#every time i see him get into his stance across from some guy i just feel this pit of dread open up
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teenagers fighting each other in front of a crowd of hollering paying fans is bad. it is. but sometimes it's funny when neither of them can throw a punch to save their life. and also very sad.
#i am one of the hollering paying fans so who am i to speak etc.#but b**** p******* just can't fight and yet he keeps doing it#the guy gave an interview where he talked about doing wrestling as a kid to prepare (which uhh anyway)#and he still can't fight worth a damn#every time i see him get into his stance across from some guy i just feel this pit of dread open up#and all i can see is like. cannon fodder. and old-fashioned notions of honour and glory and loyalty and masculinity#marching off into a gauntlet of unmerciful fists#he'll be fine. hopefully. i don't know#but what i wanna know is if one day he'll be setting up his kids with a punching bag in the basement#like his dad did with him#hockey
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A Compromise
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Time Written - 12:44 p.m
Jason Todd/pregnantfem!reader
(Again, if you don’t like how rugged he looks, bite me)
“Y’know, sometimes you stink when you come back,” you say, making him both aware of your presence behind him, attempting some form of amusement to break the ice.
His fingers halt on the buckles on his gun harness upon hearing your voice, his back facing the doorway from where he sat on the bed. He doesn’t turn around, not moving in response to what you say. You hadn’t spoken much to him since the night before, and this is what you say?
Of course he knows he stinks. After every patrol, he reeks of wet dirt, filthy water from putrid puddles lining the alleyways, and blood. Or something similar with a rusty, metallic tinge, and that’s not exactly a clean scent.
Jason halted his actions, not sure how to answer that. Sure, maybe he’s not all that hygienic when he’s out on a mission, but that’s a normal thing right? That’s what he comes home for, for nice hot showers and time with his girl.
He grumbles silently to himself, knowing you only make such comments to annoy him. Given the tension between you both was a still little rough, maybe you weren’t as angry as before, given how you started talking to him again.
“Do I? Only sometimes?” He sounds oh so surprised whilst peeking a glance over his shoulder, a sheepish grin playing across his face. One that he couldn’t hold back when he sees you there, all ready for bed while he was gearing up for ‘work.’
“More like all the time, right?” he adds, his tone dripping with a light hint of sarcasm as he pulled his gloves on.
“A good eighty percent,” You muster up another comment, your fingers fiddling with your shirt.
"Eighty, Doll?" He sighs heavily, his arm crossed over his chest in mock distress over this. How he was choosing to act this way slightly caught you by surprise, given you had limited view of what he was doing.
Of course he wouldn’t admit it yet, but he had missed the way you would tease him about variously stupid things—your attitude was what he really enjoyed the most about you.
“So you’re saying I don’t smell about two out of ten times?” he counters confidently, gazing up as if in deep thought. “Not a horrible percentage. Not great though, either.”
A faint tongue click erupted from the front door, causing a tickle in the corner of his lip.
"Why not just say I always stink, huh?" he asks, his tone slightly playful, a faint smile growing his face.
"I guess I could take a bath, but.." Jason trails off, exaggerating his shrugging shoulders. "You do know I'm a guy, right? Baths aren't my thing."
You then scoff, rolling your eyes after his little arrogant display. How does Jason manage to be so frustrating with his undivided attempt at cocky humor?
“Sure, whatever.” You mumble, lightly settling a hand on your protruding stomach.
Jason stood from his perch on the edge of the bed, fully taking in your slouched stance along the doorway. Fresh out of a shower, hair styled for sleep, wearing a purposefully oversized shirt to accommodate your expanding bump you mindlessly nestled along your palm.
He sighs, unable to help feeling a little more guilty by the second. His gaze lingered along your bump, slightly chewing on the inner corner of his cheek.
“Fine, Fine. When I get back I’ll go take a damn bath.” He groans as if it’s a massive chore thrown on his shoulders while reaching for his jacket. “But only because you asked.”
“Jason,” you gruff, watching him put on another sly grin before adjusting the rest of his uniform, tugging his jacket over his shoulders.
"And I still think baths aren't necessary. Showers? Sure, soaps are a necessity. But baths? Complete waste of time."
“That’s not what I’m—“ you start, but ultimately stop and sigh.
His unnecessary ranting just proved he was sidetracking off the topic that hung over both your heads. The reason you both yelled at each other the entire night before he vanished from your sight. The reason you were left in an empty house until his usual return around six in the morning, but even then silence was the main music that filled the space.
Safety; the whole topic had been about Jason’s safety.
He knows you’re concerned every day he heads out the door each night. He knows you want him to be safe, or as safe as he can possibly manage whilst carrying two guns and a plethora of hidden knives on his person.
He remembers being so frustrated, so damn angry, though he even wasn’t sure what had brought it on. You weren’t even hostile when you sat down with him to talk about it, never raised your voice once until he did it first.
He remembered how much he wanted to make you understand that he has to be out there. Very very few people in Gotham do what Jason does, but truly, no one does exactly what he does.
Straightening yourself, you glance off to the side, fighting back an irritating groan before sighing in defeat.
“Look Jay, I’m not gonna push it.” You look him in the eyes, taking your genuine, honest approach, just like you had done before all hell had broken loose. “Just understand, I just want you to be more careful, okay? That’s all I wanted.”
Doing what he does never guarantees he comes home unscathed. His sides still ached from deep bruises along his ribs, a gash along his back was still tightly shut with dissolvable stitches. The clean cut along his lower right cheek was still secured with butterfly bandaids.
You only suggested he stayed home to rest. To recover, to heal. You never called him weak, though he was weak minded to take your words the wrong way.
“No, I get it,” Jason mumbles, his brow furling as he approaches, heavy combat boots creaking against the floor. “You’re right. About all of it.”
He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, despite the conflict rattling in his brain. It’s not just them anymore. The two of you’ve come so far together, your biggest worry was the two of you not being on the same page.
Jason moves a hand towards your stomach, gently rubbing his palm around the most precious part of of your body.
All he just wants is for you to understand that he’s not the same Jason he was all those years ago, not the Jason you remember. Not the man who allowed his anger to slaughter crime lords and take a role into a drug ring.
He’s much better than that. He struggles, yes, but he tries.
“I just want you and the baby to be safe,” He states, watching your brows soften with a slow nod.
“I know you do.” You whisper with understandable certainty. Not once did that doubt ever cross your mind, and it never will.
He can’t help but smile, his forehead resting against yours. So close together that your noses touch.
Now, last night feels like an eternity ago. Jason didn’t storm out of the house with a bubbling bottle of unfit rage, you didn’t cling to your phone and have trouble sleeping over his whereabouts throughout the night.
“You worry about me, babe. I appreciate that more than you can know.” He murmurs, exhaling softly through his nose. “But this is … think about this being another way I can take care of you. Of us, alright?”
You blink, swallowing slowly before nodding in acceptance. Your eyes flutter, the bottom of your throat slightly burning, but you maintain your composure.
Jason was going to keep doing what he does; continue being Red Hood, continue keeping you safe. That’s just the way it was going to have to be, even after the baby becomes a babbling bundle in your arms.
“You could just stay here tonight at least. Hang out with us instead,” you casually insist, raising a hand to stroke his uninjured cheek. “We can order in pizza, find something on Netflix. Cuddle under a thousand sherpa blankets.”
Jason exhales, tilting his head back with closed eyes.
What he would give to drop it all and commit to such a tempting suggestion. Really, he would.
If what he did wasn’t do damn important, if they didn’t live in such a crooked city, taking up your offer would be a lot better than a chest of ten grand abandoned on the street.
“Another time, princess. I can always make it up to you.” He smiles back down at you, settling both hands on each side of your hips.
“How do I smell, by the way?” he questions. “Because if I smell so bad you aren’t going to kiss me.”
Your response was to smile and playfully shove his shoulder, only for his hands to hold you closer, fingers squeezing your plush body.
“That’s mean, Mister Todd.”
He laughs, slowly leading to a snicker. “Don’t deny it—I know you.”
His voice lowers towards the end of his sentence, leaning closer to kiss you. With an additional squeeze, Jason feels your arms lock around the back of his neck in a warm embrace.
Your soft bump lightly pressed against his lower waist, nudging against the buckle of his gear belt. In a few more months, their growing baby would be putting physical distance between them, resorting in him picturing more intimate methods he could hug you as closely as possible.
A emphasizing reminder of his priorities for fighting crime nearly almost every night.
“I’m thinking it’ll be a boy,” you whisper, watching his head lower to settle against your shoulder, his gaze trailing straight down in between your bodies.
“Think he’ll wanna take after me?” He asks, heavy lidded eyes flickering up towards yours in question.
“Well, boy or girl, I would hope they have your eyes,” you reply, enjoying the warmth and comfort of him against you. Just having him close made your heartbeat relax, having you feel nearly good about life. Just for a minute.
“In attitude? I would absolutely think so.”
Jason smiles, returning his attention back towards your bump. He tries to make that thought more comforting, but he’s nervous and tense just as you are at the end of the day.
He hopes they turn out as warm as you are. Warm, comforting, happy and safe. A safety Jason adores every single time he comes back to you, a comfort that made him regret leaving you alone the other night.
You’re his weakness, and he knows it.
“You can make it up by bringing back pizza.” You suggest, hearing him snort.
“Doll, What kind of pizza place is open at five?”
You purse your lips. Valid point.
“I guess Benny’s will work,” you mumble, hands trailing over his shoulders. “Or you’re not allowed back in the house.”
A short smirk invades Jason’s face. He had to come home with a maple sausage breakfast sandwich from a local diner, or face the wrath of locked doors and windows.
Luckily for him, Benny’s opens at five in the morning. Four on weekends.
Jason exaggerates another exhale through his nose, thankful he didn’t slip on his mask as he spares a kiss on your right temple. Whatever you want, even if it was the keys to the Batmobile or the rights to a planet, it’s yours, as long as he gets to come home to you.
“I gotcha, mama.”
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x fem!reader#dc jason todd#jason todd x y/n#jason todd dc#eating my walls#I have work tomorrow I’d rather die#gotham knights jason todd#jason todd gotham knights#jason todd x#jason todd drabble
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Revelation
Anon asked: Prompt: With Jacob living with Melissa, he sees how gay she is around reader and tries to open her eyes for it.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.3k
Pt. 2
“So…” Jacob drawls as he brings the last of the dirty dishes in from the living room. “When are we gonna talk about it? Because I kinda can't pretend I'm not seeing what I'm seeing at this point.”
“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Melissa questions. A stern look at him for his not forthright way of speaking. “Talk about what, kid?”
“Y'know…Y/N.”
“What about Y/N?” Melissa rephrases her original question as she takes a step away from her sink. A hand on her hip as she outright glares at Jacob now. Irritated at his still beating around the actual topic, and now that he's bringing you into it too.
You were the newest member of their little Abbott crew. Still, you had been around long enough that they all knew you fairly well. Melissa, arguably, the most of all of them. Though she wasn't necessarily the warmest person; she certainly was more so than when you had first met her.
You were now a regular on the couch for morning news, at Mel and Barb's table for lunch, and the game nights the red head sometimes hosted. The crew, especially Janine, had wanted it to be held more often. Melissa maintained once a month was more than enough to invite them all into her space after school hours.
She stands even more firm on that stance now that Jacob is staying with her. She's grown more fond of him in their short time so far as roommates. He'd surprised her on more than one occasion for some of the things they had in common. The sharing of Real HouseWives goes a long way just by itself. Still, she wasn't about to invite anyone in any further.
Except, when she wasn't paying attention she already had. You had taken the spot right behind Barbara of being her favorite. Some days, you surpassed her work wife too.
She raises an eyebrow when Jacob still stands across from her in the kitchen. Game night had just ended and he was kindly helping clean up afterward. Then he had to ruin Melissa's mood by implying something about you. She still didn't understand what the younger man was trying to get at as he stumbled over the start of his next sentence beneath her glare. She knew, though, if it was anything bad about you she was prepared to make it however long they stayed sharing a living space hell for him. Even if she did like him.
“Would you just spit it out?”
“How much you like Y/N, is what I was trying to say. I didn't realize how close you two were until now.”
Melissa scoffs. This is what he had gotten her worked up over? She tugs the dish towel slung over her shoulder off to toss it onto Jacob's. “You dry.” She mutters, turning back to her sink to begin washing the used dishes.
“Of course I like Y/N. I don't see what the big deal is.” Melissa says after a moment of washing in silence.
“I knew you always picked her to team up with on game nights, obviously.” Jacob says as he dries the plate she's handed him. “And how you guys are at school and all. I just never noticed the other stuff until staying here.”
“What other stuff, Hill?”
Jacob's brow furrows, realizing Melissa really doesn't see it. “You talk to her every night on the phone.” He says, gently setting the plate into the dish rack before taking the bowl she's holding out to him. “Even though it's only been a few hours since you saw her last.”
“So?”
“I mean, do you do that with Barbara?”
“No, why would I? I'll talk to her in the mornin’ or Monday, whatever. Whenever we're at school next. Unless somethin’ bad's happened.”
“Right…” Jacob trails off, trying to navigate the conversation carefully. Part of him worries he's reading too much into things. The other part is worried he's already irritated the redhead just by starting this conversation and if he is right it's clearly going to be a revelation for Melissa.
He clears his throat, trying another approach. “Do you and, uh, Barbara do anything on the weekends?”
Melissa gives him a side eyed look. A little bit like he's dumb for asking. At least, he's sort of used to that one from her. “No. She's got church and Gerald.” She says like that's obvious and he should know that.
Which, he does know. He shifts the piece of silverware he's drying to the dish rack. “Last weekend you went to the movies with Y/N.”
“Yeah, she wanted to see Barbie. Again. She insisted it's different at the theater.”
“The weekend before that you went to the farmer's market together.”
“I'm not gonna pass up fresh produce, especially the peppers. I can use those in plenty of dishes and you get twice as much than at the supermarket. Besides, Y/N is always looking for fresh, local honey. New vendors, too. If somebody new is at one of the local markets then she's gotta go check it out.”
Silently, Jacob is begging Melissa to get his point but he can see she really isn't.
“You don't think it's…different with Y/N?”
“It's different with all youse.” Melissa answers as she shoves the last cleaned plate into Jacob's hands, frustrated at his prodding. “I ain't with you like I am with Barb and I'm not with Barb like I am with Y/N. What's it matter?”
“It doesn't.” Jacob answers quickly. At least, it doesn't in the way he can tell his questions are beginning to stress Melissa out. He certainly isn't judging, or trying to.
He thought Melissa at least had an idea of the different way her relationship with Y/N was when he first brought it up. He thought he had just caught onto something that was being kept private. Now, though, it's clear to him that Melissa hasn't even considered that relationship to this level.
“I just noticed you guys…spend a lot of time together is all. I thought…” Jacob stops himself from finishing his thought. He doesn't know how Melissa will take it now.
“You thought what?” Melissa presses, wiping down the kitchen counter. She doesn't turn to him but Jacob can hear the glare in her tone.
“I thought you guys were…seeing where things were going.” Jacob hedges.
“What's that even ‘spose to mean?”
“I thought you were dating and just not ready to tell everyone yet.” Jacob finally says plainly.
“Dating?” Melissa echoes, turning back to face Jacob now. In half a second, she gauges his seriousness. He means it. “You thought me and Y/N were, are, dating?”
Jacob shrugs helplessly. “Yeah. You two are just kind of…always together.”
“Well. We’re not.” Melissa says sternly.
Jacob nods. “I get that now. I won't just…assume next time?” He hesitantly promises, mustering a smile he hopes will disarm Melissa's demeanor. “For what it's worth, you guys would be good together, though.” He adds, making his way out of the kitchen to put away monopoly still left out on the coffee table.
Melissa stares after Jacob. He's disappeared from sight but her eyes remain on the space he had stood in before. A knee-jerk part of her says it's ridiculous he even thought the two of you were dating. A larger part acknowledges how he could have thought it.
She takes a deep breath, turning back to the sink. She lets the dirty dish water from the sink. She wipes the faucet and edges before wiping down the metal of the sink once the water’s drained. She drapes the dishrag over the metal divider between the two basins.
Her hands brace against the edge of the sink. A dim metal thunk when her palms hit it with small force. “Shit.” She’s falling for you.
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I Wish | Part 2
Two sharp claps woke Eddie that following morning.
Followed by the whirring sound of some kind of motor, and then gradually, sunlight.
Sunlight travelled up his face until it hit his eyes directly, lighting up all the little veins behind his eyelids that nobody ever really wanted to see but no matter which way he shoved his head into the pillow, and he did try left and right…
He couldn’t dodge the sunlight.
“Wakey Wakey rockstar!” He was awake. Wide awake, sat up very straight very quickly and then everything felt very wrong when his world spun and— “awh shit Eddie, not again. Hold it! Don’t you dare, not until I—” chunks hit the floor about two seconds before a bucket would have been in place to catch it all. The shockingly red bucket held frozen in place where it’d failed to reach him. “Get there.”
Whoever that was sounded so disappointed.
Eddie had no idea why, but he felt like death. The sunlight hurt his eyes, and his head ached like he’d been hit by a brick wall, not him walking into one, no, one falling on him.
“Ngghhh” he groaned, before spitting what remained in his mouth out into the bucket, for what it was worth.
“What did you do last night, Eddie?” Eddie lifted his head up slowly, trying not to agitate his throbbing headache any more than it already was. With squinted eyes, he struggled to make out the person in front of him, but even when his focus returned, he couldn’t place exactly who the guy was, nor… where he was.
The room he was in was… large.
A huge open space with beige walls sparsely decorated by what looked like gaudy hotel art, he didn’t recognise the bedsheets either, softer than his usual ones, and when he finally found his eyes able to focus against the harsh direct light of the windows, with his hand shielding them a little, the large floor to ceiling windows of his room looked out across a city skyline.
“Who… who’re you?” That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Mystery guy didn’t look too impressed.
“Are you kidding me? Who—who am I? That’s how bad it is? You’re so fucked up you’ve forgotten me this time? I swear to god every fucking time Eddie. Every single goddamn time it’s like this and you just—I keep falling for it!!” Every pitchy hike of that voice had Eddie wincing back “What excuse will it be this time Eddie? It was just ‘one last time?’ Or what about your greatest hit ‘everyone else was doing it’, or maybe you’ll just wave it away like it doesn’t even matter? What did you even take?!” Eddie just wanted to hide, he wanted to hide under the mystery covers, away from this loud person who seemed to know him but…
Eddie was still drawing a blank.
The last thing he remembered, the last thing he clearly remembered, was being in the trailer after coming home from the faire, he remembered… he remembered—
“Where’s… where’s Stephan?” He remembered the Genie.
“Stephan? Who the fuck is Stephan? Are you—motherfucker are you cheating on me?! Who the FUCK is Stepha—” the bedroom door opened, cutting off the mystery mans tirade before Eddie could think too deeply about the idea of cheating on someone he didn’t even know, and like straight out of some kind of sit com, in walked the man himself.
All that was missing was an audience cheer track.
“I’m Stephan, Louie. Please get out.” ‘Louie’ straightened up, face seemingly set into a permanent scowl, he’d have probably been attractive if Eddie’s first encounter with him wasn’t that.
“Steve? Where the hell have you been?! You let him get like thi—”
“Get out Louie, or I remove you.” Arms crossed over broad chest, frame tall, broad, his attire less like it was in the trailer, now he wore a simple white button down and a pair of black slacks. Imposing despite its simplicity. “And make no mistake I will remove you.” He added, tone just as firm as his stance, Louie faltered, resolve quickly crumbling under that impressive presence.
“Fine, but I’m done with this. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t support him like this, so… please have my things sent to my apartment in Chicago. I’m finished.” And out he went, without even so much as a backwards glance to the deeply confused man still in bed, door slammed behind him leaving him alone with ‘Steve’.
“…Stephan?”
“Yeah, Eddie?”
“What the fuck is going on?” The outfit melted away, replaced with a glittering twinkle of a stereotypical magical effect, by the peasant garb he’d worn in the trailer. It was him.
He was real.
Stephan, or… Steve. Steve was easier, he was going to use Steve. Steve offered him his best attempt at an apologetic smile, before approaching to sit on the edge of the bed. “World fame, big shot. You’re lucky I didn’t dump you mid-way through one of your gigs, or worse, last night. Sorry but this was the uh… lesser of many evils. You’re currently in LA staying at a hotel midway through a press tour to advertise your new album, and that… was Louie. Your boyfriend of… three months now? Underwear model, definitely too young for you, I never approved but hey, who listens to the Genie? Nobody, because you’re all too ‘metal’ to listen to the Genie.”
That was… so much information at once. The room still felt like it was spinning, Louie had left the bucket on the floor next to the throw up. Eddie kind of wanted to throw up again. He couldn’t even process the ‘boyfriend’ thing.
“Can… can I wish to feel better?” He was almost proud of himself for coming up with that one.
“Sure you can.”
“I wish I felt better.” A snap of Steve’s fingers, and all those aches, all those pains, the headache the nausea the spinning, it all just. Vanished. Kind of disorientating but, for less than a second, and he was fine. Clear as a whistle, never felt better than he did in that moment. “Holy shit…” Steve smiled. He was prettier than Louie when he smiled.
“You’re welcome. Listen Eddie… I’ve basically disguised myself as your bodyguard in this reality, I exist as a normal person in your life, your band know me, your friends know me, I will be there in all realities we walk through together in some way shape or form. But this one… this one is tricky.”
“Can I wish for the throw up to be gone cause it’s starting to smell.”
“Go ahead.”
“I wish the throw up was gone.” Another snap, both the vomit, and the bucket were gone “oooh bucket too, you overachiever” Steve snorted a little laugh, shaking his head, making his softly coifed bangs sway lightly. “Where were you when I needed to clean my room last month?”
“Please be serious, Eddie, only for a moment.” Eddie settled in the bed, hands in his lap, totally fixed on Steve. Then he noticed he had new tattoos on his hands and suddenly that was way more interesting. As were the tattoos up his arms, a whole sleeve, no. Both sleeves! He looked down at his chest, MORE tattoos, and— Steve grabbed the covers before he could lift them to check his lower half. “Eddie.” Oop. The tone was firm, not quite as intimidating as the one Steve had used on Louie, but… Eddie stilled.
“I’m listening big guy.”
“You wished for world fame, that your band were to become world famous. That does not happen in a blink of an eye, Eddie. Not even by magic. That happens with years of experience, of effort, it happens with dive bars, basement, and garage gigs, it happens with multiple awful record deals that limit and exploit you until you find something that works, it takes nearly breaking apart, it takes, and it takes, and it takes, but what it takes the most of… is time. Eddie. It takes time.” And wasn’t that sobering.
He looked at his hands again. Saw the weathered lines amidst the tattoos for the first time.
Steve didn’t stop him this time from looking beneath the covers, there were more tattoos, way more than he remembered having, but there were lines where lines shouldn’t be, scars where scars shouldn’t be, there were wrinkles in places he was too young to have wrinkles in. Weathered.
He looked weathered.
Steve could only be sympathetic about it, could only appear softened, like he knew this would be tough, but he couldn’t really do anything about it.
“…How much time, Steve?” His fingers gripped the covers tight, he could feel his heart in his throat, thumping away faster as anxiety skyrocketed. He was older. His wish was world fame he didn’t think about anything other than that. It wasn’t even supposed to work Steve was supposed to just be some crazy homeless person who walked in from the cold.
He wasn’t supposed to be real.
“About thirty years?” Eddie pinched himself again on autopilot. It hurt. Silently, he threw his covers off of himself, and stood, the room didn’t spin like it had been earlier and nothing hurt like before, Steve’s magic working like a charm. Still silent, he crossed the room to the bathroom, turned on the light, and found himself looking at… a stranger.
No. It was still him. But he was struck with the thought of why someone like Louie, youthful and handsome as he’d been even in his anger, would want something like him? Wrinkled skin, bags under his eyes, his body slimmer than it ever ought to be and his hair… still long and badly maintained, but now peppered with streaks of grey. “What…” his voice croaked, his hand lifting to rub at the loose skin of his cheeks. Gaunt. Weathered. “What happened to me?”
“Addiction mainly.” Steve was there, behind him in the doorway, close but not touching. Never touching. He held a robe in his hand.
