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postmodernbeliever · 29 days

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Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Three: Two’s Company, Three’s a Crime Scene

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 4,317

TW: mentions of a body at a crime scene, some graphic description.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“No comments from the peanut gallery!”

“I’m simply saying that if you’d let me handle the directions, maybe we’d get there faster!”

You sighed as Fox screwed with the gigantic spiral-bound map he found shoved between the bench of your rental truck. When the two of you landed, you discovered something new about your fellow agent- he liked being in charge of not only picking but driving the rental car. You knew the Bureau provided money for the vehicle, but you had no idea it was within your purview to choose which. You might’ve picked something a little sleeker and smaller, like an understated sedan, but the man with the pen did not share your taste, so this time you didn’t get to exercise the privilege. Fox teased you as he signed the papers for an old Chevy pickup, saying, “Seniority, Piglet.” And now he was refusing to let you control the map while he drove the two of you straight into bumblefuck Kansas as if he had a foolproof inner compass.

“Seriously, Fox, come on. It’s dangerous to drive like this, just let me help.”

“I’ve survived every case this way, you know,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, alone! You’ve got me here now, and I’m not gonna let you crash the damn car while I’m inside!” You resolved, tearing the map from his hand and ripping it at the corner of the page. All you tore was the map scale, but he still shot you a dirty look.

“Nice going–”

“Enough!”

You wanted to believe you didn’t enjoy the way he bickered with you, but it kept the endless drive of dying grass and grey sky interesting. Fox had to double-check every direction you gave him on the way into Marysville, Kansas, at whose name you of course rolled your eyes. The snarky driver learned to stop doubting you about an hour in when he disregarded your order to make a right-hand turn and went left. It took him ten minutes to admit he was wrong and turn around. You graciously accepted his apology, but not before sticking your tongue out in juvenile triumph. Nearly three hours later with the late afternoon sun preparing to set, the rickety truck pulled past a sign that greeted Welcome to Marysville! and you found yourself in the middle of a quaint little place, seemingly empty, with rows of colonial buildings and businesses. You rolled the window down and felt the muggy spring air stick to your face as you poked your head out, admiring the center of town. You could feel your hair frizzing up, and you hoped you’d have time to fix it before you had to do any work. This was not the time to look anything other than prepared.

Fox piped up, “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m gonna make a pitstop at the police station before the motel.”

You huffed and fell back into the seat, and the man let out a soft chuckle. You combatted, “What now?”

“You’re like a little kid.”

“Am not!”

Fox quirked an eyebrow at you, silently proving his point, and your face melted into a playful smile. You stopped complaining and he turned his attention back to the road, where he surveyed for a police department sign. He found it on the corner of a block, but he nearly missed it- if he wasn’t paying attention, he might’ve mistaken it for just another shop. There were stately stone steps out front and two swinging doors that were reminiscent of a saloon, so you made note of the entrance for the next time it camouflaged into the rest of the town. Fox pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine, which sputtered a bit, and you made a nervous face.

“Don’t worry,” Fox smiled, “I can just hotwire something if we need to.” When you made a face, he added, “Come on, I’m kidding!”

All you gave in return was a skeptical, “We’ll see.”

As he moved to open his door, he paused, noticing how you sat still. “Everything okay?”

In your head, you weren’t sure how to answer his question. One thing has been irking you since you landed in the Midwest, and that was how badly you wanted to nail introducing yourself; you’d thought over exactly how to pull your badge from your pocket, and how you’d assert your new title, but every vision ended with you screwing it up. You’d done this at your old job in New York so often it became second nature, but somehow this was different. This was bigger. You had so much more power with a federal badge. You wondered how Fox did it every time; if he was stern, or positive, or something in between. You almost wished you’d practiced it in the mirror, but that felt stupid to entertain.Yet now that it was time to establish yourself as the overarching authority, a beacon of hope to the people of this town and the families who have lost daughters, you were afraid to make a fool of yourself by either overdoing it or not doing it right at all. For God’s sake, you dropped your passport in front of the flight attendant- what made you think you wouldn’t blurt out FBI too loud in front of the sheriff? What would the citizens of Marysville think if the government sent them a detective who couldn’t even get her name out without stuttering?

Fox wished he could read your mind, but all he could do was watch your eyes glaze over. He reached out and touched your shoulder. “Anybody home?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You’re nervous.”

“Kind of,” you huffed, “There’s a lot I’m nervous about, you know that.”

“About the case?”

“Yeah, the case. And about doing well. Proving myself. Not letting you down,” you added at the end, to which he broke into an appreciative grin. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“You’re lucky you have me then. I’m practically a diamond,” Fox winked, “Relax. I’ll take the lead.”

Fox might be a pain in the ass, but he was somewhat of a gentleman; after promising he’d lead you through things, he held the door to the station open for you, and you went inside first. There wasn’t much of a lobby. It was more like walking straight into a bullpen, and a calm one, at that. You saw three officers sitting at their desks; two working diligently on what seemed to be simple paperwork, and another with his feet kicked up on the desk and a newspaper over his head, snoring loudly. A faulty fan was whirring exhaustedly in the corner next to an open window. It was mundane everywhere you looked- dusty bookshelves, tidy filing cabinets, dust floating in the light beams spilling through the blinds. An aging woman was working the counter with fat librarian glasses perched on her hook nose and a frizzy, box-blonde French twist. Fox nudged your elbow politely, and you stepped aside to let him approach her first.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Special Agent Fox Mulder. This is my partner.”

You watched him carefully as you fished your badge out of your jacket pocket and flipped it open. He held his own up briefly, barely long enough for anyone to know if it was real. You took it he never ran into that issue. His voice in introduction wasn’t stiff, but it was still assertive. There was a warmth in the way he spoke to her, and you thought maybe he was always gentler with older women, or possibly with everyone- he certainly spoke that way with you. You would’ve kept thinking about it if he didn’t keep going.

“I talked on the phone with a Sheriff Hale, he requested my partner and I come down and take a look at a string of murders?”

The woman smiled with all her teeth, and you could tell by the way her eyes sparkled that she liked him. Just like the lady at the airport. You wouldn’t have pegged him as a ladies’ man, but it made sense. He did have a unique charm about him.

“Oh, yes! Well, Sheriff Hale is out on a house call, ‘ya see, but he’s bound to be back in soon. I can send a call out for ‘im, if you like.” Her country accent was thick as molasses, and just as sweet.

“That’d be great, ma’am, thank you.”

“Oh, please, call me Mary!”

Fox laughed and confirmed, “Mary from Marysville, huh?”

Mary cackled like an obnoxious schoolgirl, and you had to bite back a laugh yourself. Fox stepped away with you as the woman hopped on the phone to speak with the sheriff, throwing glances his way all the while.

“Flirting on the job, Fox?”

“What can I say? I’ve got game, Piglet.”

A part of you wanted to know more, but there wasn’t enough time to try between his teasing comment and the interruption of frazzled Mary: “Excuse, Mr. Agent Mulder, sir?”

“Yes?”

“The- the sheriff says he needs you down at the Church of Saint Peter the Apostle as soon as you can, sir, down on the corner. There’s been another murder, dear Lord…”

Fox defaulted to you, and despite your apprehension, you were the first to head for the door. He called back to the woman with a rushed, “Thank you, tell him we’re on our way!” and the two of you hurried to the old pickup parked out front. He got it up and running and rushed off, and there wasn’t one complaint when you reached for the map and turned to the page with a closer view of Marysville, and told him where to go.

