I don’t...leer,” JJ huffed out and Kie gave him a look.

“Do you even know what that means...JJ?” Pope spoke up from where he was trying to stay hidden away from the direct rays of the sun.

“Yeah, I know what it means…” JJ trailed off, clearly indicating that he didn’t actually know what it meant. Pope opened his mouth to educate JJ when he was cut off by John B stepping out of his house, letting the door slam behind him.

“You guys wanna go out to the marsh?” John B questioned and the Pogues all groaned out confirmations.

“Yo, you still have beer?” JJ questioned as he stood up, dusting off his shorts, and then grabbing his backpack. Kie had picked herself up from where she was laying down but still remained otherwise preoccupied and distracted by her phone, this time stalking through Isaiah’s account.

“Oh shit nah, I ran out yesterday,” John B clicked his teeth in irritation.

“I could go grab some from the Wreck really quick?” Kie suggested as she finally pocketed her phone with the knowledge that that was probably the last she was gonna use it aside from listening to music. John B nodded as Pope finally stood up from his hiding place and made his way over. Pope was waving away smoke as JJ playfully blew it in his direction.

“Alright, so the wreck, then the marsh?” John B questioned and the Pogues all agreed before they headed over to John B’s van, ready for another day of Pogue life fun.

________

You didn’t like the idea of having to drive around with your brother, but your lack of a car and lack of friends made it difficult to actively get away from him. He was clearly as annoyed about it as you were but the two of you couldn’t complain.

“A german shepherd?”

“I was thinking a pitbull actually.”

“Oh dude,” you turned to your brother at that and he raised his brows, “Pitbulls are so cute, but mom would literally be terrified.”

Yesterday you had brought up the topic of possibly getting a dog and although you were 110% sure that your parents were ready to shut you down, Bea’s excitement at the prospect had gotten you the momentum you needed. Once Bea had latched onto the idea, she didn’t even give your parents a chance to try and say no. Back in California, it was easier for them to say no when it came to getting a dog.

First of all your mom was terrified of dogs, so she was quick to say no regardless. But she also always backed it up by saying that you didn’t have the time, space, or resources to be taking care of a dog. But now you were in the Outer Banks. Your new home had a ridiculous amount of space, you had all the time in the damn world, and how hard could it be to get stuff for a dog right now?

You also might’ve gotten Bea to guilt-trip your parents by whispering in her ear that a dog would make as a great new friend in these...trying days.

“All my friends are back home! I don’t have any here!” she’d yelled angrily as you all made your way back inside the house last night and your mom wasn’t the least bit amused, but your dad had fallen right into her little 9-year-old trap.

“Is that Kie?” You questioned, sitting up as you saw a familiar set of curls up the road. You then noticed that up ahead was the Wreck, Kie’s parents’ restaurant and there was Kie bustling out with some boys who you figured were here friends. Isaiah slowed the car down as you rolled down the windows, sticking your head out. Kie and her friends were making their way toward a vintage, beat-up looking van when you let out a wolf whistle.

“Hey baby, you wanna go have some fun?” you teased as Kie whipped her head up to look at you. Her sour expression melted into a grin as she laughed at your antics. You didn’t question the boldness of your own actions, only briefly wondering if perhaps you were being too comfortable with someone you barely knew. Yet Kie’s reaction eased your worries.

“Hey,” she greeted as Isaiah brought the car to a stop, letting Kie walk up to your vehicle and leaving her friends to watch her as she did so, “Hey Isaiah,” she greeted separately.

“What’s up,” he drawled, grinning at her as you rolled your eyes.

“What are you guys up to?” Kie asked as she took in your appearance. Reminiscent of the previous night and of the posts Kie had seen on Instagram, you had done yourself up in that way that Kie couldn’t help but admire. She wasn’t one for makeup herself considering she knew that her day to day activities would just lead to it coming off. Yet she appreciated the amount of time and effort you probably put into the looks that you pulled.

“We’re gonna go to the thrift shop cus (N/N) wants a mirror, then we’re gonna go to the animal shelter and see about adopting a dog,” Isaiah answered.

“Uh, hey Kie?”

Kie turned around and you looked past her and at the 3 boys she was originally with.

“You wanna…” The tall messy haired one trailed off, motioning to you, “You wanna introduce us to your friends?” Kie made a face at John B and the boy only smiled back at her awkwardly. Pope was shifting around like the introvert he was, rocking on his feet and looking between you and Kie. JJ licked his lips as he stared you down, debating about whether he should trust Kie’s judgment or stick to his ideals when it came to Kooks (even if he thought you were incredibly attractive).

“Boys, this is (Y/N) and her brother Isaiah, they just moved here,” Kie motioned for her friends to come over and they shuffled closer, sticking together as they came to stand beside Kie.

“Hi, I’ve heard great things,” you greeted, smiling up at the boys. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking each of them up and down, taking in their appearances. You weren’t gonna lie, they were cute...

“Hey, I’m John B,” the first boy introduced, and he nodded to you before he nudged at one of his friends.

“Uh I’m Pope. Heyward. Hi,” Pope waved awkwardly and you waved back.

“JJ,” JJ said shortly with a nod and he gave you a sort of grimace of a smile.

“You guys throwing the kegger?” Isaiah asked and the Pogues nodded, “Where do ya’ll just get a keg?”

“We have our ways,” JJ said ominously and his friends all shot him a look while you glanced at Isaiah before turning back and nodding reluctantly.