“I don’t do—”
“Mmm… you didn’t… not at first. You smoked but… drugs were more a business venture to you than a vice, right?” Absently, Eddie nodded. He’d dealt his fair share of weed, so what? How had he gone from dealer to— “one of those record labels that didn’t fit. You see… it’s easy to keep a band relevant and making money, when they’re always making headlines, good or bad, it doesnt matter, getting publicly trashed makes some people more money than it loses. Coupled with heartbreak, encouragement, and easy access… impulse control was never your strong suit, was it?” He spoke like he knew him. Maybe he did, Steve had said a genie knew its master, right? “World fame has its dark side. There’s no gain without some form of suffering, Eddie, especially when the gain is as gigantic as world fame.”
“Can—can I go back?”
“Of course you can, you need only wish it. However… I don’t think you should though. Not yet. This is jarring, seeing yourself like this, it’s incredibly jarring, however… you asked for world fame and haven’t even experienced it. Just a small downside. Why don’t you live the day, think of it as an opportunity to experience what this is like, maybe it’ll help you achieve some goals in your own time.” Eddie’s eyes returned to his own reflection, taking it in…
He kind of looked like Wayne. There were worse people he could look like in his older years, especially since people had always claimed he looked like his father. But no... he looked like Wayne. He took some comfort in that.
“…Will it be safe?” Steve regarded him with silence for a moment, just long enough for Eddie to understand. “Nothing’s ever totally safe, is it?”
“No, it’s not. But as your bodyguard I’ll be as close as I can at all times. You don’t need to ask if you can wish it either, if you want to go home, just wish it, and it’ll be done, alright?” Steve stepped forwards into Eddie’s space, and carefully draped the robe over his bare shoulders as Eddie nodded his acknowledgement and pulled the robe tighter around himself, Steve’s hands still there, a pleasantly warm and grounding weight on his shoulders. “Now you should shower, and get yourself dressed. You have a few things to do today so I’ll be waiting outside to take you to your first thing once you’re ready.”
Eddie was almost scared to ask. “Which is?”
“Breakfast of course, but then you’re taping a talk show so chop chop!”
Two quick claps in succession and Steve was off, headed for the door to give him some privacy as if he hadn’t just seen Eddie completely nude, ignoring the sharp, “A what?!” That followed from the bathroom as he exited the suite.
Part 4
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Marauders era Headcanons
I’ll be adding to this throughout the storyline
Masterlist
Sirius Black:
- Partially Deaf, because there is no way he came out inbred and totally unscathed.
- Genderfluid because he’s an indecisive bitch
- Loves when his hair is braided no matter how much he says otherwise (also likes his head scratched)
- Paints his nails just to chip them cause he thinks it looks hot (same thing with smudging eyeliner)
- Calls Lily ‘Evans’, until she and James get together then he calls her ‘Mrs. Potter’
- annoyed he has to share James
- Fidgets with his hair and finger/rings constantly, because he definitely had ADD
- Makes this claw thingy with his hand when he’s nervous (if you know where this is from ily)
- Can dance REALLY WELL (ballet), because of that pure blood privilege, and does the stance naturally
-Can play the violin but is embarrassed so learns guitar so if someone asks him if he plays an instrument he can just say that instead
- Sexuality = Hot people aka Remus Lupin ( he’s just a whore idk what else to say)
-Touch starved/attention whore
- Such a fucking G, this man would riot for anything his friends ask
- If you walked into his closet you would think two people put their stuff in there, no, just him
- Speaks French
Remus Lupin:
- Poor boy is depressed
- And actually poor which is why he sells weed or other muggle things (he hustles the shit out of the students at Hogwarts by saying everything is ‘exotic’ and they believe him because everyone thinks he’s smart)
- Touch starved but doesn’t like to be touched (if you know you know)
-Bisexual panic. All. The. Time.
-Oblivious as hell to the fact everyone wants him— I mean everyone
- Loves tea. SO. MUCH. TEA.
- Has a book club with Lily
- Got a ton of piercings and tattoos over fifth year’s summer, but people rarely see them cause he’s always wearing sweaters or covered up some how
-His whole closet look like it should belong to an old man, yet he still slays
- Bites his lips and inside of cheek a lot, so James carries around lip balm for him
- When he’s high he’s chill
- But he’s hysterical when he’s drunk
-Can read multiple languages, but his pronunciation is god awful (Sirius makes fun of him for it)
-Has Chocolate on hand at all times because once he didn’t and he threw Snape across the classroom
-Man is an uncoordinated tree
James Potter:
- Both the Mom and child of the group somehow
- Takes lots of naps
-Sorry to say but Gryffindor is his personality
- Foot taps
- Holy shit this guy is ADHD
- ‘Bambi’ is his other nickname, and he thinks it’s cute until he watches the movie
- The healthiest mentally of the group
- Golden retriever vibes
- If James hasn’t seen Sirius within 30 minutes and he doesn’t know where he is, he gets panicked
-Has a thing for Youngest siblings apparently (Lily and Regulus)
-Obsessed with Babies
- Definition of himbo sometimes
- He’s good at every sport he tries
- Queer
- Trained Sirius not to say Mudblood throughout first and second year
Peter Pettigrew:
- Trans (I’ll go more in-depth later)
- Ace
- if Social anxiety was a person
- Bakes like an absolute KING
- Chews fingernails, so Sirius got him leather gloves to matches his own to get him to stop
- Knows random shit/facts
-also knows everyone’s business because no one pays him any attention
- Short king
- Hilarious, practically makes the group piss themselves when alone in the common room
- Loves everything fuzzy
- Has been in love with Mary since third or fourth year, but hasn’t said anything because he knew about her and Lily
- Has family trauma too, but he doesn’t thinks it’s enough to complain about because of what he’s seen with Sirius
- Was the first to master turning into an animagus
-As bad as Sirius and James with worrying about his hair, just less loud about it
-He knew about wolfstar before James
Lily Evans:
-Pansexual
- Politics Queen
- As sassy and sarcastic as Sirius
-Stress cleans
- the Left corner of her forehead twitches when she’s mad
- Thick girl (her thighs are HUGE and James practically drools over them 24/7, respectively ofc)
- Short 5’
- the others have to keep her within arms reach because she gets lost easily in crowds, her hair is the only thing that helps
- Human calculator (she gets perfect marks on every subject EXCEPT DADA, which is the class Sirius and James do; it annoys her to no end)
- Most likely to actually throw hands
- Fangirls openly about book characters (with Remus)
- Can’t sing to save her life (poor babe just wants to sing abba, but she just ends up being made fun of)
-Vowed to not cut her hair until she graduated, so around sixth year she had to start braiding it because if she didn’t she’d sit on it
- Can forge a signature/handwriting very well
- Is actually really insecure about her magical abilities because of the rift it caused between her and Petunia
Marlene McKinnon:
-Lesbian
-The only person to actually make her question her sexuality is Remus, and that’s because it’s fucking Remus Lupin
- During fourth year when her and Sirius were ‘dating’, they were just teaching each other how to flirt with girls/guys and they’d kiss just to practice
-Obsessed with Piercings (begged Remus to give her a couple after he told her about how he had the supplies)
- One of the best players on the Gryffindor Quidditch team/ uses it as anger management (Beater position)
-Her and Sirius have an agreement to tell each other the weekly outfit plan so they don’t wear the same thing or color (red or black mostly)
- Roasting people is her platonic love language
-Can play every band instrument
-She looks like a tough, rocker chick but is a softie for Dorcas
- Intimidates everyone because she’s low key buff (can bench more than James and Sirius combined) and super tall (looks like a giant next to Lily)
-Can’t speak in front of Dorcas at first, yet Dorcas understands her
-Big on PDA which leads to Sirius gagging obnoxiously
-Her and Sirius “fighting” is for show so people stop shipping them together/ teasing them
- Dyslexic so Lily and Dorcas read to her if there’s anything important (which leads to them doing it even if she’s not around)
-Simps for James Mum (but who wouldn’t)
Dorcas Meadowes:
- Part of the Slytherin skittles
- Non-binary
-Demisexual
- Dark humor and it’s worse when she’s around Regulus and Barty
- Nyx is her first girl kiss in my oc story (Marlene probably was for every other story)
-Big softy when it comes to Marlene
-Resting bitch face
- Amazing artist/ sketching Marlene constantly
- Makes jewelry (Marlene and her matching rings, and friendship bracelets/ necklaces for the others that they can never take off— she warns them before hand)
- Will go batshit crazy if she stays up after 12 am
-Gets super competitive when playing Quidditch
- Rants about how much she loves pockets every 20 minutes
- Instinctively moves closer to someone she knows when she’s in public
- More introverted than the rest, would rather stay in the common room and chill
-makes a ton of your mom jokes
Mary Macdonald:
- Pansexual or Polysexual
-She loves to embroidery/making clothes, so if anyone needs something made or tailored they go to her
-Hypes everyone up all the time, ‘don’t disrespect yourself’ vibe
- Has the best alcohol tolerance in the group
-James potter triggers her for a multitude of reasons; they have a banter relationship
- She always has what you need in her bag— like Mary Poppins
-Lily was her first love and friend
- SUCH a good listener (like I know canon Remus and Lily would be the best listeners, but I think it’s Mary)
- Both her and Remus had a glow up fourth year and everyone wants to either be them or be with them
- Loves dancing, will do it randomly while doing absolutely anything
-Hates cold weather, she’ll literally wear five jackets DON’T play
-Has had or does have a eating disorder because of societal pressure of internal judgment; not to mention people definitely paint her out to be a ‘slag’ because she happens to be more open about her sexuality (and they don’t do it to Sirius because we live in a fucked patriarchy)
- Will scream “fuck the police” or “fuck the Patriarchy” when running away from an authority figure (or just Lily/Remus)
-vegetarian 
-Extroverted (loves to be around people/hates being alone)
Regulus Black:
- Asthma (again, can’t escape inbreeding completely)
-Has permanent dark circles, yet he still looks beautiful??? Looks like eyeshadow to be real
- Demisexual
-trans
-Scratching his knuckles is a severe nervous tick of his
-Writes poetry and short stories
- Plays the piano
-Started playing quidditch to interact with Sirius more and to impress him (but as he got older he didn’t really give a shit anymore)
-Speaks French and Reads Latin
-Really into Astronomy
- He had a crush on James in fifth year but didn’t pursue it because he still somewhat resented him for having Sirius all to himself (and he knew Sirius would get mad)
-Cusses a lot when around his friends
-Best poker face, could lie to anyone and get away with it
-Photographic memory
-Nice to all the House elves (and all the Marauders except Sirius and James)
Pandora, Evan, and Barty
Evan and Pandora are siblings
Everyone in the Marauders and Slytherin Skittles have agreed that Pandora has to be protected at all cost
What they don’t know is that this girl is lethal (Carries around potions she’s created that could burn through steel)
Barty is hella gay, psychotic, and a bit of a pyro
Barty is also low key obsessed with Regulus
Evan is in love with Barty
Rosekiller is a thing, and it is toxic (don’t we just love it)
I’ll probably add more for Barth, Evan, and Pandora later
#marauder headcanons#marauders headcanon#the marauders#marlene mckinnon#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders#marauders x oc#slytherin skittles#james & peter & remus & sirius#sirius x reader#sirius x oc#sirius headcanon#remus headcanon#remus x reader#wolfstar#wolfstar x reader#dorlene#jily#jegulus#jegulily#regulus and evan and barty#regulus headcanon#barty crouch junior#rosekiller#pandora lovegood#dorcas meadowes#lily evans headcanons#james headcanon#peter pettigrew
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Ruffled feathers
Ships planned: Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeciet
Warnings: Human traficing, abuse, injuries, imprisonment, captivity and all that comes with it, restraints
Patton and Virgil are brothers in this one
Thanks @lovelivingmydreams for being my beta. It was very much needed since english is not my main language
His hands were itching from the cuffs, he was sick of them for a long time now, and moving his hands so fast made it worse. His wings ached unable to be spread, pressed together in tight restraints. Funny, like he could have escaped without them. And now his throat hurt too. Bastards. He only wanted them to stop yelling at Patton, it wasn't his fault he needed to use claws to get his point across.
He almost missed the moment smoke filled the room.
It took Virgil a couple of minutes to fully understand what just happened. His head was still a little fuzzy after the electric strike. The same guy that just knocked out their captors helped him up and lifted him in a piggy back position. The guy took him and Patton outside, where two other men in gas masks circled them, pointing their ( how was it called again?) guns at their surroundings. And next he knew they were inside the van.
" Roman, I told you to wait for the signal, " the fourth guy, who was also the driver, berated the first one. " He was using a shocker! " justified their savior as he was taking off Virgil's muzzle and the bindings off his wings along with the handcuffs. The other two helped Patton with the same. And Virgil almost relaxed in their presence, that is until Roman and the rest took off their masks, " What? I was supposed to let him hurt the poor creature? "
Humans. Taking a defensive stance, Virgil covered his brother with his wings and growled. He was ready to show them why he had that muzzle if they dared to touch Pat. Humans were the whole reason they got in this situation. He interacted with so many shitty ones he was pretty sure being assholes was their race trait. Humans took them away from their forest, locked them in a cage, fed them some garbage and drugs, and the most infuriating they cut their wings! And they had the audacity to complain about ' ruining the best part'. And now him and his brother were locked with another bunch of them. He knew better than to trust them. he saw what they can do. And so he hissed at their every movement. He wouldn't be hurt by them again.
The team looked at the unfolded wings in awe and understanding. Roman was not surprised by the sudden aggressive change in avian's behavior. They expected the victims to be hostile in such situation and trained accordingly. It was best not to touch them, that's why they took the opposite corner of the van.
No wonder the traffickers were interested in them, both seemed to have rare colorations. The older one had black as his main color, which was one of the rarest, with purple and cyan as his other colors, also a pretty rare thing to see. The younger one, who looked more concerned than scared, was more close to regular brown wings but also had a bunch of blue and white feathers instead of orange or red. The saddest things was the state of those wings, both birds had their long feathers cut, weren't groomed and had some patches of feathers missing no doubt from all the stress. They were in such a bad state the whole team was wondering if the traffickers really were planning to sell them.
The dark one was so on edge they didn't have a choice but to leave both alone so he could relax. Thankfully their enclosure had cameras so the team could check on them. The team got into the the security room and stared at the screen. And sure the second they left the avians alone both relaxed and cuddled up on the mossy floor. So cute.
Both talked, but in their native language which none of the humans knew. Judging by other clues both were making sure the other one was ok. Even cuter scene happened when they discovered the bathroom.
The bathtub was build more like a pool with warm water, both avians jumped in as soon as they saw it and started to preen each others feathers. As they were busy with cleaning up Roman took it upon himself to bring them the new clothes. He knocked on the bathroom door and got a loud hiss in return. Rude. But he calmly opened the door ( which got him another hiss), put down a box of clothes and left. He hurried back into the surveillance room to see their reactions. They were hesitant to approach the clothes at first, so they focused on finishing up the bath. The first one to make a move was the Sweetie, but his moody brother covered him quickly from the supposed danger and took it upon himself to inspect the new object. Of course there was nothing dangerous and he allowed the young one to come closer. They both studied the things they were given and judging by their faces quite liked them. Both chose a hoodie with an open back that allowed them to move their wings freely. Both also chose comfortable pants, the rest of the clothes they folded neatly and placed outside the enclosure in the same box they came in.
" They are adapting great, " commented Janus following a chuckle from Remus, who was still excited about two naked butts he saw. His boyfriend clearly didn't give him enough attention today. Logan gave a nod. This rescue mission was their most successful one, ignoring mild insubordination from Roman. Both avians were rescued without any additional injuries. He was a little disappointed with himself at the fact that he couldn't track them earlier. Now they needed intense medical care and therapy. " Look at the Stormy Night. He's acting all tough, but he's as sweet as his brother, " it seemed like Roman already got a favorite. He always did, and when as the time came to release them back into the wild he would whine at the sight of them leaving. Every single time.
Jan ran his hand through Remus' hair, who now took the place on the floor between his legs, "What do we do now? " " I would suggest taking them to Emile, but considering the state they are in it would be best to let them get used to the new environment and people, " answered Logan. " Can't we just put Sugar Tits inside the enclosure instead of throwing them inside the van again? We don't stress the bird butts and they relax after talking to a non human. Like triple win! " " Not now. Emile can't come here because of a family emergency. We will have to monitor them until he can".
During next couple of weeks Logan documented the patterns in the avians behavior.
The one they nicknamed Moody was protective, yet in front of any of the humans present he acted very cold towards his brother. As the Nerd hypothesized this was directed on making them think they weren't that close, so they would not hurt one to punish the other. Honestly the fact that he thought this was necessary infuriated Logan the most. The younger of the brothers was more open to the new people. After only two days he started openly showing interest in anything new. Logan tried to explain to the best of his ability, thinking there was a language barrier involved. Which was not actually true. Both avians could pick up on languages very well. And had learned several human tongues from their previous captors. Patton really wanted to talk with the new humans, but couldn't do so because he didn't want to disclose the same with Virgil. Virgil didn't trust them at all, and he was hoping they would spill something important in front of them if they thought they couldn't understand them.
He also grew worried around one particular human. Princey, as he started to call him, was more irritated with him out of all of the humans and V just couldn't understand what he was doing wrong. They weren't trying to run away, they did behave. Why send such disgusted looks?
He was the most terrified when he started to feel sick. " Virgil... Are you ok? " Patton asked as Virgil stared at the pill he just spat out. He took the bread from Patton's hands and threw it on the floor. Not again. No wonder he was feeling like shit! They put something in the food! As to prove his thoughts the door opened and in came the humans.
They fucked up. They really did, and for the first time Remus was the one to say " I told you so", though he wasn't happy about it either. He knew that giving the guy medicine inside his food would turn out bad for them if he found out. And wouldn't you know it, the first pill and he found it. Worst part was that he was the go-do guy in this situation. That was probably because of his kinks for biting and stuff which was absolutely fucking involved in capturing an avian and separating him from his brother. He got plenty of it as he dragged the winged man towards the van, his brother crying in the background, held by Roman.
Remus pressed Moody into the floor with his legs, while holding his wings with his hands. Jan-jan took care of the avian's legs and arms so he would be easier and safer to transport. He very much appreciated when the avian relaxed understanding his helpless situation, his hands might have gone numb otherwise. Got a wing in the face a couple of times though as they were on their way to Emile. " Relax, Snappy bird, we're taking you to the doc~" Remus purred sealing his words with a sound slap on the guy's buns, which he quickly regretted because the avian started resisting again.
They should have started with bringing birds to Emile, and now they were paying for their decisions ( mostly with Remus' flesh). " Oh my goodness, what happened? " Emile sprinted towards the van. Logan got out the driver seat and opened the back doors. Snappy started to shift again, but went completely still seeing the fawn in front of him.
" There. We're ok, aren't we? " the new figure spoke in avian's language, quickly going back on the human one to ask the reason for their visit. " He got sick and the dorks tried secretly feeding him the meds, which he found. As I told you all would happen! " declared the human on Virgil's back.
" Are you feeling bad, Sweetie?" the fawn asked motioning for the human to let go. As soon as the weight was lifted off him, Virgil crawled away in the other corner. " It's ok. Please forgive them. They were concerned about your wellbeing, " the fawn said as he approached and sat down.
" I'm Emile. Can I have your name? " " Are you with them? " the avian asked with venom on his tongue. " I am, but I'm concerned about your understanding of the situation. They don't hurt me, don't worry. We're actually good friends, and I help them heal other creatures just like you." He reached his hand forwards, " Is it ok if I touch you? "
Virgil showed his fangs, " You can try. "
Emile however wasn't impressed and just touched the avian's forehead with the back of his hand. " Yup, you're burning, " he declared and picked up the confused man, bringing him to his office. He gave the bird an antipyretic medicine and started the overall checkup.
" My goodness, your wings look awful! " the doctor gasped and got some sort of ointment from the cabinet. He generously applied it on the spots that missed any feathers and at the base of the wings. " Now, I know you have a brother. So I'm going to give you this thing, ok? You and your brother need to apply it once a day after a good bath. Can you do that, Sweetheart? " he asked.
Virgil nodded. The medication started kicking in and he suddenly felt exhausted. He almost fell asleep on his way back. He didn't purely out of spite and hissed at humans a dozen more times.
Patton was hysterical. They took Virgil! They took him away! In his frantic sobs he didn't even care if they found out about the language thing, he started pleading.
" I'm sorry! Forgive him for whatever he did. Please! Don't take him away! We're sorry! " he cried. He unsuccessfully tried to get out of the hold.
Logan took avian's hands in his own, " We're not taking him away. He needs medical care. We will bring him back. " " Promise? " the avian uttered quietly. The technician gave a firm nod.
He waited another minute for sobs to die down, while holding avian's hands.
" Now, if this is resolved, we need to talk, " he said. And Patton anxiously squeaked and hid himself behind his wings.
Not minding at all, the human continued, " First I want to apologize for our decision to hide the medicine in the food. We were hoping he wouldn't find them this quickly and would feel better without interacting with us, " he nodded for Roman to let go off the avian as now there was no need for it. Sweetie peeked curiously from behind his wings.
" Seeing as you in fact do understand me, allow me to explain ourselves a bit better. We are a special rescue team, that specializes in rehabilitation of humanoid creatures found sold on the black market, " the technician continued. " Usually we take our time to infiltrate the organization and remove the victims safely and quietly. Sometimes if that's not possible we pose as buyers, for some instances we actually pay, but usually we scam them."
Actor nodded along, " Yup! Bad people deserve no money! "
" In your case we could do neither. It is thoroughly my fault. We didn't know about you for the longest time and when I was able to find any information it was obvious that we needed to intervene as soon as possible. I need to mention that we never had any experience with such terrible treatment, " Logan looked at their new friend with pity.
" Yeah, " Roman added, " Usually those guys try to make you look pretty for the buyers. Not torture you. "
Patton didn't understand everything the humans told him, but at the end of the conversation he felt reassured, safe even. He asked them to keep this conversation a secret for now. He didn't want Virgil to get mad, it would be better if he opens up at his own pace.
He sat on the mossy floor waiting and, like humans told him, Virgil returned. He looked tired, his huge wings mopped the floor behind him and he carried a small jar in his hands. His eyes seemed dazed and focused on the jar rather than his steps and this focus was the last thing keeping him from the firm grip of the dreamscape. As soon as his bother hugged him he lost that focus and relaxed in the familiar hold fast asleep
Next chapter
#sanders sides#virgil sanders#ts virgil#roman sanders#ts roman#logan sanders#ts logan#patton sanders#ts patton#ts janus#janus sanders#ts remus#remus sanders#ts emile#emile picani#prinxiety#logicality#dukeceit#tw captivity#tw imprisonment#tw human trafficking#tw abuse#tw injury#ruffled feathers au
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I LITERALLY ONLY FINISHED EP 1 OF TLOU BEFORE WRITING THIS 😭 this man just has me going fucking insane rn i had to word vomit. spent my whole day on this bc im delulu
warning: homophobia and transphobia, trans fetishization, degradation/humiliation, slurs, vaginal sex, rough oral sex, NASTY daddy kink (like… borderline incest rp and ddlb maybe idk i just work here), hanky code, spit kink, breeding kink, gags, drug dealing (weed and opioids), reader is a sex worker/weed dealer with clit piercings
anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/kitty, clit/(t-)dick
It started as a drug deal. A bad habit picked up after top surgery. A rumor that this guy sold opioids. A wink and a nod of the head from across the plaza during a hanging. A few hankies tucked in your jeans, two shades of blue on the right, light green and a flag on the left. You were never sure if he knew what they meant. You’d never had the chance to ask. Until today, you happened to have a favor to ask him.
“Look, you know I’m usually reliable, right? If you could just gimme more time, I promise I’ll get you an ounce on Monday, on me.” That was a pretty decent offer. You usually gave him a quarter of bud every trade, so an ounce for the same price was surely nothing to sneeze at.
“If you’re not ready today, you ain’t gettin’ shit today. Sorry, kid.” Fuck. Ah, well. At least he wasn’t mad at you. Plus, he always called you ‘kid’. It made sense, since he was definitely old enough to be your dad. Maybe he had a soft spot for you. And he certainly met the diagnostic criteria for DILF, but goddamnit, your gaydar couldn’t get a reading on him. You figured the best way to find out for sure would be to offer up your other goods and services and see if he takes the bait.
“Well, uh… maybe there’s…” You took a step closer to him, putting all your weight into your hips hoping they’d jump out at him, “…something else I can offer you?”
They didn’t. His stare never shifted from your face. “Like what?” Joel asked unclockably.