“Up on the corner, she said, but which corner?” You wondered aloud, and Fox kept his eyes on the road. You were just about to tell him to make a left when a beater came barreling through a stop sign at the intersection, wholly ignoring your right of way, causing Fox to slam on the breaks. You lurched forward in the seat and caught yourself by slamming the map against the glovebox. You flushed, feeling like an idiot for forgetting your seatbelt.

“Are you hurt?” Fox blurted. His hand reached out to brush some hair away from your forehead, checking for a bruise or blood, but all you could think about was how softly his fingertips ghosted against your temple. You didn’t feel any pain, but you sure were shaken up.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” He dropped his hand and looked in the direction of the tin can that nearly killed you both, seeing its tire marks trailing down the road. “Where do you think he was going, driving like that?… Dick.”

He tried to let the insult slip under his breath, but you heard it loud and clear. You giggled, and he smirked at you, noting that you liked a slip-up here and there. You began to say something, but two more cars came hurtling down the street in front of the truck, laying on the horn at you for being stopped a quarter of the way into the intersection. Both loosely followed the tire tracks and made screeching turns a few blocks to the right. You looked to Fox for an explanation, who stared back with just as much confusion as you, and he took off, chasing the commotion. You clicked your seatbelt in hurriedly, holding onto the door handle. You weren’t one for speed, but you didn’t feel as unsafe as you would’ve expected yourself to. Fox knew the car well. He knew the dimensions, he knew how fast it could go, and he clearly felt comfortable in the driver’s seat because he was plowing through town like he was the one being chased. You saw a wild grin creep up on his cheeks, and your face felt warm. It was fun, going fast.

Just up the road, you saw red lights flashing in alarm, and a mass of cars pulled up in disarray outside a little church, including the three trucks that nearly killed you. It had to be smaller than the police station- it was wooden, with a weathered steeple that was shadowed by the falling dusk, and moss grew unabated over the windowsills. Teenagers and parents were prowling by the sheriff’s car, which Fox parked right beside.

“Holy shit!”

“Lord, that’s disgusting!”

“Lemme in, lemme see!”

The two of you hopped out and hurried through the hollering crowd of townspeople, right up to the ambulance that blocked them out, but didn’t hide their view. Kids peeked past the authorities with sick looks. Two paramedics met you at the yellow tape and passed some rubber gloves off, which you took gratefully, already feeling your stomach drop at the exclamations of the onlookers. When you finally got past the ambulance, you gasped at the crime scene which one deputy and the supposed Sheriff Hale were rushing to cover with tarps and close off. Fox held up the tape for you to duck beneath, and he followed as you stepped onto the scene.

“Sheriff Hale?” You inquired. “We’re with the FBI, you called for us?”

The older of the two men looked up. He had a beet-red face, which could’ve been from the intensity of the Kansas sun or stress; his eyebrows were bushy as beaver tails, and his stocky build made it hard to believe he did much more than paperwork. But nonetheless, he stood up and shook your hands as he greeted, “Thanks for getting down here so quick, agents. I reckon this is the fourth victim, she, uh… well, how about y’all take a look?”

You and Fox stood on the little dirt path that led to the steps of the church, lined with painted rocks. It looked like a children’s effort, a community project. There was a large crucifix marking where the peak of the building met the steeple, and a giant translucent sheet covered the steps; on the tall double doors, there were thick splatters of oxidizing blood and splintered wood. You knelt beside the younger officer, who was taking photographs of the scene, and made yourself known.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like another murder, ma’am,” he frowned. You noticed his name embroidered into his uniform pocket: Deputy H. Jones. He was tall and skinny as a twig, with an endearing gap between his two front teeth. He looked too young to be a college student, let alone a police deputy. “A real shame.”

“Did you know the victim, Deputy Jones?”

“Sure I did, knew ‘em all. Lots… lots of ‘em went to school with me. This girl here, though, she was a good friend of my lil’ sister. Liane Jacobs. Real sweet girl. It, uh, it’s a rough thing to see, ma’am.”

Your heart sank at the thought of what it must feel like to be him. You reached to peel back the tarp, and it took less than a second for you to lay it right back down. You weren’t prepared for the sight, and had to choke down a gag. “Jesus Christ.”

“You ask me, Jesus ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, agent. Not a thing.”

Deputy Jones’s face fell pale as he walked away, leaving you to examine the victim. You slowly lifted the tarp again, careful not to reveal anything to the crowd gathering outside the confines of the caution tape. Despite the breakfast you had rumbling like rocks inside your gut, you took a mental note of the girl lying before you, gutted like a pig. She looked far worse than the photos in Fox’s file. Her entire chest cavity was splayed open as if her ribs had been ripped out all at once. The tissue of her dermis and lungs was a mixture of chop meat, all littering the jagged edges of her vertebrae, which were missing bones in all the spots the X-rays had in common. Her lower body was littered with bruises and cuts, especially around the hips and lower abdomen, yet her face was left untouched- not even a spot of blood was present to interrupt the porcelain appearance. She looked supremely calm, in contrast to her violent disposition; relaxed eyelids, perfectly tinted lips, flawless teenage skin. Her dark hair fell in Hollywood ringlets across her shoulders, manicured, well-placed, well-planned. You gazed up at the cross she sat rotting beneath, and you wondered what God would do, had he the choice to help you understand. You only stopped contemplating when a hand tapped the crown of your head, and you saw your partner looking down at you.

“Her name is Liane Jacobs,” you sighed, “The deputy knew her personally.”

“Seems like everyone did. Seventeen years old, grew up a mile out from here. She worked at the library as a part-time bookkeep and spent her weekends volunteering at this very church,” Fox informed. “The sheriff, deputy, and her parents all swore she was a good girl, a good friend. Devoted to her faith.”

“Look what it got her. So much for being devoted,” you grumbled, tugging Fox down to take a closer look.

A short-lived expression of shock crossed the man’s face, and then he was all business; he knelt over the body, close enough to give you the creeps, and studied the girl’s lacerations. You leaned back on the heels of your boots and glanced around, finding the bystanders terrified of how Fox seemed to dole over the dead body. You squirmed uncomfortably, realizing they must think you had a screw loose, too.

“We’re gonna need an autopsy on the body, but a lot of these mutilations match the other victims just from a visual deduction. The missing ribs, the bruising around the waist and legs. But this is way more aggressive. This is like the other deaths on steroids. The killer didn’t take nearly the same care removing the bones from her chest cavity– I mean, the last murders weren’t surgical by any means, but this? This is violent. Might as well have torn her apart by hand. Somebody is really angry. Maybe even crying out for help. It’s hard to tell.”

“Well, however they’re feeling, they clearly had something against this girl. I mean, they desecrated her, Fox. Her body is completely destroyed. I can’t even fathom what would possess someone to- to ruin a young girl like this.”

Fox nodded curtly, furrowing his eyebrows in agreement. Then his neck craned down, and he mumbled, “Hey, look at this.”

You watched Fox’s glove-clad hand dig into poor Liane’s jeans pocket, tugging out a thin string of wooden beads. It was uneven with little plastic beads between the wood bits, which told you it was homemade. The rosary looked almost charred, and the cross dangling at the bottom was splintered.

“Do you think it’s hers?”

Fox laid the chain in your palm and pointed to the little metal tag that conjoined the sides, where three initials were stamped: LMJ.

“Liane Michelle Jacobs,” he confirmed, “Seems like the type our guy would pick, don’t you think? Looks-wise. Even if she died differently, still fits the profile.”

