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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

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Subtitles: Episode 3, Now in Color

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Things are going well between [Y/N] and their new partners but what shenanigans will ensue as the Maximoff baby’s arrival quickly approaches and they’re pulled into the throughs of building a nursery and… child delivery?

Word count: 10,640

Warnings: Cotton candy fluff, chaos, baby. So the usual, plus babies.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 (It won’t tage you for some reason, I’m sorry ;-; ) @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend

~~~

You huffed and sat back on your heels, slipping a sore finger into your mouth. “Stupid bird.”

The bird in question, a pink flamingo made of plastic and wire, seemed to sneer at you from its position sticking a few inches farther out of the grass than it should be. Because of this, you could still see the main stake sticking out of the bottom of the bird’s standing foot, which, much to your distaste, made the pink plastic-feathered creature look like it was trapped on a piece of wood impaled in its foot rather than lounging on one foot in the lush green grass of your yard.

You had spent a good portion of today working on your yard and garden and waiting for a member of the household across the street to step outside and beckon you over. Dressed in overalls stained by grass and dirt, a brightly colored T-shirt, a sun hat, and working shoes, you forced yourself to keep busy by planting new flora and putting down new garden fences and decor while Vision and Wanda were tucked away indoors, preparing for a baby. You were the only one so far to know about the Maximoff bun in the oven outside of the parents and although it seemed like just last week that Wanda had gotten pregnant, the baby had finally big enough that the couple had to involve a doctor to make sure all was going well.

It also felt like not long ago that the couple had asked you out for the first time. Both of them. At the same time. It was news to you that they had felt even remotely felt the same way about you as you had about them but the rest of that conversation had gone swimmingly with you being too nervous and dumbstruck to do much more than blubber questions. The first date and then the second went a similar way, with you not being completely sure that you were on a three-person date or even awake. Luckily, your new partners were just as unnerved as you were and the three of you agreed to simply play it by ear and communicate a lot.

Some time and a few sporadic dates later and things were going smoothly. Almost every bit of free time was spent at either their place or yours; if it wasn’t free time, you were giving Vision rides to work and leaving cute messages in the files you left at his desk—you always hoped they were cute, anyway, and not annoying, only to be reassured when you got a smiley back or your favorite treat from the breakroom left with the file when it was returned—or trying to help Wanda clean or cook or take a break despite her stubborn fussing against it. Vision was the first to give you a pet name, Wanda was the first to hold you in place when you attempted to pull away from a normally quick handhold or hug, and you were the first to press kisses to both their cheeks after walking them home from dinner. Wanda fell asleep on your couch first, you on theirs second, and Vision went ahead and turned cheek pecks into lip kisses. You weren’t quite ready to initiate them yourself yet but you hadn’t been complaining when Vision caught you on your porch steps and kissed you on the mouth; the rain that had just started had either been just a bonus or his initial inspiration.

As nice as everything has been, though, you were still worried about overstepping boundaries with the married couple so when Vision invited you over to be a part of the doctor visit, you politely declined. Instead, after the doctor left, you were to head over and bring your tools to help set up the nursery; it was also your joint job with Vision, who was now a baby book reading master but also increasingly bugged out about Wanda and the baby’s health, to try and convince said woman to relax for once in her life—a task difficult enough to be on the list of Hercules’ Twelve Labors, you were convinced at this point.

For now, though, you were sitting with your feet beginning to cramp and your knees getting damp and most likely more grass-stained, glaring at the devil in pink whose foot-stake had left your finger with a prick from a splinter and whose one visible dark eye stared at you with sadistic mirth.

“Oh, you wanna go, Bernard?” you scoffed at the bird-shaped plastic, dropping your hand from your mouth and pushing yourself up into a squat. “I’ll call you out. Let’s go!” You raised your hands in a fighting stance and bounced on the balls of your feet as you prepared to strike.

The sound of a chainsaw starting up caught you off guard mid-bounce and you lost your balance but what caught your eye when you twisted around while rubbing your now-bruised tailbone was Vision walking outside his front door with an older gentleman, presumably the doctor. However, you paid very little attention to said other man as you laid in the middle of your yard, twisted into what was probably a partial yoga pose, resting your chin on your arm and making lovey-dovey eyes at the former.

Not that it was surprising at all, Vision looked very nice today. He was wearing dark blue pants and a similarly colored sweater over a collared shirt and tie, with a honey-brown jacket topping everything off; you couldn’t imagine wearing a shirt plus two outerwear items in the heat of the day but you certainly didn’t mind seeing him all dressed up. His hair was somewhere between jaw and shoulder length and wavy as ever and while you weren’t a fan of the popular 70s cut, he not only pulled it off but made it look incredibly attractive. He greeted his next-door neighbor Herb, who started up the chainsaw, then spoke animatedly, as he always did, to the doctor. Talking about keeping the baby news to themselves, no doubt.

Vision watched as the doctor walked off down the sidewalk and as he happened to pass in your direction, Vision’s gaze refocused to settle on you instead. The expression on his face changed from purely friendly to something deeper and you felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he waved over to you.

“Hello, perfectly platonic neighbor!” he hollered, to which you responded in kind after snorting and then disentangling yourself from your strange position.

No response from Herb about the odd greeting. The cul-de-sac, and in Westview in general, people didn’t seem concerned with your trio’s out-of-place shenanigans as long as it didn’t directly affect them, you had noticed over time. You could have probably walked over and planted a brazen smooch on Vision’s perfect mouth while out in the open, with other neighbors milling about, and no one would bat an eye.

But that’s exactly what we’re not going to do, you thought stubbornly as you stood and brushed yourself off. Not yet, anyway. I want to make sure they’re both comfortable with it first.

Vision seemed to grasp what your plan was because he waited for you as you gave Bernard the flamingo a fight postpone notice and then a light kick before walking across your yard and heading across the street. If you had been more rational, you would have grabbed your tools so you could have just come inside when you reached the Maximoff house but your brain, muddled with the pink mist of freshly requited affections, could only think of getting closer to the man, maybe even holding hands or nuzzling noses.

A sound that was equal parts loud and awful caught both your and Vision’s attention as you reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Looking over, you both saw Herb cutting away with his chainsaw, only now he wasn’t cutting through bushes but the stone wall separating his and Wanda and Vision’s homes. The stone blocks of the wall weren’t super heavy-duty, you supposed, but the sound made you cringe, and the sight was a little jarring. Herb didn’t seem to realize was he was doing despite the lack of hedges in his path.

“Hey Herb,” Vision yelled over the noise, “think you might’ve taken the hedge trimming a little too far there, old chum!” As he spoke, he glanced over at you and, seeing you nearby, instinctively shifted in your direction; you moved to meet him halfway and you each gave the other’s hand a quick affectionate squeeze, though both pairs of eyes were trained on Herb.

Herb, who looked up, smiled, and responded, “So I have! Thanks, buddy.” Despite saying this, he continued to cut through the bordering wall and stare glassily ahead as if none the wiser.

The expression gave you an unnerving sense of familiarity but you couldn’t quite put a name to the vague memory of a person you’d seen wearing it. Acquiring a migraine medication and forcing yourself to not look too hard into every strange thing that happened in this town helped but your headaches appeared to never quite go away. This was proven by the muted throb across one side of your head that came with looking at the bizarre scene.

“Yeah,” Vision said a little quieter, “don’t mention it.”

The action only happened briefly but when you caught him chewing his lower lip, you felt your innards tie themselves in knots and had a particularly hard time tearing your gaze away. Now that you were closer, you also noticed that the blue and brown ensemble he wore perfectly matched his hair and eyes. That hair that you always desperately wanted to brush your fingers through.

Fingers carefully slipping around your hand, like if they held you any tighter your own would break, managed to catch your attention as Vision turned to lead you inside.

“Oh,” you chirped, tugging your hand back to point a thumb over your shoulder, “I forgot my tools. Meet you in a minute?”

Vision seemed persistent to bring you inside, even going so far as to catch both your arms and doing a playful series of shimmies and sways to dance the two of you closer to the front door. Now that you were out of Herb’s frozen line of sight, the two of your found yourselves standing so close together that there wasn’t a single pocket of space between your bodies. When you inhaled, you smell cologne that wasn’t too light or too heavy and a scent that you could only describe as the heat of a warm, sunny day. Thinking as he would only smell sweat and dirt and grass if he did the same, you blushed and made a note to change before you came back over.

Whatever Vision thought about how you smelled or the clothes you wore, he didn’t seem to care enough, if at all. He took advantage of being out of sight to move his hands from your hours to your waist—a much more convincing position indeed—and nuzzled his nose to your hairline, now exposed as your hat rested farther back on your head.

“You know very well that you can use ours,” he said.

You felt his warm breath on your forehead. If you weren’t standing up and didn’t have the nagging feeling that you were getting dirt on his nice sweater, you would have been perfectly comfortable simply hugging him and dozing off in the cozy embrace right there.

Vision continued in a lilting voice and with an added shimmy that brought the two of you directly to the front door. “They’d love to see you, you know.”

They? Your brows furrowed a bit, then rolled your eyes. Oh, Wanda plus baby.

Still, you steeled your resolve and leaned away from him. He looked at you like he was a puppy that had been kicked, to which you responded with a faux scowl. “Mr. Vision Maximoff, I said I was going bring my tools, and [Y/N] is no flake. Besides,” you paused as your scowl melted into a smile, “I don’t want to get dirt and grime all over the new room. It’ll only take a minute; you act like we can’t see each other through our living room windows if we wanted to.”

Making his last attempt, Vision leaned into your arms, which were now around his own, and pressed his cheek against your temple. Still pouting, he muttered, “It only took Wanda and I going around a few times before we moved in together.”

The idea of you living under the same roof as your couple and their new baby made you giddy as much as it made you feel like you wanted to throw yourself into a lit fire pit to save yourself from embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, a spectacle to behold,” you said as you leaned away again, “A new baby and a new roommate!” You saw Vision open his mouth to speak, no doubt to respond with a quip, and quickly continued, disentangling yourself from him as you did, “Gotta skitty, I’ll be back momentarily!”

“Well,” Vision replied, dragging out the last consonant as if you were going to change your mind if he did so long enough; when you didn’t, he huffed a bit. “Alright then. Hurry back!”

You gave him a smile and two-fingered salute then bounded down the steps and back across the street. You only stopped once on the quick trip back home and that was to give Bernard another swift kick, which somehow lodged the bird the rest of the way into the ground, and a “Fuck you, Bernard!” You heard sputtering laughter from across the street that made you grin as you marched inside to change and grab your toolkit.

The tools were the easy part; they had been sitting out on the table in your dining area since last night when you’d originally suggested the idea so you were sure to not forget them. It took a bit longer to struggle your way out of your clothes, especially while simultaneously trotting to the bathroom to wash your hands and splash water on your face. It took longer still to jog back to your bedroom without slamming yourself into an end table or plant along the way and then also go through every piece of clothes you owned; when bright colors and eccentric outfits came into style, you were, for once, ahead of the fashion game with your regular closet, and your wardrobe only continued to grow as the rest of the country’s interest in the style did. You were particularly interested in peacock fashion and it showed in your array of ruffled, brightly colored, and loudly patterned shirts and blouses.

Of these blouses, you threw on one in a burnt orange and yellow paisley pattern, choosing one without ruffles in fear of ripping them while working. You paired the shirt with matching yellow walk-shorts that ended just above your knees and a pair of honey-brown clog sandals whose color made you think of Vision’s outfit. Thinking about this further, you decided to accent your ensemble with a touch of blue, wrapping your hair that was still damp with sweat back with a satin scarf that was a vibrant blue and some handmade jewelry pieces in the same color to match. Finally, you added a woven belt and, after looking in the mirror for a moment, decided to tie your blouse off an inch above the waist of your shorts instead of tucking it in before booking it back across the street.

Standing at the door of your couple’s house, you took a final glance at yourself in the reflection of one of their windows before knocking. You let yourself in after Wanda invited you with a holler through the door and you were greeted with the interesting sight of Wanda, in all her stunning, colorful, mother-to-be glory standing by the long dark-wood dining table; Vision, half-hidden behind her belly that seemed significantly larger than the last time you saw her, was taking an awkward knee while holding up a variety of fruits.

“I’m never not uniquely surprised when I walk into this house,” you said mostly to yourself and you made your way over. Reaching Wanda, you sat your bag of tools on the floor by her feet and gave her a gentle hug. “Hey, sunshine, you’re looking foxy.”

You certainly had gotten a lot more comfortable with them recently.

Wanda visibly blushed, giving you one of her signature fake irritated looks—a tilted head with tight-knit brows and tight lips that broke into a smile less than a second later—and lightly swatted your arm before carefully returning the hug. “Hey sunshine yourself. Look at you, you’re glowing! And those threads, you’re a regular Casanova.”

She made a point of eyeing your partially exposed midriff and you almost blushed—but not quite.