You took the tips of your hankies between your fingers and held them out to him, spreading your wings, a display for attracting mates not unlike that of a peacock. “You know what these mean?” You asked with a quirk in the brow and some devious faggotry in your voice.
Joel crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a cocky, almost sort of try me type stance. “What do they mean?”
You named your hankies, one-by-one. Green, “This one means I’m a sex worker,” Trans, “This one means I have a pussy,” Navy, “This one means I get fucked,” and Cyan, “This one means I suck co-“
“I’m sorry, that one means what?” Joel interrupted, and pointed at your trans flag. He wasn’t just gonna let you gloss over that, just as you’d hoped.
“Oh, this one?” You pinched the tail of the trans flag and let the rest fall to your sides. A cheeky, cherubic, chaotic smile on your face as you taunted him. “It means I have a pussy. I’m trans.”
Joel’s face contorted in a few spasms of different emotions. A blink of shock, a blip of disgust, a second of intrigue, ‘til he landed on confusion. “So, uh…” His eyes crawled downwards to your crotch, then back up to you. “…how’s that work?”
Sure, you could give him the polite conversation explanation of the transmasculine identity, gender dysphoria and its treatments. Or, you could give the simplest and sexiest possible definition that would appeal to Schrödinger’s Straight Man over here. “Was born a girl, cut my tits off, shot up testosterone, and now I’m a man, but I kept my cunt.”
“Fuckin’ Christ…” He grunted, then cleared his throat, trying his damndest to remain calm and bloodbend his newfound erection away. Today was the wrong day for the light wash jeans. His growing bulge was the visual feedback of your influence on him.
A by-the-book boypussy sales pitch. Testing well with the focus group. You took another step with a sway of the hips, encroaching on his personal space but not penetrating it just yet. “Well? Whaddaya think?”
Joel bit his lip and said nothing for a moment. It seemed he was taking his time to figure out what exactly he did think about your revelation. “…Just 2 pills?”
“Just 2 pills…” You nodded, “Just enough to last me the weekend…” and took another step closer, then one more, until you could reach out and rub his bicep. “I’ll bump you up to an ounce, get it to you on Monday…” Your curious fingers started to trail down his arms and over to his delightfully soft dad-bod tummy. “And I’ll show you a good time today… Show you something you’ve never seen before…”
To say you were coming on pretty strong would be a massive understatement. And, hell, touching him? You were coming on like you had a death wish. Your hand slid downward, down to the heat he was packing in his pants, and stroking his rifle in your game of tactile Russian Roulette.
You loaded the chamber…
“All for just two little pills. So?”
Spun the barrel…
“What do you say?”
And pulled the trigger.
“Please, Daddy?”
And with those two whorish words, he snapped. Joel grabbed you by the wrist and slammed you into the brick wall behind him. You gasped in shock and winced in pain. It happened so fast, you barely had any time to think about the mistake you’d just made, but before you could choke out an I’m sorry, his lips were on yours. You moaned into the kiss and he snarled into it, slobbering all over each other in a fit of lust.
“Bratty little fuckin’ queer. So you’re saying you have a cunt, huh, boy? No bullshit?” Joel sneered as he shoved his hand between your legs. He grabbed your crotch and squeezed it tight, delighted to find no bulge, nothing in his way but a few layers of clothing. “Ooh, damn, kiddo, guess you’re right. Ain’t you fuckin’ special…” He let your wrist fall so he could grab your jaw. “Open,” he commanded, and your lips obliged. He spat into your open mouth, and then his lips were back on you.
Your hands scrambled for purchase on his back, eventually clutching his hair and his shirt for lifelines. The second you’d laid eyes on this guy, you knew he’d be a good fuck, and you couldn’t believe your luck. That monumental gamble you took just now had won you the jackpot, and now it was time to bask in your victory.
Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you out of the kiss. “You want your fuckin’ pills, cuntboy?”
“Yeees…” That was why you originally came to him, yes, but now you wanted a whole lot more.
“You want those fuckin’ pills?”
“Yeees, yes, I wan-em…”
“Say please.”
“Pleeease…”
“Please, what?”
“Pleeease, Daddyyy… P-Please, Daddy, I wan- I wan’ the pills…”
“You gonna suck your Daddy’s cock for ‘em?”
“Y-Yeees, Daddyyy…”
“So do it.”
Joel dropped you and let you stumble onto your knees in front of him. You rocked back and forth impatiently as he undid his belt and fished his cock out of his jeans. As you suspected, it was massive, flushed an angry shade of red, and throbbing painfully. He gave it a tantalizing stroke, peeling back the foreskin and pulling it taut on the rebound. You licked your lips at the precum leaking from its slit, waiting for his instruction.
“Open,” He demanded once more. You acquiesced, opening your mouth wide enough for him to stuff his cock in your throat. He let out a deep, husky, growl as he slid down your airway. “Yeahhh, that’s it… That’s it, kiddo…”
Even in your dickdrunk, cockgagged haze, you could guess what was coming next. In preparation, you braced yourself with your hands on his hips, and relaxed your throat as best you could for him to fuck it. Turns out, your intuition was right.
“Fuck, yeah, fuckin’… Fuckin’ choke on it, whore… Choke on Daddy’s cock.” He grunted, grabbed your hair, and held you still while he thrusted into your mouth unforgivably. Tears, snot, and drool were running down your face in no time, and Joel was loving it. “Aw, look at that, yeah, good boy…”
You whined reflexively at the praise, accidentally sucking some spit into your windpipe and choking you in a less sexy and more dangerous manner than intended. Your eyes bulged open and you slapped his thigh twice, tapping out. Thankfully, he got the hint and let you go.
You coughed up the spit and smacked your own chest to clear your airway. “Sorry… Wrong pipe…”
“Take your time.” Joel replied, “Not try’na kill ya.”
Once you could regulate your breathing and you were sure you weren’t at risk of death by blowjob, you got back to work, at your own pace this time. You had the chance to explore him. Stroking and squeezing his shaft and his sack, fluttering your tongue underneath his tip, licking long stripes from the balls to the head. Less force, but no less intensity.
“Ngh, little faggot sure knows his way around a cock, don’t he?” Joel snickered and ruffled your hair. “So good at this, I would’a never believed you don’t got one yourself.”
True, you may not have been blessed with a cock attached to you, but you’d gotten plenty inside you. Not exactly your hometown, but familiar terrain nonetheless. When you felt like you could, you swallowed his length whole, swiping your tongue along his balls as you gagged. Joel threw his head back and moaned into the air, and then, you rode him with your throat again.
“Fu-u-uck, oh, shit, yeah… Yeah, you suck Daddy’s cock… Suck your old man’s cock for pills, and you’ll get ‘em, son... You’ll get ‘em, you fuckin’ junkie.”
You’d honestly forgotten this was about pills. You just got so caught up in the love of the sport, it had totally slipped your mind. Though dangling the carrot of oxies in front of your spit-drenched face was as good an incentive as any, and despite the burning in your windpipe, you sucked him with more power, more speed, more emotion, and more determination. You could taste victory leaking and throbbing on your tongue.
“F-Fuck… I-… I can’t…” Joel’s face was a picture of overwhelming pleasure. He had to pull you off. His wet, pulsating cock popped out of your mouth, and he huffed and puffed wiping sweat from his brow. “As much as I’d like to dump a load in your stomach…” He nudged his boot in between your legs, right up against your burning cunt. “I need to see your specialty, first.” He extended a hand to help you off your knees, then when you stood, hugged you to him and spanked each of your ass cheeks, jiggling them both as he gave his next order. “Take off your pants and bend over. Let Daddy see that pretty kitty of yours.”
You giggled, a goofy, stupid slutty smile on your face, and nodded. “Hehehe, okay… Okay…” You unbuckled your pants and let your jeans drop to the dirt. You stepped out of them and kicked them aside. You turned 90 degrees, put your hands on the brick wall, and stuck your ass out to Joel. He took his place behind you, grabbed your ass, and spread you open to take a peek at your holes. You shivered as the cool breeze ran over your dripping cunt.
“Fuck, I can’t even remember the last time I saw a cunt like this…” Two of his fingers traced your slit then spread your lips, exposing yourself even more to him. He chuckled when he saw your dick piercing. “‘Specially not one with these fancy hood ornaments.” He couldn’t resist the urge to tug on the jewelry.
Naturally, your knees buckled beneath you and you slid down the wall. “A-Ah!” You squeaked, “F-Fuck! S-Sen-Sensitive!” You tried to warn him, but really you were showing off your weak point with the conspicuousness of a video game boss fight.
“Oh, yeah?” Joel scoffed and supplemented it with a smack on the ass. You could feel him kneel down behind you, and he said, “Good.”
And then his lips were on your t-dick and sucking it like a leech.
You had to scream, bad, but it was broad fucking daylight and FEDRA could show up at any second. Instead, you bit down on your hand, sinking all the energy into your teeth as your body collapsed in on itself. Before long, your cunt was dripping down into his mouth, so much so, that there was an audible splash when his lips let you go.
“Christ, you’re a mess. Gonna ruin my fuckin jeans, ‘f I don’t take ‘em off.” Joel stood up and out of his own pants then tossed them beside yours. You heard some more rustling of clothing, felt a swipe up your pussy, then a tap on your lips with wet fingertips. “Open,” he instructed yet again.
You opened your mouth to lick and suck at his fingers, or so you thought. Instead, they pulled away and gagged you with one of your own hankies. Judging purely by the texture, you deduced that it was the trans flag. You relaxed and let him tie the gag more comfortably.
“There.” Joel said, patting you on the ass affirmatively. “Now I don’t gotta worry ‘bout you bein’ a fuckin’ screamer.” Two strong hands took your hips and lined him up with his target. You could feel his head prodding, but not breaching your hole. “Ready?”
You bit down on the gag and nodded feverishly at him. He poked your hole once, then twice, then started to push in and ohmyfuckinggodhe’shugeimeanyouknewthatalreadybutfuckitfeelsbetterthanyouthoughtitwould.
Without the ability to articulate any of those words, you whimpered through the gag and clawed at the wall like a cat trying to get in the bathroom.
“Biiig stretch, kiddo, that’s it…” Joel groaned, “That’s a good boy… Daddy’s almost in…”
Almost in? What the fuck did he mean by-ohshitthatswhatthefuckhemeantbyalmostin… He was so fucking thick that the stretch nearly burned, and long enough to feel like he was excavating your pussy to make room for himself. It was mind-numbing how big he was. He took up not only all the space in your cunt but in your brain as well. You’d never had someone dig so fucking deep.
“There you go, nice and full.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and pin your wrists together above your head. “Daddy’s perfect little cocksleeve…”
He withdrew his hips, practically taking your cunt with him on the way out since it refused to let go, and then speared his cock back into you. His thrust was a shockwave that rocked through your whole body. You let out a garbled moan into the spit-drenched fabric each time he did it. Eventually, he had a steady tempo going.
“Nghhh, so fucking tight… Real fuckin’ tight for a whore. And you’re fuckin’ soaked…” He gave your ass another swat, then stopped moving for a moment. “C’mon, slut, fuck yourself back on your Daddy’s dick. Ride your Daddy’s dick, now-yeahhh, that’s it…” He purred as you started to bounce your ass on him. For a little extra encouragement, he reached out to pet your hair. And for some guidance and a little extra oomph, he slammed his hips forward in time with yours, making his cock hit you twice as hard. “That’s a good boy…”
It was unbelievable, almost intolerable how good he felt. You almost couldn’t bear the thought of fucking any of your regular clients ever again. This was a Flowers for Algernon-type dicking, the absolute pinnacle of nasty sex for just a little while, and you’ll spend the rest of your sex life downhill from here. You’d like to hope that wouldn’t be the case, but none of the other dick you’d gotten in the past could even compare.
And it all stemmed from asking for a front on some oxies.
Joel reminded you of that when he said, “Next time you’re needing a front, I’ll-ngh… I’ll make you work for it, whore… Take you home and fuck you in the ass instead… Let you scream as loud as you need to… Let that little pussy weep for me and it’s gettin’ nothin’… You want some painkillers, then you gon’ hurt for ‘em, son…”
Honestly, the idea of a ‘next time’ had you excited regardless of what hole he wanted to bust open. If you were lucky, maybe it’d be out of mutual enjoyment rather than an exchange. Soon, he struck that special spot inside you, that inner button that has you seeing stars and screaming obscenities into the flag gag. Your hands balled into fists and pounded at the wall. It was getting to be too much to bear. Of course, with your flag in the way, your cries of Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna come! sounded as, “Auck! Auck! Ah gah-ah cah!”
Luckily, Joel spoke fluent slut. “You’re gonna cum? Gonna cum for your daddy?” He knotted his fingers in your hair and yanked you up against his chest. He shoved you both forward until you hit brick, and without an inch of space for you to squirm, he rutted into you relentlessly. “Then do it, slut. Cum on your daddy’s cock. Daddy wants to feel his little man cum all over him.”
God, how could a sentence be so nurturing and so nasty at the same time? So sweet and yet so fucking sick? Regardless of Sigmund Freud screaming ‘I told you so’ somewhere in your head, you came buckets, splashing Joel’s thighs with pussy juice on his every thrust. Your legs gave out around the fourth or fifth gush, and Joel had to hold you up for him to finish.
“Fuck, yeah, keep coming, keep coming, baby, Daddy’s close…” Joel groaned. Every word he said grew more vile and more primal than the last. His only need was to breed. “Daddy’s gonna knock you up, son… Gonna dump some brothers and sisters into ya… ‘N’ you’re gonna fuckin’ take it… Ngh, gonna take my fuckin’ load in ya ‘cause you’re a little cumdump pussyboy whore… ‘S what you’re meant for-shit… Shit!”
He squeezed your body tight and growled into your ear. Hot spurts of his cum flooded your battered cunt. On any other occasion, you’d cringe at some rando calling his load your siblings, but it just felt so good. You couldn’t give less of a fuck what he called it. And it’s not like he was your actual father. He was committing to the bit, a bit that had you mewing and sobbing with pleasure and repressed emotion, but that was a problem for your therapist later.
The world went still as you both came down from orbit. The rest of the QZ didn’t exist in that moment. It was just you and your “daddy”, a man twice your age that you trade drugs with and who just busted a nut in you. Honestly, still a better father figure than most. Closest thing to a dad you had for damn sure.
You felt that paternal vibe from him as he kissed the side of your neck. “You okay, little guy?” Joel asked tenderly. He untied the gag and tossed the flag by your jeans, letting you answer him.
“Mm… Mhm… I’m okay…” You stuttered, still counting on his grip to keep you standing.
“Good boy.” A few quick pecks to your neck and he slipped out, a few drops of his kids pooling in the dirt below you. “Now get dressed. I got shit to do.” He demanded with a final slap on your ass.
You stumbled over to your pants, leaning onto the wall to guide yourself. Even after dressing himself, Joel got to them first, and held them out for you to step into.
“Yeah, there you go, kid. You’re okay.” He cooed, and then clapped you on the shoulders to get your attention. Your head snapped up to see him reach into his pocket and pull out a plastic bag wrapped in tinfoil. He fished out two white pills and gave them to you, just as you agreed to.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” You gave him a shy smile, feeling grateful for the front and the frenzied faux-father-son fucking he just bestowed upon you. “Oh, and, uh… I… I had a good time, s-so if you ever wanna-“
“I’ll see you Monday, kid.”
#i am UNWELL#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us x reader#the last of us smut#tlou x reader#tlou smut#what the FUCK do i tag this#dd/lb#daddy k!nk#slurs
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sworn to secrecy 2
chris x fem!reader
1 3 4 5 6
summary: chris and y/n have known each other, pretty much their whole lives. y/n has always had a crush on chris. chris always viewed y/n as ‘nate’s little sister’ until one day, he realized, she wasn’t so little anymore…which nate sees..in which. he does not approve of whatsoever. (“brothers best friend trope”)
warnings: mentions of toxic household (fighting). but that should be it.
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by the time lunch arrives, im exhausted. i walk down the hall, clutching my lunch bag to my chest through the flood of kids.
once i finally get to the cafeteria, i see nick, matt, nate, and chris sitting at the same table we’ve been sitting at since my freshman year. it’s comforting to know that some things never change.
“hey guys.” i say to them as i take my normal seat in between nate and nick. matt and chris being across from us.
“hey! how’s your first day going?” nick asks me.
“it’s..going.” i say hesitantly.
“i mean what i said in the car earlier, junior year isn’t anything to stress too much over. let loose and have fun, you’re always keeping your nose in books.” he tells me. “maybe you should go to the back to school party this weekend.”
“the what?” i ask. a party? already?
“yeah some senior is throwing it. christian davis i think.” matt says with a mouth full fries.
“yeah kid, you need to listen up. get out some more and have some fun.” chris reaches over the table to jokingly shove my shoulder.
i shake my head with a small laugh and smile.
“no way, a party isn’t y/n’s scene.” nate says as he shakes his head ‘no’.
“oh come on nate. i’ll watch over her, she’ll be fine.” nick says happily as he wraps an arm around my shoulder, giving me a one sided hug.
“guys i don’t need a babysitter. im not a child.” i roll my eyes.
“whatever.” nate mumbles under his breath.
the thought of going to a house full of sweaty, drunk teenagers party, genuinely terrifies me. but nick is right. i have spent almost every day of my school life, focused on school. i’ve never dated anyone or done anything that didn’t involve school. of course i’ve had some fun in my life, but nothing too crazy. maybe this could be the year i experience a little more?
-
it’s now been a couple hours since i left school. i stand in my shower, the warm water hitting my back, as the steam fogs up my bathroom. once i begin rubbing my shampoo in my hair, my mind retraces to the conversation at lunch. would going to this party be such a bad idea?
my thoughts are interrupted when i hear a door slamming from downstairs, freezing my body in fear for a second before i turn the water off and step out of the shower.
once im out and wrapped in a towel, i hear muffled voices yelling back and forth. i suck in a breath as i begin drying my body off and getting dressed.
when im done, i step out of the bathroom, to my surprise, nate is standing right in front of the bathroom door, giving me a sympathetic look.
“they’re arguing again. arent they?” i whisper to him.
he doesn’t say anything as he just hesitates to nod his head.
i bite my lip as i look to the side. “so what do you want me to do?” i ask him.
“i was thinking we could just go to the triplets and hang out for a bit, then i’ll come back later and see if things have cooled down and if it has, we can come back here tonight.” he explains to me as he crosses his arms.
“and what if it doesn’t cool down?” i question, mirroring his stance.
“just pack an overnight bag just incase.” he says as he walks away to his bedroom.
i let out a breath as i make my way to my bedroom. once im in there, i grab a separate bag to put things i’ll need in. clothes to sleep in, clothes for tomorrow, brush, makeup, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste, and other things.
almost as soon as im done, i grab both my school bag and overnight bag, i hear nate approaching my bedroom.
“hey you ready?” he says, almost sounding impatient.
i nod as i walk out of my room, closing my door.
“okay let’s go.” he says.
-
my favorite thing about the triplets, is that every time mine and nate’s parents get into arguments, which usually results in us having to stay at their house. they don’t treat us any different. they don’t give us any ‘are you okay?’ or ‘do you wanna talk about?’ looks. they just treat as as if it’s any normal day or sleepover. which im extremely thankful for.
“so what are we watching?” matt asks as he sits on the couch next to me.
all of us sitting in the living room nate and chris on the floor in front of the couch. then im sitting in the middle of the couch, matt on my left, and nick on my right.
“what about something scary?” i suggest.
“no way.” nick says in almost a sarcastic laugh.
“oh come on! we never watch scary movies!” i whine as i lean further into the couch.
“and we don’t plan on it either.” matt says from beside me.
after 20 minutes of arguing back and forth, trying to pick a movie. we finally settle on watching ‘grown ups’.
a couple minutes into the movie, i feel a weight on my lower legs, so i look down. when i do, i see chris leaning his back fully onto my legs for support, which makes me a little nervous, causing my heart to race a little faster than anticipated. once i begin to realize that he probably just needed something to lean back on and didn’t think anything of it like i did, that feeling goes away pretty quickly.
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a/n: pretty boring chapter again, and sorry i suck ass at dialogue. but it’ll get better, trust 🤞.
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic
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Crowd—Nicholas D. Wolfwood
Summary: You watch as Wolfwood tries to find you in a crowd.
Word Count: ~1.5k
Pairing: gn!reader x Nicholas D. Wolfwood
Content: down bad reader and Wolfwood, mainly fluff, gets a lil cheesy but oh whale
A long day of traveling calls for a long lunch break, you and Wolfwood decide. Tucking yourselves into a restaurant at the edge of town, Wolfwood lets a low whistle out at the populated cafe.
“Just our luck to pick possibly the most popular restaurant in town when we’re starving.”
Your stomach grumbles aggressively at the smell of fresh food wafting in from the kitchen. Your nose twitches. Ahh, grilled Tomas. You cast your eyes to the menu hanging from the wall, immediately honing in on the longest description. You wanted something filling as a reward for the amount of steps you’ve accumulated for the day.
“Mind ordering me the Tomas Special? Gril-”
“Grilled with a side of hot sauce. Want some fruit juice too?” Wolfwood finishes. You smile at his thoughtfulness, nodding.
“Exactly that. You already know me.” You pinch his side, Wolfwood yelping and jolting out of your reach. “I’m gonna go find us a table before someone takes our chance to rest our feet.”
“Don’t go too far, sweetness.”
You wave your hand behind your back, focused on your search for a table. You find a tabletop outside, right beneath some fans. Perfection. You take a seat, watching as Wolfwood walks up to the counter to place your guys’ order. Your mind wanders, disassociating from your surroundings as you observe every detail that is Wolfwood.
His long eyelashes caressing his sternful eyes, the gentle slope of his bumpy nose, leading you to his plump lips forming the words of your order. You gaze down to his lean but broad shoulders that constantly tote the monster of a cross across his back, his long legs that are in a wide stance, demanding space and authority from those around him. Your eyes catch on his sturdy hands that quickly grasp the change that the cashier hands to him, pocketing it as he turns to look around the cafe.
You decide to toy with him for a bit, letting him look around for you. You wanted to continue your ogling a bit longer. His sunglasses are for once not obscuring his eyes, but instead hanging from his coat pocket. Wolfwood’s regal face is set in a way that the crowd flows around him, choosing to not get in the way of someone whose looks could kill. If you didn’t know him, you’d also avert your eyes.
Instead, you lean your hand against your fist, softly smiling at the man you call your own. Whenever you are separated, you love to watch the people around Wolfwood as he searches for his other half. Wolfwood has a mission, and that is to be at your side again.
“Why don’t you make it easier for me to find you in this hell? Raise your hand next time, sheesh,” Wolfwood admonishes you.
“That’s no fun, Nico. You look ready to murder someone if you don’t find me within the next minute, yanno that?”
“So what I’m hearing is you do want me to put someone six feet under? Never took you to be violent, babe.” You shove him, only able to push him one foot away with how sturdy he is. If you didn’t know better, he let you push him so far. He chuckles at your antics.
“Not what I mean! It’s just fun to see what you look like to other people when you aren’t looking at me.” He goes silent. You peer up at him, wondering where the usual witty remark is. You smirk at his pink cheeks. “Aw, is someone embarrassed?”
“Ugh, shove it.” He looks away, mumbling his next sentences. “Can’t fault a guy for wanting to look at his sweetness. You’re a sight for sore eyes compared to the uglies that wanna test me.”
“Ohh, so you’re calling me pretty??”
He rolls his eyes before looking down at you, lips quirked, silently answering your question.
You laugh at how childish he acted early in your relationship. It took some time to thaw the ice that surrounded Wolfwood, ice that had formed as a result of a hard life that he rarely spoke of. So it was no surprise when it was hard for him to admit his feelings for you, especially such soft and tender ones.
He wasn’t familiar with the warmth he felt whenever you smiled at him, wrongfully diagnosing his racing heart as a premonition to some unseen danger in the area instead of feelings of love. That was uncharted territory for him. He was glad now that he could show you just how important you were to him. Now where the hell are they?
A sudden, melodic laugh alerts his senses to his right, eyes finally seeing a charming sight. His eyes skip over the mounds of heads that stand in the way of you leaning against your hand, a graceful smile painted across your face as you watch him. Your eyes are half-lidded, a serene yet distracted look hidden beneath your lashes.