You moved to drape the tarp back over the body, but not before taking one last look at her face. Liane looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her family couldn’t hold an open casket, and everyone would live with how she was found, discarded like roadkill on the local church steps, but she was still beautiful, and that was eating at you.

“I feel horrible.”

“This isn’t really the best first case to work on,” Fox admitted, “I wish it was something different for you.”

You wouldn’t have expected to be so moved by a dead girl. In all your years at college studying the world’s most prolific cases, learning how to compartmentalize, and doing fieldwork in New York, you had a stomach of steel. You could take any case, see any death, and solve it. But you’d never had the feeling you have now, as you see the fourth victim surrendered at the foot of a carpenter. Something dark surrounded her, something that nailed you to the steps. There was a force at work you’d never known before. Something was wrong. You couldn’t be sure if Fox felt it, too, but it was making it near impossible to separate your empathy from your logic. You just wanted to cover Liane, and hope that she didn’t feel any pain, and if everyone might turn their backs to you, maybe you could cry for a moment at the loss of an innocent girl to a monster.

Fox could see you fighting with yourself by the way you chewed at your bottom lip, eyes locked on the girl’s still face. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he had to say something.

“I know this is hard for you. Especially with all the pressure you’re feeling. But I also know having you here will help save other girls like Liane. You’re more than well-equipped for this. If anyone can do the job, it’s you.”

You tipped your head back to blink away a few tears that poked your eyes, and you let the plastic cover the body. Fox cleared his throat and said, “Come on, let’s go. Let the coroner take her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Offering you a hand, Fox got you back on your feet and you followed him down the walkway towards the street. Two men shuffled over to scoop up the mess on the steps, and you had to tune out all the crying and commentary coming from the townspeople. The colors on the ground were distracting. Every rock was a different shape and size, all probably appealing to the child who chose them; there were paintings of houses and dogs, butterflies and crosses, mothers and fathers holding hands. Kids always seemed to draw what they knew best, even if their imagination took them to so many other places. You stopped short in your gawking and bent down, picking up one of the rocks lining the path; it was red, with a faded painting of a donkey looking up at a lopsided star. You turned the stone over in your hand, feeling the smooth texture, and found a neatly printed name on the back: Liane J. 3rd Grade. You pocketed the rock with no good reason and hurried to catch up with your partner who was waiting by the passenger door of the rental truck, lost in his head. When you reached him, he opened the door for you, and you slipped inside, suddenly deflated.

“I don’t think there’s much else to do tonight until we hear back from Sherriff Hale or the county morgue, so I guess we should head to the motel. I could use a second to settle in. I bet you could, too.”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You muttered.

Fox began to shut the door on you, but paused, eyes grazing over your face. You weren’t nervous anymore, but were something else. There wasn’t a touch of color in your cheeks, but your skin was still soft-looking, like your eyes. He didn’t like the softness of them, actually, since it seemed more like fragility, or frailty, than gentle. Sitting in the truck he’d picked, on his case you were unlucky enough to be placed on, you looked young and worn, eager and tired, your hair just sweet fuzz framing the face of a girl unaware of what she agreed to. That might be the worst part, how you looked, along with how he imagined you felt. It made his chest ache.

“Hey, uh, are you hungry? I know, bad time to think about eating, but I haven’t since before the flight this morning.”

You scrunched your nose and thought about the last time you ate. You recalled grabbing a power bar on the way out of the house in the morning, but you also seemed to recall passing it to Fox at the airport gate when he complained about being starving. So, you haven’t eaten at all. The nerves kept you full.

“Well, a little, I guess. I probably should have something.”

“How about I stop and grab us a bite on the way over? Sound good?”

You felt the shadow of a smile on your lips, and you nodded your head. Fox made up for the grin you couldn’t muster with all his teeth and shut the car door swiftly, jogging around the front of the truck to get in the driver’s seat. Without another word, he started the engine and backed away from the scene, leaving the Marysville authorities to pack Liane up and ship her off to the morgue. You watched the crowd watch, and you wondered how a town so small and close-knit as this one appeared could stand around and ogle a dead girl they claimed to cherish. You replayed the whole thing in your head- how you froze, how you almost cried, how Fox had to get you out. You were more than embarrassed at how you acted, but you couldn’t change it. You were just lucky he was the only one paying attention.

Blowing out a slow, sleepy breath, you flipped the map open to look for the motel, but Fox laid his hand on it and said, “It’s okay. I got directions from the Sheriff. He said there’s a burger joint on the way, too. You take it easy for now, okay?”

Unwilling to protest, you sat quietly in the seat and let him drive down the pothole-riddled road. You obsessed over the weight of the rock in your pocket, and it felt the way you did back with Liane’s body– dark, unnatural. You left it there and hoped no one would notice it was gone.

#fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #txf #catholiscism #tw religious themes #religious symbolism

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writingpiecesak · 1 year

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Imagine arguing with 💥Katsuki Bakugou💥

Nothing has been going well lately for you. Missing essay assignments for your sociology class, late night shifts causing you to miss dinner time, said late night shifts from your shitty boss who doesn’t understand the idea of a breath mint. Getting a speeding ticket because you were late for school. You’re favorite sushi place closed down and your hair is frizzing up because of damn weather conditions.

All you wanted right now was a warm bubble bath with candles and soothing music playing in the background while you sip a glass of white wine. To fall into a trace of relaxation, keeping away from the real worlds problems. To just have a moment to yourself. A simple moment. Is that too much to ask?

“Killed your ass! Hop off the game already you’re so bad!”

Ah, the wonderful yelling of gaming frustration coming from the living room. Your eyes weren’t surprised by your boyfriend, Katsuki gaming in front of the television with his headset and mic settled perfectly in between his ears. Otherwise, he would’ve heard you come in.

After standing there for about five minutes he finally noticed you. “Oh welcome home babe. Dinner’s in the oven.”

Well at least he cooked dinner. You walked into the kitchen setting down your car keys and handbag. Grabbing a plate a fork from the cabinets you pull out what was left in the oven for you. To your dislike though, it was spicy meatloaf with curry rice.

You understand your boyfriend loves spicy food, but doesn’t it have to be all the time? Why couldn’t he ask you what would you like for dinner? Is it that hard to send a text or to try calling?

With a heavy sign you put back the utensil and plate, looking around the pantry for anything else to substitute the growing hunger laying in your stomach.

No one thought to buy groceries either…. Why was everything left to you? Buying groceries, making dinner satisfying both parties, cleaning the damn dishes he used.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your favorite box of cereal, fruity pebbles always makes things better even if it’s for a short moment before they get soggy. You lifted the box from its spot only to have it feel light as a feather. You shook the box around trying to feel out how much would be left until you hear Katsuki call out from the living room.

“Oh I forgot to tell you. I had the last bowl of that fruit cereal this morning! Sorry hun I was hun–behind you! No behind you Kiri! Damn it Ashido you’re supposed to cover his ass.”

You got to be freaking kidding me… Your grip tighten around the box and finally frustration snapped. You flung the empty box straight to his head, so hard it knocked his headset off in fact. Immediately Katsuki pulled a face and got up from his seat.

“Seriously? You’re mad over damn cereal!”

“No I’m mad at you!”

“For what? I made you dinner!”

“No, you made yourself dinner. You know I can’t handle spicy food.” You shouted.