“Oookay...well we’re gonna head out. We’ll see you guys later tonight?” you tilted your head, looking each of them in the eye. Their voices overlapped with one another as they answered you. You let out a laugh and blew Kie a kiss as your brother waved before the two of you drove off, leaving the Pogue’s standing by the side of the road.

“So?” Kie turned to her friends and they looked at her, confused, “Aren’t they like, weirdly cool?”

“I mean it was like barely a minute of interaction,” Pope argued but Kie only shot him a look, “...but yeah they were actually kinda cool.”

“Hey we’ll only know for sure tonight!” JJ clapped, “We don’t trust anyone until they’ve been exposed to all sides of the island,” JJ pointed at each of his friends, “Now c’mon, the marsh awaits!”

________

“Are you changing?”

“Are you?” you shot back at Isaiah giving his outfit a once over. He was dressed in a large shirt and some shorts.

Isaiah paused, looking down at his outfit, “...No…?”

“Then no, I’m not changing,” you finalized as you finished fixing up your make up.

The sun was slowly starting to set, leaving an orange hue over the island, making you feel rather bright in comparison to the neutral tones of the island and the people on the island. Kie was arriving soon, if her text was any indication.

“What if you end up in the ocean?” Isaiah brought up and you made eye contact with him through the mirror before shrugging.

“It might make it look sick as fuck.”

“Alright.”

You stood and looked into the full body mirror you had bought today. You were dressed in a colorful body con sleeveless dress, the dress patterned with butterflies. Your make up stuck to a more natural neutral look, though you’d drawn on intricate butterfly designs onto your eyelids. You’d topped it off with a few jewels on the edge of the butterflies wings.

“Kie’s here!” Isaiah called and you gave yourself one last look before picking up your phone and then rushing out. In front of your home was the vintage, beat up old van that you had seen earlier in the day. Isaiah had taken up the passenger's seat and you gave him a look as you pushed the van open and shuffled in.

“How are you guys doing?” Kie greeted and you chuckled.

“Fine since you saw us,” you checked your bare wrist, “5 hours ago?”

“”Hey a lot can happen in 5 hours.”

“Very true.”

“How’s the dog thing going?”

“We checked at the shelter and they said it could take up to maybe a week?” Isaiah answered as he ran a hand through his hair, “But otherwise we just visited to check out the dogs. It’s hard to pick just one.”

“Uuuugh, it makes me so sad,” you groaned out leaning against the back of Kie’s seat.

“I bet,” Kie laughed.

The drive hadn’t been too long, or as long as you imagined. It took a bit just to get to the other side of the island, then took just a bit more time for Kie to park the mystery machine-esque van at a location that didn’t look like cars were meant to be parked there. You couldn’t peep many other cars, but you could see a group of people making their way further up the beach.

“Just follow me,” Kie instructed and you and your brother looked at each other before following after her.

It was a bit of a walk but soon enough, after crossing over a billion dead trees and shit, you got to the part of the beach that was just packed with people. About two or three bonfires had already been lit and there was music blasting out into the open air. It definitely wasn’t what you were used to but you weren’t going to complain. The sun was quickly setting though it seemed that people had been arriving far earlier than this point.

“Hey!” Kie called out and led you over to the center of the party. Groups of people were lined up and you noticed Kie’s friends, the Pogues, were manning the keg, handing off filled red solo cups to both under aged and of aged people. You were pretty sure you’d spotted a middle aged man lingering about in the crowd.

“Heey!!” JJ was clearly further along than most others. You raised a brow as he climbed up onto a branch and called for everyone’s attention.

“Alright hey! Everyone these two, right here,” JJ motioned to you and your brother, “Are new to the island! Alright, new to permanent residency, so not tourons!”

You let out a laugh as JJ tried his damned hardest to explain to the crowd (who were not listening) what the difference was between you and the so called Tourons.

“JJ! Get the hell down, you idiot,” Kie scolded and JJ only laughed before he jumped off of the thing he had climbed.

“Here you go,” John B nodded as he handed Isaiah a red solo cup. The boy nodded in thanks, taking a drink as he looked around. You scoffed as you noted the familiar look in his eye. That look that meant someone had already caught his interest.

“I’m gonna head over there,” he told you absentmindedly and you only shook him off.

“Go crazy,” you told him and he was sauntering off.

“For the lady?” John B offered and you purse your lips before shaking your head.

“Um no thanks, you guys smoke?” you questioned and John B raised his brows before turning to look at JJ.

“JJ,” John b called and the blonde made his way over. He put an arm around John B and licked his lips as he looked you up and down, similar to how he had done earlier in the day. You shot him a look and your eyes lingered on one another for a second longer before JJ turned to John B.

“John B, my man, what’s up?” JJ questioned and John B gestured to you.

“(Y/N)’s trying to smoke,” he informed and JJ nodded in understanding and excitement.

“Well of course,” JJ insisted before he offered you an arm, you looped your arm around his and he began to lead you away, “You look beautiful by the way. Just need to get that in there. Love the butterflies.”

You let out a laugh at that and shot Kie a look. Kie rolled her eyes though the smile on her face reassured you.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, uh we usually have a smoke circle going for anyone who just wants to hang. You know, away from all the dancing and shit. I think the Kooks do like lines of coke over there if that’s what you want,” JJ explained as he led you to one of the other bonfires that had been started.

“Noted,” you drawled as JJ jumped over a log and helped you over.

The circle of teens and young adults all greeted JJ and he grinned at them as he helped you settle down.

“Pass me that shit,” JJ ordered and the girl holding the blunt shot him a look but handed it to him anyway. JJ took a hit before offering it to you. You nodded in thanks as you took it between your thumb and pointer. Taking a long drag you let it settle for a moment before you blew out O’s.