His heart stutters. He hates when it does that. He’d been trained ruthlessly to maintain an even and lethal composure in his day-to-day work by the Eye of Michael, but when it comes to you, years of training are forgotten. He knows the admiration etched in your entire body comes from watching his every move. It’s what he sees everytime you two look at each other. You look at him as if he was better to look at than the setting suns.
Your smile deepens, eyes crinkling as you watch Wolfwood’s stony facade melt. He has never turned that predatorial intent on you, only ever offering you the soft, slight joy that is carved into his features when he sees you.
His long strides carry him to you in no time, dragging his stool closer to your side. He sits down close enough that your knees touch, an affirmation that he is next to you.
“You’re just never gonna wave me down, huh?”
“Nah, don’t feel like it.” Wolfwood hangs his head, sighing. A couple beats of comfortable silence pass. You blink slowly at the hustle and bustle of the cafe, watching customers waving their receipts at the waiter. Are they killing the Tomas out back? What is taking so long? You manage to hear one of the angry customers ask.
“You did it again.”
“Did what?” Wolfwood looks up.
“You walk around like you own the place. Hell, the whole town. People move out of your way. You got that much power without realizing it, Nico.” He cocks his head at you. Of course he doesn’t notice. “You’re scary. These people know without you even saying it that you can be a liability.” You let out a short laugh.
“Hey, what’s the big idea? You just said I’m scary!”
“Yeah, but never to me. I know where your technique comes from.” He leans into your space now, eyes fully focused on you, gaze sweeping over your features. His fingers play with yours on the table, lightly lacing your hands together.
“Oh, you know me that well? I can say you don’t know the half of it,” Wolfwood brings his lips to your knuckles, grazing them softly. You recognize him trying to turn the tables, trying to steer you away from your analysis.
“Did you know you look at me as if I put the moons in the sky? Or if I was one of the stars decorating the night sky?” Your comparisons stem from the way that Wolfwood looks when night falls: peaceful. Almost glad that the darkness helps hide whatever burdens he still carries.
He brings your hand up to cover his face, knuckles now brushing his forehead. Maybe that was too poetic on your end. “I know without you even saying it that you love me, Nico. It’s written all over your face–is what I’m trying to say.”
He rubs his forehead against your hand. “...maybe you do know the half of it.” A quick peck to your lips throws you for a loop for the first time that day. He separates only by an inch, ensuring that the next couple of words are for your ears only. “Let me say it out loud, then. I love you.”
“ORDER NUMBER 56 FOR NICOLE! GRILLED TOMAS SPECIAL AND A TOMAS BURGER!”
Groaning, Wolfwood’s head falls onto your shoulder.
“That idiot of a cashier can’t hear for his life.” You chuckle, hand coming up to pet his hair.
“Whatever you say, Nicole. Now hurry up and get our food before someone snatches it.”
With that, Wolfwood kisses the side of your neck before jogging to the counter.
You rub where his lips were, heart racing. Damn him. He always manages to leave you speechless.
a/n: yeah i needed to distance myself from my upcoming vash smut so woe wolfwood fic be upon ye
divider by saradika
masterlist
#trigun#tristamp#trigun stampede#trigun x reader#wolfwood x reader#wolfwood x reader fluff#nicholas d wolfwood x reader#nicholas d. wolfwood x reader#nicholas d wolfwood x reader fluff#bendycxmet writes
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Bus Boy
Title: Bus Boy
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 2.5k
Pairing: NonSorcerer!Megumi Fushiguro x np!Reader
Summary: There's a really cute guy on your bus ride.
Authors Note: completely inspired by Laufey's "Beautiful Stranger"! okay listen listen listen I know Laufeyfest is over but I love this song sm and I'm sad I didn't put it on the official list so like just think about this as a spin-off type deal okay?
There's a really cute guy on your bus ride. Like, not just a fleeting, ‘eyes skimmed and appreciated and moved on’, but more of a ‘eyes skimmed, couldn’t comprehend what it saw, near whiplash to make sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing’ cute. He wasn’t looking at anyone near him, but the way he fluidly moved with the bus and the people around him made it clear he was more observant than his relaxed stance appeared. He was looking out the window, the sun shining just right on his face so every sharp angle was highlighted, his eyes sparkling as they watched the passing scenery. Eyelashes long enough to question if they were real or not barely fluttered as things whipped by, and didn’t move in any way to indicate he knew you were staring (which was impressive because you had been staring at him for just a tad bit too long at this point, and oh god, why won’t you look away? This has to be getting weird right?). His hair was dorky in an endearing way, spiked up in all directions, though it didn’t look like he had to use any product to get it that way. Effortless, just like the rest of him.
You were rather reluctant to come all the way out to the countryside for your summer vacation. To be completely honest, you nearly burst into tears when your parents decided you would go help out your grandparents for the summer, needing to ship you away while they went to whatever new conference they needed to attend. Plans that had been in the works for months suddenly went down the drain, and there was nothing you could do about it. You loved your grandparents, you really did, and their adorable farm on the outskirts was often a great place to get away and relive old memories. But, to be honest, there hasn’t been anything fun to do down there in years. You were older now, nearly the age where you would set out on your own adventure with all the freedoms and restrictions adulthood provided, which meant that you were much too old to be digging around in muddy creeks to look for frogs, or dressing up in ridiculous outfits to entertain your grandparents’ many friends. Both of those memories forced a shiver up your spine. If they made you reenact The Princess and the Frog again…
That was what most of the bus ride had consisted of, reliving old memories and having to physically stop your face from contorting by squeezing your hands together, until just as you were pulling into the town center, the cutest guy you had ever seen sat right across from you without warning. Your long stare was interrupted by his very being, and the way the sun haloed his head almost made you question if you were witnessing a real encounter with an angel on Earth. To be fair, you were sleep-deprived, barely managing to hop on this bus before it left the train station, bag being hastily shoved back together when it popped open from the force of your desperate attempt to get aboard. A complete mess, for lack of a better description. And here was some guy at… 5:30 am (?!?) looking like he was one wardrobe change away from walking down the runway. He definitely caught your eye, to which you hastily looked away, trying as hard as you could to will the universe into help you this one time in making the cutest guy you’ve ever seen not remember the person who made a fool of themselves by ogling at him with drool dried to the side of their face.
Now you think the universe listened a little too hard. Of all the things to really pay attention to, it had to be your wish to be forgotten by Bus Boy (Vehicle Man? Beautiful Stranger? Hot Farmer? Angel Guy? You had yet to come up with a good enough name to describe him), and not any of the other countless wishes you made before getting onto that fateful bus. You’re a little embarrassed to admit, but ever since that original meeting, you’ve been trying to get a second chance at a first impression. Any errand your grandparents needed to do, you were the first to volunteer. Grocery shopping, delivering or picking up from friends, even going as far as going back to the train station to pick up an emergency order, all to get a glimpse at your cute Bus Boy. It was even expected at this point, no one asking before dumping something in your hands with the shared bus pass placed on top. It was mortifying the teasing that came with it now, most of your family, and their friends, figuring someone was the reason why you were too excited to head into town, despite the many, many excuses you came up with to justify your actions (you were pretty proud of yourself for some of them, but, alas, your family is too romantic to want to believe anything else).
In the least creepy way possible, and with a lot of trial and error (which is also definitely not creepy), you were starting to notice a pattern in his daily routine. He rode the bus at an ungodly hour in the morning, seeming to head from the larger town to the farmland on the outskirts, getting on long before you would and a handful of stops before you, which made it difficult to see him then. In the afternoons, it seemed like he was the same type of errand boy you were, whether by choice or not you weren’t sure, but he rarely carried anything with him and it was a completely random chance that you would see him. At night, or, really, around sunset, he would be on the bus headed back towards the town, seemingly going home.
This seemingly random schedule, and the complete opposite nature of your bus routes, made it nearly as hard to avoid him as it was to see him. It seemed almost karma in nature the way he would always show up on days you weren’t feeling your best, just trying to get in and out or not bothering to put any effort into your appearance, and those instances where you were feeling great, on top of the world in confidence, he was nowhere to be seen.
Which is, of course, how you ended up here, staring (gawking) at him on the hottest day of the year. This had to be the ultimate punishment, all that complaining from the beginning of summer and the secret wish you had that something, anything, would prevent you from being forced to the outskirts of civilization topped with the fact that you’re kinda sorta stalking this guy who, let’s be real, has no clue you exist.
It was the most brutal day of your stay so far, being sent to your grandfather's close friend to help them move some things around. Easy enough, right? Wrong. It was only after you got there that they dared to tell you that they needed the entirety of their old shack emptied so they could tear it down to build a new one. Very exciting for them, a very mud-covered day for you. There wasn’t much you could do to salvage your clothes from the brunt of it, completely stiff from the dirt and grass and just years of grime that thrived in that neglected shed. One tumble involving a rusted bucket of mystery liquid destroyed your pants and shoes, and an accidental bump into a support beam sent a rain of rotten wood to really add to the whole experience. The couple was nice enough to send you back in some spare clothes so you wouldn’t dirty the bus with the worst of it, but you must have been a sight anyway because not a single person on the entire ride back had the decency to look subtly. The pants fit, thankfully, but they were bright pink and fuzzy, and the shirt was an old button-up that was nearly as ratty as the ruined clothes in the plastic bag by your foam sandal-covered feet.
To be honest, you were near tears, feeling pathetic.
And to make matters worse, Bus Boy, naturally, had to make an appearance and kill any happiness you hoped to find at the end of a grueling day. Sitting prettily, taking a break from the newspaper spread across his lap to watch the passing landscape, like some artist's wet dream. What were the odds that he was going to be on this stupid bus, far later than he ever did, passing all his usual stops, prolonging this horrible moment? You wanted to curl up into a ball, but there was also something healing about staring at this beautiful man that made breathing simultaneously easier and harder.
Now that you were looking closer, you could tell something was a little…off. What it was, you weren’t completely sure, but his usual relaxed stance was a little stiff, kind of like he was getting ready to bolt the moment the door opened. Honestly, you were surprised every time the doors opened and he remained where he was, just as tense, if not more, as the minutes passed.
Not that you were looking that closely, of course.
The one mission you had currently was to make it off the bus before he could get a good look at you. Not that you had any idea if he noticed you, before today or even right now, but the idea that maybe this could be your second first impression made you nearly jumpy as he looked. After that initial gawking session, you would only let your eyes pass briefly over his, just to make sure he wasn’t looking at you, before returning to look towards the front of the bus, willing it to go just a little faster. Of all the days to have Bus Boy ride past his usual stop, it had to be today. Your hands couldn’t sit still in your lap, one too many passes over your face has made it impossible to figure out if you just added more dirt or you were just that gross, and you had to force your leg to top bouncing because it kept nudging the bag at your feet, the crinkle of plastic booming in the nearly empty bus.
Then finally, finally, it pulled up to your stop. You were on your feet before the bus came to a complete halt, a rookie mistake as the doors always took a second longer to fully open, and, of course, Bus Boy had to be sitting right next to the exit. You bounced on the balls of your feet, the longest 4 seconds of your life. You couldn’t help it, casting one last look at the boy you had tried so hard to ignore all ride. And, to your horror, he was looking right back at you, stunning you into near rigor mortis.
Cute? What was I thinking? This guy is gorgeous!
“I-” his soft voice started (of course he had to have a nice voice too, are you freaking kidding me-), but you didn’t look up, forcing your way through the door the second they were wide enough, calling out a thank you to the driver over your shoulder, practically sprinting down the hill to your temporary residence. You were absolutely mortified.
Megumi watched you bolt with wide eyes, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He slapped a hand over his mouth, hiding his expression from anyone who dared to look over at him. It was the only thing he could do to stop them from shaking.
It was how Yuuji and Nobara found him three stops later, his legs nearly jelly as they pushed himself off the bus and into the darkening evening. His tight grip on the wad of newspapers he brought was nearly humorous.
“Woah! What’s up with you?” Yuuji called, jogging up to meet him. He was carrying a bag bursting with snacks under his arm, bounding up to him in anticipation of the star gazing the three were going to do tonight. Nobara leisurely strolled up beside him, arms gently carrying a blanket Megumi recognized as Yuuji’s. Megumi shook his head once, twice, trying to snap himself out of the spell you had cast on him, instead taking a second look at the now obvious women’s bag his friend was carrying.
“What’s with the bag?”
“Oh! Nobara was complaining about her shoulder acting up again, so I offered to carry it for her.” Megumi side-eyed his other friend, who was skillfully dodging his gaze in favor of examining her nails. It’s more than three months now since Nobara injured her shoulder helping our Yuuji and his older brother Sukuna reinforce a collapsing wall in their house (she was excellent with a toolbox, though it was rare for her to do any of the actual dirty work), a minor injury that didn’t even have her hospitalized, but every once in a while her shoulder will mysteriously ‘act up’ and Yuuji, who was horrified that his friend was injured in any capacity helping him, immediately is at her beck and call. “Gojo and the rest say hi, by the way. We passed each other on my way out, and he wanted me to bring you this.” Megumi rolled his eyes at the condom deposited in his hand.
“What an idiot.”
“He really is. Did he seriously think you’d have the courage to ask even though you’ve been creeping on them all summer without a word?” Megumi swung out his elbow, but Nobara simply sidestepped, putting Yuuji between the two of them.
“Shut up.”
“What, was your beautiful angel even more breathtaking today that you couldn’t ask them to come?” Nobara teased. Yuuji laughed, jostling Megumi to match the goofy atmosphere. After all, it wasn’t every day that their cool and collected friend looked as vulnerable as he felt.
Megumi hesitated, recalling immediately the adorable shyness you displayed today, something he hadn’t seen since that first night he saw you. Your face was covered in dirt, obviously exhausted, and in clothes that were definitely not yours. He easily remembered your flushed face as you made eye contact, the longest he’d had the pleasure to hold. He felt a pleasant shiver run up his spine.
“Yeah. Something like that,” he mumbled, his cheeks flaming bright pink. His companions didn’t give him a moment of peace, hounding him immediately for his more than obvious crush. Megumi rolled his eyes at them, chucking the unneeded (but not unwanted) condom in the trash as he ushered them to start their climb up the hill.
Next time, he thought, falling into step with his laughing friends. Next time, he’ll pluck up the courage to finally ask you to hang out outside your near-daily bus rides. And, while he’s at it, tell you just how beautiful you are.
______________________________________________________________
masterlist l Laufeyfest masterlist
#someonexsomeone#megumi imagine#megumi fushiguro imagine#megumi one shot#megumi x reader#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk one shot#domestic megumi
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Outrunning Karma
Main Story: 1
Summary: V meets Nathan, the beginning of our adventure.
Ships: (Nathan Bateman x F!V!Reader)
Word count: 1767
“This could be big for you, don’t fuck it up.” Rogue’s warning rang in V’s mind as she entered the conference room.
The room was monochromatic with minimalist decor, nothing really clueing her in to who this “Nathan Bateman” guy was. No personal effects or awards, just some plant that looked fake in the corner and a geometric table with two chairs. She scans the room, finding nothing of note, just a security panel and a thermostat. She shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs, tapping the table under her fingers. She had gotten from Rouge was that this guy was “Unlike any other corpo.” and that could mean anything. She sighs and leans back in her chair as she looks up at the paneled ceiling, after a brief moment of pretending to play tic-tac-toe with its gridded pattern she’s startled by a low voice.
“Anything interesting up there?” She jumps slightly and turns quickly in her seat about to curse out whoever scared her when she’s face to face with him. She’s surprised by the man in front of her, not a scrap of visible chrome on him. She starts up her scanner for a habitual scan, but before she can even get a glance at the info, he vanishes from her field of view in the blink of an eye, a sudden gust of wind whipping across her face from the movement. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Nathan’s voice comes from around the corner.
V instinctively flexes, Mantis blades springing into action, she takes a defensive stance, anticipating the worst.
“Woah, chill honey. Not gonna hurt you.” Before she could even react, her blades retracted, plates shuffling and closing back to their inactive state.
“What the- How did…?” She felt significantly less chill.
“So, can we talk or are we gonna keep this back and forth going for a while longer?” Nathan asks.
“I’m happy to talk, I don’t know why you vanished in the first place.” She stands up straight again and leans on the table, Nathan comes back around the corner.
“Trust me, you don’t want to randomly scan me like that, just might end up another fried corpse in a trash heap if you’re not careful.” Nathan stands in front of her and relaxes slightly. “Now go ahead.” She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask anything further as she proceeds to scan him. As she's skimming over his NCPD file she's surprised to see his middle name vanish from the file in real time, glancing back at him it appeared he had been following along her reading.
"Much better." He mutters
"Hamlet? Really?" She chuckles.
"We don't talk about it." He crosses his arms with a sigh.
“Noted.” She looks around the room again, trying to figure out what to say next. “So, what's the deal? You’re definitely not like the other CEOs of megacorps, pretty sure most of them don’t even look the mercs who do their dirty work in the eye, much less invite them into their freakishly minimalist space.” Nathan laughs.
“I guess you could say I’m not like the others.” He walks past her and sits down in one of the chairs, gesturing for her to do the same. She sits down, her eyes still trained on him. Rogue wasn’t wrong, he was different from any other corpo she’d ever met, Ditching the expensive restricting suits for a soft waffle-knit white sweater and some dark slacks, his head shaved, and a full well groomed beard. After a longer examination she could tell he didn’t have any optic enhancements either, somehow wiring the typical display functions of cyberoptics to the silver wireframe glasses perched upon his nose, leaving his eyes a natural deep brown, which was almost unnerving, she was so used to the bright artificial colors and slight glow that most had, seeing pure natural eyes, she understood what all those old poets meant by the eyes being the windows to the soul. Nathan gives her a slight smirk, leaning forward in his seat with interest. “Not every day I meet someone who knows nothing about me.”
“Sorry, don't mean to bruise your ego.” She says leaning back in her chair, keeping a comfortable distance between them.
“No, No…I quite like it. You have no expectations, you aren’t expecting some genius bullshit that blows your mind. It’s nice, no performance, no need to please or meet some expectation of grandeur.” Nathan also takes the time to examine her more closely. Sure, she was here to do a job for him, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the view. It's not often someone who looks like that waltzes in, toned muscle and soft skin fading into the harsh telltale lines of combat cyberware, fire in her cybernetic eyes. He blinks lazily, taking a second to refocus. “Alright, the gig should be easy enough. I just need you to get something for me, and if necessary, zero the choom who has it.” She’s slightly taken aback in his casual choice of words but nods.
“Okay, what exactly am I looking for?” She asks, her eyebrow raised slightly.
“Long story short, a Braindance. I got drunk at a party and a doll got a BD of a conversation I had, where I gave up some information I shouldn’t have. I can’t have that getting around, top secret shit.” She watches Nathan talk, as much as she was listening to the details of the gig she was amused by the way he talked with his hands, the expressions he makes, she couldn’t help but feel at ease with him, not something she had felt so easily with anyone in a while. Nathan had picked up on that feeling, her body language going from tense and on edge to seemingly relaxed. Her shoulders lowered, her head tilted to the side a bit, ankles crossed in front of her. She had let her guard down just a little bit, the corners of his lips turning up slightly in a smile. “It should be simple, get the BD, by whatever means necessary.”
“Seems easy enough, who am I looking for?”
It was jarring to have information transferred without seeing the familiar blue flash from the optics of the transmitter. “Amethyst Bronte.” Her NCPD database file didn’t have anything notable to speak of besides a tie to The Mox, which was not unusual for a doll.
“Sure it’s her? She seems remarkably…unremarkable in her records for an NC citizen.” V did another once over of the squeaky clean file. “Only offense was trespassing…to feed stray cats on private property. This upstanding citizen if NC’s ever known one, snagged a BD of you giving up classified info? Choom-”
Nathan quirked a brow at her, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Another tab appeared in V’s view, the ice blue backdrop and text looking oddly familiar, as she skimmed through the extensive file including images, video, and audio attached that did not seem like they were recorded with the subjects’ knowledge. This file painted a very different picture of Amethyst, a data broker who sold information to corps and gangs alike for the highest offer, the file even included insights into her personal life, broken family, little to no friends to speak of, just trying to keep a roof over her head and food on the table. “Thought you’d know better by now than to judge a BD by its title, choom.”
“Where- The fuck? How did you even get this much information? I know the place this was taken, there’s no cameras-” He silently stared, waiting patiently as realization dawned upon V. “No, no, they’re real? Those fucking, conspiracy theories about Tsunami?”
“Tsunami Watch.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair, expression only describable as with the pride and arrogance of a man who thought himself to be God. Maybe he wasn’t all that different from other corpos after all. “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about all that, just enjoy the extra deets.” Nathan waves dismissively, she doesn't know how to feel about the sharp contrasts of emotion he’s made her feel in the short timespan she’s known him. She shakes it off with a hesitant nod, she needs to focus on the job, get through this and get home. That's what matters.
“Sounds good, I’ll keep in touch.” V says calmly as she stands up and gets ready to go.
“Oh and V, be careful. You never know who's watching.”
~
It took over a day to track down this Amethyst character even with the additional deets provided, despite having her life in a neat file she posed more of a challenge than V initially expected. When V finally found her, it was in amongst the pounding beats and sweaty bodies of the most popular club in Night City, Riot. As she entered the establishment she was greeted by the familiar sound and sight of Johnny’s engram flickering into existence, leaning against one of the lobby’s brutalist concrete walls.
“You should try taking me somewhere this nice sometime V.” He snarked with his usual tone of arrogance-riddled sarcasm. V rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him, pushing past as he flickered out of view. She decided to observe Amethyst from afar, having spotted her bright purple streaked hair through the crowd, chatting with someone as she moved to the beat. Calculating her next move, V carefully moved to the bar flagging down the bartender, watching out of the corner of her eye as Amethyst approached the opposite end of the bar. Perfect timing.
“A shot of house tequila, neat, and whatever she’s drinking.” She said tilting her head in the direction of the other woman. The bartender silently nods in acknowledgement, pouring and setting the drink in front of her with the flourish of practiced efficiency before turning to get Amethyst's order. V knocks back the shot, letting the familiar feeling of the burning amber liquid ignite upon her tongue as it slides down her throat. It was only a moment before Amethyst approached, holding her own drink of a dreamy pink and purple hue.
“Thank you for the drink Miss V, I think I have something you’re looking for.” She smiled as she slid what looked to be a metallic cigarette case across the table, motioning for V to open it. V cocks an eyebrow at her before cautiously popping the case open to find a datastick and a handwritten note, a mix of shock and irritation crossing her face as she reads the note.
“You passed. Congrats. -N”
~
Masterlist
Credit: @winniethewife @burymesanti
#nathan bateman#cyberpunk v#cyberpunk 2077#blue book#Bluebook#Tsunami watch#ex machina#ex machina fanfiction#nathan bateman x reader#oscar isaac#oscar issac characters#oscar issac hernandez estrada#oscar issac x reader#cyberpunk fanfic#cyberpunk AU
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Title: All Grown Up Now {One Shot} ***
Older Brother’s BFF & Old Frat Brother Chris Evans x Reader AU
Warning: 18 + Content, Lots of Cursing, NSFW, PLENTY PLENTY OF WORDS, SMUTTT, Slow Burn
Words: 14.3K
Summary: Nope!
Note: Y’all know what pic this was inspired by. The girlies who get it, get it. Shout out to @caramara3 for shamelessly egging me on with this. XOXOX. Worked out well to be a b-day fic. Happy 41st to our collective man! LOL
Thank you all for reading. I appreciate you!
If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!
***NOT Edited/Proofread***
***Interactive***
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-Friday-
“What do you mean you have plans?”
You sat in your brother’s living room scrolling through Netflix on his seventy-inch TV. A TV that you’d given so much flack over him getting but it was now one of the best things in this apartment. You scrolled through your list selections under your very own profile under his account. It didn’t matter if you had your own account in your own apartment that was one floor up on the opposite side of the building. You passed some C-list action movie then a made for tv movie you’d saved months ago waiting for the perfect time to watch it.
“It means what it sounds like. I—have—plans,” your bother enunciated as he passed behind you crossing to the other side of his apartment from where his office was to where his bedroom was.
“What sort of plans? You didn’t even invite me.”
You purposely added a little more whine to your voice. You wanted to lay it on thick.
“Not tonight, Binky.”
You kissed your teeth at the annoying nickname, your mind immediately running to the one who’d first given you the moniker. Heat spread across your chest then traveled down your sternum to your belly. It made you wiggle in your spot on the couch. You’d always hated the name. It wasn’t a name given out of affection; it was one given to tease. When you’d been given the name now maybe ten years ago you were just in your twenties and hadn’t grown into the adult you were today.