“Glowing,” you repeated, playfully patting your face, “I’m not even the pregnant one! Thank you, though. Some of the colors were inspired.” You took your turn eyeing her, particularly the bright red of her striped dress that was a common color in her palette, then you caught Vision’s bright blue gaze as he stood and placed a couple of fruits back in their rightful place in the basket on the table. You moved to Wanda’s other side to help him. “Why the fruit?”

“Oh, well, the doctor said it helps the mothers keep track of the baby’s progress.” Vision explained. He added another fruit to the basket’s tower, although he was giving the last one in his hand an odd look.

“What he actually said was,” Wanda added, grasping your shoulder and tugging you over two put an arm around your waist and give you mildly strained look, “it helps make things ‘simple’ for us ‘little ladies.’”

You recognized the glint in her eye and nodded understandingly. “Well that’s mildly condescending, must’ve been just groovy.”

“Out of sight,” Wanda agreed in the same tone. She then looked in Vision’s direction with raised brows; you followed her gaze and saw the man toying with the large green fruit in his hand. “Hey, honey? What’cha doin’?”

Vision met both of your equally puzzled gazes with barely contained glee. Voice tight from holding back a giggle, he raised the fruit and pointed at it. “I can’t wait… to be… a proud… papa-ya.”

Wanda looked amused at the future father’s pun and Vision grinned, clearly happy with the reaction. You actually laughed before quickly throwing up a hand to cover the titter.

“Well, that just proves it,” you said after composing yourself even though your company seemed perfectly pleased with your reaction to the joke, “you’re going to be a wonderful one. Look at you, turning into a proper one already.”

Vision went from smiling to flusteredly chewing at his lip quite quickly; he would always get easily flustered but never enough to blush. Instead, he’d twist his head a certain way and rub his neck and shoulder, maybe even avoid eye contact if he was embarrassed enough. He’d always tug his bottom lip between his teeth too, something you couldn’t help finding just a touch more endearing than the other mannerisms; at least it gave you a much more rational reason to stare at his lips for longer than generally accepted.

“You really think so?” he asked.

You scoffed as you moved to pick up your tools again. “Of course, you and Wanda will make absolutely stellar parents. The two of you are more prepared now than I’ve seen some people after they’ve already had the kids. Now,” you paused as you stood up straight and looked at your couple with a cheerful smile, “shall we head to the nursery?”

You were partially convinced that you had been invited solely to help Vision wrangle his wife. You certainly hadn’t been invited to help decorate; even pregnant, Wanda made faster work of your tools than you did. You were huffing while maneuvering a rocking chair in the room and by the time you got it settled in the corner, Wanda had already pieced together the changing stand that was to sit next to it. You turned to grab a tool to open the cans of paint only to turn back around and see all of them opened and Wanda with a brush in hand, painting away. You managed to get the crib up before she could get her hands on it but when you looked around for the yellow mattress and bumper cushions, you looked up to find Wanda already putting on the finishing touches.

Now, you were kneeling on the ground by the crib and painting a delicately rendered stork while Vision was getting to his feet after reading all the reasons Wanda should be resting instead of doing what she was doing, which was pulling a mobile of colorful plastic butterflies out of a box and shifting ever so closer to a stool so she could hang it.

“Darling,” Vision tried, shifting ever so closer to her, “you should probably sit down.”

“You really should,” you offered your help, almost half-heartedly because you already knew the outcome before she said it.

“Don’t be silly,” Wanda assured him, “all I feel is excitement, happiness, and— huhnf! Oh!”

You were on your feet and spun around to give her a wide-eyed stare before her gasp even finished, but instead of pain or worry, Wanda’s face was lit up with wonder as the hand not grasping a plate fluttered around her stomach. Vision also moved quickly, to step forward and pressed his hand on her stomach.

He breathed, “Kicking already?” and they shared an excited stare.

You stared awkwardly from the side with a paintbrush in hand, feeling more out of place you’ve ever had in your life.

Until Wanda, without missing a single beat, turned her head in your direction and grinned. “[Y/N], you have to feel this!” Then she spoke to Vision, “Oh, it’s such a strange sensation, it’s kinda fluttery!”

She was breathtaking. Then her nose scrunched up and she giggled in a way that could also be described as fluttery, and you were wondering in which states polygamy was legal and where was the best jeweler to get a ring.

Still, you were trying to refrain from overstepping boundaries.

“Oh, I don’t know…” you mumbled, shifting your weight from foot to foot and glancing around the room. You noticed the mobile she had been retrieving the last time you’d looked at her was already hung up above the crib; of course, it was.

Wanda scoffed and made a gesture at Vision, then he was walking over and coaxing you to her side with an encouraging nuzzle to your temple.

“I just don’t want—” you started.

“To overstep, we know,” Wanda finished, the giddy look on her face replaced with a scowl. “Trust me, this is probably the one and only time I’ll ask for someone to feel my stomach while everyone else in the town just does it willy-nilly and besides, you are a part of— Oh!”

Her gasp and glance over your shoulder, combined with the sound of movement behind you was enough to make you turn your head, only for Vision to catch your attention in the opposite direction.

“Another kick!” he exclaimed, just a little too loud. You thought you caught his gaze flitting over in the same direction as Wanda’s but then he was grasping your wrist and placing your hand against Wanda’s stomach. At the same time, his arm that was hovering politely around your back pressed against the naked small of your back as he pulled you closer into the little triangle of space you, Wanda, and he made; the sudden heat there made your blood boil in the best way and when his hand accidentally caught on the hem of your shorts and dipped a little lower over the fabric, you choked while sucking in a breath.

Vision’s hands flew up to the sky and he scrambled away, apologizing profusely. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hands fluttering around, could imagine his eyes doing the same, and you were vaguely aware of Wanda moving at your other side, the fabric of her sleeve brushing against yours as she waved her arm. You also heard a sound that you chalked up to being a breeze coming from the open window and rustling the drawn curtains. You, usually the final piece of the chaotic puzzle, were instead staring down and softly gasping as the sudden tap against your palm.

“I felt it,” you whispered and the chaos that was happening around you seemed to still in the same moment as Wanda and Vision settled back around you to feel themselves. You repeated the phrase, brushing your thumb across the patch of clothed skin, and the baby responded with another kick a moment later. You couldn’t help looking up at Wanda a face frozen in almost childish wonder, and state the obvious, “You’re gonna have a baby.”

Wanda nodded at you with shining eyes and a wet smile. She wrapped her free arm around her midsection and looked back down on her belly. The expression on her face radiated an intense, loving tenderness and you felt a billion non-plastic butterflies make a comfortable home in your chest.

You followed her gaze and felt your face break into a grin so wide that your cheeks started to hurt almost immediately. Your hand, along with Wanda’s own and Vision’s, created a loose but ever so protective triangular shield over the place where you had felt your first baby kick, promising to move the universe for them should it ever be required. Despite the overlapping mess of fingers, you noticed how Vision’s hand was the perfect size to envelop your own and that even with a ring on one of them, Wanda’s fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between yours.

The nervousness and insecurities that seemed to bounce around your head whenever you observed your couple, in their perfect world with their perfect dynamics, melted away in the comfortable warmth that came from your trio’s cozy huddle. This wasn’t a story about you or them separately but the three of you together and it was a wonderful one in the making.

Then, “Oh.”

Wanda looked up at her husband and echoed, “Oh.”

You looked up second, adding your own questioning “Oh?” before your gaze settled on the butterfly lightly perched on the tip of Vision’s nose. “Oh!” Watching the monarch’s delicate wings fluttering, you were surprised he hadn’t already sneezed.

“Hello, little fella,” Vision softly said. He was the first to separate your group, stepping away and leaning down a bit for your and Wanda’s better viewing. His smile was blinding for the brief moment you caught it, before tilting your head away to snicker at the way his eyes were crossing to view his insect passenger.

Wanda gently coaxed the butterfly onto her fingertip and walked over to the window to release it. That’s when you noticed a group of the bug type coalesced around the same area; the sudden visit from Mother Nature must have been what she had seen earlier.

“Oh, my,” you said, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

The smile on Wanda’s face tightened for just a moment as her gaze jumped around the baby room, then relaxed as she maneuvered the various colorful butterflies outside. “Bringing good vibes, hopefully. They must have been enticed by the mobile; why, they even tried to free their plastic friends!”

You looked towards the crib curiously and saw that the mobile hanging above it was only a series of transparent hanging strings. Walking over, you found the butterflies that had once been attached to it scattered around the mattress. You picked a couple of them up and carefully pinched the thin material between your fingers. “Hm, strong butterflies.”

“Clearly,” Vision agreed. He walked over to the rocking chair he had been sitting and reading baby books earlier and picked up his most recent read.

Meanwhile, you began gathering up the scattered butterflies, then climbed up the nearby stool to retrieve the rest of the mobile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a good adhesive laying around, would you? I can have this fixed up and rehung lickity-split.”

“Not laying around but I’m sure there’s one in the cabinet under the sink.” Vision seemed to find the page he was looking for. He glanced over the words, tensed up immediately after, and paced over to Wanda’s side as she shut the window. “If that was first kick, that puts you at about six months! Why I can’t keep up!”

Has it been that long already? You silently wondered as you made your way over to the exit, careful not to crush any of the delicate pieces you were holding. While Vision was thinking in terms of babies, you were surprised that you had already been dating him and his wife for almost half of a year.

In a signature dad-to-be fashion, Vision waggled his head down to give Wanda and the baby a kiss. Then he said in an equally identifiable dad’s voice, “Please don’t misinterpret. I can’t wait you meet you, little Billy!”

You leaned against the doorframe as you offered Wanda an amused look; you had been previously graced with the conversation of baby names and Billy wasn’t exactly on her roster.

“Billy?” she questioned, to which Vision gave a smile and an affirming noise. Wanda continued, “Well I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic American name.”

Vision gave an exaggerated, head tilting nod that suggested a mild disagreement. Then the higher-pitched tone he took when he replied confirmed it. “Hm, Tommy! Hm, mm… then there’s Billy, isn’t there? Named after William Shakespeare, all the world’s a stage, all the men and women many players!”

Wanda went to speak but you beat her to it. “You’re sure it’s a boy, then?”

Your partner seemed mildly embarrassed as she turned her attention to you. “Strong intuition?”

You offered casually, not thinking about your lack of say in the matter, “What about Victor? Vin? Little Vinny’s certainly a cute nickname.” Almost immediately after you finished, it was your turn to be the embarrassed one. You stumbled over your words a bit as you started to apologize, only to falter when you saw both Vision and Wanda’s gleeful stares.

“Well, those are wonderful names too,” Wanda assured you, clearly pleased you had chimed in, “but I’m not hoping for quadruplets. I guess we’ll need the next best thing— A girl.”

Your shoulders relaxed from their hunched places that you hadn’t noticed they took. You chuckled and strolled out the door, throwing a couple more ideas over your shoulder, “Vivian! Virginia! Nadia!”

Vision’s voice floated after you as you walked to the kitchen. “Ooh, Vivian’s quite good…”

When you returned to the bedroom with good-as-new mobile in hand, only final touches needed to be added to the nursery, and Wanda and Vision’s excitement over the baby’s coming was suddenly amped up to eleven. The two were pacing around and frantically listing off the all things that they had left to do or buy. It was a very drastic change from the casual playfulness that you had experienced between them earlier, as the new parents were keeping themselves—and you—busy with a thousand new tasks. Eventually, Vision had a list about as long as he was tall of every bottle, diaper, blanky, binky, children’s book, and stuffed animal that they had yet to get.

Deciding you were now the more sane member of the group, you decided to take the list and go shopping for them; if you didn’t, Vision may have been swept up in the baby section of a clothing store and never return. That’s how you ended up where you were now, at the front of an ever-growing line of department store customers, waiting anxiously as the workers tried to get the lights back on and the cash register back in working order.

You rapped your fingernails on the countertop—not intentionally, just out of worry about how your parents-to-be were managing at home—and glanced from your bloated shopping cart to the cashier, who was talking quietly with a manager then back several times. You were antsy about being stuck in a store when you were much useful elsewhere and being concerned about whether you were making the cashier uncomfortable with your mannerisms, for they were probably three times as unsettled as you were, wasn’t doing anything but adding on to the stress.

Finally, the cashier turned back to you and the rest of the shoppers and announced, “Good news, everybody! The register is still down but it’s a quick switch to manual; we’ll have each and every one of you checked out and on your ways home soon!”

A cheer erupted around you but you were too frazzled to join in.

“Unfortunately,” the cashier continued as the noise died down, “we’re not the only store experiencing this. It’s the whole town.”

While the crowd’s disappointed “Aww” only appeared mildly disgruntled, you went rigid and your mind began racing, all thoughts revolving around a particular household.

One random thought of wondering What if Wanda went into labor right now? had the hair on your arms sticking straight up.

You slammed your hand down on the counter, spooking both the cashier and yourself.