“Oohohoho shit,” JJ hyped up and you grinned as a few of the others clapped.

“Thank you, thank you,” you bowed playfully before you passed it to the person beside you.

“Uh hi, I’m Max by the way,” one of the boys across from you introduced and you waved to him.

“(Y/N).”

A few others introduced themselves to you, though the rest were so gone you didn’t expect them to say much.

“So (Y/N) how’s the island for you so far?” JJ asked and he leaned back to look at you.

“It’s like my 2nd day here,” you informed him and the group laughed.

“Ok but that’s like perfect, first impressions are the basis for everything. Plus, it’s your second day and you're here, I’d say that’s a pretty good first impression,” some kid said and you chuckled.

“I guess so.”

“By the way, your outfit, your make up, your whole,” the girl beside JJ gestured to the entirety of you, “looks fucking amazing. I love that. I only pray for that beauty and confidence.”

“Ok relax, you’re literally gorgeous,” you complimented before you took another hit of the blunt that was making it’s way around.

“Bet it’s nothing like California,” JJ raised his brows and you scoffed.

“Absolutely not. This whole island vibe thing is so far from what it was like back home. Even your parties don’t match up,” at that comment the group began to protest though you weren’t having any of it. As chill as everyone seemed to be so far, it was just different back in California. It was brighter, crazier, dirtier, and everything in between and you expressed that to them.

“Oh dirtier,” JJ wiggled his eyebrows and you laughed. The lightness of your head indicated that the blunt was definitely hitting.

“Shut up,” you laughed out as you gave him a playful shove. JJ gave you a wide grin and you tilted your head at the dazed look in his eye. You wondered how far gone this boy was.

“Yo, are you trying to dance right now?” one of the girls, you couldn’t remember her name, questioned though it was leaning more toward a demand than an actual inquisition.

“Sure if you want,” you shrugged and you stood from where you were seated on the sandy log. You missed how JJ’s eyes followed after you. He watched as you and the girl held hands and made your way into the crowd of dancing people. Some song was playing though he could barely make out the lyrics. The base was loud enough to let people know how to move though.

“Oh shit I love this song!” Someone screeched and JJ wondered how they could even tell what the song was.

His eyes drifted around though they found themselves back to your form. You and that girl were now dancing face to face, your legs crossing over one another’s. JJ couldn’t help but lick his lips as he watched your hips move in the dress you were wearing.

His mouth was ridiculously dry.

You jumped as you felt hands settle on your waist and though you weren’t too sure about dancing with some random guy at the moment you shot the girl (Lily? Emily? Annalee??) a look and she looked over your shoulder for a split second before she shot you a grin and a subtle thumbs up. You grinned, the prospect kinda funny to you before you began to grind back against whoever was holding you. Their hold tightened around you and you put one hand over their right and reached back with your left to run your hands through his hair.

The two of you grinded to the music and you laughed as the boy settled his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss on your neck. Perhaps you were underestimating this island just a little bit.

As the song began to transition into the next one you took the moment to look over your shoulder. Blinking up at the boy you grinned.

“Hi!”

Jeez, why were there so many cute guys on this island?

“Rafe!”

“Sorry?”

“I’m Rafe!” the boy shouted once more and you nodded. That sounded kinda familiar.

taglist: @sspidermanss, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @duskangxl,

i dont remember if anyone else asked to be in the taglist, but if you did im sorry omg pls just lmk

46 notes · View notes

mytwilightimagines13 · 4 years

Text

You will be fine, darling (Part Two) (Demetri Volturi)