Cringing at the memory of yourself from twenty you closed your eyes and huffed out a breath.
“That fucking name,” you whispered.
“What, still haven’t gotten over the name?”
Your brother’s voice came from right beside your head, making you jump. You glared at him, grabbed a pillow, and swung. He ducked, dodging that and the second and third swing.
“So much anger,” he teased.
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to drop me for some last-minute plans.”
He snorted, “They’re not last minute. I told you last week that this weekend was not going to be a hang out weekend. I told you it was my monthly guy's weekend.”
You vaguely remembered this conversation, but you weren’t going to tell him that. Again, you kissed your teeth.
“Should you be having a guy’s weekend with a whole girlfriend? Yvette is cool with this?”
“Oh please, V don’t own me. I’m my own man. I can do what I please, go when I want, see who I want. I wear the pants.”
As he continued, the true wearer of the pants waltzed inside the apartment using her spare key and quietly closed the door leaning on it to allow his rant to continue. Smiling, you hopped onto your knees in the couch wanting a good view of what came next.
“Ah, so ah you run tings, tings nuh run you,” you egged on.
“Damn right! Mi a bad man!”
He gave his best Shottas voice, and it took every single ounce of control to not bust out laughing.
“V know what it is.”
Your brother walked out of his bedroom and the scent of bergamot, musk and patchouli spilled out into the wide open common area.
“What was that?”
Your brother jumped back lifting his hands in a defensive stance, “Baby!”
Yvette crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side waiting for him to answer.
“Me? I wasn’t saying nothing.”
Unable to hold it in any longer, you busted out laughing.
“Speak your heart, don’t bite your tongue.”
He narrowed his eyes at you then shook his head. “You couldn’ta told me she was here? You know I’m your bother right. blood, me.”
You rolled your eyes. “Remember that when you wanna throw slurs around,” you said rolling your eyes in exaggerated fashion and crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“You mad petty. Just cause I called you binky?”
He approached Yvette and you watched them embrace then kiss. They’ve been together for six years now and they still didn’t live together but it didn’t seem to matter because they looked more in love today than they’d ever been.
“Why you gotta tease her with that damn name? You know she hates it.”
He chuckled, “It’s just a name. It means nothing.”
You didn’t believe that one bit. The person who’d given it to you could have been labeled as your nemesis. It wasn’t anything hostile—or too hostile. He just annoyed you at every single opportunity. Either it was a snide remark here or a sly comment there and they all were about your age, your height, the aura you gave off or the fact that you were the youngest. It was annoying. Then when you made jokes about how old he was, he went harder with the teasing until you were roasting each other then you were pouting and glaring at him. it always happened that way.
“You know he gave her that nickname to tease her about acting, looking and being a baby,” Yvette stated, addressing the elephant in the room.
“I mean, she is the baby. Out of all of us she is the last born and not to mention dead last. Ion’t know why mama and daddy thought it was a good idea to have another kid twelve years after me. Twelve years.”
You rolled your eyes then took up a pillow and lunged it at his head. When it made contact he snapped his head back to mimic whiplash.
“That was cold. I coulda pulled a muscle. So violent. Baby my neck hurt now.”
You watched Yvette baby him. They were adorable but damn was it annoying sometimes.
“Anyway, I’m dropping this off since I won’t see you till next weekend. Remember you not some fresh and green single man. Don’t act up!”
Your brother lifted his hands in surrender.
“I never act up. I’ll be on my best worst behavior.”
You snorted and Yvette slapped the back of his head playfully.
“When are you meeting up with the rest of them?”
He looked at his watch, “C should be here any minute.”
Your spine instantly straightened.
“Wait what. Here?”
“Yeah. He’s staying for the weekend.”
Your eyes widened. He’d conveniently left that piece of information out. You began moving getting ready to get your ass outta there. You didn’t want to run into him. You were not in the mood to go four rounds.
“Running away huh. He said you’d run.”
You paused then glared at your brother who didn’t look stressed, in fact, he looked entertained. “You’d think he’s your brother with this sibling rivalry you got goin on.”
“Blasphemy!”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
It’s not that you hated him. You hated his type. The type that came off cocky and charismatic with just a few words and the stance of their legs. The type that knew they weren’t hideous and knew they could talk anything with ears and a basic understanding of the English language into bed, the type who seemed to captivate everyone around them with nothing more than a smile. You’d seen his type everywhere; you knew them well and you weren’t impressed.
It didn’t have anything to do with his mesmerizing eyes that were deeper than twenty thousand leagues under the sea, or that he was so tall that he easily towered over you making you feel smaller than you were, or that well past thirty his body was anything but a dad bod, or that his smile could melt all the ice in the artic significantly speeding up global warming. Hell it didn’t even matter that on several occasions through the years you’d gotten examples of not only his strength, but his charm, and seen glimpses of that non-dad bod that made your mouth dryer than Egypt. None of that contributed to the reasons why he annoyed you. Right?
“He’s annoying,” you simply stated shrugging your shoulders.
Your bother and Yvette looked at each other with quizzical looks. Clearly they didn’t know what you meant. Your brother shrugged making a move to walk away but Yvette’s eyes lingered on you like she knew something you oblivious brother didn’t that only women would know. she didn’t say anything though.
Suddenly the bell rang, and you froze in spot.
“That’s him now,” your bother informed. Yvette was the one to open the door and in walked all six feet of him.
“Bro!”
Your bother echoed him and the two approached one another getting into their frat secret handshake which was a whole-body mini dance sequence full of moves that looked like they belonged in a Morehouse step group. You knew your brother had moves but seeing him do the moves and pulling them off made your belly flutter. The fuck, you thought. When the two men hit the woah you actually had to sit down. the fuck, you thought again.
“Yvette, how are you?”
He hugged her keeping the smile on his face.
“How are you Chris?”
“Good, good. You look as beautiful as ever.”
“Back off C, we may share most things but we ain’t sharing my woman,” your brother spoke up. Chris snorted.
“Don’t worry. Caring is sharing but I don’t want you to share her, you two belong together. Now other things--,” he trailed off making your bother chuckle.
His eyes landed on you and his half smirk and smile fell. You watched as his eyes looked you up and down once, then twice. Before those cornflower steel-tinged eyes made a third trip he shook his head slightly then glanced at your brother.
“Is this--.”
Your brother nodded. You straightened your back feeling the scrutiny of his eyes. They felt like weights. It felt like he was inspecting you, measuring you up to the last version of you he saw which was over four years ago.
“Nah, you’re fuckin’ with me.”
“Nope.”
“This is b—binky?”
You rolled your eyed hard then sighed. Here we go, you thought.
“No way. Wow.”
He took two steps closer, but you didn’t budge from your seat though some part of you wanted to stand tall knowing your heels would afford you plenty of height on him. Bolting upright your stomach sank. While you were taller, you still didn’t reach his head. which meant he still towered over you. Asshole, you thought.
“Wow, binky. I’m—wow.”
“I have a name and Binky isn’t it.”
Chris smirked then smiled that winning smile of his. You wanted to snort.
“I know your name; it’s just Binky has always suited you better.”
You planted your hand on your hip sticking it out knowing your stance accentuated your curves.
“Even now?”
Chris smirked and he looked like he wanted to scan you over again, but he didn’t. Instead he backed off.
“It’s good to see you Binky. Four years is a long time.”
You ignored the way your stomach flipped from the deepness of his voice or how you wanted to suck your bottom lip from the intense smells coming off of him. You even ignored the way his oddly patterned tan, black, cream and orange shirt hugged his massively toned biceps or the trimness of his waist and desperately ignored the way his black slacks fit him. Damn, the man always knew how to fill out an outfit.
“Not long enough,” you muttered.
The smirk on Chris’ face said he’d heard you loud and clear.
“Or too long. Miss four years miss a lot,” Chris said from his new spot next to your brother, arms crossed over his chest with on hand up, rubbing just underneath his bottom lip and his eyes flicking up and down your frame.
It was then you noticed the slight bit of grey in his beard. An evil smirk spread across your lips.
“Four years was enough time for you to grey I see old man.”
Chris smirked as your bother laughed loudly.
“Alas, not everyone can be blessed with young blood with not one grey hair on any part of their body.”
You shifted to your other leg resting your hand on the other hip. Feeling the win for this round, you smirked but caught his eyes once again skimming you, slower this time.
“You know what they say, with age comes knowledge and with youth—inexperience. Is that how it goes Binky? The corner still your favorite place to be?”
You scowled and glared at him.
“At least I’m not desperately hanging on to my frat days,” you muttered sitting back down with your back to him.
Again the win felt like yours. Then you felt the heat beside your head.
“No need to, I’m at my prime and the best shape of my life---I could teach frat boy me some things.”
He said it just below a whisper, but his voice held plenty of taunt in it, plenty of—something else. Glancing to the side at him your eyes met bit neither of you spoke again.
“All right, everyone to their corners,” your brother said pulling Chris back.
You stood and tried to shake off his words, and the way his eyes pierced into yours.
“Well I’m going home. Enjoy your boy’s weekend,” you said walking to the door.
Yvette kissed your bother once more and followed you.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again before the weekend is up binky. I’ll be here for four long days.”
You slammed the door behind you and clenched your jaw.
“It should be a crime for him to still have his good looks,” Yvette said before she pushed the button for the elevator. You didn’t respond. You were not about to agree with her no matter how much you did in fact, agree.
“He likes when he gets to you. I think he lives for your sparring.”
“He needs to live for his Centrum Silver vitamins.”
Yvette snorted and laughed loudly getting on the elevator that opened going down. Before the doors closed she leaned closer.
“More than ten years and still you two drive one another crazy. Ya’ know, there is a way to get rid of the tension between you that only requires a flat surface and doesn’t involve speaking.”
It took a few moments for you to get it, but your jaw dropped when you did. Yvette smiled as the elevator doors closed and another opened ready to take you upstairs to your apartment. Did she just suggest you hate fuck your brother’s best friend?
~~~~~~~~~
Five hours later, her words were still on the brain even though you’d done several things since leaving your brother’s apartment. You’d managed to get through your end of the week cleaning, get ahead on a few love, romance and fashion articles for the web magazine you worked at, accomplish an hour or two of shopping at your favorite mall, grabbed take out from your most loved restaurant and even ate it while you and your friends facetimed and group watched a few episodes of your friend watch show all the while drinking down several bottles of wine and trash talking everything and everyone you knew.
There were no way Yvette’s words should still be in your head but there they were wafting around and even floating in the air of your apartment.
Ya’ know, there is a way to get rid of the tension between you that only requires a flat surface and doesn’t involve speaking.”
As you finished yet another glass of wine, your mind wandered to some of those surfaces. Your eyes dropped to the coffee table in front of you, the rectangular dining table in the dining area, the kitchen countertop that was just in view thanks to your open floor plan, the window seat in front of your large bay windows hell even the floor caught your eye and the ottoman resting on it. Shit you thought, grabbing the wine bottle, and bringing it to your head forgoing the glass altogether.
“Eh-em, excuse me Ms. Ma’am, what was that sound that came from you and what the hell are you doing to that bottle?”
Your attention went back to your iPad and Nicole’s question. Then you realized your tongue was swirled around the spout of the bottle and your hands gripped around the thick middle.
“It’s not a dick, Y/N.”
They all laughed in an uproar. You rolled your eyes then took a mouthful of wine and put the bottle beside you.
“Where was your mind just now?”
You stayed quiet.
“Was it on a certain tall, white, and handsome best friend who is now in town and showing out all over social?”
Your fingers itched to grab your phone to see what Mona was talking about. Was he showing out? Resisting the urge, you grabbed the bottle instead and took another swig.
“Are you talking about her nemesis, Chris? Y/N I heard he got finer than fine,” Delaney piped up.
“Got? The man had always been fine. If anything he got finer. What is he thirty-five?”
You snorted. “Try forty.”
The peanut gallery tuned in all talking over one another debating if he truly was forty and why he didn’t look it and wondering if he performed like it. With each debate your curiosity piqued. To be truthful, your curiosity had truly piqued four years ago when you’d seen him shirtless in swim trunks and rocking a chest full of tattoos. You knew he liked tats and that he’d even added a few over the years but that is what you thought he had—a few. A few it was not, the man was tatted up like he was part of the Irish mob, rocking an enviable six pack, swole biceps and an ass to bounce two nickels off of to make ten cents, and sporting his Boston accent all over the place.
Your intense reaction to him was one of the reasons you avoided him the four years. If he came to visit you made yourself scarce, never appearing around him. In the four years he’d probably seen you a handful of times all over facetime and from the neck up. remembering his frame from earlier you realized now that he’d bulked up even more. You took another gulp of wine then grabbed your phone. You were a strong woman but why be strong when you could give in. You found his social media and looked at each of the eight pictures he’d posted since you’d left the apartment. There were two shots of him and your brother, one of them in a party bus with their other friends, men you’d seen plenty of times, most from your brother’s college days. The six that followed show the decent into debauchery the night had taken.
They were surrounded by drinks, bottles, women and food. The last picture he posted was of him seated and a bottle girl in his lap holding a rather large bottle of Dom as it sprayed into the air. His hands were wrapped around her stomach, and they looked happier than two turtle doves. Chummy, you thought giving your eyes a quick roll.
“See em’? He is thotin’ tonight,” Toni added.
A mixture of saltiness and annoyance filled you. The man had been a thot since the first day you met him with you were barely eighteen. A memory of accidentally interrupting him with not one but two barely dressed big breasted girls that eerily looked alike. They hadn’t noticed you when you walked in and continued the three way kiss they were taking part in while their hands entangled with one another’s feeling over their bodies.
The carnal sounds of their kissing and moans filled the room and you should have looked away immediately but there was a ten second lag where his eyes met yours while he continued to kiss the possible twins. The look in his eyes was such an intense one that it made a deep part of your belly bubble and tingle like a freshly uncorked bottle of champagne shooting an effervescent waterfall of sugar and loose inhibitions out over a crowd of rowdy partyers. Before the feeling intensified, you bolted from the room. Thirty minutes later, your brother officially introduced you to each other and the look that you’d noticed in his eyes thirty minutes ago was hidden better but still glimmers could be seen. It was mischief.
Every time you saw each other you saw that look—every single time.
“Y/N!”
Snapping out of the memory you returned your attention to your group facetime.
“Girl you know that man is fine!”
They all laughed together as you brought your wine bottle to your head and that is where it remained until it was empty.
~~~~~~~~~~~
-Saturday-
The honks from outside could be heard clearly and were steadily getting louder with each passing minute. You tossed to you side and groaned. Another loud blare of a car horn echoed around you, and you flopped to your back. A loud disgruntled groan left you as you slapped a pillow over your head. Even that wasn’t enough to grown out the four honks that came after.
“What the fuck!”
You kicked off the blankets in huff of aggression then flung your eye mask to the side of the room and stomped to your large industrial steel factory style windows and lifted the latch that allowed you to open it. Sticking your head out, you let it rip.
“People are trying to sleep!”
You were ten stories up and probably looked like a nut job, but you didn’t care. This was just disrespect at this point. Slamming the window shut you hurried to your bathroom eyes still mostly closed. After a quick squat on the toilet, you stood in front of the half body vanity mirror looking at your blurry reflection. Groaning, you rolled your neck then began washing your hands. With your toothbrush in hand, you lazily brushed wishing you were still in your bed wrapped in the cozy blankets and back in the dream you were rudely woken from.
You drifted back to the last scene of that dream. You were sitting comfortably in your living room lounging around and in walked brother’s asshole best friend also known as Chris. He wore the tightest white shirt and medium wash jeans that hugged his waist so right. In his hands he carried a trey of treats—strawberries, small diced melon and wedged apples and pineapple. When he approached he took his place behind you then began feeding you the fruit teasing your lips with their juices.
When he tipped your chin up and brought his lips to yours, a small moan escaped you. He kissed you with expertise, and a passion that stole your breath but when he brought those lips to your neck you melted. Chris’ hand cupped your right breast then trailed lower and lower until they disappeared inside your barely there lounge shorts. You gasped and arched off of the couch, his name a whisper of a cloud on your lips.
Slowly your face came into focus in the mirror and horror filled you.
“What the fuck!”
You leaped back as if his reflection shone back at you.
“What the fuck? What the fuck!?”
You spit the toothpaste out then rinsed your mouth as if you were trying to rid it of more than toothpaste—maybe his kiss. As you thought of it again you gagged.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”
You pressed your face close to the mirror and peered into your eyes.
“Get a fucking grip. You hate him. He’s disgusting.”
Those facts were not enough because you still saw his lips.
“He’s your brother’s best friend and he’s a whore!”
Still your head was not letting it sink in. It was still stuck on his lips, the imagined feel of them, the taste of his mouth that looked like it could taste of sugar and spice and every single thing nice. Your head was lost—a goner. Groaning you grabbed your breast the one he’d cupped in your dream. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and your reflection caught your eye—it was that reflection that had you tearing your hand away from your body.
“Get a grip! The dick might be good, but you don’t want no parts of it!”
Nodding, you wiped your face and mouth then walked back out on a mission for the strongest cup of coffee you’d ever made in your life. It was not you regretted those three bottles of wine. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what to expect, you knew that particular brand of wine crept up on you then knocked you down hard. Rubbing your forehead, you finished the distance of your long hallway then turned into the open concept living room, dining room and kitchen. It was then the scent of the coffee hit you like a pillow to the face.
From where you stood you saw no one and wondered why you smelled coffee. You took a few steps toward the kitchen but stopped when the empty bottles and take out caught your eye on the coffee table in the living room.
“Fuck.”
Changing course, you walked into the living room, bent, and gathered the four empty bottles of wine and the now empty food container. When you turned, you stopped in your tracks. There in the kitchen at the long concrete top island stood Chris with wide eyes, a dropped jaw, and an equally as frozen stance as you. Oh my god, you thought. He wore a crisp white t-shirt and the same medium wash denim jeans as you’d dreamed less than ten minutes ago.
“Oh my god,” you whispered.
Neither of you moved a muscle, you just stood there taking one another in. The way the shirt fit him accentuated his ripe and in his prime figure. He wasn’t full of shit last night when he’d said it. He looked it. your eyes trailed to his trim waist and the sliver of flesh peeking through thanks to his raised and outstretched arms. A tattoo looked back at you and from where it was you knew it was a new one—one you hadn’t clocked the last time you’d seen him shirtless.
You were so lost in your examination of him that you didn’t realize until now your eyes weren’t the only ones roaming. His were slowly raking across your figure. that was when you thought to look over yourself. You didn’t make it too far before your eyes stopped at your breasts that were pretty visible through the cropped sheer pink lace tank that not only was low cut in the front to show off the swell of your breasts but see through enough for the shape of them and color of your nipples to be impossible to hide. It all came back then. The bottoms you were weren’t bottoms at all. it was a matching lace thong.
You snapped your head up and knew he’d seen it all.
“Oh fuck!”
Your loud voice did nothing to break his gaze. Still his eyes were glued to you, even when you dropped the things in your hands to cover yourself the best you could.
“Chris!”
Stirring, he dropped the things in his hands to the counter then slapped his hands to his eyes.
“Fuck!”
“What the fuck!”
You were panicking now and the only thing you thought to do was run. So that was what you did. You ran from the living room right back to your bedroom, mortification filling you. You buried yourself in your bed under the covers and screamed into your pillows as you tried to come to terms with what just happened. Everything played in slow motion in your head and every single detail only made you feel more embarrassment. He’d seen you practically naked. He’d seen your body.
After a few short minutes you leapt up and crossed to your floor length mirror and looked at yourself. Yep, there was no way he hadn’t seen anything. Your apartment was well lit and bright, and you were even standing before the windows that gave you the best natural light for your selfies. You thought back to how his eyes roamed your skin and you groaned. He’d taken in every detail. Spinning around, you looked at your bare ass then clasped your hands over your mouth and screamed.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
Thanks to you being bent over to get the bottles, he’d seen your ass too. You stood there still and now in shock. Your brother’s best friend who you’d been dreaming about appeared in the same outfit from your dream and seen you practically naked.
“Oh god.”
You paced your room trying to figure out what to do. How were you going to go back out there? How were you going to face him from this day on? You pulled out your robe then tied it tightly against your body. It was then you thought on an important note—what was he thinking about your body. You hated it but you wondered how you stacked up to the tens of women he must have slept with in his lifetime. You groaned then slapped your head.
“What does it matter, Y/N? it doesn’t. It’s not like you’re ugly. You’re happy with your body. All your exes loved your body, you love your body. It’s a hot body. You’re hot!”
You nodded then shook your head. You sounded like an idiot.
“What the fuck is he doing here? How the fuck--.”
Your anger took over and you stormed out of your room ready to kick his ass. When you stepped into the living room again he bolted off your counter. You noticed his face was red.
“What the fuck Chris!”
He raised his hands and backed up as you got closer.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? What the fuck are you doing here? How the fuck did you get in here?”
He held up a key that you knew was your brothers. Your jaw dropped.
“Fuck no! Where did you get that?”
“Your brother. He gave it to me. He said you guys have breakfast every Saturday morning and said it was cool,” he rushed out.
Narrowing your eyes, your anger reached new heights.
“So you just what decided a little breaking and entering into a woman’s apartment without her knowledge was a good way to start your Saturday?”
“I didn’t break and enter. I have a key.”
You rounded the corner of the island and you saw he knew the error he’d made. Raising his hands again he backed away.
“Y/N,” he cautioned. “Wait---wait---I called. I left a message, I even texted.”
You paused and sighed in frustration. You’d long blocked his ass.
“Fuck!”
“Check your phone you’ll see. I didn’t mean to—over step and see--,” he stuttered. You spun around glaring at him.
“See what? What’d you see?”
The struggle his eyes were going through to remain topside was evident. It would have been funny in any other situation but not right now.
“What’d you see?”
“Nothing! I saw nothing.”
After a few moments, you backed off and left wide space between you trying to ignore how your skin tingled being close. The silence stretched and introduced awkwardness into atmosphere. You groaned and caught whiff of coffee again then moved to pour yourself a large mug. As you fixed your drink you took in the spread of breakfast foods across the island. There were corn muffins, bagels, scrambled eggs with cheese, croissants, sausages, bacon, smoked salmon shavings, an assortment of jams and jellies and a few other items. When your eyes landed on the fruit selection you took in the pineapple, apples, melon and strawberries and you groaned.
“Oh fuck!”
You turned your back to it and took a big gulp of the coffee ignoring the burn on your taste buds.
“I know corn muffins and the turkey variety of bacon is your favorite,” he said in a timid voice.
Good you thought, he wasn’t so self-assured right now.
“I even got the fruits you like. Pineapple and strawberries are your favorites right?”
You didn’t answer and chose to ignore the fact he knew your favorites. He was not going to charm himself out of this blunder.
“Come on Binky. How do you think I feel seeing my practical sister--.”
You spun around so quick the liquid in your mug sloshed over the rim dripping onto your fingers. You ignore it.
“Excuse me? Your sister? I’m not your sister. We have no relation.”
Chris’ eyes locked with yours. “You’re right. I guess since it’s been so long—I see you—saw you kinda--.”
“Like a sister? Is that how you see me?”
Chris’ eyes dropped to your chest and seconds later he darted them to the side then sat on the stool on the other side of the island. Whatever he was going to say was gone.
“I’m sorry.”
The door then opened and in walked your asinine brother who would give someone your apartment key without thinking anything of it. He trusted this fool that wholly. He probably didn’t think any harm could come of it.
“Hello, hello, hello! I brought the cheese Danishes and the thing.”
As he got to the island he stopped and glanced between the two of you. “Uh—is something wrong?”
You clenched your jaw and took a big gulp of your coffee trying hard not to fling it at him.
“Did you wake her up, C? She only gets cranky when she’s woken up.”
If only he knew, you thought to yourself taking the stool nearest you and dragging it the furthest from Chris.
“Here, maybe this will make up for this,” your bother said sliding a pastel pink wrapped gift your way that was topped with a white confetti dotted ribbon.
“What’s that?”
“A gift. Chris got it for you.”
You paused and glanced at him. He averted his eyes.
“Open it.”
“I don’t want it,” you said before you thought about it.
“Come on, Y/N. This rivalry you have has to end. He thought about you on his way here and brought you a gift. Accept it. It’s definitely not like you to turn a gift down.”
You glared at him then rolled your eyes. He made you sound like a gold digger.
“Tell her Chris.”