A small moment of realization hit him but he wasn’t going to admit his wrongs. “Then eat shit then! At least I cooked something meanwhile all you eat is takeout.”

The distance of talking started getting closer together with every notch being brought higher. “Because I work late! Ever thought to ask me what I would want for dinner? What I would like to come home to?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, I patrol my ass in serious dangerous areas. And when needed I go out and fight! That’s my job! All you do is organize paperwork for a boss that’s a mere extra.”

“Oh so now you’re going to blame me for not having a quirk and saving people? Some people are normal! Regular! Having to work shitty jobs to make a living Katsuki!”

“I’m not listening to this pity party. Quirk or no quirk, you can always find a better job.” You see him beginning to sit back down and grabbing his headset from off the floor. But you weren’t done speaking. You marched right to his console and immediately pulled all cords not caring which was for what. The tv screen had went black, you threw the cords at his feet with a winning smirk.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” As his anger rises you could see his hands starting to give off sparks.

“You’re my problem Kats! This apartment is my problem! My job is my problem! My hair is my problem! Everything is a fucking problem with me!”

Breathing heavily your eyes start to water but you didn’t want to cry not now especially. You pushed passed Katsuki and headed straight for the bedroom instantly locking it. You grabbed the hem of the fluffy blanket and threw it around. Throwing around the pillows and just trying to take out your frustration on something other than your boyfriend right now.

Wanting more destruction to voice out your anger, you grabbed your night table lamp and threw it at the bedroom door with a final scream. Now only sadness floods through you as realizing you’d would have to clean everything up. Before you’re able to take a step towards the door, Katsuki burst through with concern worries look. Unfortunately he stepped on the pieces of sharp colorful glass which the lamp was made of. But the pain in his feet couldn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart seeing you cry.

“I’m sorry. Everything is just…a problem.” You lowered your head wanting to mask the tears as you thought for a sign of weakness. Katsuki carefully walked around the mess and grabbed you hand, pulling you into his chest as you cried letting out the anger in a different way that didn’t cause destruction.

“It’s okay. Let it out, I’m here. You’re okay. I’m sorry too. I’ll buy you five hundred fruity pebble boxes. Just please….take the glass out my foot.”

A small giggle escaped your lips. You wrapped your arms around your lover and snuggled closer, deeper into his scent.

“My feet are bleeding dumbass. But…let’s stay like this a little longer.”

#mha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #mha #katsuki bakugou

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bees--in-my--bones · 1 year

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Silver Linings - Terry Silver Part 1 of 7

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

----- / Chapter 2

Character: Terry Silver x female reader

Summary: Terry has been spending far too much time away from home, and you've had enough of the dojo taking up all his time.

Warnings: fighting, manipulation, mention of cocaine, mention of violence, fade to black scene, but really nothing too crazy (surprisingly)

Word Count: 3400

A/N: This man makes me so insane. This was meant to be a one shot that went a little differently but I ended up outling a seven part series. oops. keep an eye out for those. anywho I've been reading a lot of @terrence-silver 's stuff and I just wanna tell you right now that's where the good Terry Silver writing is. I literally wrote that sentence then got distracted for 20 minutes looking at their blog. but anyway they characterize him far better than i ever could but here's my shot at it

While you didn’t appreciate being treated as an assistant, your husband had that glint in his eye that you knew all too well. He was planning something, and whether it be trying to get a leg up on a rival businessman or purely just to spite someone, you knew better than to get in his way. Best to let him have his fun, and it would all blow over in a few weeks at the most.

-----

Terry had come to you only a few days ago with a request: Clear out the house and have the staff get to work. You were hosting a charity auction.

So had you sent Dorothy, your personal assistant, off to make arrangements with the head of household staff, and kept your mouth shut. Terry had been on edge more often lately since getting back into Cobra Kai, so you were positive that a more passive approach to his sudden burst of charity was far better suited to the situation. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if this whole thing had something to do with his dojo. Most things did nowadays.

Unfortunately, you were right.

You hid your surprise and annoyance when Daniel LaRusso himself showed up on your doorstep, silently observing the fear on his face from your spot on your husband’s arm, as the karate champion turned car salesman turned sensei realized exactly whose home Eva Garcia had thrown her charity event at.

Again, you kept a stony facade when Terry outbid everyone for Daniel’s bonsai trees, then took the opportunity to spin another spiel about Cobra Kai’s expansion.

And no one would have guessed that you had even registered Daniel LaRusso’s outburst, the one that caused Terry to fall into the bonsai trees and send them flying, more than likely egged on by your husband himself, had you not leaned over to Dorothy with a murmured instruction.

“Have someone clean those up. I want them in my office. And place an order for a book on the care and keeping of bonsai trees.”

Weaving through the crowd, you made your way to Terry, who now had a considerable amount of dirt on his jacket, but was standing. Eva Garcia was fawning over him, trying to ensure that he hadn’t broken anything. You nearly laughed at the thought of your husband being “frail” in his old age, but that seemed to be the front he had decided to put on.

Silently, you took his hand and led him away from the party. You took him to your room, where you slipped his now dirt-covered jacket off of him and made him sit on the edge of the bed. He obeyed every prompt from you without a sound, eyes watching intently as you moved across the room and into the closet, emerging shortly after with a different coat.

You set it on the edge of the bed, then grabbed a brush from the nightstand. You slipped the ponytail off of his frazzled hair, which was met with some protest, but you batted his hand away, and he was silent after that.

Gently, you combed out the tangles and the frizz, and you felt him relax under your touch. You did this daily, and you couldn’t deny that the trust he put in you to take care of him filled you with pride, even if it was as simple as brushing his hair. “Do you want your hair back up?” you asked him, the first thing you had spoken this entire time.

“Yes,” he answered bluntly, and although you missed the days that he more often let his long hair flow more freely, the way it gently curtained his face when he looked down at you, you obliged, expertly smoothing his locks back into his signature ponytail. Not that you cared all that much anyway. You had fallen in love with him with the ponytail, and you genuinely didn’t think he could do anything that would make him less attractive.

“I’ll be outside,” you told him, intending to leave him to put on the suit jacket himself, and effectively avoid rejoining the party at his side. But when you began to walk away, you had barely even made it a few steps before he grabbed your wrist and stood up in one smooth motion, pulling you into him.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What’s bothering you?”

So he could tell you were upset. You weren’t surprised. After all, you hadn’t tried too hard to hide it.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” you replied. You smiled your best fake smile and took his hand in yours.

He seemed skeptical, but did not argue. You turned to face the mirror, and he turned with you. The both of you were dressed in a matching deep blue, an undeniable team.

"Thank you for making the arrangements for today," he said in a gentle voice you had only ever heard him use with you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. "It's going exactly as well as I hoped it would have."

You felt a twinge in your stomach at that statement, which was practically a confirmation that the whole point of today had been to interfere with Daniel and Amanda LaRusso. But you didn't dare let your smile drop as you stretched up to his face to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Anything for you. But we better get back."

He looked away from the mirror, and his eyes softened as they found you once more. "Right as always, my love." He took the lead, and the two of you returned to the party as one.

It wasn't long before you were separated again, though, called in different directions.

You played the part of the passive bystander well, you knew that. But you were an observer, and at that point, you were positive you knew exactly what was happening. And with your husband’s observation skills being as keen as your own, you knew you had a matter of minutes to enact the plan slowly forming in your mind. Grabbing two flutes of champagne off of a passing tray, you made your way over to Eva Garcia.

The glass of champagne outstretched, you gave her your most dazzling smile. “How are you liking the accommodations Ms. Garcia?”