Masterlist

word count: 2206

First part Previous part Next Part Total parts: 9

They were both concealed within smoky gray cloaks that reached to the ground and undulated in the wind. "Let us seek better cover." The one with the soothing voice said. "I'll be right behind you," Edward said dryly. "Bella, why don't you go back to the square and enjoy the festival?" "No, bring the girl," the first shadow said, somehow injecting a leer into his whisper. "I don't think so." The pretence of civility disappeared, making Edward's voice flat and icy. His weight shifted infinitesimally, and you could see that he was preparing to fight. "Felix," the second, more reasonable shadow cautioned, the one whose voice soothed you in an instant. "Not here." He turned to Edward. "Aro would simply like to speak with you again, if you have decided not to force our hand after all." "Certainly," Edward agreed. '"But the girls go free." He nodded towards you, worried about you as well as for Bella. "I'm afraid that's not possible," the polite shadow said regretfully. "We do have rules to obey." "Then I'm afraid that I'll be unable to accept Aro's invitation, Demetri." Demetri. What a beautiful name. The name soothed the voice, it sounded just as mysterious as his voice. "That's just fine," Felix purred. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the deep shade, and you could see that Felix was very big, tall and thick through the shoulders. His size reminded you of Emmett. "Aro will be disappointed," Demetri sighed. "I'm sure he'll survive the let-down," Edward replied. Felix and Demetri stole closer toward the mouth of the alley, spreading out slightly so they could come at Edward from two sides. They meant to force him deeper into the alley, to avoid a scene. No reflected light found access to their skin; they were safe inside their cloaks. Edward didn't move an inch. Abruptly, Edward's head whipped around, toward the darkness of the winding alley, and Demetri and Felix did the same, in response to some sound or movement too subtle for your senses. "Let's behave ourselves, shall we?" a lilting voice suggested. "There are ladies present." Alice tripped lightly to Edward's side, her stance casual. There was no hint of any underlying tension. She looked so tiny, so fragile. Her little arms swung like a child's. Yet Demetri and Felix both straightened up, their cloaks swirling slightly as a gust of wind funnelled through the alley. Felix's face soured. Apparently, they didn't like even numbers. "We're not alone," she reminded them. Demetri glanced over his shoulder. A few yards into the square, a little family, with the girls in their red dresses, was watching us. The mother was speaking urgently to her husband, her eyes on the five of us. She looked away when Demetri met her gaze. The man walked a few steps farther into the plaza, and tapped one of the red-blazered men on the shoulder. Demetri shook his head. "Please, Edward, let's be reasonable," he said. "Let's," Edward agreed. "And we'll leave quietly now, with no one the wiser." Demetri sighed in frustration. "At least let us discuss this more privately." Six men in red now joined the family as they watched your group with anxious expressions. "No." Edward said, making Felix smile. "Enough." The voice was high, reedy, and came from behind you. You dared to take a quick peek, even though your heartbeat was racing against your ribcage. You saw a small, dark shape coming toward you. By the way the edges billowed, you knew it would be another one of them. At first you thought it was a young boy. The newcomer was as tiny as Alice, with lank, pale brown hair trimmed short. The body under the cloak, which was darker, almost black, was slim and androgynous. But the face was too pretty for a boy. The wide-eyed, full-lipped face would make a Botticelli angel look like a gargoyle. Even allowing for the dull crimson irises. Her size was so insignificant that the reaction to her appearance confused you. Felix and Demetri relaxed immediately, stepping back from their offensive positions to blend again with the shadows of the overhanging walls. Edward dropped his arms and relaxed his position as well but in defeat. "Jane," he sighed in recognition and resignation. Alice folded her arms across her chest, her expression impassive. "Follow me," Jane spoke again, her childish voice a monotone. She turned her back on us and drifted silently into the dark. Felix gestured for your group to go first, smirking. Alice walked after the little Jane at once. Edward wrapped his arm around Bella’s waist and pulled her along beside Alice. You slowly started to walk, fear spreading through you even further, making you quite slow. Demetri looked at you and worry seemed to flash through his eyes. Santiago pulled you along quite roughly, making you wince slightly. “I’ll take her from here, Santiago. You go back to your post.” Demetri said, gently grabbing your other arm in his hand. A warmth spread through you, calming you down slightly. Santiago nodded and was gone in the blink of an eye. You slowly followed the group, Felix walking behind you and Demetri supporting you slightly while also pulling you along. The alley angled slightly downward as it narrowed. "Well, Alice," Edward said conversationally as you walked. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here." "It was my mistake," Alice answered in the same tone. "It was my job to set it right." "What happened?" His voice was polite, as if he were barely interested. "It's a long story." Alice's eyes flickered toward me and away. "In summary, she did jump off a cliff, but she wasn't trying to kill herself. Bella's all about the extreme sports these days." A soft chuckle escaped your throat, but it sounded more like an animal being abused than a genuine laugh. You felt Demetri’s glance on the top of your head, but you didn’t dare looking up, fear still spreading through you like a wildfire. "Hm," Edward said curtly, and the casual tone of his voice was gone. There was a loose curve to the alley, still slanting downward, so you didn't see the squared-off dead end coming until you reached the flat, windowless, brick face. The little one called Jane was nowhere to be seen. Alice didn't hesitate, didn't break pace as she strode toward the wall. Then, with easy grace, she slid down an open hole in the street. It looked like a drain, sunk into the lowest point of the paving. You hadn't noticed it until Alice disappeared, but the grate was halfway pushed aside. The hole was small, and black. Bella balked. "It's all right, Bella," Edward said in a low voice. "Alice will catch you." Bella eyed the hole doubtfully. You imagine he would have gone first, if Demetri and Felix hadn't been waiting, smug and silent, behind you, Demetri still holding a firm yet gentle grip on your arm. Bella crouched down, swinging her legs into the narrow gap. "Alice?" she whispered, voice trembling. "I'm right here, Bella," she reassured her. Her voice came from too far below to make you or Bella feel any better. You hated heights. Edward took Bella’s wrists and lowered her into the blackness. "Ready?" he asked. "Drop her," Alice called. Edward let her fall. Edward turned around, ready to grab you and lower you into the darkness as well but Demetri took a step forward, pulling you behind him gently. “Go on then.” Demetri said, taunting Edward slightly, daring him almost to try and take you from his embrace. Edward frowned and looked at you with worry, then looked at both Felix and Demetri, both having a daring look in their eyes. Edward sighed softly and jumped down. Your heartbeat increased with fear. Where they going to kill you already? Please no. Demetri released your arm and placed his arms firmly around your waist, picking you up and holding you close to his chest. “Close your eyes, little one.” He whispered softly in your ear. You did as he told you and closed your eyes firmly, almost expecting the pain of a bite, but that never came. You felt him move quickly and soon wind rushed past the two of you as he jumped down, landing gracefully on his feet. He gently placed you down and took a hold of your wrist. You opened your eyes and looked around. It was dim, but not black at the bottom. The light from the hole above provided a faint glow, reflecting wetly from the stones under your feet. Slowly the group started moving forward and you tripped and stumbled your way across the uneven stone surface. The sound of the heavy grate sliding over the drain hole behind you rang with metallic finality. The dim light from the street was quickly lost in the gloom. The sound of your and Bella’s staggering footsteps echoed through the black space; it sounded very wide, but you couldn't be sure. There were no sounds other than your and Bella’s frantic heartbeats and your feet on the wet stones, except for once, when an impatient sigh whispered from behind you. Demetri’s thumb rubbed circles on the inside of your wrist, trying to calm you down, but the opposite was true. You had no idea what would happen or if he was simply preparing your bloodflow for his consumption and his movements didn’t calm you down in the slightest. The path beneath your feet continued to slant downward, taking you deeper into the ground, and it made you claustrophobic. You couldn't tell where the light was coming from, but it slowly turned dark gray instead of black. You were in a low, arched tunnel. Long trails of ebony moisture seeped down the gray stones, like they were bleeding ink. "N-n-no," Bella chattered suddenly, throwing her arms around Edward. Truth be told it was quite chilly down here, but by now you had realised that Bella’s clothes were soaking wet. No wonder her teeth were chattering. The group hurried through the tunnel, or it felt like hurrying to you. Your and Bella’s slow progress irritated someone, you guessed Felix, and you heard him heave a sigh now and then. At the end of the tunnel was a grate, the iron bars were rusting, but thick as your arm. A small door made of thinner, interlaced bars was standing open. Edward ducked through and hurried on to a larger, brighter stone room. The grille slammed shut with a clang, followed by the snap of a lock. On the other side of the long room was a low, heavy wooden door. It was very thick, as you could tell because it, too, stood open. The group stepped through the door, yet you didn’t dare to glance around, too afraid for might pop up in front of you. Soon the group was in a brightly lit hallway. The walls were off-white, the floor carpeted in industrial gray. Common rectangular fluorescent lights were spaced evenly along the ceiling. It was warmer here, for which you were grateful. This hall seemed very benign after the gloom of the ghoulish stone sewers. The heavy door creaked shut behind you, and then there was the thud of a bolt sliding home. Jane waited by the elevator, one hand holding the doors open for you. Her expression was apathetic. Once inside the elevator, the three vampires that belonged to the Volturi relaxed further. They threw back their cloaks, letting the hoods fall back on their shoulders. Felix and Demetri were both of a slightly olive complexion, it looked odd combined with their chalky pallor. Felix's black hair was cropped short, but Demetri's waved to his shoulders. Their irises were deep crimson around the edges, darkening until they were black around the pupil. Under the shrouds, their clothes were modern, pale, and nondescript. You dared to take another peek at Demetri and felt yourself almost in trance as your eyes met his. He was so beautiful, and the caring look in his eyes made you wonder how anyone could ever call him a monster. Demetri gave you a gentle smile and carefully placed his hand on your lower back, rubbing circles once more. You flinched slightly in fear but had no were to move to. The elevator ride was short; you stepped out into what looked like a posh office reception are, Demetri’s hand still gently placed on your lower back, making sure you would not fall behind. The walls were panelled in wood, the floors carpeted in thick, deep green. There were no windows, but large, brightly lit paintings of the Tuscan countryside hung everywhere as replacements. Pale leather couches were arranged in cozy groupings, and the glossy tables held crystal vases full of vibrantly coloured bouquets. The flowers' smell reminded you of a funeral home. In the middle of the room was a high, polished mahogany counter. you gawked in astonishment at the woman behind it. She was tall, with dark skin and green eyes. She would have been very pretty in any other company but not here. Because she was every bit as human as you and Bella were.