“It’s okay man, if she doesn’t want it I don’t want to force her. I’ll just return it.”
He spoke without looking at you. Was he now ashamed of what just happened? As he reached for it, you got the urge to grab onto it like it was your precious and you were Gollum, so you did touching his hand in the process. Chris’s eyes met yours for a moment and it wasn’t shame you saw there. It was something sweltering, something complex, something--. Before you could place it, Chris yanked his hands back as if your flesh were hot coals and averted his eyes again. What was that?
“Open it,” your brother said through a mouthful of food.
Slowly you untied the ribbon then rested it beside you then got started on the wrapping paper. You took your time taking Chris in as you did it. He looked nervous, maybe even anxious like he was worried you wouldn’t like it. Your curiosity piqued even more. After a few minutes, you had the gift box in front of you ready to open. When you did, your breath hitched. Flexing your fingers, you hesitated.
“What is it?”
Before you, was a lamp like fixture that was all gold and intricately designed. Your bottom lip quivered so you snapped it between your teeth. You took in the lamp and smiled as you saw the replicas of star constellations you knew well. It was the night sky. You lifted it out of the box noting the heaviness. It was possibly real gold.
“What is that?”
“The constellations in the night sky,” you softly said.
From your peripheral you saw the side of Chris’ mouth quirk up just a touch. It was then you noticed the gold dome could be removed, so you lifted it and another intricately designed gold design appeared. This one was different from the first. Again you lifted it and revealed another, then another. In total there were four and you understood instantly.
“Why so many?”
“Because the constellations in the sky are slightly—,” Chris began
“Different depending on the season and when you look,” you finished.
Your eyes met and the anger and annoyance you felt for him minutes ago faded. This was a thoughtful gift. You loved the stars and constellations. You didn’t know he knew that about you.
“Is this real gold?”
Chris cleared his throat then nodded. This was an extremely thoughtful gift you thought. Pulling yourself together you cleared your throat, straightened your back then began packing the lamp away.
“Thank you.”
“You like it?”
Meeting his eyes you held it gaze.
“I love it.”
Something flashed in his eyes and that something made your stomach flutter. Both of you looked away from one another at the same time. Your brother clapped his hands once and smiled.
“Finally. A truce. It only took over a decade.”
Now you wondered something else. Why would he get you this? It was thoughtful, personal, some would even say intimate. Why would he bother?
After breakfast you showered and dressed then joined them for a shopping trip that they insisted on. Every store you went into, they followed. Normally your brother would moan and groan about shopping with you but with Chris as his company he had plenty of entertainment. Chris didn’t even look bothered by your store hopping antics. He quietly walked around not groaning once about the items you piled into their hands.
When you tried on outfits and modeled them your brother was the one with most of the critique while Chris remained silent. Though his mouth was shut, his eyes took in every detail of the outfits you chose. Every so often you noticed his eyes on you from across the store, noticed how his eyes weren’t as scrutinous as they had been before. Now there was something else there, something that felt dangerous to suss out.
Nearly two grand and five hours later, the three of you sat in a restaurant for lunch. While your brother and Chris talked about some baseball game, you scrolled through your phone ignoring them. Bringing the straw in your glass to your lips your chewed it. The burn of eyes bore into you making you glance up to find Chris’ eyes on you—or your mouth. The darkness of his gaze heated your skin more than the sun shining through the window beside you. Dropping his eyes, you looked back to your phone unsure when he began affecting you like this.
“Y/N?”
You turned to find Elijah standing there with a wide smile.
“Elijah.”
“Hey there beautiful.”
You stood and gasped as he pulled you into his arms for a tight embrace. The scraping of a chair against the floor echoed in the restaurant and you peeped back to see Chris standing with a confrontational look on his face.
“It’s cool. What’s good Elijah?”
Elijah and your brother dabbed each other up while you studied Chris and his odd reaction.
“Elijah is our Binky’s boyfriend.”
“Ex, you interjected unsure why you felt the need to clarify.
Elijah chuckled nervously making you feel a little bad about it. “Yeah, ex,” he reiterated.
“This is Chris. She’s like a sister to him.”
There goes that connection again. Like a sister. Hearing it now you wanted to cringe.
“Oh cool, cool. Elijah man, nice to meet you.”
He held his hand out and waited for Chris to shake it. It was a slow process but eventually he took Elijah’s hand and shook it.
“A beautiful woman can’t have too many brothers looking out for her.”
An audible gag escaped you and their eyes fell to you. “Sorry. Ignore me.”
“Am I seeing you tonight, peaches?”
Automatically you felt embarrassed at the nickname he’d given you after the first time he’d tasted you.
“Wow, Lijah,” you warned gently slapping his toned gut.
“What’s tonight, Binky?”
It was Chris who asked standing taller. You looked between him and Elijah wondering why the testosterone levels hade jumped.
“Freaknic party,” Elijah informed. “Peaches always makes an appearance.”
“Aight, cool, then we all should come. Right?”
Chris looked to your brother who looked confused but nodded. He didn’t look at you though.
“That’s cool right Elijah?”
It’s all good. The more the merrier. Anyway peaches, hit me up.”
His smile was wide and so damn sexy. He made it easy to forget what you’d broken up.
“We’ll see.”
He laughed then dipped down and kissed your jaw.
“Aight, stay up man.”
With that Elijah was gone and you all were sitting again.
“Why does he call you peaches?”
Your eyes met Chris’.
“Cause none of you ever wanna use my name. You so damn nosey!”
You went back to your phone, but you still felt his glare and it was hotter than the sun—much hotter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You didn’t think anything of lunch as you began to get ready for your night. You went through the bags of clothes and shoes you’d bought earlier and tried to find the best one. When you were elbows deep in clothes you noticed a bag from a store you hadn’t gone into. As you dug into it, you pulled out a shoe box and marveled at the impressively blinged out pair of heels.
“Wow.”
A card at the bottom of the box caught your eye and when your read the words you knew who they were from.
Saw these and thought they’d look nice. Pink is a good color on you, binky.
-C
You scoffed. The man wanted this heel right between his eyes or better yet right between his legs. Mischief sparked in you. You’d show him. You pulled a slinky pink metallic dress from one of the bags and laughed to yourself. Let’s see if he’d still call you a baby now. For the next hour, you primped and primed yourself layering scents, applying your make up, adding some body glitter and even making your hair into the perfect specimen of seduction. Tonight was probably going to be Elijah’s lucky night but just for one night. Was it fair to him? probably not, but you didn’t care right now. You wanted to get your rocks off, shit it was verging on to a need.
When you got to the club you smiled and hugged everyone you knew. Everyone complimented your look telling you how good you looked. Eating up the praise you took a few selfies and posted them to your social media. No use letting the look go to waste. From behind you, you heard your name. Turning, you gawked seeing your brother and Chris standing there. Instantly Chris’ eyes scanned your body before he clenched his jaw.
“What’re you two doing here? I thought this was boy’s weekend.”
“It is. We just told everyone to come here tonight.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
Your brother shook his head and looked you over.
“No just a gate keeper dressed like that.”
You glared at him. “Don’t need one of those either.”
“Don’t worry, you got two,” your brother said motioning to Chris beside him.
Kissing your teeth you turned and walked away knowing they’d see the low back of the dress. You gave no fucks. You felt the eyes drawing to you as you walked through but when no one approached you knew Chris and your brother were close behind you scaring everyone away. Sighing you slid into a booth and they both slid in beside you, sandwiching you in the middle.
“You’re fucking kidding. Space.”
“Nope, not tonight.”
Elijah came over then wearing a black and white ensemble and a smile.
“Hey there peaches.”
You smiled widely. “Elijah, finally. A drink?”
“Of course.”
“You pushed yourself up onto the booth seat knowing your entire thigh was on display but not caring. Elijah reached for your hand, and you took it stepping onto the table and escaping the clutches of your chaperones.
“See ya!”
Laughing you let Elijah lead you away only glancing back to stick your tongue out at both of them. No one puts baby in a corner—or in this case, the middle. Once at the bar, Elijah looked you up and down and licked his lips.
“You showin’ out tonight, huh?”
“Nah. Not even a little.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I can imagine your brother and like a brother are losing their minds tonight.”
“He is not my brother,” you said on an exasperated breath.
“So what is he?”
You looked back to where they were sitting and found your brother’s attention elsewhere with his other friends that were now swarming the table, but Chris’ eyes were locked on you, and he looked pissed.
“He is my brother’s best friend—that’s all.”
Elijah came closer to you dipping to your ear. He was so close you felt his lips against the shell of it. Before that would have made you shiver—or something. Now, there was nothing.
“He doesn’t look at you like that’s all.”
The fuck, you thought. Glancing at Elijah he nodded. “Just sayin.”
You looked back to Chris and still his eyes were boring a hole into you. You snorted; Elijah was mistaken.
“You’re wrong. He even said he sees me like a sister. Calm down.”
Elijah wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against him. “Just making sure you know what’s up, girl.”
You laughed. A few minutes after your first drink was in you, Elijah led you to the dancefloor and this was where the fun began. Elijah had always been a good dancer and he liked to show off often. You allowed him to lead you into a sexy, dirty dance and let him touch on your waist and back. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t touched on before. When you were flush against him, Elijah nipped your neck then whispered in your ear about how sexy you looked and how delicious you smelled. You wondered how long he’d been here and how much he’d had to drink.
Turning you pressed your back and ass into him and winded your hips. Elijah could handle himself and liked to let you know it and he didn’t let you break him not even for a second. You laughed.
“See girl, I can handle your ass.”
You snorted. “Boy, you can’t handle it. Hence you being an ex.”
Laughing at his reaction you pushed him away then walked off the dancefloor. From the corner of your eye, Chris caught your eye leaning against the railing of the balcony. Had he been watching this whole time? You approached him once you climbed the steps.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Not as much as you.”
“You’re welcomed to go. I bet you can find a scene more your style, or maybe a bottle girl can sit on your lap here too.”
He scoffed. “IG stalking?”
“Never. No man deserves that.”
Not even me?”
He leaned a little closer with one eyebrow cocked.
“Especially you.”
He laughed to himself then took a sip from his glass.
“Why’s he an ex?”
“Why are you so nosey?”
“Just curious. It must not have been anything bad because you’re still—close.”
“Not that close. Every once in a while we hook up but it’s nothing.”
You saw the muscles in his jaw clench and your curiosity piqued.
“Is that a problem?”
He studied you and the scrutinous eyes were back. It was astonishing how one look like this from him made you feel small and submissive.
“We all got needs right? Maybe don’t tell your actual brother that though.”
“Ah but I can tell you—my nonactual brother. Right?”
He looked at you again a half-amused smirk on his lips. “Yeah. Your nonactual brother.”
You both chuckled to yourselves. After a few moments, you looked at him and took him in. He wore a nice coordinated blue outfit, a fitted sky-blue sweater vest inside a slightly different shaded blue blazer with matching pants. It was another good fit. Blue was definitely his color. Hearing him clear he throat; you found his eyes on you as your eyes were below his waist admiring the shape of his ass in those well fitting blue slacks.
“Em. Uh—thank you again for the—gift.”
“No worries. Maybe you’ll think of me when you use it.”
“Is that what you want? Me to think of you?”
Your eyes locked again. He slowly sighed. “You’ve changed a lot in four years binky.”
You could hear the stress in his voice as if it was the last thing he’d expected or wanted.
“Is that a bad thing?”
Chris looked away and spoke as he raised his glass to his lips. “Incredibly bad.”
“Why?”
“Nothing good can come from it.”
You were confused. What was he talking about? He turned to walk off but stopped.
“You coming, binky?”
Shaking it off, you followed him back to the table.
The night was spent drinking, laughing and dancing your ass off. You knew your brother’s friends were a good time, but you’d forgotten how fun they were. In between joking around with them you danced with a brave few who breached the huddle to ask you to dance. When that happened everyone’s eyes were on you watching to make sure none of them pulled anything. It was endearing but you weren’t some fragile dove who needed protecting. More times than not, Chris watched you, but he didn’t speak to you again and when your eyes locked his jaw clenched. It was bewildering, a puzzle you wanted to piece together.
A few hours later in the middle of a dance with your brother, he pulled Chris over telling him to take his place while he refilled his drink. Both of you stood there in an awkward way unsure how to initiate a dance let alone together. Slowly you began dancing but your bodies remained very far from one another. In all your years of knowing each other you’d never found yourself in this situation. You doubted you’d even been on a dancefloor together.
Suddenly a fight broke out behind you, a large body was hurtling right to you and the next thing you knew you were against Chris’ body with his arms wrapped around you. Your eyes met and everything happening around you faded away. There were no bodies, no commotion, no fights, hell even the music was gone. In the darkness of the club, you could still make out the exact shade of blue his eyes were—light icy blue. Good God, you thought noticing the way he held you.
His hands gripped your waist and hip and the way he gripped you gave you an impression of just how big his hands were—they were mammoth sized. Your belly quivered, and the searing heat from those paws only made it worse. You could feel your nipples pebble underneath the thin material of your metallic dress, and you wondered if he felt it too. The grip of his hand on your hip tightened and for a moment his eyes tinted darker—much darker.
“Fuck,” you whispered.
For the first time you noticed your back was pressed to something and that was when you realized that in the commotion, Chris had gotten you off the dancefloor away from danger and you were not tucked into a dark corner. A very dark corner. Chris’ eyes never left yours and from the way your body pressed to his you knew he was built under that shirt. He was in the best shape of his life. Your eyes dipped to his chest where the hints of his chest tattoos peeked out along with a little bit of chest hair. He smelled good.
“God damn,” you whispered.
Chris groaned and the rumble of it only made your nipples harden more—painfully so. They were practically begging to be touched.
“You—you okay?”
You met his eyes again and bit your top lip. “You?”
Chris’ eyes dropped to your lips and the longing you saw in his eyes made you press against him more.
“Jesus,” he hissed out.
“What?”
“Unfuckinbelievable, you’re oblivious,” Chris forced out.
The hand that was on your waist was gone and now pressed into the wall, caging you in.
“Oblivious to what?”
He looked at you and he almost looked like he was pleading with you for something. His hand on your hip tightened again and a flutter against your belly stole your breath. Before you could register what it was or acknowledge it, you heard him start with the first syllable of your name, but it was so low you could miss it, but what came out was not your name.
“Binky.”
He pulled away from you, steadied your frame, then dropped his hands. Keeping his head low he spoke.
“Let’s get you back.”
As he walked away it was then you realized why he only ever called you Binky and it wasn’t to tease you. It was to keep himself in check. That was an erection you felt against your belly. He wanted you.
~~~~~~~~
The best laid plans often go awry. That was the theme of your night. By the time you made it back to your apartment it was nearly three in the morning, and you were alone. You’d left with every intention of getting Elijah behind you to relive an itch that had crept up on you, but you’d left alone with more of an itch and plenty of confused questions. After wracking your brain for answers and clues, you decided you were drunk and imagining things. There was no way your brother’s best friend and your nemesis had gotten a hard on from you. There was no way he wanted you like that, no way he saw you like that. Right?
Sitting on your kitchen island with your bottle of Patron to your lips, you thought over the events of the night. You analyzed every word spoken from his lips. Ten years ago they weren’t so full, or so hypnotizing. You began to wonder if he’d had work done on them or had he just used them so much over the years that they’d just gotten better. You took another gulp of the fiery tequila and held your breath as the burn engulfed your mouth. As you thought over your night you kept coming back to the look of disapproval on Chris’ face. He looked annoyed whenever you were around anyone else, but looked angry when you were around him. What kind of confusing shit is that?
“Nothing good can come from it.”
His words echoed in your head.
“What the fuck did that mean?”
Then you remembered him saying you were oblivious. After another gulp you groaned.
“It was a fucking erection. He was hard.”
You didn’t imagine that shit or wish it so. It was so. Faced with it, you had to take another swig. As you did you heard the faintest of knocks on your door. It startled you so much some of the Patron spilled over your chest and down between your breasts.
“Shit,” you hissed sitting quietly craning your head to hear better.
When no sounds followed you dropped back across the island and stared at the ceiling. In the silence of your apartment and under the haze of the smorgasbord of alcohol you’d drunk through the night you finally faced the uncomfortable, terrifying, but certain truth.
“I am attracted to him.”
Another truth quickly followed. “I want him to want me.”
This one you said on a whisper as if you said it with bass the walls would hear and carry the confession down the hall, down the stairs and right to his ears in your brother’s apartment where he was probably knocked out from his own alcohol haze. Sighing you closed your eyes.
“You’re just drunk and horny, Y/N. That is all.”
Deciding maybe all you needed was to rub one out, you propped your heeled feet at the edge of the island spreading wide for no one but your smart fridge. In your mind’s eye you imagined there was something there and that someone just so happened to have Chris’ face. Rather than pausing to think why, you forged ahead and decided to use the mental stimuli. Your fingers crept over your breast, squeezing and taunting your nipple before dipping down between your legs. You slid your slinky thong to the side you trailed the tips of your fingers over your slit. A hiss escaped you when you found what you knew you would—a wet slippery mess.
“Fuck,” you croaked.
You had intended to go slow and tease your release but that one touch and the vision of Chris standing there watching you tipped you over the edge. Your finger circled your clit using the moisture there as lubricant. After a few tight circles, your spine tingled and your knees fell back even more.
“Uuugh. Chris,” you whispered.
You imagined his cocky smirk and you slipped two fingers into your heat and pumped immediately upon entrance. Your back arched off the island and that was all it took for you to be off to the races. Your moans and pants filled the space and steadily became louder and more desperate. You squeezed your eyes tightly holding on to the image of Chris in your mind and how he would look watching you get off. Would he like how wet you were just for him?
“Yes, Chris. Chris—haaaa, I’m so wet. Yes—make me cum, I wanna cum.”
The fingers now making fast, wide circles on your clit and the two fingers buried within yourself picked up speed and the sound of your wetness squelching around your digits echoed in the kitchen. You were so fucking wet it was unbelievable. No one had ever made you this wet. You could feel the pressure building within you, feel the tension and icy hot tingles that resembled the painful pinpricks of an asleep limb. You felt like this was going to be a massive orgasm.
Gasping you held your breath as the sensations overtook you and carried you wherever the hell they wished. You screeched and clamped your legs together, but your hands kept moving and inching you higher and higher and higher until your chest burned from lack of oxygen.
“Aaaah, Chris, fuuuck!”
Opening your eyes just a sliver an upside-down image of a blue blazer clad man standing just at your door flashed before you closed them for a few moments getting lost in the absolute bliss you felt. Your body felt weightless, like it was floating as tingles skittered all through you making you feel like you were magic itself, sheer powerful and ethereal magic. Your eyes fluttered open again and the figure still stood there. Through your blurry eyes you recognized the face—Chris.
You smirked, a wide gleeful, intoxicated smile spreading across your face. You were so out of it you were still imagining him as you rode the waves of pleasure, pleasure that heightened because of his face in your mind. You bit your bottom lip, withdrew your fingers then brought them up holding your hand out as if you wanted the imaginary figure to taste them—taste you. Your eyes closed again and seconds later you swore you felt a warm mouth enclose around your dripping fingers. Soft pressure wrapped around them then you heard a heady groan.
“So fucking delicious.”
You smirked again. “Mmmm.”
A soft lips pressed against your wrist then a sharp nic. Then your hand clattered to the island. Your eyes felt heavy and body barely there, fluttering your eyes open again you looked around, but you were alone. It was just you, sprawled out on your island countertop daydreaming about and cumming to the face of your brother’s best friend. You were so fucked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-Sunday-
You groaned deeply as, Evan, the masseuse labored over you. He pushed into your flesh kneading your tense muscles not taking it easy on you per your request. Every time he applied enough pressure to realign a spine you groaned.
“Are you sure it’s not too much?”
“No—I need—all of this.”
“Stressful day yesterday?”
You scoffed remembering your actions last night. After your release on the island top and a quick nap that you awoke from in a fevered frenzy due to yet another wet dream. This wet dream led you to the shower where you once again found a release. Then when you thought you’d get some relief to sleep it was not to be, you went for round three and four back-to-back. You’d woken up this morning high strung and on edge. The softest material on your breasts sent you into arousal, everything sent you that much closer to needing to stick your hand down your pants. You’d never felt this out of control in your entire sexual life. this prepubescent boy shit did not happen to you.
“I guess that’s a word for it.”
“Well, I’m a good listener if you want to talk about it.”
Putting words to the things going through your head were dangerous. Did you have the balls to face it? should you even face it? You wouldn’t see him again probably for another four years. did your current malfunction matter in the grand scheme of things? Once he left you could push it to the side and bury it in your closet never touching it again. Your horniness of today could be forgotten tomorrow. That was just what it was after all—horniness. Nothing more.
It’s not like you wanted to go on dates, spend weekends together, cuddle in bed while whispering your secrets and fears, or have Sunday dinners with family, or exchange birthday gifts, Christmas presents or even kiss at midnight on new years. You didn’t want boo’d up or couple antics. Right? This was Chris Evans after all. Your brother’s best friend from college, his frat brother whose sordid past you knew all about. This was the man who’d teased you about everything, the way you dressed, wore your hair, did your nails, walked, talked, ate. Hell he even teased you over the men you dated or spent your time with.
“It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it,” Evan said breaking through your thoughts.
“That’s not it Evan,” you said before you sighed. “The thing is I think I might want to—to have sex with my brother’s best friend.”
You closed your eyes allowing the words you said to float in the open air for the first time ever.
“Sooo—have sex with him.”
You snorted then laughed loudly. He made it sound so simple. Men, you thought.
“I’m sorry am I being obtuse? “
You glanced back at him, “Obtuse, Evan?”
“What? Men read too.”
You snorted and nodded laying back down. “You right.”
“Seriously. What’s the problem with that? There must be something that’s a no-no about it.”
“He’s my brother’s best friend—my older brother’s best friend.”
“So he’s old? How old?”
“Maybe forty.”
“Forty? Is this a young forty or didn’t age well forty?”
“Young in the prime of his life forty,” you replied.
“Girl you better buss it open.”
You laughed again hearing Evan voice the words you’d screamed at yourself internally.
“I don’t see a problem.”
“So it’s not a no-no when you think of my brother?”
“You’re not fucking your brother.”
You nearly vomited in your mouth.
“Sorry, but am I right or right?”
Sighing you nodded.
“Don’t let an older man scare you away either. I am currently boo’d up with this man who is nearly sixteen years older than me. I was apprehensive at first but honestly we have a lot in common and the bedroom—sheets on fire.”
You squealed for him.
“Now you gotta be honest with yourself. Is it you wanna fuck him or be with him?”
“Nope. I don’t wanna be with him,” you quickly corrected.
“Okay then it seems you know what you want. Get it poppin’.”
Were you over thinking this?
Two hours later, you were in your elevator arms filled with shopping bags and a slightly new outlook. You’d been getting ahead of yourself. You had no confirmation that this was something real and not imagined in your horny brain. You were here operating like it was said and done but it wasn’t. He could seriously not even want you like that. He could really just see you as a sister and then that would put all this in perspective. You were getting way ahead of yourself.
Once the doors opened on your floor, you walked to your door and found a package sitting there. You found your name and your brother’s name on the box and instantly knew it was a care package from your parents. They were crazy. They only lived thirty or so minutes away. They could easily bring things to you but that one time when they walked in on Yvette and their son was one time too much. They vowed to not do stop bys anymore unless it was scheduled in advance. You usually opened them together then divided the spoils.
Grabbing the box, you turned right back around and walked back into the still waiting elevator. A few moments later the doors opened on your brother’s floor. It didn’t take long to get to his door and when you did you used your spare key. You walked inside and placed your bags down then put the box on the dining table. After taking out your EarPods you heard a muffled voice.
Freezing you listened trying to decipher whose voice it was. You took slow steps to the closed doors. Your brother’s was silent, but you could not hear clearer. It was coming from the guest room. It must have been Chris. For some reason you didn’t think he'd be here. You knew your brother was out getting a cut and just expected him to have taken Chris along for the experience. Guess not, you thought.
You made a move to leave but then you heard a deep, guttural, exaggerated and plenty accented “fuck.” Your head snapped to the door while you stayed right where you were. A long hiss came next and a yelp. Curiosity took over then. With steady and cautious steps you approached the door of the guest room listening extra carefully. A loud groan followed nearly startling you out of your skin stopping you in your tracks. When the door didn’t open you closed the space and leaned on the wall pressing your ear closer.
“Ahhhh, yeeeees!”