“Ma’am,” you started, then paused to quickly apologize for your rudeness before continuing, “I need you to check me out as fast as humanly possible; I think my—” Wife seemed way out of line but girlfriend felt too out of place. “—pah-art-ner’s having a baby.”

You were struggling to your car with a small mountain of baby items in the arms in a matter of minutes, mentally kicking yourself for being bad at talking the entire way there. You threw your bags in the back, scrambled into the driver’s seat, and were getting ready to pull away from the curb when a ringing from your mobile phone sounded.

“Goddammit,” you huffed. One hand was pulling up an antenna and pressing the technological brick to your ear while the other gripped your steering wheel so hard that your knuckles turned three skin tones lighter. “Yeah, hello?”

“[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice was a welcome surprise but her worried tone wasn’t.

“No, it’s your husband, I’m on my way home now, dear,” you snarked, then mentally kicked yourself again. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m in a rush. What’s crackin’? Besides the town going into blackout, that is.”

“The neighborhood’s flooded,” Agnes said simply.

You blanched. “I’m sorry?”

“The cul-de-sac? Something’s happened and all the pipes have burst. Mine, Herb’s, Dotty’s, everyone’s!”

How on earth the day’s mood has changed so quickly, you had no idea. What you did know is that you desperately had to get back to Wanda’s side, your house be damned.

“Thanks, ‘Nes, good to know,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You rested your phone between your ear and shoulder as you put both hands on the wheel and started driving.

“Do you want me to do anything?” Agnes asked; her voice sounded as frazzled as you and the rest of Westview looked. “Go over to your place, grab anything important?”

You huffed out a sigh as your car flew around a corner. “Agnes, you know I adore you, but I really, really have to go.”

“[Y/N]—”

You hung up and tossed the shoe-sized device in the passenger’s seat.

Vision met you on the curb as you were parking your car and he had the doctor from earlier that day in tow, now dressed in vacationing attire and very seeming very underprepared. Within a few words and as if you had accidentally wished it into existence back at the department store, you were informed that Wanda was in fact about to have little Billy or Tommy or who-have-you. Of course, this messy day would come to a peak in such a way.

The taller man was half-escorting, half-hauling both you and the doctor to the door, and the bags in the backseat of your car were completely forgotten as concern chewed away at your insides. Loud, strained sounds coming from inside only added onto it.

As the three of you reached the front door, Vision flung it open and pressed the doctor inside. Then he grabbed your wrist and began tugging you in after himself.

You couldn’t help your feet freezing to the concrete. “Vis, are you sure?”

The distress on his face softened just slightly and he pressed the back of your hand to his lips. “Of course we are.” Then he wrapped an arm around you and properly, albeit quickly, brought you into his and Wanda’s home—

—where Wanda was laying on the floor, panting and shimmering with sweat and holding a baby wrapped in a blue and white dishtowel while Geraldine perched awkwardly over her.

You and Vision shared a bug-eyed look before Vision’s turned into one of sadness. You wanted so badly to hug him and tell him it was alright but he was already releasing you and slowly walking over; you trailed a couple of steps after him.

“Oh no,” he murmured, “I missed it?” However, when he took a look at Wanda’s softly smiling face and their happily cooing baby, whatever brief grief he was experiencing was replaced by a proud smile and new fatherly glow.

“Hey, doc,” Geraldine spoke suddenly, “why don’t you help me out in the kitchen there?” She nodded in your direction as well.

You wondered why she was there, in Wanda’s home or Westview, at all. The idea made your stomach flip but you just couldn’t place why.

The only response the doctor gave was blubbering about speeding as she took his arm and led him away. You began to follow when Vision stopped you with a gentle tug on your arm.

“No, [Y/N],” he said, “it’s alright. Stay and come see.”

You didn’t even think as you smiled and took his hand. You took a glance towards the kitchen to make sure the other company was occupied, then kissed the back of his hand as he had done only a moment earlier. Squeezing it and letting it drop, you responded, “Go say hello to your baby. I’ll always be here.”

Given the current situation, Vision wasn’t up for arguing much. He gave you a quick peck on the temple before gingerly making his way over to where Wanda rested happily on the living room floor.

You made your way to the kitchen, where you slumped against the kitchen counter as exhaustion overtook you. You were close enough to both parties to hear Geraldine’s blatant attempts at distracting the doctor to your left and Vision and Wanda’s cozy rumblings to your right, but too out of sorts to make out anything tangible. You didn’t realize until now how badly your feet ached from the combination of gardening, decorating, and running around and how your outfit had lost its cute playfulness in place of wrinkles and feeling slightly damp from sweat. You were sure you were looking more worse for wear than Wanda, despite Wanda having had a baby, but when you thought about it for more than a second or two, you felt like you wouldn’t trade the day for any other in the world.

Especially when thinking about that cutie patootie, you thought with a tired smile. He’s gonna have such good parents. Such a good life.

Suddenly, your train of thought was stopped by the sound of Wanda yelling and your whole body jerked in her direction, energetic as ever.

Wanda was going into labor a second time, you could see easily see. Something somehow more surprising was going on in the living area, though, and that something was Vision’s skin. While he still wore his regular clothes, that was the only normal thing about him. Instead of light skin, his flesh was a deep red and you weren’t even sure it could be called skin; it looked more… mechanical than that, with symmetrical lines etched into some places and silver plating covering others. Instead of a full head of wavy hair, he had none, and his ears and parts of his bald skull were also covered in silver. Silver came to a peak at the top of his forehead and at the end of it was a golden gem.

Vision was holding his baby and yelling along with Wanda as she began pushing a second time. He happened to glance up and catch your bewildered eye and then he started yelling because of you.

You stood frozen in place, not sure what to do until you heard a commotion behind you.

“Well, what’s going on now?” Geraldine started.

Your brain kicked back into full gear and thinking quickly and somewhat stupidly, you yelled and pointed in the opposite direction, “Jeepers creepers, is that a stork?” You couldn’t imagine why your poor attempt at a distraction worked but you considered it a success as Geraldine and the still-disoriented doctor’s attention settled elsewhere. Not missing a beat, you grabbed another cloth from the kitchen and raced to Wanda and Vision’s aid, skidding to a halt on your knees.

“[Y/N],” Vision said, though nothing else followed. He stared at you in pure shock, mouth flapping and the bright blue irises of his eyes twisting and shifting like a camera lens as he looked at you. Still, his body worked despite his befuddled mind as he took the cloth you handed him and offered you a newborn baby to hold instead.

“[Y/N],” Wanda gasped through her current endeavor. When you dragged your head to look at her, she was staring at you with a clenched jaw and equally wide eyes, which were filled with a mixture of surprise, horror, and… relief? Then she was screaming and pushing again, eyes squeezed shut, and her hand flew to your own.

You grabbed it and held on tight, even when her fingernails dug in enough to leave marks for days. While a red and silver-skinned Vision handled the delivery like a champ—a bugged out, stammering, robotic champ who couldn’t figure out whether he should be looking at you, his wife, or the baby he was helping into the world but a champ nonetheless—you switched between offering encouraging words to the tiring new mother and cooing calmly at the newborn swaddled and resting cozily in the crook of your arm. Soon enough, Wanda was slumping back into the pillow behind her head and Vision was sitting back on his haunches with another quiet baby snuggled against his chest; your taut muscles sagged and the exhaustion you hit in the kitchen came rushing back.

You made sure Wanda was lucid enough to take her baby back and carefully transferred from your arms to hers. It was only after he was safely in his mother’s grasp that you were able to fully relax, tossing an arm around Vision’s shoulders and leaning heavily against him while you shook out your other hand, which was red and covered in deep, crescent moon-shaped marks.

“So,” you puffed, “Billy and Tommy?”

Wanda’s tired face lit up as she nodded her head towards her baby. “Tommy.”

Vision, who was leaning on you as much as you were on him—something in the back of your head noted that the two of you held each other very well and that something sent a little pang of affection straight to your pounding heart—used his turn to nuzzle the forehead of the baby he held and grumble in a half British, half baby-talk accent, “Billy.”

You hummed while stretching a hand down to give Billy a very ginger boop on the nose; he didn’t seem to mind. Then you said, “Vinny and Vivian will just have to be next time.”

Your group shuddered with a mess of tired, soft laughter. Then you began to relax further but as the excitement of childbirth began to wear off, you a new variation of tension settling into your couple. The new parents were sharing increasingly worried looks and if they were communicating telepathically, and it was then that you remembered that the man sitting next to you was for less human than you’d previously made him out to be.

The realization seemed to hit him at almost the same time because his head swung to look at you just as you had turned to observe his new appearance. On his robotic face—was robotic even the word; was he a robot?—was an expression of outright fear but also something that looked like he was mentally being torn in two different directions. He went to speak several times—his mouth and teeth looked the same, perfect and familiar—only to verbally scramble and backtrack, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders since his hands were too occupied to scratch his neck. Finally, he appeared to get himself in order and he started, “[Y/N], I can— we can explain—”

You ran your hand over his scalp and down to rest at the base of his neck; the silver plating felt like metal, while the thick red epidermis was warm and softer to the touch. Not only warm but damp from exertion, and pulsing softly to some form of a heartbeat where you ran a finger over a common pulse point.

While your mental energy was rapidly declining, you still managed to quip at the man, “As much as loved the idea of running my fingers through your hair, I think I prefer this over that awful cut that’s in style right now.”

That left Vision dumbfounded and silent, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish out of water. On your other side, who had been otherwise quiet and already snoozing as far as you were concerned, broke into a burst of loud laughter that was music to your ears.

You grinned in response but your muscles were too tired to make it reach your eyes. You shifted over slightly to be closer to Wanda now and brushed your thumb over little Tommy’s cheek before resting doing a similar action to his mother’s. Wanda relaxed her head against your palm and the way she looked up at you from under her lashes made you do mental gymnastics about the ethics of blurting out the L-word then and there.

Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last much longer because then Geraldine’s voice floated over from the kitchen, getting louder as she and the doctor made their way back from the wild stork chase you sent them on. You quickly looked to Vision, only to see him looking as human as the day you first met him, and noted the sad little string you got from seeing simple blue irises instead of the intricately shifting blue ones that swirled mechanically as he focused on something. It only lasted a moment, though, before you and your trio were busy readjusting yourselves into what you considered normal poses but in reality, probably made the three of you look much more awkward than you previously had.

You’d just finished settling as Geraldine and her companion walked into the living room and, thinking tiredly and definitely stupidly, you blurted, “Jeepers creepers, another baby!”

“Twenty fingers and twenty toes, you’ve got two healthy baby boys on your hands.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Wanda responded as the man handed Billy back to her. Vision stood watchfully next to her, holding Tommy.

You poked your head up from behind the second crib you were finishing assembling and as the doctor turned to thank Geraldine for her delivery help, you said to the Maximoff couple, “And a second crib all ready to go. If they’re not fans of sleeping separately, let me know and we can exchange the ones you have for one big one.”

Wanda held out her hand to you as you stood and you walked over to hold it only briefly as she thanked you before leaning over and crooning at Billy and Tommy in turn. You were in the company of others, after all, and there had been enough excitement for one day without revealing your polyamorous relationship to a neighbor and a random doctor.

It was weird how different the energy felt standing with them now than it had earlier just that day alone. Things still felt new and strange but you no longer felt like a separate unit from the household you were standing in or the people standing and smiling oh so sweetly at you. Then again, maybe that’s just what being involved in the arrival of an unexpected set of twins and making a superhuman discovery about one of your partners did to all blossoming romantic triads in the seventies.

Speaking of the doctor, as he began to finish up chatting with Geraldine, Vision beckoned you closer, and after getting an okay to do so, he carefully laid the baby he held in your arms. He gave Tommy a nuzzle and a light tap on the nose, then straightened up and headed towards the door.

He said to the other man, “Allow me to walk you out, doctor.”

“Oh, alright,” the doctor responded with an odd quiver in his voice. Said quiver was confirmed to be restlessness, which you had no doubt was attached to some sort of superhuman business Vision had involved him in when picking him up, when he continued, “As long as we actually walk this time?”

You would definitely have to delve into the mystery of Vision’s sometimes inhuman appearance at a later date but at that moment you were remembering how the entire neighborhood’s pipes had burst. The neighborhood of which your house was a part of and an event you were sure you hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid.

“Oh, shi—oot,” you stammered, “I should probably get back to my own pad and save what I can from getting water damage. I haven’t even been home to see how bad everything is.” You provided Tommy with a very important explanation in very serious baby babble terms before placing him in his crib. “I’ll just leave my car on this side of the street and bring the other stuff in sometime later this evening if that’s alright with you, Wanda?”

When you looked at her, she was giving you a confused head tilt. She blinked, then her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, the pipes!” She paused and turned her gaze to the far wall of the living room as if she could see your house through it, then looked back at you with a smile. “Your house should be fine. In fact, I think the entire neighborhood is back intact!”