Previous part Next Part

#demetri volturi #imagine #volturi imagine #twilight imagine #felix volturi #cullen

254 notes · View notes

krizaland · 5 years

Note

So i got a stupid idea for a request but ima do it anyway. Could you write something based of house of memories by patd? I see songs in your requests so i figured this one might fit the theme. Basically reader went missing when they were younger and dib spent alot of time and research trying to find them then years later finds their ghost in a worn down home and its just big angst time because i like crying. Sorry if this request is weird you obviously dont have to do it if you dont want to 👓💙

Oooh! I love Panic! At the Disco! If you want to cry then you’ve come to the right place amigo.

Now I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to make Dib a few years older in this fic (Think 15-16 years old).

Be warned: This fic will be dealing with death! Bring some tissues because it’s time for another feels trip!

Here’s the song the Anon is referring to btw

It’s been over 3 years since the day you vanished and Dib hadn’t known peace since.

You were his only real friend he ever had. You didn’t think he was weird nor creepy. You loved the paranormal just as much, if not more than he did! You loved coming up with crazy ways to expose Zim and other paranormal pests. Especially ghosts. Oh how you loved ghosts.

Dib also remembered how you would always stick up for him whenever he got bullied and you would even vouch for him whenever an attempt to expose Zim failed.

You were the only person who truly understood him.

When Gaz told him that you were gone, Dib laughed it off and assumed she was just trying to mess with him.

However, after repeating herself (and a kick to his shin) Dib finally believed her.

Needless to say, Dib was devastated!

His only friend was gone! He couldn’t live without you! No!

He wouldn’t live without you.

From that day fourth, Dib vowed to find you no matter what it took!

He would spend the rest of his days cooped up in his room, only leaving to shower, eat, and go to Skool. (he didn’t want to become a chair again.)

Clembrane would bring him some pudding every once in a while but Dib would normally refuse.

Soon the real Professor Membrane became more and more worried about his poor, insane son.

He would often send Gaz to check up on him but she usually didn’t care. She simply lied and said Dib was fine.

Until Dib’s occasional sobbing was disrupting her Gameslave.

“Dib! Keep it down! I’m trying to beat my high score!” Gaz snapped as she burst through his door.

Dib was too distraught to acknowledge her.

“Where are you, Y/N?! I’ve looked everywhere I possibly could! The high Skool, your old house, even that witchcraft store at the mall you loved so much! Where have you gone?! Why didn’t you take me with you?” Dib blubbered as he put his head down on his desk.