She accepted the drink, her friendly smile matching your own. “Thank you, Mrs. Silver. Your home is wonderful, and we're so grateful you and your husband were able to put this on with such short notice.”

“Of course!” you said, briefly touching one of your hands to hers. “We were positively honored to do so. But between you and me, I did far more of the work than Terry did,” you said with a wink.

She laughed. It was a lie. You had given one instruction and Dorothy and the rest of the staff had taken care of it. But that’s not a story that added very much to your little game, and creating some sort of friendly solidarity with Garcia was your main goal.

“You both have been very generous hosts,” Eva responded politely.

“A little too generous if you ask me,” you replied. This was the most pivotal part of the conversation. Screw it up here and it all went out the door. You raised your glass to your lips, eyes darting quickly around the room. Terry hadn’t spotted you yet. Good.

“Whatever do you mean?” Eva asked, her brow furrowing.

You sighed. “In all honesty, I think my husband only wants a spot on the board. I mean, the hosting on such short notice, the overbidding at the auction, the bit of theatrics he pulled with Daniel LaRusso… They’ve been rivals for some time now, of course.” You swirled the champagne around in your glass. “Probably just wants a tax writeoff.” You shrugged and took another, conspicuously large drink of the alcohol. Eva blanched, and you knew you had her. The host’s wife, slightly tipsy, slightly bitter, and loose of lip. Like always, you played your part well.

“Mrs. Silver, if I understand you correctly,” Eva began hesitantly, but allowing her curiosity to get the better of her, “you believe Mr. Silver would not be suited to be on our charity’s board?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be a very good wife if I said it quite that frankly…”

She nodded, but her voice was still unsure when she spoke again. “I suppose I’ll have to take what you said into mind, but I can’t overlook the generous contributions Mr. Silver has already made to our group. With him on the board-”

“Two million dollars, right now, if you cut all contact with my husband and his corporations. I don't care who the position goes to.”

In all honesty you would choose Amanda LaRusso, out of spite, but you didn't want to sully her name with your bribery.

Eva’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Silver! What kind of game are you playing?”

You looked her dead in the eye. “My husband is playing ringmaster right now, and everyone at this party is a clown in his circus. I simply want to throw my own hat into the ring. I don’t know what his plan is, or why he’s doing it exactly, but I have been married to that man long enough to know when he’s manipulating someone, and he’s manipulating the hell out of you right now. I’m offering you a chance to get away from his scheming, with an extra two million dollars to boot.”

She set her mouth in a firm line. You could tell she was a woman of high morality, but two million dollars was two million dollars. “I would have to consider it.”

“That’s all I ask,” you replied. You took a business card out of the pocket of your dress. “My assistant’s number is on here. Call her when you've come to a decision.”

“Mrs. Silver I-”

“My darling!” A deep voice interrupted her, and a moment later you felt a kiss on your cheek. Turning, you met Terry’s eyes and your face broke into a grin. Despite your suspicions and scheming, you did love the man. You wouldn’t have married him otherwise.

“My love,” you responded, and placed a kiss on his cheek in a similar fashion. Your gazes did not leave each other for a tense moment. To an outside observer, it was impossible to tell whether you were sizing each other up or simply swept away in a moment of romantic passion. You didn’t quite know yourself.

“My apologies for the public display of affection Ms. Garcia,” Terry said, snapping his attention toward your guest and away from your eyes, but not without snaking an arm around your waist. “I got a bit excited at the sight of my wife. I feel as though I've hardly seen her today.”

Or at all lately, you thought. Not with all your Cobra Kai bullshit.

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Silver,” she replied. She seemed, for the most part, casual, but you could hear a hint of tightness in her voice. “You two make a lovely couple.”

Terry grinned at this, and you smiled politely. “Thank you very much, Ms. Garcia. Y/N is nothing short of the light of my life.” A small squeeze of your waist as he said this. Threatening or affectionate? Who could tell?

“I trust you’ve been enjoying the party?” Terry continued. “We worked hard to put it all together, but I do think we pulled it all off well.”

Eva glanced at you. “Yes, the whole organization is very appreciative.”

“Truly, it was our pleasure,” your husband responded. “Now, I do apologize for this, but do you mind if I steal my beautiful wife away? Some friends were asking for her.”

“Of course,” Eva replied, some of the tension dropping from her shoulders. “Thank you both again.”

With a nod Terry guided you away from her. “What did you talk about with Eva?” he asked. His tone was light, and with anyone else in the world, it may have sounded like casual conversation, but you knew Terry Silver better than you knew anyone, and you knew that he was suspicious.

“I was chatting you up,” you replied. “You wouldn’t have put this event on without some sort of goal in mind, so I figured I could put in a good world for you. Talk about the work we’ve done together.”

“You don’t believe that I did all this out of the goodness of my heart?”

You laughed. “That would be the day, Terry.”

“Hm,” was all he said after that, a faint smile on his face. Unfortunately, Terry Silver also knew you better than he knew anyone, and there was a very good chance that he knew you were lying. But he said no more on the subject, although you noticed he had plenty of excuses the rest of the day to be sure that you stayed by his side.

—--

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to Eva again, Terry, however subtly, had made sure of that, but you were fairly certain you didn’t need to. You had seen the look in her eyes when Terry approached you, and you knew that giving her the impression of a sleazy businessman with a wife who offered bribes would be plenty to keep Terry away from that organization. Whether she actually took the bribe or not was inconsequential to you, so long as she got the idea that getting involved with Terry Silver would be getting involved with a lot shadier practices than she first thought.

You sat on the couch in your living room, sipping on some tea before bed. It was a serene ending to a hectic day. Your serenity was soon disrupted, however, by Dorothy, who entered the room, clipboard in hand.

“Is everything alright, Dorothy?” you asked. “It’s awfully late.”

“Mrs. Silver, you’ve just received a call from Eva Garcia. She says that she’s decided to accept your offer.”

“Hm.” you said, slightly surprised that she did accept after all. “Dorothy, first thing tomorrow morning I need you to set up a transfer of two million dollars to Ms. Garcia’s charity accounts.”

“Yes ma’am,” she replied, scribbling down the note on her clipboard. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Dorothy.”

She made a quick exit, and you set your tea on the coffee table, laying back down on the couch, shutting your eyes with a contented sigh. It did feel good to win, even if it was against your husband.

Footsteps entered the room. “Dorothy?” you asked, not looking up. “Is there something else?”

“Not Dorothy,” a deep voice reverberated in the otherwise quiet room, causing your eyes to snap open as you quickly rose once more to a sitting position.

“Terry! It’s past one a.m.! Where did you go?”

He smiled his ever-placating smile. “It was just a small late night session with a few of my senseis. I needed to prepare them with some new techniques for tomorrow’s classes.”

Your brow furrowed and you turned from him, now sitting facing straight ahead. “Yes, the dojo. Why bother asking when that’s always the answer?”

He sat down beside you, and ever so gently took your chin into his hand, guiding your face back to look him in the eyes once more. You saw only love in them. His hand didn’t leave your face, and he stroked your cheekbone tenderly as he spoke.

“I’m afraid that’s true, my love, which is why I’m glad you’ve waited up for me. We see so little of each other these days. I have a vision for these children, for the dojo, for our very methods of karate, a vision that has regrettably taken my time away from you.”