Something about the way she looked at you assured you that she was right. You wondered whether Vision wasn’t the only one with a unique secret under this roof and if all the strange happenings that had gone on today couldn’t be traced back to Wanda herself.

Not that any of that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

“I should still go,” you insisted, “You should really rest for a while, and I am a mess for the second time today. Maybe I can pop back over in a little bit?”

Wanda pursed her lips in a subtle doubt before giving in. She nodded and after taking a glance around to make sure the company was occupied, she grasped your hand and leaned in closer. “Come over for dinner tonight. Stay and help us get the babies settled in? We can talk about today.”

“Wanda, you need rest—”

The woman interrupted, a teasing look making her eyes glitter. “Which is why either you or Vision will be doing the cooking! And you know how much I love the man but there’s a reason the only thing he handles in the kitchen is water from the faucet.”

You had to nod in somber agreement at that statement, then sighed and gave Wanda a pout of your own. “Fine. Now, is anyone looking?”

Wanda was smiling triumphantly. She took another quick look around, then shook her head; her silky hair fanned out slightly from its position perfectly framing her head as she did.

You shuffled a little closer and slipped an arm around her waist in an intimate hug. Leaning in, you gave her one quick smooch on the cheek and another on the forehead then mumbled against her skin, “You did amazing.” Another kiss. “And you’re going to be a wonderful mother. Please, though, promise me that you’ll rest, at least for a little bit. The world will not crumble around you if you take one break.”

Wanda, who had immediately leaned into your embrace and giggled as you kissed her, scoffed slightly. She gave you a tight squeeze and murmured back, “I suppose you’re right. Fine, but only because you promised to cook.”

“Well, technically,” you said as you broke away from her, “I only said I’d come over. I can’t wait for Vision to make us burnt water and boiled bacon!”

Wanda stared after you, frozen in a mock gasp. “[Y/N]!”

You grinned and waved before spinning on your heels and trotting over to where Vision was perched, holding the door. “Bye!”

When you got to the door, Vision’s hand played lightly down your back as he followed you outside after the doctor.

“Well, Dr. Nielson,” Vision said, “I hope you’re still able to make your trip.”

The doctor, apparently Dr. Nielson, slowed as he stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk. He turned towards Vision with a glassy look in his eye that he hadn’t had before but you’ve been seeing more and more often in Westview residents these days. When he talked, his speech became slower as well.

“Ah, yes, about my trip,” he drawled, “I don’t think we’ll get away after all. Small towns, you know. So hard to… escape.”

You frowned, suddenly uneasy. Glancing at Vision, the man just looked confused.

Dr. Nielson’s glassy gaze shifted from Vision to you. He spoke deliberately to you, “Don’t you think, [Y/N]?” Then he blinked, turned, and walked off down the sidewalk.

You weren’t sure exactly why, but you flinched and reeled back. You would have tripped and fallen up the porch if it weren’t for Vision catching you. Then the two of you stood gripping each other and staring as the doctor disappeared around the corner.

You didn’t even realize that your ears had started ringing until the sound began to fade. You started, “Well, that was…”

“Yeah,” Vision said with a slow nod. “Very. Are you alright?”

“Fine, I think.”

“No migraines?”

“No migraines.”

The two of you stood holding each other for a moment longer before you forced your fingers to loosen their death grip on Vision’s jacket. As the two of you relaxed slightly and readjusted yourselves, several questions rushed through your head, like why was that so unnerving and why did the doctor speak directly to you.

How had he known your name?

A particularly sharp pain made your vision swim temporarily but it was gone as soon as it came. Before you think any further on the subject, other voices floated into your range of hearing.

“What is she doing in there?”

“I don’t know.”

You followed the voices with your eyes and found Agnes and Herb talking quietly by the wall Herb had been cutting into earlier; actually, Herb looked like he’d barely moved an inch, still standing in the gap between his wall of shrubs. At least he appeared more lucid, but now he and Agnes were huddled together like they were having a secret meeting. Neither of them noticed you yet.

Vision decided to change that by throwing up a hand and hollering, “Howdy neighbors!”

Agnes spun around so quickly you were wonder if she’d given herself whiplash, but the strained greetings and even more strained expressions that both she and Herb gave were what really piqued your interest.

Well, not so much piqued your interest than their actions gave you a second dose of uneasiness that made your head spin and filled you with a sense of somewhat morbid curiosity.

Then they stuck their heads back together and continued muttering.

“Did you see her go inside?” Agnes questioned.

Herb responded, “She went right in.”

Vision leaned his head closer to yours; he didn’t seem to catch what they were saying. “Do they seem… a little off to you?”

“Just a tad.”

You silently deliberated with each other before casually strolling over.

“Remarkable day we’re having, no?” Vision tried again.

Agnes and Herb looked up again, also trying to look casual but there was something definitely worrisome about their equally strained smiles.

Vision continued, “Did you lose power too?”

You snapped your fingers, joining in. “That’s right! Agnes, you called me about the pipes bursting. I hope nothing got too damaged?”

“Oh, sure did,” Agnes said to Vision, “but Ralph looks better in the dark, so I’m not complaining. And you’re right, I did, [Y/N]! Luckily, everything’s just fine.”

There was an awkward pause and even though you were out in open air, you felt like you were struggling to breathe in a sauna.

Vision said, “Hi, Herb.”

Herb responded, “Heya, buddy.”

More awkward silence.

“Well,” Vision said slowly, lightly clapping his hands together, “I’ll get back to Wanda. [Y/N], you’re heading home?”

“Right,” you affirmed, a little too quickly.

What is going on?

Vision placing his hand on your back brought back some sense of normalcy as he began escorting you to the curb.

“Vision,” Agnes abruptly said halting your exit. You and your partner turned back to her and Herb and she continued after a long-winded pause and adjusting her awkward stance leaning against the low wall, “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

“Yes. Why?”

Herb piped up, “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

Wait, that’s not right. Your brows furrowed and you felt the sting of your own bite as you chewed your bottom lip. You felt pressure in your skull as you tried to recall where you’d previously met the woman, because you knew you had, but trying to do so had a similar feeling to trying to grip water as it rushed through your fingers.

Agnes went on, “There’s no family. No husband.”

You would have scowled, said something in defense of your circumstances of moving to Westview without a family or marriage, but you were too busy trying to clear away the fog that quickly encroaching your headspace. Vision, on the other hand, was able to say something, “Well there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Agnes hummed, gave a half-hearted nod, then steadily met his gaze. “No home.”

Come to think of it, you knew very little about Geraldine. While you were positive that you’d met her before today, you couldn’t for the life of you place what she did for work, when she first appeared in Westview, what house in the cul-de-sac she lived in—

You could list off the names of everyone who lived in your neighborhood. Geraldine wasn’t one of them.

Your brain felt like it could expand and explode from the intense pressure at any moment but the dread pooling in the pit of your stomach from the idea of not being able to retrieve memories bothered you far more. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the thoughts away and instead mentally leaned into the pain. The harder you pushed, the more pressure pushed back, as if you were fighting against an invisible barrier that was barring you from your own memories.

At the same time, you attempted to keep yourself grounded by staying tuned into the conversation at hand. Vision asked Agnes what she meant by Geraldine having no home and Herb kept stumbling over the same beginning of a sentence—She came here because… She came here because… She came here because we’re all…—like he was a record on a broken player that just wouldn’t let him get out what he wanted to say.

Vision tried to urge him on. “She came here because what? What are trying to tell me?”

With Agnes and Herb bickering briefly about whether or not to tell Vision whatever it was they had been speaking about, Vision completely tuned into them, and you fighting to remember things without succumbing to your migraines, you had an underlying feeling of being out of place. You’ve felt out of place before, of course, but this was something different and weird and wrong. Your entire perfect—but not so much, you were gradually learning—little town suddenly seemed like it was out of place in its state, its country, its world, its reality. Out of nowhere, Westview felt like it was trapped in a claustrophobic little bubble that wouldn’t let anyone escape and the longer anyone was here, the warped things would become—

A memory came rushing back of a black and white talent show and a smashed mirror and an arm oozing blood and color and Geraldine was there but she was an eerie Geraldine, out of place and time and reality and asking if you knew who she was or who you were and you didn’t know the answer and then Wanda and Vision appeared and everything was okay again, and now the name Monica throbbed against the base of your neck and the air around you radiated electricity and it was itchy and no one around you was noticing anything and instead of darkness, a weird bright light was tinging the edges of your vision white and—

There was a crash coming from the house and none of the people standing next to you were any the wiser but even though you felt like you were swimming through honey while doing it, you turned just in time to see a portion of a nearby wall explode as something shot out from inside and continued flying until it disappeared into the distance. Then there was a sound similar to a sonic boom that followed and a wave of nausea crashed over you as the electric air rippled and distorted right before your eyes, and then you could see the dome of TV static-looking energy that encapsulated your town and the dome seemed to peak directly above the Maximoff house.

Your ears rang. Your mouth flapped open closed but you couldn’t force a single word out. You looked around and everyone else in your group seemed trapped in a strained conversation that they couldn’t escape from if they wanted to.

You didn’t so much walk as you floated over to the gaping hole in the side of your couple’s house, or at least, that’s what it felt like as the ground grew soft and wobbly under your feet and you swayed as you moved. You reached the hole and peered through it, then waved aimlessly when you saw Wanda staring wide-eyed at you from a couple of demolished rooms away. She said or mouthed something—she’s sorry? Why?—but you couldn’t tell which it was over the thrumming of your own pulse in your ears. You cocked your head, more out of curiosity than confusion, then blinked and stared glassy-eyed as the hole in the house reversed itself.

“Huh,” you said dumbly as the last brick fell back into place. “Cool.”

Then your body felt as if it were slammed back onto very hard, solid ground and that’s because it was. You weren’t sure if you whined or groaned or screamed as you collapsed to the ground, succumbing to your worst migraine yet.

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ampleappleamble · 3 years

Text

—

She closed her eyes to pray. Opened them. Closed them, tried to pray again. Stopped.

This isn't right, she thought.

It wasn't as though Axa had been expecting exactly the same sort of religious services as she'd grown up with in Ixamitl– especially not from followers of Wael– but sitting in a library and trying to pray felt akin to going to the clothier's to eat dinner, or having a bath in the bakery.

The Waelite priests back home tended to wander from town to town, either alone on foot or in small groups driving ramshackle wagons, setting out their begging bowls and preaching the mysteries of the Eyeless Face by day, taking drugs and sleeping in trees or on rooftops by night. Their services were subsequently quite sporadic, their sermons spontaneous and abstruse, sometimes downright nonsensical, sometimes shockingly revelatory. They'd had a knack for showing up when the community was in direst need of their unique guidance– and for absconding quickly and quietly after inevitably pressing their luck too far and pissing off the locals.

"Ah! The exhilarating, carefree life of the vagabond," Vaargys had stated one evening, regarding the other priests with reverence as they'd trundled off in their brightly-painted wagons. "I almost envy them." He'd wrapped his arm around her, then, and she'd leaned into him, smiling. Promising in her heart that he'd never have to live that kind of life again.

She remembered the night she'd kicked him out, the light from her burning books illuminating his back as he'd vanished into the darkness.

"Watcher."

Pallegina's voice startled the orlan out of her reverie, and she looked up to see the paladin standing over her, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She had seemed... uncomfortable ever since they'd stepped foot into the Hall of Revealed Mysteries, although she hadn't said anything, and Axa was secretly relieved that she wasn't the only one feeling out of place.

"Pardon my intrusion, but I think, perhaps, it is time we started our work for the day." The woman's golden eyes darted to and fro, narrowing as they alighted on the huge painted Eye of Wael dominating the far wall. "As much as I appreciate a well-stocked library, I have always felt somewhat ill at ease in temples. And no amount of reading– or praying– will fulfill our tasks for us."

Axa cocked an eyebrow at the other woman, her lips twitching into a grin. "A Godlike who doesn't care much for temples? Sounds familiar."

"Is that so?" Pallegina cast the little woman a piercing glare, feathers ruffling. "In what way, exactly?"

The redhead looked down at her feet, swinging her legs back and forth, still smiling wryly. "My little brother Tico is a Godlike. Touched by Hylea, actually, same as you. He also didn't like temples much. 'Institutions of kith,' he called them, always trying to tell him what he was, who he was, what he was meant to do with his life. And our mother was little better." The smile had slowly tightened as she'd spoken, and now her mouth was a taut, straight line.

Pallegina blinked at her, a bit taken aback. This was not where she had been expecting this conversation to go. "I see," she murmured.