“Dib! Let it go already! Y/N’s been gone a long time. As far as we know they’re probably gone for good.” Gaz sighed as she folded her arms.

“That’s not true! Y/N Has to bee still out there! They would never abandon me!” Dib roared as he whipped around to face Gaz.

“Dib, Y/N is dead ok?!” Gaz confessed.

Dib looked like had just been stabbed in the chest.

“How could you say that, Gaz?! Y/N can’t be dead! They just can’t be!” Dib wailed as he grabbed the sides of his head.

“Y/N has been dead for over 3 years now! We never told you because Dad didn’t want you to raise the dead again!” Gaz snapped.

“No! You’re lying! Y/N is still alive! I know it!” Dib insisted as more tears fell from his eyes.

“Dib, the only way Y/N could still be around is if they were a ghost or something.” Gaz grumbled as she opened an eye.

“Wait! Gaz! That’s it!” Dib’s eyes lit up as he wiped away his tears.

“What’s it?”

“Y/N loved ghosts! I remember that we would always check out this one abandoned house in the woods that was said to be full of them! That must be where Y/N is! Why didn’t I think of looking there sooner?!” Dib let out a crazed laugh as he sprung from his chair.

“Whatever, just keep it down!” Gaz grumbled as she went back to her room.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll find you!” Dib announced as he pulled out his ghost hunting gear.

After getting suited up, Dib rushed out the door and headed for the woods.

“If you’re a lover you should know, the lonely moments just get lonelier the longer you’re in love than if you were alone.” Dib sang as he pulled out an old map he made with you to find your way to the house.

“Memories turn into day dreams, become a taboo!” Dib turned on the flashlight attached his ghost hunting goggles.

“I don’t want to be afraid, the deeper that I go, it takes my breath away. Soft hearts electric souls.” Dib sang as he cautiously waded through the dying trees.

“Heart to heart and eyes to eyes.” Dib pulled out his phone and gazed at a picture of you.

Dib could’ve sworn he saw two glowing blue eyes leering at him from the shadows.

“Is this taboo?”

Dib shook his head and the eyes had vanished.

“Baby, we built this house on memories! Take my picture now! Shake it till you see it!” Dib pulled out the map again and shook out the creases.

“And when your fantasies become your legacy,” Dib lovingly stroked the doodle you drew of yourself holding a cage with a cute little ghost inside.

“Promise me a place, in your house of memories!” Dib put the map away and continued his journey.

FWISH!

The wind howled as fallen leaves swirled behind Dib. The glowing eyes seemed to follow him but Dib didn’t seem to notice.

“I think of you from time to time, more than I thought I would.” Dib closed his eyes as his mind traveled to the past for a moment

“You were just too kind and I was too young to know.”

He remembered how you comforted him after Zim started mocking him.

“That’s all that really matters”

Dib could still feel your warm arms wrap around him and hold him tight.

“I was a fool”

He then remembered how you got sent to detention for punching Zim in the face.

Just like that, the memories faded away as Dib’s eyes opened once more.

“Baby, we built this house, on memories. Take my picture now, shake it till you see it!” Dib sang as he pulled out the map again.

Dib could’ve sworn he heard heavy breathing but turned his focus back to the map.

“And when your fantasies become your legacy,” Dib gave the map a hug.

“Promise me a place, in your house of memories!” Dib looked up from the map and noticed he had reached the house.

“Yes!” He cheered as he put the map away and went inside.

The glowing eyes followed his every move but Dib didn’t seem to notice. All that mattered to him was finding you.

He felt his heart pound in his chest as his footsteps made the worn floorboards creak.

“C’mon, Y/N….Where are you.” He whispered as he continued his search.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of your voice faintly echoing in the distance.

“Those thoughts of my past lover will always haunt me! I wish I could believe you’d never wrong me!” Dib followed the sound as more tears fell from his eyes.

Dib kept running and running as your voice grew louder and louder.

“Then you will remember me in the same way, as I remember you….” Suddenly Dib stopped dead in his tracks,

He had indeed found you but you did not look like the same Y/N he once knew. What floated before him was something he hoped he would never see. You had become the very thing you vowed to capture.

You had become a ghost.

Dib let out a scream and backed away from you.

“N-No! Y/N! It can’t be!” Dib fell to his knees and covered his mouth.

You floated down and kneeled beside him.

“Baby we built this house, on memories. Take my picture now, shake it till you see it.” You sang softly.

Dib looked up at you and sniffled.

“And when your fantasies become your legacy promise me a place…”

You used your ghostly energy to gently lift him up and gave him a warm smile.

Dib gasped but his fears melted away when he realized that while you had indeed changed,

You were still the same Y/N he knew and loved.

“Baby we built this house on memories. Take my picture now, Shake it till you see it.” Your voices melted together as you used your ghostly energy to help Dib dance with you.

“And when your fantasies become your legacy! Save me a place in your house of memories!” You and Dib sang together as your blue ghostly energy swirled around him.

Dib tried to reach out for you but you seemed to be avoiding his touch as the haunted dance went on.

“Save me a place…” Dib fought against your energy and tried to pull you into a warm embrace.

You gasped and tried to avoid him but it was too late.

The moment his body made contact with your ghostly one, your body vanished into wisps of blue smoke.

“In your house of memories?” Dib’s eyes widened as his mind slowly realized what just happened.

Dib fell to his knees and tears begun to pour down his face.

Suddenly, Dib felt something grab him from behind.

Dib let out a shriek but quickly caught his breath when he saw who was behind him.