Gahdamn, you thought. You had no idea his voice could get so deep. That was all it took for your panties to moisten. You pressed closer needing to hear more. It was obvious what was happening. He was getting a nooner out. You heard strangled whimpers and several huffs of breath—pants. He was panting and he sounded so desperate. You thought of the way he stroked himself. How did he like it? Slow and tight? Fast and lose? A mixture of the two? Was he going fast now? What was he thinking about? Did he rub his thumb over the tip to tease himself more?
“I’m so fucking hard for you. Yes! Play with that pussy.”
Your fingers tingled with the desire to move; you knew where they wanted to go. Fighting the urge you pressed your ear closer. His pants were no breathy, eager, and so fucking sexy. He moaned again, hissed then yelped. With that one yelp your hand clamped over your breasts. You’d never been happier to have gone braless. You slipped your hand under the hang of your crop top and teased your nipple.
“Arch that back. Fuck I’m gonna cum. Ah, shit! Delicious.”
You could hear his strokes now he was going for it, and you would have given anything to watch him go. His moans became muffled as if he were clamping his hand over his mouth. He said something muffled that you couldn’t make out, so you got closer. You were practically pressing your ear to the door now.
“Fuck! Y/N!”
The shock of it made you gasp. Realizing you’d made a sound you slapped your hand over your mouth. Before you could rush off the door flung open and there he stood with a flushed face and in a white men’s tank and black sweats. Neither of you spoke, you just stared at one another. His chest heaved like he’d been running but you knew that wasn’t why. Your eyes fell to his chest where his gold St. Christopher’s chain hung around his neck just between the peeks of his chest tatts. Had you been immune all these years? Had you worn some unknown talisman that blocked you off from all of this and now it’s effectiveness had worn off? Where the fuck was all this coming from?
“Uh---,” Chris began.
“I didn’t hear anything,” you rushed out turning to walk off, but Chris’ hand grabbed your wrist pulling you back and right up against the wall. Your breath hitched from the action but when your eyes met his, your knees nearly gave out.
“No? Nothing?”
Your eyes locked, you didn’t dare speak so you shook your head.
“Nothing at all?”
He stepped closer. You could feel the heat rolling off of him, coaxing your body index to raise. You were in deep shit.
“Nothing? Not one word, or a sound, or—a name?”
His face came so close all you had to do was take the remaining two or so inches. Still, you didn’t move or speak.
“Is this payback? Me hearing you, now you hearing me?”
Confusion swirled in your head but slowly you understood. Last night. You didn’t imagine him at the door. You didn’t imagine him watching you with your back arched off the counter. Your eyes bugged. If you didn’t imagine that then—he’d watched you get off with his name on your lips. Lips. His mouth.
“I can still taste you. Guess I know why he calls you peaches now.”
Holy shit. Your knees chose that moment to give out, but he was right there holding you up and against him. You could feel his hardness. He was still hard. Chris looked from your eyes to your breasts that were painfully pebbled and pressing against his scantily clad chest. His jaw clenched again.
“Jesus fucking Chris, binky.”
With that he pulled off of you backed to the opposite wall to press his back against. He looked like he was in pain.
“Get outta here.”
He said it softly, but you stayed where you were.
“And if I don’t?”
His eyebrow flicked up and those blue orbs scanned your body as he licked his lips.
“Then I am going to do something that your brother will kill me for.”
Still not moving you bit your bottom lip. “Such as?”
He scoffed and shook his head. “Something you don’t want.”
“What makes you think I don’t want it? I could want it—very much.”
Chris took a step to you, stopped then backed away. “Get outta here, Binky. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I have a name.”
“Oh I know your name.”
“When will you use it?”
Chris cocked his head to the side. “This isn’t a fucking game. Not one of our battle of the wits or words. This is--.”
“What is it Chris? Is it you wanting to fuck your best friend’s sister as much as she wants to fuck you?”
He sucked in a breath, dropped his head back and put his hands on his head rubbing his face.
“You’re going to—go Binky. This isn’t happening.”
With that he walked off going back in the room slamming the door behind him leaving you in the hall to face the rejection.
~~~~~~~~
That night you decided a home night was what you needed. The last place you wanted to be was around Chris or your brother. So after a rejuvenating bath, you put on your comfiest set, lit every candle you owned, turned on your mellow out playlist and indulged in one of your favorite bottles of wine. The quiet was welcomed. You had no problem being alone, a lot of times you preferred it. With the lights off and the celestial lamp Chris gave you on you found your nerves easing. A lot had changed this weekend. He wanted you as much as you wanted him, but he had a point, if he acted on it their friendship could be ruined. Was one night really worth that?
Your hormones said yes, it’s well worth it but they’d been friends for such a long time. They were really close. The trust between them was on a whole nother level. It would be crossing a line. Right? You guzzled the wine not stopping until it was empty. As you walked across to the kitchen to get another bottle you decided to avoid him for the remainder of the time he was here. That was the only way for this to fade away. Space and time were all that was needed for this all to be a distant awkward memory. Hell maybe one day you’d both laugh about it.
You walked back to the living room, but the bell stopped you. After a quick glance at the clock, you approached it. It was after eleven. You weren’t expecting anyone tonight. Peeping through the hole you looked into Chris’ face. He was staring right at you. Slowly you backed away.
“I know you’re there.”
Still you remained quiet and brought the wine to your head.
“Come on, Binky.”
“What do you want?”
He didn’t speak automatically, and you went closer wondering if he’d left. As you went to the peep hole you heard his voice and stopped.
“God help me---you.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
He released a groaned sigh. “You know what it means.”
“Good night Chris.”
“Fuck. Don’t be difficult. I know you want me as much as I want you,” he said lowly.
“Did you expect this to be easy?”
He groaned. “Nothing is ever easy with you.”
“So speak your heart or go on and jerk another load.”
“I want you. I want to—touch you, to smell your neck, to hear you whisper my name as you take my cock. Jesus Christ, I want you to take all of this cock. I can’t stop—thinking about it—about you.”
Your belly did somersaults.
“I want to taste you—again and again.”
It should have been shameful how wet you got hearing this. You still wanted to hear one more thing. So you waited. After a minute Chris sighed.
“Y/N.”
It was a strangled whisper. Bingo, you thought as you unlocked the door opening it just a little. Chris looked you from head to toe then licked his lips.
“Say it again.”
He walked inside, kicked the door shut with his foot then said your name again. Gahdamn his voice was deep again. You continued to back away from him, but he followed, stalking you like a predator. When you felt the island at your back, you put the wine bottle down and allowed him to close the space between you.
“Are you sure?”
“You sound scared old man. I thought you were in the prime of your life.”
His lips quirked and seconds later he was on you lifting you then plopping you on the countertop.
“You and this mouth.”
“What about it?”
Chris grabbed the nape of your neck bringing your face to his and whatever sly comment you had ready to fire at him disappeared on your tongue. The look in his eyes made you feel like he was going to devour you.
“Mouthy girls need their mouths stuffed. Is that what you want?”
You nodded. Chris’s hands came to your crop top and before you knew what was what, he was ripping it in half revealing your bare breasts to his eyes for the first time.
“Fucking Christ!”
When his lips came around your nipple you arched back jutting them further out for him to feast. He did just that. His mouth and tongue sloppily devoured your pert nipples licking, nibbling, biting and marking. You didn’t care, it felt too good. Your moans tumbled from your lips and filled the space around you. When you felt liquid streaming down your chest, you opened your eyes and found him pouring the bottle of wine you’d been holding over your skin. His mouth was there to slurp up the liquid. Any droplets he missed his tongue took care of. When he dipped his tongue into your belly button, you instinctively draped your legs over his shoulders.
The bottle clattered to the countertop and his hands found your G-string panties and again the material was ripped. He grabbed your thighs and pressed them apart back to the counter and stared at your sex. The way he looked at you should have made you self-conscious, but it didn’t. You wanted him to look. You wanted him to know that this pretty pussy was always here, and he’d been missing out.
“Such a pretty pussy.”
“It tastes good too.”
Chris smirked then buried his face between your legs. His intention wasn’t to tease you. No, it was to shut you up. He’d told you plenty of times your love of talking back would one day get you in trouble. You wondered if this was that day. You gasped loudly when he sucked your clit into his mouth and applied so much pressure you thought he’d bruise you.
“Ah, fuck!”
You gripped his head, digging your fingers into his hair using it to steer his head. Chris wasn’t having it though. He wanted full control. When you began bucking against his lips sliding your wetness across his lips and beard he moaned. Pulling his head back he locked eyes with you then spit on your pussy. Holy fuck you thought, he was nasty. It wasn’t long before he motor boarded your pussy, making you drop back onto the counter completely. Writhing against the cold surface you panted, moaned, whimpered, and cursed every imaginable curse in the English language.
“Fuck Chris!”
“Mmm, this pussy is delicious.”
He quickly flicked his tongue against your clit then sank two of his digits inside of you.
“Goddamn you’re tight, Y/N.”
He pumped his fingers into you a few times each time taking them further and further, when he used his thumb to swirl your numb you saw stars and not the light show currently going on above you from the lamp.
“Fuuuuck!”
Before you registered it you felt him rub himself against your sex. Snapping your head up to look your jaw dropped seeing him for the first time. He was hard, girthy and bigger than you expected. Your eyes met again, and his brow was cocked but he waited.
“Fuck me.”
Chris scoffed then spit on your pussy once more, though you both knew it didn’t need any more moisture. You were one category below a Tsunami. He pressed forward sending the thick tip in and lord hard mercy you didn’t think you could take a slow decent. Locking your ankles behind him, you pulled him in sucking his full length into your body.
“Holy Fuck!”
The wideness of his eyes said he was just as shocked as your body was. Though it was humming from bliss, his size was a bit of a shock. The two of you must have been feeling the same thing because seconds later Chris’ lips were on yours locking you into a kiss—your first ever. He didn’t kiss the way you’d expected either. This was the kiss of a man with experience, a man with swag, a man with passion. As his tougne swirled around yours, you began rolling your hips moving your body like a tsunami wave fucking him as he stood there. When he whimpered you knew you had him, however he pushed you down onto the counter, gripped your hips then plowed into you.
“Oh god!”
He moved with precision as if he knew just what your body needed. With every thrust, he nudged that special spot within you that you knew you’d be begging him to hit again and again.
“Yes, yes, there! There! Fuck—me!”
His thrusts sped and his grip tightened. When he moved his hands from your hips to your thighs he splayed you open like a freshly gutted fish and went to town. The bright spots of light you saw behind your eyes intensified and you knew you were close.
“You feel so good—better than—Uuugh!”
Suddenly a look of aggression came across Chris’ features and that was when he lifted your bottom half off the countertop hitting a whole new angle. That was when your first orgasm erupted from you. You clamped down around him. The action that would have made any other man cum only made him fuck you harder. You yelped as he pulled you up then yanked you to the edge of the counter so only half your ass sat. He sunk into a slightly squatted position then pistoned upward like his cock was a rocket shit and your depths was the expanse of space that he wanted to fully explore, claim and mark.
Your skin tingled, lungs burned, and ass hurt from the press of the hard countertop into your flesh, but you ignored it. It was all worth it because the pleasure you felt was something otherworldly, something transcendent, something alien.
“God damn Y/N, you make me want to cum, but I can’t. I can’t stop fucking this tight juicy little pussy.”
You gripped his shoulders then slid forward a little then began riding him as he pummeled your pussy with everything he had. Chris shouted then released a sound that to you sounded like a growl. You didn’t know and didn’t care. All you knew was you were rounding on orgasm number three and your body was still on fire begging for more.
“You take this cock so well princess. So—fucking—well!”
Squeezing him you let your release take you and when you heard him whine your fourth overpowered you. Chris held your hips right where they were then used your body as he saw fit. You could tell from the look in his eyes he’d lost all control, all senses and was only chasing the same rainbow waterfall that you’d touched several times already.
“Fuck! I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum for me baby, cum for me. Give this tight pussy everything you have.”
“You want it?”
“I want it.”
“You want this cum, Y/N?”
“Yes, fill me up, mark this pussy up!”
Chris squeezed your hip and ass, laughed forward once, then twice and on the third thrust you fell apart at the same time he did. The gush of him filling you up was so overwhelming that your body gave out. Chris’ quick thinking brought you back onto the counter just in time. He flicked his hips forward with baby thrusts still reveling in his release. You didn’t know how long you stayed there but you knew everything was different now. Slowly you began laughing. Chris weakly popped his head up, resting his chin between the swells of your breasts. As you laughed they softly slapped against his face.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing—just—just thinking.”
“What?”
He raised up but not by much, just enough to take your nipple into his mouth and suck, bringing fire right back to your flesh.
“This is what I’ve been missing out on all this time.”
You felt him lurch inside of you beginning to harden again if he had even ever softened.
“Not satisfied?”
You scoffed then shook your head. Chris raised his brow.
“I’ve always been a greedy woman—and this pussy--,” you squeezed him for emphasis.
“Is even greedier.”
A slow smile spread his lips. “Greedy girls get fucked within an inch of their life.”
“I’m counting on it.”
You at up and crashed your lips to his. Chris lifted you holding you in the air with just the tip of his intrusion filling you as your lips and tongues danced together. Your eye caught the time and you smiled on his mouth.
“Happy birthday old man.”
He groaned then dropped you down onto his cock full force. You screeched as he filled you completely with the brutal help of gravity.
“Prime of my life. I hope you know that you will get no sleep tonight.”
You smiled.
“The lord did say there is no rest for the wicked.”
You kissed again and he carried you through your apartment. Sleep was the last thing you wanted tonight.
The absolute last thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tag List:
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@imthatbitchsworld @soul–notforsale @toni9 @someone-really-bored @venustrap04 @chrisevansdaddycap @kittykatlow @live-laugh-love-ki @asiaaisa77 @melanicia @fistmetonystark @storiestoldbyjazz @xsweetdellzx @jennmurawski13 @livinglifeformemyselfandi @crowngold @krrose3 @allnamesicouldthinkofweretaken @lost- ssoull @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @shar74nett @cltex84 @badbitchhtown @petty-bitch-akira @cxmfort @unknownmystery22 @raveviolet @madixii @imthewarmpenguininthemiddle @ak329 @bernie-k @nina1800 @almosttherebutnot @smediumsmeatbae @nervousninjatheorist @lo-cheu @creole-mami @acciolove724 @shipatheart @captainchrisstan @ramp-it-up @bforbbgirl @i-just-like-fanfics @brownskinafro @jhayes6984 @badbo1-evans @msblkfire84 @jovanaprime @poshgirl2 @marvelatthis30 @littlepreciousangel @youremysuperstar @alookintohersoul @cleopatra-knowles @parkker-barrnes @zeelmol @qualitynightkoala @colorfullydone @jurneesjourney @unsaltedalmonds @basicchelsea
#all grown up now one shot#Chris Evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans one shot#chris evans birthday#black fanfiction#chris evans au#chris evans x reader#chris evans x you#chris evans x black reader
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{5} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader
Yandere AU & Dragon AU
Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst
Pairing: Ateez X Reader
Words: 2,515
Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.
A/n: Short update for you guys, but I feel like it sets up the next chapter nicely!! Finally, we’ll be able to soon see the progression of some of the relationships OC will have with a few of the guys! I’m super excited, so I hope you’ll all look forward to it, too!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Mini Masterlist
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” A frown tugs at the young male’s features, following close behind another as the taller of the two storms away.
“I mean exactly what I’ve just said,” the other sighs, stopping abruptly and causing the shorter male to crash into his back. “No.”
A frustrated sigh leaves Jongho’s lips as he sharpens his gaze at his flame headed brother.
“You’re too infatuated with this girl,” Mingi mirrors Jongho’s stance, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do not lose sight of our main goal.”
“All I’m saying is that she may have a point,” Jongho counters. “Perhaps we are taking the prophecy too literally.”
“How do we know we can even trust a word she says?” Yeosang voices, leaning casually against the wall with his own arms crossed.
“She did save Seonghwa’s life.” Yunho shrugs.
“Yeah, after nearly killing me.” The eldest huffs, a displeased furrow to his brows.
“To be fair, you did deserve it.” Hongjoong hums, turning the page of the novel he’s currently reading at the kitchen table.
“I thought you didn’t care for those stupid, ancient customs.” Seonghwa rounds on the male, scowl pulling at his features.
“I care about you bringing dishonour to this clan in our attempts to retrieve the crown.” Hongjoong replies, quite pointedly, as he shoots a look over the top of his book in Seonghwa’s direction. “We’re lucky she agreed to spare you after the first time.”
“She’s starting to become a pain in the ass.” Mingi grumbles.
“Watch it, Min.” Jongho’s eyes flash in warning at his brother.
“One thing’s for sure,” Hongjoong adds, a knowing look thrown at the younger two, “she’s spared more than one of us, more than once.”
“What do you mean?” Wooyoung’s voice is heard from across the room.
“Well, our youngest here broke the deal we made with her as soon as he revealed his face to her again,” Hongjoong softly closes his book, sliding it slightly up the table for the moment to give him room to place his elbows in front of him. “She had every right to tear you apart where you stood for breaking our word right then and there.”
“At least we know she’s honest about giving warnings.” Yunho observes, recalling how quickly that blade embedded itself right beside his head the first time he met you. He shudders.
“She’s a strange one, alright,” San hums pleasantly, continuing to mix some herbs together in boiling water.
For the past two weeks he’s been attempting to create new mixtures of tonics and salves, but he hasn’t had much luck. He either overcompensates for one ingredient, or gets the measurements completely wrong. Currently, he’s attempting to dilute frost berry leaves like you’ve implied can be done. The only problem is, he literally has no idea what he’s doing.
A low growl is heard from the youngest.
“I meant it in a good way,” San is quick to defend, coughing as a puff of smoke rises from the ash root he’s just added to the mixture.
“She’s strong, that’s for sure.” Jongho smiles faintly, recalling the moment he shared with you in that clearing so many nights ago.
Sure, you may have thought nothing of actually revealing yourself to him, but the youngest cannot help but read more into it than you probably intend. You could have kept hidden. You didn’t have to reveal yourself. But you did.
“Strong enough to best me.” Seonghwa grumbles, a small pout on his lips.
“It’s easy to best you,” Yeosang puffs out a dry laugh, earning him a glare from the eldest.
“Strong enough to hide her true nature to the point where no one can tell what she is.” Yunho observes.
“She holds herself like an ancient.” Seonghwa adds, a harsh curl to his lips.
“Do you think she is one?” Wooyoung voices the thought on a few of their minds, somewhat absentmindedly himself.
“She certainly acts like one,” Mingi huffs, sitting down on a chair at the table, opposite Hongjoong.
“No, I don’t think she is.” Hongjoong comments, interlacing his fingers together. “But I think there’s more to her than she’s letting on.”
“You’re telling me,” San huffs, waving away some more smoke that continuously billows out of the cauldron he’s using.
Hongjoong’s eyes narrow. “Do you know something that we don’t?”
“Just that her perception and sensory skills are in a completely different class than ours.” Wooyoung replies for his brother, knee bouncing as he props his foot up on the one rung of the stool that he’s sitting on. Both he and San share a look, considering how close Wooyoung resides to the table his brother is currently working at.
Hongjoong looks towards Jongho, but at the way the younger casually averts his gaze, the elder has his answer.
“So, not only did Jongho break the deal, you two knuckleheads did as well.” He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “How are we supposed to build our reputation before we become the new rulers when all you do is disobey my orders?”
“To be fair, it was her cubs that brought us out of hiding.” Wooyoung says.
“You were found by her cubs?” Yeosang leans forward slightly, nothing but disbelief painting his features.
“Yeah, cause someone couldn’t control himself.” San narrows his gaze at the younger male who raises his hands in defence. “Just admit you’re interested in her, too. It’ll make it easier for all of us.”
The snarl that escapes Jongho gets ignored.
Wooyoung shoots a pointed look at San. “That’s rich, coming from the man who was practically on his knees begging her to teach him her ways.”
“I’m thinking ahead!” San is quick to retort, the tips of his ears turning a vibrant shade of red. “We could use her knowledge of herbs and tonics to our advantage. Wouldn’t it be great if I could figure out an antidote next time without getting her involved?”
“You’re not using her for anything.” Jongho’s voice is but a low growl as he rounds on his brother.
“I didn’t mean it like that-“
“Then what did you mean by it, San?” Jongho’s eyes are wild, nostrils flaring as he stares down the elder male.
“She’s made you crazy,” Yeosang shakes his head, seemingly disappointed in the younger male. “Irrational.”
“I love her.” Jongho narrows his gaze at the male leaning against the wall.
“Your mistake.” Seonghwa scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“You don’t know her like I do.” Jongho retorts, teeth bared in a snarl.
“I don’t think we want to.” Mingi states, leaning back further in his chair as he crosses his arms.
“Speak for yourself.” Wooyoung mumbles, staring down at the ground beneath his feet with a slight frown on his face.
“I’ll admit, I’m curious about her, too.” Hongjoong hums, shifting his position slightly to rest his one arm against the top of the table. “If we can learn a thing or two from her in our quest for the crown, we might be able to finally gain the upper hand over the Wolf Gang.”
“I don’t think she’ll be easily convinced to train us, let alone see our faces again.” San sighs, somewhat sadly. “It’s a shame. She was really cool.”
“You call her poisoning and almost killing your brother ‘cool’?” Yunho inquires, brows raised in slight amusement.
“She had a salve that immediately started closing Hwa’s wound while it stunted the bleeding.” San replies, matter-of-factly. “Obviously, she knows a hell of a lot more than she ever lets on. So, yeah. Cool.”
“San might have a point.” Yeosang’s frown deepens, not liking this one bit.
“Think of how much stronger she can make us.” San continues. “Is that not something to be considered?”
“She will not train us.” Jongho says, voice firm as he shakes his head.
“How can you be so sure?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.
“She’s trained the Neos.” Wooyoung grumbles, somewhat bitterly.
“Because she considers them family.” Jongho replies, somewhat exasperatedly.
“Then what are you to her?” Mingi’s sharp gaze pierces the youngest.
Jongho pauses, exhaling a long sigh. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, ‘I don’t know’?” Seonghwa frowns, annoyance clear on his features as he takes a step towards the youngest.
“I was sure she hated my guts, and she still might, but she didn’t necessarily tear me apart when she saw me again.” Jongho explains, shrugging lightly. “I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize our relationship any more than it already has been, and using her like this, for entirely selfish reasons because of all of your desires, does not bode well with me.”
“And is her asking me to stop burning down our conquests to help speed along the prophecy not selfish on her part?” Mingi counters, voice slightly incredulous.
“I don’t think it’s selfish at all.” Hongjoong’s response surprises all of them, but none so much as Jongho. “I think she has a point. We’ve been taking this prophecy about the crown too literally. Perhaps it’s not even a jewel that we’re meant to be searching through the ashes for.”
“You’re trusting a stranger’s words over our own?” Seonghwa’s brows raise, staring in disbelief at the younger man.
“Not necessarily,” Hongjoong shakes his head. “I just think it’s time for a change. How many years have we been hunting for this supposed jewel, only to come up empty handed each time? Maybe it’s time for us to reevaluate our search tactics. What Jongho said that she told him about being a good leader is true. There is no honour in complete destruction. What will be left to rule over if we burn it all to the ground?”
A few of them take the time to actually consider his words, like Yeosang, Wooyoung, San, and Yunho.
“What’s gotten into you lately, Captain?” Mingi spares an incredulous look at Hongjoong. “You’ve never cared about this stuff before.”
Hongjoong remains silent for a brief moment as he looks down at his one hand on top of the table.
“The Wolves are not our biggest threat out of all of the dragon clans.” He sighs. “If the Neos wanted, they could easily overpower each and every single one of us in sheer numbers alone. The fact that we now know they have her on their side, and the fact that we have no idea what she’s truly capable of, is not a comforting thought. We’re just lucky Taeyong has no interest in claiming the crown for himself, or for his clan for that matter. If he did, we’d have probably lost a long time ago. That, or we’d all be dead.”
“Is this about her, or those damn Neos?” Seonghwa’s brow furrows, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.
“Both.” Hongjoong meets his gaze from across the room.
“But if we could get them on our side…?” Wooyoung trails off, a glint shining in his eyes.
“It might take a lot of convincing,” Yunho nods, hand coming up to support his chin as he contemplates his brother’s words.
“Good luck convincing grudge holder number one and two of anything after the stunt Hwa pulled with her.” San huffs, somewhat amusedly.