Axa could feel the other woman's discomfort, feel the mood getting awkward, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from continuing anyway. "Mama always wanted a large family, having never had one of her own at all growing up as a slave in Readceras, but after Tico's birth, the midwife told her she couldn't have any more. She never outwardly blamed him, but it wasn't difficult to tell that she was bitter about it, and she absolutely took it out on him. She used to guilt him into giving her his feathers so she could craft special religious totems, commissions for wealthy clients, to keep the family afloat after Papa disappeared. Tico felt so bad for her, he could never quite muster the strength to refuse. As far as I know, he's still letting her pluck him bald."

The straight line of her lips had morphed into a full-on scowl, now, her little hands balled into fists. "No matter where he went or what he did, he always seemed to be caught between being perceived as either an object of worship or an object of scorn... but always an object. Never a person."

"Ac. It is always that way, for us." Pallegina spoke softly, gravely, a faraway look in her keen eyes. "Being different in the way that we are means always second-guessing every kind gesture or word of praise, always looking over our shoulders and watching our own backs. No matter who we keep company with. Your brother and I have that in common, it seems. He has my sympathies."

Axa sighed, running a shaky hand through her thick hair. "Thank you. I– Sorry, I– I didn't mean to unload my family history on you. I guess I just had the past on my mind. I was actually thinking of Vaargys just before we started talking..."

The paladin cocked her head inquisitively. "Who?"

Axa remembered, suddenly, that she hadn't yet met Pallegina when she'd told the story of her tumultuous, doomed courtship, and she laughed at her own foolishness. "He's... a long story," she chuckled. "I'll tell you later, if Kana doesn't beat me to it. And after I've had a few drinks first, ideally."

An amused smirk popped up on Pallegina's face. "You may not be Godlike, Watcher, but you are certainly strange in your own way. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, of course."

The orlan glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, fidgeting in her seat. "Speaking of strange things that are hard to talk about– I hope it isn't rude of me to ask, but I couldn't help but notice that you don't exactly... look like him. Like Tico, I mean." She peeked at the paladin's face again, saw more curiosity than hostility, pressed on. "I mean, beyond just the obvious differences. His feathers are a different color, which is to be expected as far as I'm aware, but the amount of feathers on his body, the shape of his nose and brow, even the skin on his hands and feet– he's quite a lot... birdier than you appear to be."

Pallegina scoffed, quickly jerking her head to one side to gaze at the temple's exit. "There is a reason for that," she muttered after a long pause. "And it is none of your business. However, you are not the first to notice the discrepancies between myself and other Avian Godlikes. Suffice it to say I had a certain... benefactor in my youth, a practitioner of animancy who assisted me through some difficult formative years." The soldier's face softened, suddenly, just for a moment, and then hardened as she fixed her gaze on Axa again, looking away from the main door as a new visitor gently pushed it open. "That is all I will say on the matter."

"An animancer, huh." Axa slid off of her pew, contemplating Pallegina's words as she stretched her back and rolled her shoulders. "...Think the ones at Brackenbury Sanitarium can help Aloth?"

The taller woman snorted derisively. "If he should ever gather the nerve to actually commit to going there and meeting with one, possibly, yes." The man who had just entered the temple seemed to be heading straight for her and the Watcher, so she kept her eye on him, but saw no need to acknowledge him just yet. "And if they happen to hail from the Republics, all the better."

"He'll come around," Axa sighed. "It's not always so easy to bare your soul to a stranger, literally or figuratively. Although, listening to me you'd think–"

"State your business, quickly." Axa snapped to attention at the sound of Pallegina's sharp, commanding voice, surprised to only now notice the messenger standing before them. Where did he come from?

"Erh– begging your pardon, Lady Knight, but I've a message for your cohort," the man stammered under her cool, confident presence. He regained some of his professional stature as he turned to face the orlan, wax-sealed missive in hand. "You are Axa Mala?"

"I am," she replied. Around the hall, scholars and priests looked up from their books or paused their whispered conversations, hoping to learn what they could of this new development. Aloth and Sagani alerted Edér and Kana, and quickly and quietly the little group gathered around Axa, ready to leave.

"A message for you, madam," the courier stated. "Chancellor Warrin requests your presence at the Ducal Palace this day, to discuss Erl Bademar's ruling on the rightful ownership of Caed Nua."

"I see," the little woman sighed. "I suppose it was about time I got to work today anyway."

—

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #fic wip #endlessly farting around in defiance bay: part 4732: electric boogaloo #someday we'll get to that sanitarium!#someday.........

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bave-de-crapaud · 4 years

Text

The Darkness Within...

CHAPTER FIVE

(Yearning by crescentcreations.storenvy.com)

Request by: the babe @belladonnarey

A/N: hmmm this one took a while BUT it (hopefully) is the smut you have been waiting for. Let me know what you like about it, what you don’t, what you think will happen. Enjoy and stay safe. Sirius x Reader Older Sirius Sirius Lives/Post Azkaban Smutty McSmut Word count: 5500+ Disclaimer: All characters are assumed 18+ Warnings: Smut!

—-

Finding yourself at Number 12 Grimmauld Place became a regular if normal occurrence over the next few weeks. In your spare time you sat on the floor in Sirius’ library, pouring over dusty volumes containing everything and anything related to wizards and witches with ‘eccentric abilities’ - the technical term to what you had, apparently.

The good thing about this was you weren’t the only one who had surfaced over the years with strange skills, there were wizards who could command water without a wand, witches who with one touch could drain a person of their fears, individuals who could fly sans apparatus and countless others who had fascinating and outrageous traits. The bad thing was none of these wizards were alive today to speak with, the last person with documented abilities had died over 100 years ago. Yet again you felt like you were on this journey on your own.

Sirius and Remus were constantly in and out of the house completing various missions and tasks for the order. Sirius checked on you often, bringing you tea or something to eat but kept himself scarce to let you figure out your mysteries alone. He seemed to understand that this was a private affair for you and you were grateful for the time. However each night around 8pm he would come into the Library, sit on one of the old leather couches and ask you about your day.

You caught snippets of what he and Remus had been up to and learned that one of the missions ended in a grizzly discovery of Macnair’s body - found dead in his home - magic obviously the cause of torture and death.

Voldemort had become less of a focus in your mind and each time you were called to his presence you found it easy to resist his psychological torment. The disgust on your face was not evident when fellow Death Eaters talked about their foul crimes. Being around Sirius was giving you a strength you never knew you had. The way he threw himself into fighting for equality and the right to live no matter what situation or who he had to work with, both humbled and amazed you. If he can put up with more than 12 years of the world thinking he was a betrayer and cold-blooded killer who was associated with Death Eaters and Voldemort, then you could put up with sporadically rubbing shoulders with Malfoy, Lestrange, and their cronies.

Your new attitude didn’t go unnoticed, it was put down to you growing a stronger stomach for violence and generally taken positively amongst the Death Eater ranks. However, Voldemort, though he outwardly showed no signs of displeasure, watched you more and decided to hold whatever he wanted Macnair to deliver to you for later. Like any nefarious leader, he was constantly on the lookout for a rat in his ranks and you were not exempt from this scrutiny.

After every Death Eater meeting, you would return home before heading over to Grimmauld Place, a new sanctuary, to pour over more books and hopefully absorb the good vibes from its admirable inhabitants. This made being with Death Eaters bearable. On the nights of Order meetings, however, you stayed away. Those evenings were becoming Sirius’ least favourite. It made sense to shield you from them for your own and others’ safety. However, that didn’t stop him feeling concerned for you. Reckless and impulsive, he may be, he was also a very intuitive and perceptive man. He hadn’t failed to notice how much you seem to relax in his library. He wanted that for you, relating to that feeling of relief as almost an addictive substance, he knew you needed and craved it and he wanted to give it to you. Badly.

He felt protective and territorial of you. If he really wanted to analyse his feelings he would have noticed that your safety, though paramount, was not the only reason he wanted you to come to his house: the lingering looks as he gave you yet another cup of tea, finding a way to bring you into conversation with Remus, seemingly innocently, was a dead giveaway of deeper feelings. Remus said nothing, prefering to feign ignorance, yet the annoyingly knowing looks he gave Sirius hinted otherwise.

“Just ask her, Padfoot.” Remus sighed exasperatedly, shuffling his paper one day as Sirius kept looking towards the door of his library, knowing you were inside.

“Ask her what?” Sirius tried and failed to nonchalantly reply.

“Out, mate!”

Sirius frowned, placing both hands on the kitchen table as though readying his defense. “For one: what makes you think I want to ask her out? And two: I couldn’t anyway - we are supposed to be on opposing sides remember?”

Remus stared at his friend, conceding defeat but not enough to hold in his last words before disappearing behind the Daily Prophet; “True but if it can be concealed from the Death Eaters that she is at your house every day, then asking her to have dinner with you is not a huge step up I would think.”

There was another reason, Sirius hadn’t tried to gauge your feelings: He didn’t want you to think he was just trying to get a leg over. Your outright statement about his intentions after he first visited your house, had stuck with him. He concluded that you didn’t want him and pursuing you would only harden your view towards him further. So he played it safe, frustrating himself and unknowingly frustrating you in the process.

—

Sirius’ library was vast and carried more volumes on runes than all the franchises of Flourish and Blotts combined. What was interesting was that the interpretation of runes and ancient markings was just as vast and also open into a plethora of interpretation. You had discovered that the rune on your chest - the mirror image of one of Sirius’ tattoos - did indeed mean ‘destruction’ but in a form of new growth. Much like a farmer sowing soil, ridding the earth of old, dead, and rotting plants preparing it for new seeds.

Two runes on your left arm meant ‘Harm To My Enemies’ and another on your thigh could be interpreted as ‘The East Wind’. Other forms of your abilities were harder to quantify as there was no record of someone with all the same traits as you, however, those who had shown up throughout history with varying sources of atypical power were more often than not tyrants and individuals who used their abilities for evil. Stories of wizards who did not feel cold, commanding animals, and manipulating the elements such as fire were largely negative however speckled throughout the research were wizards who were great warriors, shepherds of the people, and in some cases just normal citizens living their lives like everyone else

Though you were slowly and steadily finding out more information about your powers and relished the time you were so easily given you couldn’t help but wish for Sirius’ company more often than an hour or two at night. Luckily for you, that was about to change.

—

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” You were sat on the floor in front of the fireplace staring gloomily at your fifth cup of tea.

You smiled “Sirius I’m so grateful for you letting me stay but I was wondering - do you have anything other than tea?”

He smirked and left the room returning seconds later with a bottle of fire whiskey.

Handing you a large glass he clinked it with his and took his place back on the couch asking you again how was your day. Each night Sirius had helped you with your findings, giving his opinion or helping you to digest what you had read. He was adamant that your powers weren’t evil and that you needed to be confident in your choice to do what was right. He had served to make you feel good about yourself a lot but you wondered if he had the same support from his pairs. Tonight you put aside your research and decided to question him about his life. You had gleaned a bit about him over the last month but he was infinitely fascinating to you and seemed like a well of untapped ideas and beliefs.

He talked about his family, his friends, and the Order. He told you light hearted tales about his Hogwarts days and he talked at length about Harry and how sometimes he was nervous about his parenting role considering Walburga and Orion were such poor examples to go off.

“You know, you are not what I thought.” You said boldly after a moment of silence.

Sirius sat up straighter on the couch and cocked his eyebrow at you. A side smile not quite covering a flicker of worry in his eyes.

“Oh?” Was all he said. “Yeah.” You walked forwards from your current position in front of the mantle place and took a seat beside him.

“You care more about what people think than you let on.”

“Is that so?” He subconsciously moved his body so it was angled towards you.

“Yeah, and you are not as much of a dog around the ladies as I thought you’d be.” Sirius barked out a laugh at this. “Why thank you Y/N, but to be fair you have never seen me around ‘the ladies.’”

“I’ve seen you around me.” You answered bluntly. “You aren’t all over me with cheap pick up lines and cocky bravado.”

Sirius turned his head away and tried to hold in a laugh. Where was this coming from? He wondered.

“Is that how you think I would woo a woman? I’m slightly offended, Y/N.” He didn’t look it. He looked amused and a little interested.

He wasn’t able to tell if you were joking and as you glimmered at him, taking another sip of your drink.

“I don’t sleep around you know. I haven’t done that since I was 20, but unfortunately, that reputation has always preceded me.”

“You probably deserved it!”

He scoffed, turning back to stare at the fire; “Probably, and don’t get me wrong I still like meeting new people but I have long since learned sex is far better with someone you have a connection with.”

“Ok then.” You said brightly, gaining his attention again. “What would you do?”

“What would I do, when?” Sirius narrowed his eyebrows slightly, confused.

“When you want to “woo” a woman.” You signalled quotation marks in the air as you said the word ‘woo’ earning another quick chuckle from him.

Sirius paused, looking at you intently, cogs working fast in his brain. She wants you to woo her? No, she wants you to show her what you would do to woo her. Does that mean she wants me?