“Dad? What are you doing here?!” Dib squeaked.

“I saw you running out of the house and wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to raise the dead again.” Professor Membrane explained as he lowered the brightness of his flashlight goggles.

“Don’t worry I wasn’t. I was just trying to find something. That’s all” Dib muttered as he hung his head low.

“Oh, is that all? Well, did you find what you were looking for?” Professor Membrane inquired.

“I guess I did….”

#invader zim x reader #invader zim dib #invader zim dib x reader #dib x reader #Anonymous

53 notes · View notes

glitterslag · 5 years

Text

One Of These Nights (Roger Taylor x Reader) | one-shot |

omg I LOVED this request! I’d never even heard that song before but you’re right, it’s perfect for rog! Also can I just say, @ people who send in specific and/or detailed prompts: i McFreakin love you

I hope you don’t mind that I changed it a little bit - i couldn’t imagine Roger disco-ing, so I thought it would be fun to set it at Deaky’s kid’s roller disco birthday party instead.

Word Count: 2k Warnings: language, implied smut, Roger’s dodgy sense of humour A/N: I imagined Ben!Roger for this one but do you girl

LINK TO THE TUNE :)

Also here’s a link to the kind of dancing style I was imagining (without the opera music obviously)

enjoy :)

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve been called into work last minute to cover a kids birthday party after Sarah phoned in “sick”.

“Interesting.” You smirk into the receiver when your manager calls you to the break the news. “She seemed perfectly fine when she was downing those Sambuca shots in the pub last night -”

“I’ll pay you over-time.” He cuts in.

“Fine.”

You grin and slam the handset down.

It’s just a temporary job - evenings and weekends, until you finish getting your MSc. And it isn’t even bad. You were a bartender during your third year and it had been hell. The hours here are better, the wages higher even without tips. And you don’t get nearly as many lecherous old men.

Anyway, you don’t mind working over-time if it’s for this. A kid’s party - teeny tiny kiddies, like ages 5 and 6. They’re everyone’s favourite kinds of shifts. You burn your throat gulping down your coffee and pull on your roller skates. You’ll be late if you don’t skate there.

You roll in and immediately head to the rink, slinging your bag down onto the reception desk where your manager, shooting you a grateful look as you pass, takes it through to the back for you.

“I’ll sign you in!” He half yells after you, and you wave him off and speed down to the rink to join a harassed looking Louise.

“Oh thank God you’re here.”

She’s got a line of tots jostling at her counter, grabbing for skates in the right size.

“Did you hear what Sarah’s told Tommy?” You wonder as you eye the long line of excited kids snaking up to the kiosk, some chattering in groups, some clinging onto their parents hands.

Louise raises an eyebrow in question.

“Flu.” You smirk.

“Flu?!” She says in disbelief, disappearing under her counter momentarily to tuck a pair of pink sparkly Lelli Kelly’s away underneath.

“Flu my arse! Wouldn’t have believed her if he’d seen - there you go sweetie, size 13 - seen the way she was dancing on those tables last night!”

You chortle with glee.

“That’s what I said!”

*****

You skate out into the middle of the floor and the first thing you notice are a pair of young men hanging over the side of the rink. There are, of course, a few parents supervising, but these two only look a year or two older than you, and it isn’t clear whether they are accompanying a child. Plus, one of them - a blond - looks to be swigging from a can of beer.

You decide to skate over and just make sure.

“Hi there,” You approach the blond with your best polite customer service tone, not wanting to cause any problems.

He looks up at you with a smirk.

“I’m sorry sir but you’ll have to drink that outside,” You explain apologetically.” “This is a children’s function, and we don’t allow alcohol on the premises.”

His gaze is fixed on you, and you shrink a little in it despite being raised up a head taller than him in the ring, bumped up by the height of your wheels. He tips the can into his mouth and slowly finishes it, before crunching it up and putting it into his pocket.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He says. His voice is oddly soft.

You nod, and your gaze switches between him and his friend. He doesn’t look 25.

“Are you here with a child?” You ask, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“Nah.” The blonde cuts in casually and your head snaps back to him once more. “M’just tagging along to check out the hot talent.”

He leers at you and grins, and it’s enough to make your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. “Excuse m-”

“He’s with me” His friend cuts in loudly before you can shout, clearly exasperated. “I’m John, that’s my wife Veronica.”

He nods toward a wooden spectator bench a little way away and your eyes fall onto a young women, sat handing out cartons of juice to a sea of grabby children, one of whom had on a little paper hat, and a birthday boy badge.

“It’s my son’s sixth birthday party.”

“Sorry,” You say, smiling at John quickly. “You just looked young to have a child.”

He nods and gives you a slightly strained smile.

“Yes, well. We were very young when we had Robert.”

You take that as your cue to leave them to it.

*****

“You not getting your skates on?” You ask as you loop backwards past the man - whose name you’ve learnt is Roger - for the hundredth time that hour.

“Disco’s not really my thing.” He retorts, and you roll your eyes.

You hadn’t imagined that it would be. Even standing there at a kids party, his can of beer now replaced by a carton of Ribena, the man looks the epitome of edge. Cigarette placed behind his ear, poking out from his messy, bleach blonde waves. Red leather jacket and a loud, zebra print shirt, with so many buttons undone it barely covers his naval.

“Oh, come on!” You say with a grin, looking backwards at him over your shoulder as you skate away.

“Stop flirting.” Louise has had to remind you more than once, because you’ve been so distracted laughing at him you’ve nearly tripped over a child.