Slowly, almost mournfully, he drew you in closer, placing a sweet kiss upon your lips. Even all these years later, you still felt the same butterflies, the same rush of heat to your face as you did the very first time he kissed you. Which is probably why you didn’t register the slow subtle movement of his hand down the side of your face, didn’t notice as his fingers wrapped around your throat.

His grip was as gentle as could be, his hand merely resting there, as he broke the kiss, but the threat was clear. His eyes, tender only moments before, were now cold as ice.

“You forget how long I’ve known you, my love. I can tell when you’re lying to me.”

You placed your hand onto his, deftly moving it so that your fingers interlocked. You had neutralized his “threat” but the message was still there. “What do you mean?” you asked. Better to deny until you couldn’t deny anymore.

“Eva Garcia. You paid her off.”

You took some silent offense to his accusation, however true it may be. “What makes you say that?”

“I had my suspicions this afternoon, but Dorothy is quite loud. Loud enough to confirm those suspicions at least. I could hear your discussion from the entryway.”

“Damn,” you whispered, averting your eyes.

He pulled you in close, the gesture forgiving, even if he was upset. “Why did you do it, beloved?”

Because none of that matters, you wanted to say. None of the scheming and manipulation mattered if it meant that Terry cared more about the dojo than you. What mattered was that you were in his arms, he was so close to you, and he was looking at you, really looking at you, in a way that he hadn’t in months. All it took was one “My love,” one hint of the old Terry to send your defenses crumbling.

You buried your head in his chest and his arms wrapped tighter around you to hold you closer. “I just miss you. And I hate Cobra Kai.”

“You what?” came his reply, his tone dangerously low, not at all the comforting sound you would have hoped for.

“I hate that damn dojo and Danny LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence and John Kreese and all of it, because it’s taking you away from me and I don’t know what’s happening to you.” You looked up at him, placing a hand on his cheek. “What happened to the sweet Terry that played piano in the mornings and saved the scheming and manipulation for business deals instead of wasting all that energy on a bunch of children?”

His face shifted into what you could only call a sneer. “That Terry was a facade. He let the world tell him who he had to be. I’m finally me again, darling.” A bitter laugh. "I was about to start a mindfulness app with some millennial internet personality for God's sake."

“And I forgive you for that!”

He gripped your shoulders tightly. “I’m alive in a way I haven’t been since Cobra Kai in the 80s.”

“You told me you were on cocaine back then!” you exclaimed. You looked into his pupils trying to see if they were dilated. Not being able to discern anything, you rushed pushed yourself off of the couch and rushed to your bedroom. Terry only sighed and followed after you. You dashed to his nightstand and began rifling through its drawer. “Please tell me you aren’t on something, Terry.”

He took your hands into his own and shut the drawer, effectively calming the frantic state of your body, but not of your mind. “I’m not on anything.”

“Are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

“You’re the one person in this world that I could never lie to.”

“Then promise me something, right now.”

“Anything, my love.”

“Just… be here. Even when you're here, it’s like you’re not here. Do your karate crap, destroy your enemies, truly, I don’t care, but I can’t keep going like this. I need you.”

You saw the beginnings of a smile on the edge of his lips when you said that, and you knew that you had said the right thing. If there’s one thing your husband enjoyed, it was the idea that you needed him above all else.

Suddenly his hands were gripping your waist, tense and itching to move lower, and although his face was only inches from yours, you could see how wide his grin was. “What do you say I prove it to you right now?” he asked, slowly backing toward the bed.

You gave no verbal reply, only captured his lips in a heated kiss before succumbing to him completely.

-----

A/N: I don't write smut, but I just want to say, smut definitely happened.

----- / Chapter 2

#terry silver x reader #terry silver imagine #terry silver x you #cobra kai x reader #karate kid x reader #cobra kai imagine #karate kid imagine

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deada55 · 7 months

Text

The Clicking of the Chain (The Silence of the Lambs Parody) (#1 of 2)

for kloktober day 11: horror movie crossover

It's a parody, not a crossover, and I used a lot of the original script for this sequence to make sure it 'accomplishes' similar things for the main plot. I've always wanted to do this sort of thing... I like doing kloktober pieces that are for me more than the audience, but I hope you enjoy this retelling of one of the most quoted scenes in The Silence of the Lambs featuring Charles Offdensen and Magnus Hammersmith.

tws: body fluids, sexual harassment

At the bottom of the stairs was a left turn into a dingy cream-colored space kin to a car rental window at a crusty regional airport. A bulletin board held seven year-old thank you cards and a sign-in sheet for personal visitors. From a slim staff door came a short man in his sixties in an Orioles ball cap and white coveralls and an extended hand.

“Hi, I’m Mashed Potato Johnson. He told you, don’t get near the bars?” Damien Cornickleson’s footsteps were still volleying down the stairwell.

“Charles Offdensen.” He took the handshake with a bit of a dip. ”Yes, he did.”

“Okay. Past the others, he’s in the last cell. Stay to the middle, now. I put out a chair for you.” He pointed through the door to the gray wall of the corridor, where there was a security camera mounted to the wall. “I’m watching. You’ll do fine.”

His even steps echoed down the dim corridor, lined on one side with cameras and the other with iron bars holding back men of all sorts of shapes and sizes and muttering. Right before he’d reached the end of the hall, a green, black, and white blur threw itself against the bars, bearing wet, darkly streaked, yellow teeth. The white cast on his face rubbed off on the iron, and his crudely-colored green mane of matted frizz was trapped in his grip on the lock.

“Cocaine!”

Charles flinched hard enough to set his glasses off-kilter, but he only stalled on a single step before he was standing squarely in front of Magnus Hammersmith behind bars.

His cell was kept more lit, and had the addition of nylon netting on the exterior side of the bars. The inside of Magnus’ cell was covered in swaths of butcher paper decorated with black and white modern art patterns of various scales, with or without interlocking phantograms of all manners of polygons.

Charles cleared his throat and lowered the briefcase in his hands. “Mr. Hammersmith, my name is Charles Offdensen. May I speak with you?”

Magnus looked up from his magazine, eyes shining behind the tight waves of his hair. His ankles stretched at least a foot past the hem of his hospital pajamas and his skin, historically photographed to be a warm medium tone, was bleached and dusty from the windowless basement floor. Despite the menacing angles of his face, his voice was indignant, not commanding.

“And good morning to you, too,” he sneered, then went back to his reading.

Charles took another step forward.

“Magnus, we’re having a hard time with a case, and we believe you might have some guiding information. Do you mind answering a short questionnaire?”

“ ‘We’ being the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico… But what’s a suit like you doing there? Huh? Fraud investigation wasn’t the thrill you expected?” He chuckled at his own joke and tossed the magazine on the floor with a resonant slap. “You’re one of Roy Cornickleson’s, I expect.”

“I am, yes.”

“Show me.”

Charles whipped his wallet out of his pocket and opened it to his IDs, holding them out in front of them.

“Closer, Charles. I have two eyes, but only one of them works.”

Charles clenched his teeth so he wouldn’t make a face and inched closer each time, but didn’t dare lean.

“Expires in a week. You’re not real FBI yet, are you?”

“I’m still in training at the Academy.” Charles pushed his glasses back up to his nose and squared his feet.

“Old Roy’s showing me off to a trainee? Well-”

“We’re talking about investigation, Magnus. You can decide for yourself if I’m qualified.”

“Smart, Officer Offdensen. Sit down.”

The rusted hinges of the chair bent when he sat down. If he were any heavier, he’d have been tipped into the floor. Magnus mirrored him and sat back down on his cot.