“Have you seen her since that night?” Yeosang turns his attention back to the youngest, nothing but curiosity in his voice.
“No.” Jongho shakes his head, a sort of longing taking over his features as he glances out of the window in the direction he knows your house to be in. “I’d rather not push my luck with her right now. I’m just grateful she’s giving me another chance.”
“From the sounds of things, she hasn’t granted you that chance, yet.” Yunho reminds him.
“Then, you know what must be done for him to get that second chance.” Hongjoong says, and all heads turn to look at Mingi. “After all, he’s still our brother, and he did imprint on her.”
A brief silence.
“Oh, no,” the male shakes his head, brows furrowed in discontent. “Just because you are all convinced she’s right about the prophecy, doesn’t mean I am.”
“Who said anything about being convinced?” Yeosang quirks a brow.
“Believe me, I like this about as much as you do,” Seonghwa sighs, looking down briefly at the ground. “I don’t trust her at all, and if I could, I’d tear her throat out for what she’s done to me-“
Jongho snarls, eyes flashing dangerously.
“Oh, get over yourself, Seonghwa,” San rolls his eyes, bringing a finger up to his lips in order to swipe his tongue across the skin, testing the mixture for the nth time that evening. “You deserved-“
The room goes unnaturally still as they watch San’s eyes roll to the back of his head, body immediately collapsing onto the ground. The male even manages to hit his head on the side of the table, the scent of his blood filling the air as a large gash now resides on his forehead. A gash which does not seem to want to start healing.
The moment San’s body starts convulsing, the others seemingly snap out of their shock and rush over to him. Wooyoung is the first by his side, checking the male’s pulse and shifting him onto his side.
A moment later, and San begins emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground, blood dripping down his chin.
“What’s going on?” Yunho’s panicked voice reaches their ears, fear flashing in his eyes as he meets his brother’s gazes all around him.
“I don’t know,” there are tears lining the corner of Wooyoung’s eyes as they can all do nothing but watch as San’s whole body trembles. “He’s usually the one that deals with the remedies, tonics, herbs, and such.”
“Don’t you usually help him?” Yeosang nearly snaps, irritated by the lack of preparation Wooyoung seems to have in situations like this.
“Not all the time!” Wooyoung replies, frantically.
“None of us are healers, except for what San knows.” Hongjoong replies, feeling the younger dragon heating up beneath his touch.
“There is one person I know who can help him.” Jongho replies, immediately scooping San into his arms and standing back to his feet.
“Like hell she’ll help us again.” Mingi spits, holding Jongho back by the shoulder.
The younger males spares a glance over his shoulder, keeping his voice low. “Let me go.”
San’s breathing begins to strain, chest stuttering as he fights to get air into his lungs.
“We have to try.” Wooyoung is already gathering a sample of what San had been working on in a flask, falling into step behind Jongho as he heads for the door.
“I hope you’re right about this,” Yunho grimaces, his heart racing uncontrollably with worry in his chest.
“Come,” Hongjoong nearly tears the door off its hinges as he rushes outside. “We cannot waste anymore time.”
The others follow close behind him, rushing out into the crisp evening air. Extending their wings, they take off into the sky, saving their brother the only thing on their minds.
#yandere ateez#ateez scenario#ateez imagines#yandere kpop#yandere au#kpop scenario#yandere hongjoong#yandere jongho#yandere yunho#yandere san#yandere seonghwa#yandere wooyoung#yandere yeosang#yandere mingi#mingi scenario#hongjoong scenario#san scenario#jongho scenario#yunho scenario#wooyoung scenario#seonghwa scenario#yeosang scenarios#kpop au#dragon au#fantasy au
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Geralt had texted earlier asking if Lambert would mind helping Ciri out with a science project. The redhead had pretended to be put out by the request, but they all knew he loved hanging out with his ‘little science buddy’ as much as Ciri loved playing mad scientist with her chemist uncle (it really shouldn’t have been surprising that the man was perfectly at home around substances which could be as volatile as he was). The fact that the child sized lab coat and safety goggles he’d gotten her for her last birthday were her favourite presents was testament to that.
“So, what’s the problem?” Aiden asked. It was a standard baking soda volcano project and they’d followed the teachers’ printed instructions and achieved the expected results with no issue. Man and child both looked at him as if he were insane.
“You’re kidding? That was fu-fudging pathetic.” Lambert said, crossing his arms and scowling at the papier mâché blob on the kitchen table, “We want an explosion, not a dribble. Right Ciri?”
“Right.” The eight-year-old agreed with a decisive nod, mimicking her uncle’s stance whilst Aiden bit back a comment about Lambert saying something very similar last night.
“Welp, far be it for me to stand in your way. I’ll be in the living room if you need me. Work stuff.”
“Uncle Aiden, what is it you do anyway?”
Aiden tapped the side of his nose in response before slipping out the door.
Aiden smiled to himself as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, having accomplished his mission of covertly recording the cute goings on in the kitchen. His husband and niece had been totally oblivious to him as Lambert explained why the earlier result had been kind of lacklustre, surrounded by different bottles collected from their kitchen cupboards, Ciri hanging on to his every word. He’d definitely be posting it to the group chat later.
He was just finishing up the last of his work emails, chasing up a late payment when there was a very wet sounding bang from the other side of the closed kitchen door.
"The Hell? Lambert, Ciri, you guys ok?!”
“We’re good. All good.” Lambert answered a little too quickly, accompanied by hushed giggling from Ciri.
Aiden slowly pushed the door open and felt his jaw drop, “What. Did you do?”
Every surface, including Lambert and Ciri, was covered in a slightly powdery slime, some of it bubbling in a way Aiden would have found alarming if he didn’t already know it was just baking soda and…something.
“We effed around and found out.” Ciri chirped happily, trying to wipe her goggles clean with her fingers.
“I did not teach her that.” Lambert clarified, ignoring the slime which was dripping from the ceiling and into his hair, “I turned my back for a second and she added something extra.”
Aiden raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh. Well, seeing as cooking’s not going to be happening for a while, I’m going to order take out and you two can find out how long this takes to clean up.”
“Ciri, I think we have time for just one more quick experiment before we start.” Aiden did not like the devilish grin spreading across his husband’s face, “How much of this can we get on Uncle Aiden?”
Aiden had never moved so fast in his entire life.
#the witcher#witcher#the witcher fanfiction#aiden/lambert#aiden x lambert#lambden#lambert/aiden#lambert x aiden#witcher aiden#witcher lambert#lambert#witcher ciri#cirilla fiona elen riannon#ciri
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some rambles on my takes on the acachallas <333
papa acachalla is very much a tired dad who doesn’t really care all too much about anything. any which way. he’s hooked up with a guy before to experiment, went “eh” and completely forgot about it. sally puts him in dresses and makeup for her tea parties and he surprisingly never complains. he instantly accepted sue as his daughter, even though he did complain about getting another child. sally told him one day she likes girls and he went “huh. well i guess you got that from me” and then took her out for ice cream. he’s perpetually tired and over time, has become hard to phase. billy sprouts wings and flies around? well, that’s to be expected, it’s tuesday after all. sally’s eyes turns black and she starts screaming for waffles? no big deal, he keeps a freezer of waffles for this. he loves gertrude but doesn’t show it as much as he should, but he’s trying. he does the universal dad stance and squints his eyes whenever the kids show him anything on their phones. his idea of a romantic date is going to the nearest burger place on a busy friday night. he got himself a nice comfy couch in the living room and falls asleep on it regularly. he’s such a dad, but refuses to admit it.
gertrude is tall and thin, with slightly bony features and liver spots scattered across her body. her face wrinkles whenever she laughs, smiles or cries. her shoulders are broad and thick, her hips are blocky and her build is stocky but thin, like a twig. she casually mentions her memories of putting on a dress for the first time and realizing she was a girl the whole time. she still tucks her kids in, even though they’re in their twenties, thirties and forties. she buys ice cream for any kid she sees without enough money for the ice cream truck. she watched hours upon hours of youtube tutorials for afro-textured hair when they took sally in, and now she can do dozens upon dozens of hairstyles for her. she hand-sews dresses for sue and repairs billy’s work clothes. she buys a new computer for spencer every two-three years and leaves it at his door with a snack plate. she takes her beloved granddaughter, ivy, out for ice cream and movie dates so maddie and/or billy can have a day off. she pulls a blanket over papa when he falls asleep in his chair, and fixes hot cocoa for everyone on cold nights. she has a self care day every week where she rests and watches her favorite movie/shows.
sue loves everything feminine, and simultaneously embraces everything non-feminine about herself. she wears pink dresses with frilly lace and bows, and proudly displays her thick arm and leg hair wherever she goes. she works out and shows off her thick muscles and abs. she’s not fluent in spanish, but speaks it regularly regardless. she carries sally on her shoulders and clumsily makes little dresses for her niece, ivy (they’re always messy, but ivy loves them anyways). she grows her hair out to her shoulders and ties it up with the same bow sally got her every day. she has a partner, rebecca, who she even tried to learn how to cook for just to bring her goodies (they’re often burnt, but rebecca never complains). she loves chick flicks, romcoms and comedies, and hides at horror movies. she’s set up a really cozy room for herself and rebecca in the house, with all of rebecca’s things in it that she bought with weeks of saved up allowance money. she loves and loves and loves. her hugs are warm and all-encompassing, and she’ll hug just about anyone for any reason. she’s enthusiastic and genuine in everything she does.
billy is much smarter than he lets on. he has abandonment issues and often hides behind a childish, “dumber” facade as a way to cope. he sometimes can’t look in the mirror because all he sees is his mother’s face staring back at him. he’s lanky but not quite tall. he’s close with his twin sister, charlie, despite being separated for much of their childhood. he goes out to movies and aquariums and zoos with her, and is fully fluent in sign language. he’ll do it so naturally that he sometimes uses sign language at home, because he forgets he’s not around charlie anymore. he never even thought he’d want to be a dad but he is so, so utterly taken with his daughter, ivy. he takes lots of pictures of her and proudly displays each and every single drawing she has ever made for him. he carries her on his shoulders and impulse buys clothes and toys for her all the time. he’s grown to find comfort in maddie’s presence, now that the two are in a healthy relationship. he irons his shirt and picked up sewing from gertrude. he’s started watching shows with papa every sunday evening as a way to bond. he’s indescribably close to sally; the two just understand each other in a way no one else does. they’ll sit in silence watching a movie together. he’ll play tea parties with sally every single time she asks without fail. he’s learned how to do her hair just to spend quiet evenings braiding it. he and sue go to zoos together, and he helps coach her on the few recipes he does know- and gets very proud when she outshines him. he prefers to be around people, but often takes an hour or two in the evenings to just have his own time, and he sits listening to music.
sally is larger than life and makes sure everyone around her knows it. she’s energetic, she’s fun, she’s loud and bright and bubbly and talkative and cheerful and so, so much more. she’s as bright and warm as the sun, and simultaneously just as brutal when she slips into her more monstrous form. she likes all things pink and purple and sparkly and glittery. she likes frills and laces and beads and pearls. she likes dresses and skirts and pretty shoes. she likes just about anything and everything pretty. she’ll befriend any animal she comes across, even dangerous ones, and they never harm her. she’s a complete and total optimist through and through, but isn’t nearly as oblivious or naive as she once was; still, it’s something she struggles with on occasion. gertrude takes her out and helps sally build her confidence and as much independence as possible, and sally loves it. she loves going to new places and exploring- zoos, aquariums, art galleries, museums, lighthouses, libraries, everything. she's become incredibly eager to learn and absorb new information, and her curiosity is limitless. she spends so, so, so much time with her siblings and spencer (even if spencer likes to pretend he hates it most of the time). she's almost never without either one of her siblings, or gertrude. she's a mama's girl and daddy's girl at the same time.
spencer doesn't like to be alone nearly as much as he claims he does. in reality, he hates being alone so much and fears being abandoned again- but he would never admit that to anyone. still, gertrude notices, and goes out of her way to do nice things for him and give him quiet reassurances that he belongs here, that he has a home here now. the basement was completely renovated so spencer can have a nice bedroom, and gertrude got him a complete gaming setup too. he plays video games a lot and streams them, and gertrude, sally and billy all watch every single stream he does (unless they're working). spencer has gradually warmed up to the other family members, and can even be spotted on sunday nights curled up on the opposite couch to papa acachalla, intently watching the movie on screen (which he insisted needed to be some mystery, action or horror movie, and papa always lets spencer have the remote). spencer will happily infodump for hours about computers and video games and computer mechanics and everything in between, to anyone who will listen.
maddie is incredibly passionate over anything and everything she puts her mind to. she used to obsess over billy, until she found out she was pregnant and began therapy- now she obsesses over making sure her daughter is healthy, happy, has everything, is learning everything, and can grow up to be a wonderful person. she sews clothes for ivy, cooks her all three meals a day, bakes her goodies for school, crafts and carves toys for her, and heavily researches all the best places nearby to take her. she's an extraordinarily loving mother who always does her absolute best in everything. she did quit her job for a while, but now finds purpose outside of motherhood in crafting furniture and toys to sell to others. she's learned to enjoy having her own time, and has rediscovered herself- she's learned she likes rock music and occasional heavy metal, she's learned she prefers savory over sweet things except on special occasions, she's learned she has a good eye for fashion and that she enjoys window-shopping whenever possible. she goes to therapy every week and has even taken a handful of community college classes purely to learn new things rather than to get a degree. she's loud and super energetic when she's excited. she has incredibly steady hands and surprisingly sharp focus. she's learned asl fluently, and is learning spanish alongside her daughter so they can talk to each other. she likes museums and art galleries because she gets to learn new things and see new things. she's grown into her own person, and has become an incredible mother as well.
#i will ramble more about them another time but i love them all <33#i don't talk about them or develop them nearly as much as i should#but anyways#taleblr#venturiantale#billy acachalla#papa acachalla#sally acachalla#gertrude acachalla#spencer acachalla#taleblr maddie-friend#salem's taleblr rambles
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22 (kisses on head) Sam Wilson & dealer's choice
its been 84 years & i finally finished writing this .... inspired by life events bc apparently thats how most of my fatws stories seem to work these days. also shoutout to @foolgobi65, my bestie and co-middle aged fictional man. miss u so much, praying that in 1 month i will be a 60 dollar flight away from u, etc etc
It takes Sam a few tries to make the call.
Okay, so maybe that's hypocritical of him. It's okay to reach out to people when you need 'em, Buck. I'm here if you need to talk about anything, B. You know avoiding the world won't make anything easier, man.
Yeah, yeah -- so Sam's sometimes a textbook example of do as I say, not as I do. His sister would be the first to remind him of this, loudly and annoyingly. Recently, Bucky's taken to agreeing with her -- loudly and annoyingly, after he's given Sam a mildly amused eyebrow at the liberal shortening of his already short nickname -- but it's hard to remember that, and the general cross bleeding of their lives over and across like veins, when he hasn't seen Bucky in a month and their texts have been few and far between.
Not for any nefarious reason or anything. Sam's just been busy. Sitting in interminable meetings with assholes. Getting asked inane leading questions about his stance on global politics. Trying to push through the legal work of actually getting clean water to multiple places in literal first world nations. Bull-fuckin’-shit, Sam thinks. There is perpetual grit behind his eyes. The urge to dangle senators by their ankles from the top of multi-story buildings is real. He and Bucky did that a couple times, in the early days, but then Rhodey got in trouble because of it, so they agreed to ease off for a bit. So now Sam hasn’t even got that as an outlet, and it’s on him to figure out this messed up world for everyone else 'cause for every person who seems to care to try it, there are hundreds more who couldn't give a shit. He needs a vacation. Or a reset. Something to remind him what being Captain America is really about.
And Bucky's -- well, he's definitely not retired, but Sam thinks he deserves some peace and quiet, after everything.
The phone rings a fifth time. It's two in the morning. Sam sits in the dark quiet of his hotel room and is about to swipe end call and just content himself with a short text hey man, how's it going? when suddenly the call connects.
Sam squints.
"Why am I looking at a weird corner of your ceiling?" he asks, before his tired brain can catch up to the possibility that maybe something is deeply, horribly wrong, and there are bad guys there, and their mutual worlds are about to end for the twentieth time.
Then Bucky's forehead pops up from behind the kitchen counter.
“Sam, hey,” he says, before Sam can question further. The phone camera shakes like it’s being propped up against something by a hasty hand, “Gimme a sec, I’m in the middle of something.”
The forehead disappears. Not in a normal way, like Bucky walking out of frame, but in a weird way, like Bucky dropping below the counter to the floor.
“C’mon, ya little twerp, slow down a second …”
“Uh …” Sam wets his lips. “Is now a bad time?”
“‘S fine!” calls his friend’s disembodied voice. “Talk, I’m listenin’.” There is a thump, and a small yowl, and a distinctively Bucky-flavoured grunt.
Sam can see the edge of Bucky's stove behind him and slowly registers the warm kitchen lighting and mess of kitchen implements strewn ... everywhere.
"What ... exactly are you doing?"
"Wrangling," says Bucky. "How've you been?"
Could be better should be Sam's honest response. Instead he blinks at the obvious noises of scuffle, the muffled thud of metal limb against laminate kitchen island, some plaintive meows, and ...
Squeaking?
Peep peep peep peep peep.
“Fuckin’ – Alpine!”
“I told you that cat’s possessed,” Sam says, for lack of anything else to contribute to the mystifying noises coming from his phone.
“Aha!” yells Bucky. There is a particularly despondent screech, and the peeping ramps up in intensity.
Three months ago they’d got caught trying to bust some superpowered underground fight club and spent two days stuck in some underground bunker under threat of fighting in said club. Could make big bucks, taking bets on Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Sam wishes those violence-mongering assholes could see the two of them now.
Bucky’s head reappears.
“She’s not possessed,” he says. Sam can’t exactly agree, when directly to Bucky’s left, the little white housecat he found in the dumpsters behind his apartment last February is doing her best to wage feral holy war against the impervious plates of his left hand, which has got her hovering four feet above the ground by the scruff of her neck. Bucky himself seems unbothered by the crazy feline trying to maul his hand, and in fact unbothered in general, despite his wild case of bedhead, hole-ridden pajama shirt and slightly faded underwear all captured in frame. His other hand, stretched all the way out in the other direction, is held tightly in a fist.
And it’s squeaking.
“Bucky,” Sam says slowly, “I get that you got this whole nonviolence thing goin’ on right now –” It’s been a new thing Bucky keeps bringing up in sardonic therapy speak, always raising his eyebrows to show that he’s the only one allowed in on the joke, as if Sam knows he hasn’t touched a gun in three years – “but is two am really the right time to stop your honest to God housecat from takin’ out a mouse in your kitchen?”
“Mouse?” Bucky says with a frown. Then he grins. “Aw, no, I found him in the elevator today. Dunno how he got there.” Then, with impossible gentleness, he brings his fist up to the blurry camera, so Sam can see the fuzzy yellow crown of a tiny, very squeaky duckling.
Sam stares.
“That’s a duck,” he says.
“Duck-ling,” Bucky corrects. “He’s kind of helpless. Kept falling over on its own ass ‘til I brought him up. I think he was in shock.”
Peep, says the little duckling, as if agreeing. Or maybe as if to say, And then you exposed me to your psycho cat, asshole, you don’t think that was traumatizing?
Maybe Bucky speaks duck better than Sam does, because he only grins, widely, and then proceeds to press a small kiss to the top of the duckling’s head.
Sam feels like he must be dreaming.
“You adopted a duckling?” he manages.
“Not officially,” Bucky protests.
“You can’t just adopt a duckling in Brooklyn.”
“I got a bathtub!”
“You got a shower cubicle, man.”
“Okay, fine, I got a sink.”
“Dude, you can’t rehome a duck in your tiny ass sink.”
“He hasn’t got anywhere else to go, Sam, he’s just a baby.”
Sam gestures in mild distress to the cat, who is still trying desperately to escape her vibranium bonds. “Is this not considered a barrier to duck adoption?!” he says.
Bucky sighs, the kind that slumps your shoulders up and down. He holds Alpine up to his face, sternly. She is midway through attempting to chew his wrist with her pointy little cat teeth.
“You got wax in your ears? Knock it off, Sweets. Whaddaya want, more attention? You want a kiss on the forehead, too?”
“I do not get paid enough for this,” Sam says, putting his head in his hands and staring across the room.
Peep peep peep agrees the duckling.
“Look,” Bucky says, gesturing with his duckling hand. “I’ll think of something.”
“Something stupid,” says Sam.
Bucky doesn’t seem bothered, though. “So what’d you wanna talk to me about?” he asks.
Sam pauses. He’s got to think about it now. In fact – the edge of need that had been present just four minutes ago has mostly disappeared. He takes in Bucky’s disheveled appearance again.
“You still goin’ down next weekend?”
It is a long weekend. Thanksgiving, to be precise. Sam has spent many a Thanksgiving dreaming of his sister’s cooking; he’s not sure he has the mental fortitude to skip out on it this year, when nothing world-ending is happening.
Bucky gives him a weird look. “Sure. Are you?”
“Delacroix’s still doin’ its food drive, right?”
“Sure,” says Bucky again. He scratches an itch behind his ear with the watch strap around his right wrist. The duckling squeaks. “Maybe you should go.”
“Maybe I should,” Sam says. He doesn’t feel relief, exactly, but there is a cousin feeling, somewhere in his chest, that he does not have words for at two a.m., “to make sure you won’t be pullin’ lame moves on my little sister.”
“You wouldn’t know a move if it danced naked in front of you, Sam,” Bucky says, without missing a beat. Alpine, who has been quiet since threatened, makes a sudden, aborted move towards Bucky’s right hand. Smoothly, behind the counter, Bucky takes a couple steps back and opens the empty garbage can with his bare foot before dropping Alpine into it. “Behave,” he tells her muffled protests.
“I know so many moves. I am super smooth with the ladies. And your pasty ass better not be doing any naked dancing, or we’ll have words.”
Bucky lets out a very long-suffering sigh. “Just because Ms. Gloria next door likes me best …”
“She makes a mean sweet potato pie every Thanksgiving,” Sam agrees sadly. “I used to get that extra piece, you know?”
“I can’t say no when Sarah invites me, Sam, come on.”
“So she inviting you now, is that how this works? She doesn’t invite me.”
“That’s ‘cause you invite yourself. Or she bullies you into coming home.”
Both of these things being true, they are both laughing before Sam knows it. He is decidedly less exhausted than before. Tired, sleepy, sure, but not exhausted. Bucky has now moved on to cleaning up his kitchen one-handedly, which he’s gotten pretty good at recently. Bucky himself counts it as progress, and so does everyone else.
Sam catches his breath. “Yeah, alright,” he says. “I should get some rest, then.”
He gets subjected to a long look through the camera. “See you next weekend?” Bucky says finally.
And maybe that was the exact question Sam had been itching to ask. It’s been a long while since he’s had a friend that’s basically family. It hits different. Sam’s happy to get used to it again, bit by bit.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. I don’t think I can tell you all the shit I’ve been dealing with unless we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
Bucky narrows his eyes. “For security reasons or Sam-telling-a-story reasons?”
“Man, I can tell a story over the phone.”
“Yeah, but you like having the ambiance. Brings the best out in you.”
“Fishing and stories just mix right.”
“Whatever you say, Sam.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey, maybe you can bring that little fluff ball with you. Can you imagine takin’ that thing through airport security?”
Except, oh no. Bucky’s eyes are widening with the sharp glimmer of a new, stupid idea.
“Huh,” he says, aloud. Peep peep, says the duckling.
“You are not foisting that duckling on me,” Sam says.
“You do have a bird-themed costume. And Sarah’s house has a bathtub.”
But before Sam can open his mouth to argue, there is the loud crash of the garbage can tipping over, and the blurry white figure of Alpine pouncing onto Bucky’s head.
“Shit! Alpine!”
Sam divines that he’s dropped the duckling.
“You know how long it took me to catch him?!”
Mroooow, howls Alpine, who is now on the counter, blocking most of the frame.
To the renewed sounds of frantic peeping from the kitchen floor, Sam laughs. “Dude,” he says, “you know your neighbors hate your ass right now.”
And it’s maybe fitting, that the last thing he sees before he ends the call is Bucky’s disembodied metal fist, flipping him the bird.
#my writing#its not much but its honest work#the falcon and the winter soldier#sam wilson#bucky barnes#sam x bucky#sarah x bucky#marvel#touch prompt meme
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