You just smile bashfully at her and shrug as he calls out after you, “Maybe you can show me later!”

*****

“Lucky bitch.” You sniff as you watch Louise stow her skates away in her locker and grab her things. Sarah’s shift happens to be the close, meaning you’re stuck there until the last customer leaves the complex, and then you’ll have to clean up and lock up.

She just grins at you wickedly as she waves goodbye, and exits the building. The Deacon’s are also heading towards the exit, after having ensured that every child has been collected, and you shoot them a quick smile and a little wave to Robert as his mum drags him away from his party.

John has reluctantly left Roger with you, who has offered to stay and help you “clean up”, in return for you teaching him how to skate.

Big feet, you muse to yourself as you spray his size 11s with the antiseptic, before handing them over. As you watch him struggling to pull the skates on in his tight leather trousers, you can’t help but speculate at what else might be big.

You have to hold his hands at first (big and rough with calluses - you wonder briefly what he does for a living) but by the time you come back with the brush and mop he’s holding his own, wobbling around the ring in a slow but steady circle.

“That’s it!” You praise, and he grins to himself.

You sweep up while he messes around, your skates and Tommy’s long-handled platform broom allowing you to have the place clean in record time. Roger gets in your path a few times and you use the bristles to swat at him playfully. You finish up, and skate over to the decks and put some music on. You’re flicking through the tracks absently, until you come across one that sparks an idea.

You glance around the rink until your eyes land on little plastic chairs they leave out for the parents to sit on. Roger watches you quizzically as you drag one over to the middle of the floor, setting it down and then motioning him to skate over.

“Are you gonna give me a lap dance or something?” He says cheekily as you push him down into the chair, but you only shush him and whiz back over to the disco decks. He waits patiently for you, a little bemused.

You press play on your competition song and skate over to stand in front of him, grinning at the confused expression on his face as you get into your starting position, waiting for the intro to count you in.

One of these nights, one of these crazy old nights We're gonna find out, pretty mama, what turns on your lights

Roger’s face breaks into a wide smirk as you start to dance around his chair, realising what you were doing. You were performing your competition piece for him.

The full moon is calling, the fever is high And the wicked wind whispers and moans You got your demons, you got your desires Well, I got a few of my own

The lyrics make blood rush to your cheeks, aware of his hawk-like gaze upon you at all times. He leans back against the back of the chair, legs spread out wide and his arms coming up to fold across his chest. He bites his lip and grins, and you cast your eyes down to the floor with a smirk of your own, too shy to look him in the eye.

Oh, someone to be kind to in between the dark and the light Oh, coming right behind you, swear I'm gonna find you, one of these nights

Your focus, instead of on Roger, is on the wall behind him, spotting so as not to get dizzy as you execute your turns. You don’t, therefore, notice how tight his leather jeans are becoming, nor what’s straining against them.

One of these dreams, one of these lost and lonely dreams, now We're gonna find one, mm, one that really screams I've been searching for the daughter of the devil himself I've been searching for an angel in white I've been waiting for a woman who's a little of both And I can feel her but she's nowhere in sight

You’ve turned to perform the section where you have your back to the audience, and the music is so loud you don’t even realise he’s skated right up behind you until you feel him bumping into your back.

Oh, loneliness will blind you in between the wrong and the right Oh, coming right behind you, swear I'm gonna find you, one of these nights

You jump and let out a little gasp, and his hands shoot out to grasp onto your hips to steady himself. The two of you jostle back and forward slightly on your wheels. You stop dancing.

Coming right behind you, swear I'm gonna find you Get you, baby, one of these nights One of these nights I can feel it, I can feel it

You feel something pressing into the small of your back, and Roger’s need becomes apparent. You place your hands on top of his, tight on your hips. His lips come down to ghost over your bare shoulder.

“Y’know, my cars parked round the back.” He whispers into your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath on your neck, and swallow.

“I’ll lock up.”

*****

You step out into the night. He’s sat in the driver’s seat, warming the car up. Rubbing his hands together in the cold and blowing into them. You grin and get in.

“Cor, it’s freezing in here!” You giggle, and you’re barely sat down in the passenger’s seat before he’s making a grab for you.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling you forcefully across the gear stick and into his lap, and it’s half-muffled by an eager kiss before it’s even out of his mouth.

*****

“Well.” You say a little awkwardly as you plop back down in the passenger seat, hastily pulling your clothes back on. “You should probably take me home.”

You’re still panting. That had been quite something.

He’s bare-chested, using his top to clean all the fog you’d made off his windscreen.

“Come for a drink first?” He says easily, and you fight a smile.

“It’s kiinda the wrong way around, but… okay.”

He grins victoriously and starts the car, smiling to himself as he puts it in reverse and backs out of the parking space, arm thrown over the back of the passenger seat. You can’t help but grin back, excitement bubbling up in your tummy.

He turns on the radio as he gets onto the main road, just as some cheesy disco song is finishing. Roger’s fingers, still resting behind your head, tap out the rhythm absentmindedly. He looks sexy, driving with one hand like that.

The presenter chatters away at a frequency you can’t quite hear, so you miss him introducing the next song. Roger doesn’t, though.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye with a shit-eating smile on his face, waiting for the light to go on in your head. He watches the look of familiarity wash over your face as the symbols kick in.

You whip your head around to look at him just in time.

“One of these nights -”

Roger’s bent double over the steering wheel in peals of laughter almost the entire way to the bar.

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #borhap boys #roger taylor headcanons #young roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #queen imagines #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben hardy! roger taylor #my writing #blurbs #requests

132 notes · View notes