“Now, what did Rockzo say to you? Don’t look stupid– Dr. Rockzo, the Rock n’ Roll Clown in the next cell. He lunged at you. What did he say?”

“He said, uh, ‘cocaine’.”

“Of course he did. He does cocaine. Or did. Whatever. But you… you don’t have that kind of money, do you? You brought your best briefcase to see me today, didn’t you?”

Charles pulled at his tie before he remembered to stop himself. “Sure.”

“It’s better than your shoes, but not great. Not the cocaine type.”

“Not now, no.” Just like that, Magnus was out of things to say, and started to bounce his leg. The movement of his subway-sized foot was comical… if he had a pair of spoons in his hand, they’d click together nicely. The nervous bouncing on such a long, flimsy frame made him look like a dancing toy.

“Did you do those drawings?”

“Yes. Do you care much for contemporary art?”

“I’m not familiar… they allow you to keep a compass?” One of the works was a system of interlocking circles, some of them chained together in links, and others that looked like they were out of a spirograph.

“No. The scratching of the pen is what I have instead of a tune. Can’t let me get a hold on wood or string, can they?”

Charles looked down as if bowing his head in church before taking out a questionnaire from his briefcase. He held his chest higher.

“Magnus, if you’d please…”

“I’ve had my fair share of shrinks and investigators, Offdensen. You’ve been courteous, you’ve established trust and complimented my art, but this segue into your little survey is a bunch of bullshit. It’s boring, it’s stupid, and that’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m asking you to look at it. Either you will or you won’t.”

Magnus snorted and stretched his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed. “Roy Cornickleson must be strapped for time hunting down the ‘Metal Masked Assassin’ if he needs help from the likes of amateurs like you. Did he send you here to ask me about him?”

“No, I-”

“How many people has he used up so far, that Assassin?”

“Five, so far.”

“Flayed?”

“Partially, but that’s an active case, and I’m not involved, s–”

“Do you know why he’s called the Metal Masked Assassin? The newspapers don’t say.”

“I’ll tell you if you look over this form.” Charles passed it into a metal hatch which opened on Magnus’ side when the door to the outside was closed. Once Magnus picked it up, Charles began…

“It, uh, started as a joke, about wearing their faces, like that one movie…”

“And you can’t remember the title.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Right.” Magnus set the questionnaire on the cot beside him. “Show me what you have to offer. Why do you think he takes their skins, Officer Offdensen?”

“Uh, well, most serial killers take a trophy, sometimes for excitement or-”

“I didn’t.”

“You ate them.”

“So it would seem.” He smirked and picked the forms back up, only to begin tearing them in a frenzy that exploded out of nowhere but the air around them. As he struggled, his grunts and the struggling, shearing sounds of ripping copy paper volleyed in the stony ward.

“You think you’re so clever, so ambitious, don’t you Chuck? You’re a fraud dressed like a bourgeois bagman. Good nutrition has given you well-fleshed features, but you’re not more than one generation from salty white trash, are you? That New England accent you prune so delicately to hide all the junkiness of Maine fishmarkets– What was your father, huh? Did you have one, or did he roll from his bed into the sea like every other frozen drunk on his lobster boat? I bet the other boys without fathers found you just fine in locker rooms, with wound, wet towels and cracked lips, while all you could think about was a less physical path of being, of being at all… and power. Powerful as the F.B.I…”

“You see a lot, but are you strong enough to look at yourself? Write it on the piece of paper.”

“And you’d love it, wouldn’t you?”

“If you weren’t a coward.”

“You think you’re tough one, aren’t you?”

“... I decline to comment.”

“Oh, but you’d hate if I thought you were anything but superior! It’d break you to little fucking pieces. Don’t worry, Charles. If you hold your head high enough, everyone will assume you’re tall someday soon.”

“And the questions?”

Magnus turned his back. Charles leaned forward in his seat and slammed the door of the meal hatch open and shut again. Magnus was up and snarling at the bars in a flash.

“A census taker once tried to test me, Charles. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. I hope a degree from Harvard will help you piece together that fucking around making noise in a ward of prisioners and psychos won’t give you a bigger dick! Go back to school. The boys miss you!”

He retreated from the bars to stand in front of one of his works, and Charles took his invitation to leave.

“Ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo!… Dr. Rockzo don’t feel so good. Ohh, it hurts, it’s all infected, shit all over this mess, ooh-hoo! K-k-k-lookit-”

When Charles paused at the cry, he took half a load of semen into his face from Rockzo’s hand. While he howled, Magnus bellowed, “You stupid fucking clown!” Charles fumbled in his pockets for a frayed pink tissue and tried not to let the clown’s cum anywhere closer to his eyes and mouth. Just when he’d passed Dr. Rockzo’s cell and saw the light streaming in from the room he was in before, away from the din rising up in the corridor, he heard Magnus shouting above them all.

“Officer Offdensen!”

With burning eyes and sharp features as contorted and pinched as the acid-trip Devil that leads partygoers to slit their wrists or jump out of bedroom windows, Magnus stood again at the bars of his cell. Charles hurried himself back over, although he couldn’t see further than his armspan while he carefully wiped the body fluids off the lens of his glasses.

The veins in Magnus’ neck were thick as snakes. “Look, I didn’t want that for you. Excretions are disgusting to me, and bad manners-”

“Then do the survey for me.”

“No, but I’ll do you one better. Advancement. Go to Split City, check on an old bandmate of mine, Ravenwood. Just like you think it’s spelled. Now leave. I don’t think Dr. Rockzo could manage again so soon, even if he is crazy. Don’t wait around to see– Go!”

#my writing #metalocalypse fanfic #magnus hammersmith #charles offdensen #dr rockso #kloktober2023

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nancywheelersgirlfriend · 2 years

Note

I found this on the internet: “We’re best friends, and literally everyone knows we’re in love, but we’re too shy to say anything. I want this year to be different, so I’ve stayed by your side through this whole New Year’s party so we could kiss at midnight, but now it’s five minutes till, and I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE YOU ARE!” and I want it so badly with Nancy and Robin

hehe this was fun :) i hope this is what you were looking for!! i know i changed the prompt a little, but it has the same premise

minor steddie, basically blink n you'll miss it

edge of '87 (3,160 words)

11:30 PM

“This time’s gonna be different.” Robin’s voice was muffled by the sheer amount of cake she’d just anxiously shoved in her mouth. Steve, unimpressed and pressed to her shoulder, watched her choke down the chocolate and took a casual sip from his mysterious alcoholic concoction. Whatever Eddie had dumped together for the ‘Party Punch’ in the kitchen, neither could muster the courage to ask. Probably something illegal and/or toxic for the human body. He kept drinking.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

“I swear to God,” Robin continued, pressing her cheek to his with intent. “I’m gonna do it. And it’s not gonna be a ‘friend kiss’.”

“What the hell is a ‘friend kiss’?” Steve asked, question going wholly unanswered as Robin took a rather violent swig of her own drink as an exclamation.

“Tongue and everything,” Robin promised, nodding squarely. Steve scowled into the rim of his cup, eyes drifting away from his best friend and onto the box set behind her. New Years’ Rocking Eve, ‘87 edition, played hazily. He had to squint to tell apart the faces. “Maybe teeth.”

“Teeth,” Steve nodded absently. “Right. Good choice.”

“Maybe not teeth,” Robin mulled over the possibilities, pacing back and forth in front of him. Steve had to stand on the tips of his toes to look over her outrageously frizzed brown hair so he could keep watching Dick Clark. “Did she like teeth?”