As Sirius battled these rapid thoughts, your own inner monologue was pipping up as well: This is a dangerous game, Y/N. You are leading him on and you know it. It’s too dangerous, you can’t do anything with him. Don’t confuse the poor guy…unless you want to be leading him on. Do you?

Shaking your head and forcing yourself to believe this would just be a fun game you crossed your legs leaning closer to Sirius.

He noticed glancing at your legs, smooth skin exposed up to past mid-thigh where your skirt took over covering the rest from there.

He looked back into your eyes and noticed a difference. Your pupils were bigger and there was a faint purple hue in your irises.

Right now, the sexual tension in the room could be cut with a knife. It had been building over the past few weeks. An accidental touch here and there, a smile, or a look that meant everything and nothing at the same time from him would floor you. When he looked over your shoulder to consider whatever book you were showing him, little puffs of his breath in your ear flooded your body with heat making it impossible to concentrate. All these reactions confused you and created a chronic longing feeling in your chest you had not experienced before. It made you feel warm, content, and giddy.

Never having fallen for anyone before, you didn’t recognise the signs, the changes in your body and the effect he had on you mentally and physically. By the time these feelings had reached boiling point he was sitting next to you and your body was doing the thinking for you. God you wanted him to touch you. To an untrained eye Sirius looked so cool and collected, however beneath the surface he was anything but.

Since Remus had confronted him about asking you out, Sirius had thought little else. He was super aware of his body language, how it angled him towards you, begging him to take a step closer even if just to place his hand on your back as he passed. Believing that you didn’t want that from him, he was careful not to brush past you or stand too close and cause you to feel uncomfortable. He constantly watched himself and made sure he didn’t give you the wrong idea. It was hard though. Very hard.

Just yesterday he nearly pinned you against the wall and kissed you. He was walking you out and after a long night of research, you were tired and not watching where you were going. Just as he was saying “watch out for the…” you kicked over that bloody troll leg again. Instead of steading yourself, your first thought was not to wake up Sirius’ Mother’s portrait so you reached back to catch the falling article before its clatter made a sound. Overreaching, you fell backward into something hard and warm: Sirius’ chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and upright.

“Are you ok?” he whispered in your ear, his puffs of breath once again making your veins tingle.

You swallowed and exited abruptly leaving Sirius cursing himself for what he thought was his incongruous behaviour. As far as you were concerned, it had been anything but and you were unable to stop thinking of him for the rest of the evening, dreaming of those same arms doing other far more inappropriate things making your sleep wrought with pleasurable shivers and fever. Oh God, was he ever going to come closer?

Until this evening he had been the perfect gentleman, respecting your boundaries and staying just out of reach. Apart from the one incident in the hallway, you hadn’t felt his touch, no matter how innocent, since he had carried you up the stairs to bed and that was having an unacceptable effect on you. It made you lean towards him further, lick your lips whenever he was near, and glance at his body when he wasn’t looking in a completely wanton way. He must notice the heat coming from me? You thought. He seemed so relaxed, not at all perturbed by your presence.

How wrong you were. Inside, Sirius was struggling. He was trying to be a gentleman but it was hard, you were making it hard. Do you actually want him? He was ok with just being in your orbit slowly torturing himself at not touching you, content at just being there but this evening, your flirting coupled with the fire whiskey was not helping, in fact, its lubricating effects ware making resisting anything you said that could be slightly construed as even vague interest, very, very difficult.

Sirius cleared his throat. Not taking his eyes off you. “You want me to show you how I ask a woman out?”

“Yes, show me your moves!”

Sirius smiled but his eyes held a serious, almost pained look. Before you could ask him what was wrong he shuffled in his seat.

“Y/N, I don’t have moves I just sort of feel a situation out, see if she likes me and then go from there.”

“Ok well, show me how you do that. Come on.” You egged him as he gave you a look of doubt. “It’ll be fun.”

It’ll be torture. Sirius thought, but you were looking at him with such a blazing warmth in your eyes, he relented and shifted so he was closer to you.

“Well, if I like her I have usually gotten to know her a little bit, watched the way she moves, adjusted my body language to suit whatever she is comfortable with, and look for signs she is interested in me too.”

He stretched so his right arm was running along the back of the couch, behind you, touching your shoulder ever so lightly. You shivered at the contact.

“Then I guess I would let her take the lead.” His voice had lowered and you noticed he had leaned closer to you. You had also noticed that the outside of his right leg was pressed against your crossed calves and as he leaned to you further you got a whiff of his cologne. The musky, manly scent combined with his closeness dilated your pupils further and sent your mind whirling.

Before you could collect yourself Sirius gave you a slow, mischievous smile, took a sip of his drink and said very quietly; “Your turn.”

“My…w-what?” you uttered, stammering slightly.

“Your turn to show me your moves.”

Fuck you wanted him. Could you? No? Slowly, not realising it you inched closer to him.

You were nervous, Sirius could finally see that. Whatever he was doing had an effect on you. Sirius loved the excitement of turning someone else on, this was him in his element. However, unlike most interactions with the opposite sex, this one was equally thrilling and torturing him. Setting his glass down and gathering a sliver of confidence he tentatively he placed his left hand on your thigh. You sucked in a sharp breath which he mistook for fear immediately whipping his hand away and opening his mouth to apologise only to be interrupted by the words: “Don’t stop.”

He looked back at you, having just enough time to register your meaning before you lunged forward, capturing his lips in yours.

There was a seconds pause then Sirius was returning your kiss with fervor. He wrapped his arms around your back clinging to your shirt before lifting you up and onto his lap, legs either side of his, pressing into him exquisitely.

He tasted like fire whiskey and something sweet at the same time.

He moved his hand through your hair holding your head while the other held your lower back pressing you firmly, further into him. Suddenly the hand holding your head was gone and running up your outer thigh, underneath your skirt.

His warm fingers caressed your upper thigh, moving further to touch the tip of your hip and run tantalizing circles across your backside.

His kisses were feverish and sending you reeling. The way he swept his tongue across your lips opening them and deepening the kiss was tantalizing. Clinging to him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, you ground down into his crotch and he groaned, opening his eyes. They were heavy with desire.

Sirius squeezed your bum picking you up and laying you back down on the couch. He didn’t remove his lips from yours as he wrapped your legs around his waist and lowered his body onto yours.

You arched up into him and he was immediately transported to the first dream he had of you, lying naked on his bed. He let out a shuddered breath; “You are so beautiful, Y/N. I want you.”

Instead of being flattered by this, a voice popped up in the back of your mind; Did he though? Shaken by this sudden thought, then jumping slightly at the bang of the front door signifying the probable return home of Remus served to knock you back into reality. The situation suddenly became very clear to you. You had just thrown yourself at a man who was known for sleeping with multiple women, very easily it seemed if you were to believe what he said before - he didn’t have to do anything and they offered themselves to him.

Of course he wanted you - you had led him on with your ‘game’ basically given yourself up to him on a platter. This wasn’t real, it was convenient and you could seriously hurt him if you let him in further.

Seeing the change in your face, Sirius sat up, “Y/N, are you ok? Was this too fast?.”

“Sirius..I” you were so embarrassed. Sitting up, quickly removing your legs from around him.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have.” He could see the blush rising up around your cheeks and you couldn’t look at him.

“Shouldn’t have? What do you mean - I think this was on both of us. Don’t you?”

“I mean.” You screwed your eyes shut, breathing deeply, “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea…I… I don’t do one nightstands.”

“One nightstands?” he was frowning at you, confused, his mind racing. Didn’t she hear me before?

Seeing him frown and mistaking it for annoyance rather than confusion you stood up and started to back towards the door. “I should go, I’m so sorry for coming on to you.”

“Y/N! Wait!” But before he could take two steps towards you, you had turned on your heel and raced out the door.

“Y/N!” Sirius was still calling your name as you shot out the front door, turning on the spot to disapparate.

—

“Argh, Y/N how could you be so stupid!” You cursed yourself as you walked around your kitchen.

That had been the hottest, most erotic thing that had happened to you and you choked, freaked out, and left.

You wanted Sirius it was true but you couldn’t quite believe someone like him could want you for anything more than a one time fling. No one else had wanted more so what made him any different?

Plus even if he did there was a real chance you could lose it and hurt him. The feelings he elicited from you were unreal and you had never felt that alive and heated before. It both thrilled and frightened you to your bones.

Though the research you conducted in his library had opened up ideas that you hadn’t had before - you were still afraid. Sirius had quickly and unquestionably become your favourite person and you didn’t think your poor heart could take having him in the most intimate way and then not having him again. So you had done the most adult thing you could think of: insulted his intentions and run away. “Brilliant!” You spat.

Back at Geimmauld Place, Sirius was pacing up and down the hall. “YOU IDIOT!” He yelled at himself waking up his mother. “Oh shut the fuck up you old hag!” Storming out of the house, and out into the night air helped calm him and give him clarity. He disapparated instantly.

Lifting your head from your hands you got up from the kitchen table as you heard a soft knock at your front door.

Sirius stood at your door with a dark, devastating look.

“Sirius I…” you began.

“I want you more than just for tonight.” He blurted out. “I have for a long time”

“What if I hurt you?”

He walked in, eyes dark and grabbed you, “You won’t.”

He let you go and stood before you, waiting. He wanted you to be sure of him and sure of yourself. His broad shoulders quivered under your stare, not with fear but ready to do anything you desired. Sirius was a handsome man, sure, but standing before you laying his cards on the line, his need for you so obvious and open made him the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He was not afraid of anything. His confidence fanned yours and you ignored the fear building in your stomach and stepped into him.

Attaching himself to your lips once more he didn’t look as he closed the front door and led you towards your staircase.

Laying you down on your bed once again he hovered above you, one muscled arm on either side of your head. This view of you sprawled out underneath him jogged his memory and as he recalled first dream about you again. He closed his eyes and shuddered.

“What’s wrong Sirius?”

Your concern was squashed by a sly smile. He opened his eyes and said with a smirk: “I’ve dreamt about this before”

“Is that so?”

“Yes” he looked at you intently.

“What did dream me do?”

You couldn’t quite hold your smug smile while Sirius bit his lip and told you.

Wrapping your legs around him once more, you pulled him down on top of you. Hands running down his sides as you kissed him, you felt his muscles tense at each spot you touched. Whatever you were doing to him, he enjoyed it.

Taking great effort to wrench his lips from yours Sirius looked at you once more and asked: “Y/N, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?”

Looking surprised, you nodded. He smiled. “I meant what I said. This isn’t just a once off. Not for me.”

“I know.” You conceded. “I also just didn’t want my first time to be meaningless.” “Your first time?” Sirius looked shocked. “You mean you’ve never…?”

You shook your head, grimacing slightly hoping this didn’t change anything.

“Oh Y/N, are you sure?” Sirius was surprised and, if possible, turned on even more. There was something so special about sharing someone’s first experience. Meaning something so much to them that they wanted to be with you. He felt sexy, powerful, and potent which combined with how long he had lusted over you and the way you moved, made it incredibly hard for him to focus.

“Yes Sirius.” The brazen look in your eyes and the way you ran your hands in sweeping strokes around his body told him that though you may not have had sex you had had other intimate experiences and you knew what you wanted.

He shuddered once more, closing his eyes as you arched up into him again.

“Y/N.” His voice came out in a rasp. “God, you are turning me on… I want you so badly but if this is not right for you please tell me and we’ll stop.”

You surprised him by laughing softly. “You’re sort of killing the mood, Sirius. I want this, I want you - you know you are not the only one who has touched themselves dreaming about us.”

Suddenly, with a twirl of your fingers, soft, malleable ropes appeared at your wrists. Gently lifting your arms up and firmly tying your hands to your bedpost.

Sirius’ jaw dropped and he almost started drooling. The look on his face, one of absolute adoration, spurred you on further. Another flick of your wrist and your clothes slowly started peeling themselves off your body, ripping in parts to remove themselves from you until you were lying naked, stretched underneath him, replicating that particular dream perfectly.

As you looked up at him through relaxed eyelids and purred; “I want you to touch me, Sirius.” He nearly came undone.

Though he was only wearing his jeans and a shirt he couldn’t get naked fast enough.

Sirius laid his body against yours, groaning at the feel of your soft skin. He kissed you deeply, letting one arm hold himself while the other dipped low, wandering further until it came torturously close to your clit before moving passed and circling your inner thigh.

You groaned with frustration and he smiled into your lips as he kissed you, tongue sweeping inside your mouth lighting sparks inside your head.

Each time he neared closer to your core, your breath hitched, waiting, only to be expelled in frustration as he moved passed and to another area.

He explored your mouth, your neck, your collar bone, and your nipples with his mouth, all the while coming close to touching you where you needed but not getting close enough.

Finally, he swept his finger up the line of your folds and flicked your clit. A move that literally took your breath away and his. He could feel how wet you were and it made his cock twitch with excitement. “Oh, Y/N.”

His teasing had become torturous for him as well. If he wasn’t careful, your body was going to turn him on so much that he might come on you rather than inside you like he desperately wanted.

He moved down to flick your nipple with his tongue then continued further south until his head was level with your core. A brush of stubble on your inner thigh had you jolting. He kissed the spot, sparking your lust even more. Not able to take any more teasing, “please Sirius” you begged. The desperate timbre of your voice made him feel incredibly desired.

He gently made taught the skin above your clit tilting it upwards and licking it, so lightly but giving you the feeling of being shocked with the most incredible surge of power. A whimper and a groan encouraged him to carry on and soon he was holding your bucking hips down as he continued to rapidly lick, and flick the sensitive bead. You could feel a sudden blooming inside you, growing outwards, and upwards lighting even your soul on fire. Suddenly afraid your weird powers might cause you to lash out and hurt him you made to move away but he held you down and stopped his tongue briefly enough to growl, “you won’t, just let go.”

He shifted his free hand under your bum and squeezed as he buried his face once more in your core. There it was again, that sweet hot feeling running through your bones. A warm glow washed over you and into him - consuming him filling him with love. You could feel his devotion to you, how turned on he was, how much he longed for you. This had never happened previously and before you could process it the orgasm he gave you lifted you off the bed causing you to cry out his name over and over. He did not relent, it was exquisite ecstasy.

“Oh God, oh God…” you breathed, hyperventilating from how good he had made you feel. Sirius was smiling, he had made his way back up the bed and was lying next to you, stroking your side.

You wrenched your arms out of the ropes and launched at him, taking him off guard and kissing him deeply, pushing yourself on top of him until you were straddling his lap just like you had only moments ago in his library.

Sirius’ cocky smile turned into an ‘oh’ as his mouth opened while you grabbed his erection and placed it at your entrance. Wetting the tip from your already dripping core you slowly began to slide down.

Sirius, groaned, bit his lip and grasped your hips. He was utterly and irrevocably under your spell.

Feeling a stretch, painful at first, you continued to slide down until a snapping feeling followed by a slight relief brought you to the bottom of his shaft.

Taking your breath you slowly started to move up and down his cock, squeezing intermittently and kissing him sporadically.

The frenzy he had whipped you into before had served to lubricate your entrance so though there was some pain at first, it soon gave way to a delightfully filling feeling.

“Ohhh Y/N” Sirius groaned as your inner walls stroked his shaft. You were tight, as he expected but your smooth movements and rocking of your hips blew him away. If this was you at your first time then he was in for a real treat when you had more experience under your belt. Thoughts of you experimenting with others flashed across his mind and he growled. Territorial hormones took him over as he squeezed your hips hard lifting his own up into you, hitting a spot inside you that caused you to moan.

Sirius noticed this and increased the snapping of his hips. Continuous thrusts meeting each other coupled with your already sensitive clit rubbing against the rough hair on his pelvis was causing an orgasm to build again. Surely not? Not at your first instance of sex, you thought?

A delightful wave tickled your walls and you shivered. “Sirius, I’m going to come. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t, reaching down between you he rubbed your clit once more to bring your orgasm about faster. Feeling your walls clamp down around him his thrusts became sloppier and as you came, unraveling on top of him he found his release crying your name and squeezing your hips painfully.

You fell forward on top of him and he instantly wrapped his arms around you rolling you to the side, still inside of you showing no signs he wanted to get up.

Laying there entwined with him, you felt the content warm feeling ripple through you again. You had let go and not lost control! If you could do this then you could do anything. No more holding back. In one act of love Sirius had helped you break the shackles of fear and find relief from a lifetime of pressure and concern. You felt light and confident. Chuckling to yourself he looked at you cocking an eyebrow in question.

“Well Sirius, those were some good moves!”

There was a beat and then you both laughed.

—- Tag list: @sirius-lysad @riddikuluslypotter @emmamass24 @evyiione @mylovelykelsifer @sly-vixen-up2nogood @ashkuuuu @songforhema @wangmangagavroche @borbole-teias @legalyred @qwertyokok

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

i like the nightlife, she says {Roger Taylor}

A/N: more of the modern high school AYDTD au no-one asked for. I wrote this all on my phone so it's probs not great but it is what it is. In the modern au her brother's not a dick and I'm loving it. Feedback is appreciated. I'll fix the formatting tomorrow.

"You need more friends your age." Oscar tells Ash while he's making them both dinner. Their dad's still at work but mac and cheese was never something either of the siblings complained about.

"Why?" Ash, sitting on the counter top by the sink, watches as her older brother frowns at the question.

"Why? What do you mean 'why'?" He spluttered, eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "It's good for your social development-"

"So you're a psych student now?" Ash crosses her arms, leaning back against the wall, "I've got friends back home, I'm only here for a year and a half before I'm going to uni so why should I bother?" And oh, it's like two successive gut punches; the elder of the siblings has to take a long moment of staring into the saucepan, stirring idly, in order to process what Ash had said.

"A year and a half is a longass time," Oscar chooses to focus on the latter, and Ash rolled her eyes, "how often do you see or talk to your friends back home?" He uses her phrasing but it hurts just a little. Ash, in turn, is quiet for a long time.

"Do Snapchat streaks count?" She asks, a little sheepish, like she already knows his answer.

"They absolutely do not; you should be out with friends being young and dumb on a Friday, not eating mac and cheese with your brother." He turns off the burner and motions for her to hop off the counter. As he plates up dinner, they're both contemplative.

"I'm young and dumb regardless," finally Ash speaks, giving Oscar a pointed look, and he concedes on that point at least. After a beat, Ash's lips twitch into a mischievous smile, "but if you let me borrow your friend's ID again we can go see Queen and I can make friends with John." Oscar regards her curiously for a moment, mouth full of food.

"Not Roger?" He asks through his food, genuinely confused, "isn't he in your class- ?"

"Gross, finish your fucking mouthful first." Wrinkling her nose, Ash pushes her food around her bowl, waiting for him to finish. Instead, he opens his mouth wide and makes an obnoxious noise, laughing as Ash fake gags, "you're an absolute cretin sometimes, you know that?"

"Is that your word of the day?" He asks with a grin after he dies actually swallow his mouthful, poking fun at how strange the word 'cretin' sounded amid her usual vocabulary. "Anyways, why not make friends with Roger if you're going after the band? He's in your year, isn't he?" He waits patiently for Ash to finish her own mouthful before answering.

"Firstly, he ruined my major work so I hate him on principle," Ash held up a singular finger before moving on to get next point, "secondly, I've been at this school for one semester and I already know that Roger Taylor does not just make friends with girls," she's far too passionate for this to be off the top of her head; Oscar know when she's been thinking hard about something, and this must have been on her mind for a while, "and thirdly, I'm not going to try and befriend him at a gig, he's got girls all over him, and I don't think he even knows my name." Slumping back in her chair as her momentum left her, Ash shovels another spoon full of pasta into her mouth angrily.

"Why does that matter?" Oscar finally asks, and when Ash looks to him making a confused noise, she doesn't like the knowing look in his eyes. "Why does him not knowing your name matter? Can't you just introduce yourself?" Ash turns pink in the silence that follows, scrunching up her face and refusing to meet Oscar's gaze as she begrudgingly agrees. "I mean I'm not saying you need to forgive the guy for the whole major work thing," Oscar shrugs, letting the tension drop, and Ash visibly relaxes, "that was fucked, and if you want me to punt him into the English Channel, you know I will." That gets her to actually laugh, and Oscar's gaze turns fond, "but maybe give him a chance."

"Half a chance." Ash counters, as if it were a game, and Oscar nods, as if agreeing to her terms. "And I'll make friends with John anyways; he's funky, I like him." She says bluntly, and Oscar snorts out a laugh.

"Alright, sounds good; did you wanna go tonight?" He asks, and Ash's expression turns confused.

"I thought you had that poetry competition tonight." She frowned, and there was a moment in which Oscar's heart filled with fondness for his little sister, his number one fan.

"Yeah, after that, biscuit, that only goes 'til eight; Freddie said they don't usually start until nine-thirty." After a moment of contemplating his words, Ash grins and nods.

Oscar and Ash walk in during the band's sound check, and Roger almost drops his drumstick where he's twirling it. Both Brian and Freddie give them a wave, which is returned by the gingers, and Roger has to stop himself from snapping at the others where they glance pointedly at him; he's already turning red as it is. He's grateful to hide behind the drum kit. They saw each other like six hours ago; they always have art together last period on a Friday, but seeing her at one of his gigs is different.

She's standoffish and aloof in class, she actually uses the free time the teacher allocates in art to work on her projects where everyone else uses it to socialise. He's not even sure if she's bothered to learn the names of half the people in her class, she might not even know the teacher's name, but when she's here, bright and bubbly next to her lanky, uni student of a brother - who is literally over a foot taller than her; side by side they're a little jarring to look at - she clearly know John, who is two years below them, and as it turns out, she knows Roger too.

Roger spends his time between sets by the bar, with the others, and a crowd of uni girls who haven't realised he's probably too young for them. Not that he's quick to point that out. It takes until he spots Oscar at the other end of the bar, taking to Brian with a softly starry-eyed expression, to remember that it's probably a terrible idea to leave any of his bandmates alone with Ash. Taking one look at the table Ash had commondeered earlier that night, he realises he might be too late, seeing John squinting suspiciously at Ash.

"Hey, your eyes are green." Roger hears John say as the drummer makes a beeline for the table.

"What? Yeah, why?" Ash, confused as all hell, shoots a concerned glance at the incoming Roger, as if silently asking what the hell was going on and if this was the bassist's normal behaviour. John follow her gaze and gives Roger a shiteating grin.

"No reason." John says pointedly, sliding from his stool. "I'll be back, I'm going to take a piss." And with that he leaves. Roger regrets ever inviting the little twerp to join the band; fifteen-year-olds are universally terrible, Roger decides, and John Deacon is no different.

"What was that about?" Ash asks, and Roger takes a long sip of his beer, enduring the taste despite how much he hated it. Finally, he sits in on the stool directly beside Ash, though she doesn't seem inclined to move away.

"Nothing, ignore him." Roger rolls his eyes, shooting for casual, and silence stretches between them. Finally he gets a good look at her; from the stage he could sort of see her, but not really beyond knowing it's her, and even then he could only identify her for her hair. He really needed to find his contacts of she was going to keep showing up looking this good to gigs. He's seen her in her school uniform more times than he can count, and last time she was here she was yelling at him and he was too focused on trying not to think about how hot she was when she was mad to notice her clothes. But today? Today she'd dressed up, and he'd be dammed if he didn't admire it a little bit.

He's never seen her in makeup, granted it was just some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, but it made her look a little softer, somehow all of the look, from the sleeveless button down shirt being tucked into her high waisted skirt, to the dainty, lace up heels she wore, all just made her look... cute.

"You guys sound really good; its weird seeing you, Brian, and John all on stage together but it sounds good." She half laughs, and Roger hadn't considered it from an outside perspective, especially not from her's; her tutor, classmate, and a kid two years below all somehow in the same band? It is a bit strange when he thinks about it.

He's about to thank her when she frowns, looking at him and tapping a finger to her lips in thought, grimacing when she forgets she's wearing lipgloss and her finger comes away slightly shiny. Roger ignored the thought of how much he wants to taste that lipgloss, preferably while she was still wearing it.

"I thought you wore glasses." She mused, voice quiet enough that it seems to be mostly to herself, wiping her lipgloss-finger on a napkin. The idea that she'd paid enough attention to notice his sporadic use of his glasses made his heart flutter just a little.

"Not while drumming." He grins, and Ash nods, the look in her eyes like she's filing that information away for later.

"It would ruin the look?" She asks with a smirk, eyes making their way down his body as she takes in his full outfit. Roger crosses his ankles in the stool, puffing out his chest a little in obvious, nonverbal agreement, and her smile widens. "You've got a whole seventies thing going on here," she takes a moment to play with a bit of fringe on his open vest; "it's groovy."

"Yeah, well, we're trying for a classic rock, like Guns 'n' Roses type thing." Roger explains easily, there's a pause, and in the silence he reached out to where the hem of her skirt had flipped up on her thigh. He smoothed it out, but pushed his luck by leaving his hand there. "You look nice, by the way, Ash," and maybe it's the fact that he does know her name, or his hand on her thigh, or even just the compliment, but Ash turns bright pink. She's not sure if he notices, at least she hopes he doesn't. She takes a long sip of her drink, and thanks god for the low lighting of the bar, and after a moment she's pretty sure she's recovered enough to answer.

"Thanks, Oz had a thing before this." She awkwardly explains, and though it's not the full answer - if she had to explain that she did in fact dress up a little to come see the band, she might have to explain why - but she's saved by the proverbial bell when the rest of the band comes to collect Roger for the next set. Roger gives her thigh a cheeky squeeze beneath the table before he's hopping off the stool and heading to where the band was set up, though there was no stage this time.

"Did you make a friend?" Oscar practically coos, poking at her cheek where he can see a blush even in this light. Ash swats him away, unable to stifle her grin. "Aww, you did, didn't you?"

"You're such a dick." Ash slaps his hand away where he goes to pet her on the head, but she's still smiling, and also glad that their table is far enough away that the band can't hear them. "Where were you anyways?" And Oscar's smile becomes genuine.

"I was making friends too." And he sounds a little wistful as he gazes up at the band. Ash follows his gaze and then Brian grins at them Oscar grins back.

"Oscar Demitri Clarke, I forbid you from having a crush on my tutor," Ash hisses, though she's clearly elated at how much she'll be able to tease him about it.

"I make no promises; he's cute and he clearly cares about people so-" Oscar says loftily, but Ash groans, thumping her head into the table as the music starts up.

"You're already planning your imaginary wedding to him, aren't you; you know he's a vegetarian and an animal rights activist?" And at that information Oscar make the single funniest noise Ash has ever heard come out of him, like a hamster being sucked into a pool drain.

"He's perfect." Oscar breathes, before he clears his throat, and he leans down to nudge Ash's shoulder with his own. "Anyways, those in glass houses, biscuit; I saw Roger's hand." And Ash could feel the blush rising on her cheeks again.

"Fine; truce?" She asked, and Oscar's grin was sharp but compliant.

"Truce."

#bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #queen #borhap imagine #ask your destiny to dance fic #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #bohemian rhapsody imagine #queen imagine #queen imagines #the angry lizard writes

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tk-writer · 6 years

Text

A Ticklish Situation. - a DR2 tickle fic

*WARNING: Contains Danganronpa 2 spoilers. Read at your own risk.*

~~~

Mahiru woke up that morning with a pit in her stomach.

After the previous days’ events, it wasn’t a surprise. The sight of Byakuya’s bloodied corpse was still fresh in everyone’s minds. Along with Teruteru’s nightmarish execution at the hands (paws?) of Monokuma.

Mahiru shuddered at the thought and quickly tried to put it out of her mind. She looked at the clock next to her bungalow bed. It was 5:30 am.

So much for getting a good night’s rest, she thought to herself.

Another image popped in her mind: Nagito in the old lodge. The previous day, he had been knocked out and tied up by Kazuichi and Nekomaru after attempting to sabotage the first-class trial. Some of the students had been assigned to check on him and provide him with meals. After all, they weren’t trying to kill him, just make sure that he didn’t mess with anyone else and cause other murders to happen.

Today was Mahiru’s turn. She was supposed to bring him breakfast, and presumably feed him, since his hands were tied.

She figured she might as well get it done early before everyone else woke up. This might help her avoid the shame and embarrassment that comes with a girl feeding a boy. She was nervous at the idea of being alone with Nagito, but knowing he was unable to move help to ease her nerves. In fact, the idea kind of aroused her in a way…

~~~

Mahiru approached the old lodge with a tray of rice and fruit. Seeing the decrepit building sent chills down her spine. She remembered the fresh blood on the floor, the darkness of the room after the power outage, the screams upon the realization of what happened…

Enough! She gave herself a mental slap in the face. If I keep thinking about it, it’s just going to make it worse…

She entered the lodge and found Nagito sleeping peacefully. How he could rest in such an uncomfortable predicament was beyond her.

Nagito was quite vulnerable in his current position. His hands were chained behind his back with no give whatsoever. His legs were tied with rope from ankles to knees, making standing up on his own impossible. He was pretty much immobile, with little ability to wiggle. Whoever had put him in this restrictive bondage had done so very well. Mahiru had another strange feeling of arousal rising within her.

He should really be more on edge… after all, he’s pretty defenseless right now.

She felt bad waking him up, but she figured he would be hungry anyway. She wasn’t sure if anyone had brought him dinner after last night. Trying to avoid awkwardness, she patted his head.

“Hey. Nagito. Breakfast.”

No response. He was out like a light. She gently shook his shoulders.

“Hellooooooo?? Wake up sleepyhead! It’s time to eat!”

Nagito’s eyes slowly opened, groggily at first but they brightened when they realized who had woken him.

“Ah, the Ultimate Photographer… what a pleasure it is to wake up to such an exquisite sight.”

Mahiru felt her face get hot. She wasn’t expecting that sort of response.

“Ah… don’t say weird stuff! I just brought you some breakfast, so you wouldn’t starve to death. We don’t want another murder after all…”

Nagito gave her a sleepy smile. Mahiru swore there was some mischief hidden within.

“Well of course, I wouldn’t want my talented classmates to fall into despair. That is, unless that would inspire hope within all of you. I just want to see you all succeed. I care more about you than I do myself, you know.”

“Ugh, enough of that already! I just came ‘cuz I felt bad that you’re… here all alone and can’t just eat whenever you want. So hurry up and eat!”

Mahiru turned her face away and picked up a bit of rice with some chopsticks, trying to hide her blushing pink cheeks to no avail. She shoved it in his face and waited for him to open his mouth.

But nothing happened. Mahiru opened her eyes and look at the strange boy. He still had the same mischievous grin on his face.

“Aw man… Sorry Mahiru, I hate to come across as picky, but I actually hate eating rice for breakfast…”

“Wh-what??”

Mahiru shot a look of astonishment at the white-haired boy. His face looked serene, as if he didn’t realize the position he was in. He gave her a cheeky smile.

“What do you mean you don’t like rice?? I was nice enough to bring you breakfast and now you’re telling me you don’t like it??”

“I’m sorry Mahiru, but I simple have no appetite for rice in the morning. Some toast sounds pretty good, though…”

Mahiru slammed down the chopsticks, to Nagito’s surprise. His eyes widened in response to her dramatic reaction.

“Listen, you! I made you breakfast out of the goodness of my heart and came all the way here just as a favor to you! So you better eat this, or else!!”

Nagito smirked. “Or else… what? You’ll leave me here to starve?”

Mahiru was taken aback. Was she even capable of that? She scoffed, trying to play it off.

“Or else I’ll make you.”

“O-o-h? And how will the Ultimate Photographer make me eat? Will you pretend that the chopsticks are an airplane, and fly it into my mouth like a baby?”

Mahiru clenched her teeth. She was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable the longer this conversation continued. Being alone with a weirdo boy was already painful enough, let alone feeding him like she was his mother or something. She just wanted to do it and be done with it, so at least her conscience would be clear. But how? Nagito was refusing to eat. There must have been something she could do… think, Mahiru, think…

Suddenly, a funny thought popped into her head.

A thought that triggered more arousal.

She looked at Nagito’s tied arms and legs.

A warm feeling grew somewhere deep inside her.

Mahiru’s smile widened.

“I have another idea, actually.”

Then she poked Nagito’s side. She wasn’t sure if she’d get a reaction because people are all different, and you never really know with these kind of things, but the result was instantaneous. Nagito let out a surprised yelp and jerked away at her touch.

“Oh-ho-ho… a little sensitive, are we?”

Nagito’s expression changed from peaceful to fearful almost immediately. It was as if he didn’t realize how vulnerable he was until this moment.

“Oh-h-h okay Mahiru, I get it, I’ll eat the rice, just-“

“Hold on, you’re not giving in that easily, are you? You were so stubborn before! I wonder… is it because you’re super ticklish, Nagito?”

Nagito’s body tensed at the word “ticklish”. Mahiru knew she had hit the jackpot. That arousal she felt earlier was only getting stronger… her usually friendly smiled morphed into a devious grin.

“For being the Ultimate Lucky Student, you sure are in an unlucky position... What happens if I do this?”

Mahiru poked her index fingers on either side of Nagito at random and was delighted to hear even more loud yelps from him. For the first time that she had seen, he was struggling intensely against his bonds. This must really have been torture for him.

“AH-HA-HA-HA! NOOO! AH-HA STOP!”

Mahiru gave him some respite to catch his breath. He heaved and continued to giggle slightly, which made Mahiru chuckle to herself. This could actually be a lot of fun…

“Alright big shot… you ready to eat?”

Nagito nodded vigorously, “Yeah I’ll eat! Just please, don’t do that again. I really can’t take it…”

He sounded quite desperate. Up to this point, he always spoke with such an aloof and calm tone of voice and came across as someone who was very put together (despite his delirious rantings). However, this Nagito was completely different.

“Oh, really? Why not? It’s just a little tickling! It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Yes, it’s really bad! I’m extremely ticklish, I can’t stand the feeling for too long…”

“Is that so… mind if I test that?”

Mahiru didn’t wait for a response. She spidered her fingers all over Nagito’s chest and stomach, searching for the areas that gave her the best reactions. She started at his sides, then moved up towards the ribs and gently dug into the spaces between them. All the while, Nagito squirmed like a worm, his attempts to escape her claws futile.

“AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! STOP IT! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA I CAN’T TAKE IT PLEEEEEASE!”

She ignored his pleas and deftly moved to his sides, wiggling them from hips to underarms and everywhere in between. Nagito desperately tried to flip over and shake her hands off him, but with the way he was tied it was utterly impossible.

He didn’t think it could get worse until Mahiru sat on top and started straddling him. Now, he had a lot less room to move and had no choice but to face her directly. Mahiru stared down, with a slightly evil smile, plotting her next move. Her heart fluttered at the sight of Nagito beneath her: frightened, meek, and utterly submissive.

“Tell me… where else are you ticklish?”

“N-Nowhere! That’s it! Please stop! No more!”

“Hmm, I don’t believe you. What about here?”

Mahiru dug her hands into his underarms and Nagito howled. This was obviously a very sensitive spot. What made it worse was the way he was tied, with his forearms stuck at his sides, so Mahiru sneaking her hands between them and his chest meant that they were trapped there and unable to shake off. Nagito acted as if he was being jolted by electricity. His shoulders thrust forward as if doing ab crunches, and he bounced up and down much to Mahiru’s amusement. The combination of her sporadic finger movements and her long, delicate nails were just too much to handle. Plus, the fact that he could barely move now with her on top of him made it even worse.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AH-HA! AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! I CA-AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-NT! NOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-HA-HA!”

Nagito’s volume and intensity increased with each passing minute. Finally, Mahiru lessened her attack to gentle strokes on his belly. She lifted his shirt, exposing the warm, baby soft skin and the slight muscle definition in his abs. The cool air against the unprotected area gave him tiny goosebumps all over. Mahiru started drawing slow, little circles around his belly button and side to side from navel to ribs. Seeing his stomach tense and hearing his tittered giggles brought her even more joy. For Nagito, this still tickled like hell, but it reduced him to mere giggles rather than full out screaming.

“Now, now… just relax…”

Nagito couldn’t even try to form a response. He was still recovering from her underarm attack, and the gentle strokes on his stomach were still unbearable. However, after a few minutes he let his guard down and his hitched breathing began returning to normal. This was his fatal mistake.

Out of nowhere, he felt a visceral tickle deep within the muscles of his stomach. He screamed higher in pitch than he had the entire time. Mahiru was digging her thumbs into two agonizing spots on either side of his belly, right above his hip bones. The sensation was pure torment compared to everything else before. Nagito’s struggles began anew as he flinched back and forth in a futile attempt to escape.

“AH! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! MA-HA-HIRU! STOP PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU-AH NOT THERE! NOT THERE! NOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAAAH!”

Mahiru knew she was pushing his limits, so she let up on her torture and gave the white-haired boy another break. She took a good look at him. His face was flushed bright red, probably both from embarrassment and lack of air. Sweat caused his silvery hair to stick to his forehead. His chest heaved up and down, covered in damp perspiration

Mahiru couldn’t help but stare. From her angle, Nagito looked quite docile. The skin on his chest was smooth as silk and pale as the moon. There was some evidence of muscles in his abs, although not enough to call it a six pack. She had never been this close to a boy, especially with so much of his skin exposed. She felt herself grow warmer, the earlier arousal reaching an all-time high…

In an instant, Mahiru snapped back to reality and threw herself off Nagito. She looked at him one last time, locking eyes with him as he gave her one last pleading look with his eyes. She gasped, realizing how adult the situation had become, and without another word grabbed the tray and ran out of the lodge.

Jeez, what the hell got into me?? She wondered as she rushed back to the restaurant. That was totally out of character…

It wasn’t until she arrived at the restaurant that she realized she never actually fed Nagito, the entire purpose of her trip. Damn it!

Luckily, Hajime was sitting alone at one of the tables. Perfect, I’ll just have him do it…

#danganronpa #goodbyedespair #nagito komaeda #danganronpa nagito #tickling #ticklish #tickletorture #komaeda #dr2 #dr2 spoilers #dr2 goodbye despair #danganronpa goodbye despair #tickle fic #edited to make sfw #sfw #danganronpa tickling

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