“She had them,” Steve mused. “And so did I. So she probably did. I can’t remember.”

“You are useless,” Robin went ahead and hissed the last word, mushing their faces together once more. She was sweating like a pig, all nervous energy and excited rage. “T minus thirty minutes. Should I brush my teeth?”

“I think you should calm down,” Steve said, peeling her hand away from where it latched like a vice onto his arm. He squeezed her fingers in his bigger palm, an attempt to calm her down that was sadly in vain. Robin could spin herself out like nobody’s business and she appeared to be in the midst of a F5 breakdown. “Nancy’s not gonna like it if you’re soaking her.”

“Does my breath smell nice?” Robin breathed directly onto his nose as a test. Steve grimaced and dropped her hand, waving her away half-heartedly.

“Never do that again,” He said, a finger to her chest in emphasis.

“But does it smell nice?” Robin asked again. Steve deliberated. She smelled like girl, a general smell that he tended to rather like. Whether or not Nancy would was the question.

Even though he knew she would, because Nancy adored everything that had to do with Robin. Steve supposed that’s where the phrase ‘crazy in love’ came from, because half of the things Nancy went mad about were things he could barely tolerate about Robin. In a loving way, obviously.

Their scientific experiment was interrupted by a stomping Will Byers, who came down Steve’s stairs in a rush of adrenaline and Child’s-First-Tipsy.

“Have you seen Mike?” Will said, practically snorting fire out of his nostrils. Steve shrugged unhelpfully.

“Back porch,” Robin supplied, pressing her drink to the corner of her lip absently. “Have you seen Nancy?”

“Last I saw, she was out by her car,” Will said; the exchange of priceless, gay-crush information a silent agreement.

“By herself?”

“With Jonathan,” Will said, sadder this time. He gave Robin a pitying smile before turning heel and breaking into a run, nearly crashing into the kitchen wall with the force of his sprint. Whatever he needed Mike for, it was urgent. Robin turned to Steve with an utterly devastated look on her face.

“She’s with Jonathan,” Robin groaned dramatically.

“I heard,” Steve empathized, slugging an arm around Robin’s shoulder. His eyes glazed back over to the tv, where the Go-Gos were performing. They were pretty good. “I also heard they broke up.”

“Of course they broke up,” Robin snapped, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean he’s also not looking for a New Year’s kiss. High school relationships are fickle like that.”

“But yours and Nancy’s won’t be?” Steve asked, laughing.

“It’s different,” Robin argued, face flushing from both the intolerable heat of the living room and her embarrassment.

“I’m sure his breath doesn’t smell half as nice as yours,” Steve promised. Robin sighed and glanced over her shoulder, as if waiting for Nancy to appear in the doorway that very moment. When the second passed and the door stayed firmly shut, she turned back to Steve with a shake of her head. They clicked red solo cups. He settled in to watch the ball drop.

11:40 PM

“Jonathan and Nancy broke up, right?” Robin’s question came from her left side. Max practically jumped six feet in the air.

She’d been relaxing, sprawled out on the outdoor couch and content to listen for splashing sounds. She knew Lucas and Will had jumped in the pool a few minutes before, having heard them come up for air and tease each other about the skill of their cannonballs. The pain of not being able to see them perform said cannonballs was dulling, a welcome reminder that time tended to heal all wounds. She liked hearing them laugh, anyway.

But getting used to being rendered completely blind in both eyes didn’t mean she could metaphysically sense when somebody showed up. Her friends had started to announce themselves when they got closer, a habit Max didn’t care enough to break. Robin, however, had never learned to do that. She simply appeared in Max’s subconscious, usually halfway to a panic attack.

“Yes,” Max confirmed once she’d gotten her rabbit’s heart down to a normal pace. Her hand reached out into the darkness, spasming. Robin’s furnace fingers touched hers and they clasped together, a welcome ‘hello’ for the new year. Her unspoken longer sentence was: Because she’s in love with you, dumbass.

“Good,” Robin breathed out through her nose, squeezing Max’s hand. Max felt the couch deepen beside her, Robin’s jacket-covered shoulder pressing against hers and their sneakers colliding on the concrete.

“Are you finally gonna kiss her?” Max asked. Robin’s sharp intake of breath was loud in her ear, all frightened. Like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. Max fought back the urge to smirk and instead removed her hand from Robin’s to pat at her knee comfortingly.

“Yes,” Robin rushed out all at once, a release of air and admittance. “Yes. Am I crazy?”

“I think it’s overdue,” Max allowed, which was a total understatement.

Robin and Nancy’s unspoken feelings for each other were becoming practically unbearable for the group at large to handle, but especially for Max. Both older girls came to her for advice and vice versa - so she’d been hearing them gush about each other for months on months. It got tiring the first go around. Now she was just about sick of it, nearly on the verge of confessing to Robin all those sappy and honey-covered things Nancy waxed poetic about. Maybe that was the push they needed. Or maybe Robin was finally gonna get her shit together. Max had been praying for it.

“Do you think she’ll kiss back?” Robin asked. The telltale click of her biting off an already short fingernail followed.

“I know she will,” Max said. She knew Robin wouldn’t take her seriously. Still, Robin hummed in agreement. Together they sat listening to the boys in the water. “What time is it?”

“11:42,” Robin supplied quickly, no doubt glancing down at her military watch. “When is it too early to go looking for her?”

“I’d say you should find her soon,” Max said after a moment of consideration. “You don’t want to miss the ball drop.”

“Very smart,” Robin said. Max felt the couch relax as she stood up, grunting as she stretched in the chilly night air. “Very smart. You’re smarter than I am.”

“Is that a surprise?” Max asked, but she knew she was speaking to the empty air. She smiled, a small private one for herself, and desperately hoped Robin would finally end this terrible back-and-forth once and for all. If she didn’t psych herself out at the last second, that is.

11:50 PM

“Have you seen Nance?” Robin asked. Argyle shook his head, eyes now completely tinted with red and hair a mess.

“Maybe upstairs?” He suggested, gesturing with the pace of a sloth to the stairwell behind them. Robin nodded absently, turning on her heel and trudging up.

Logically she knew there were only so many places Nancy could be. Nancy’s whispered confessions and secrets over the crest of pink-covered pillows told Robin she had certain places she avoided when the group spent time at Steve’s house. She hardly spent any time by the pool. She didn’t go near his bedroom.

He was rich but he wasn’t megarich. His house was bigger than anything else Robin had stepped foot into, and sometimes she thought she might get permanently lost with the identical white doors and plethora of matching family portraits. But Nancy had to be somewhere. And Robin had to find her.

She walked up the stairs with the determination of a suicide bomber, knowing her mission was likely to ultimately fail and carrying herself to doom nonetheless. Surely Max was telling the truth when she confirmed Nancy and Jon had broken up. Though if it were true, it was only one obstacle on the track - the second being a much larger, more complex hump.

Robin had no idea if Nancy liked her back. There were moments, little bits in time, where she’d managed to convince herself there could be something between them more than female friendship and trauma bonding. On the frequent nights spent sleeping over in Robin’s cramped twin bed, Nancy would fling her legs out over Robin’s and cuddle up close to her. Did regular girls do that with each other? Robin had no fucking idea.

Or the way Nancy looked at her sometimes, especially at night - under street lamps as they walked through their old neighborhoods and discussed their separated childhoods. Discussed their united college experiences, both deciding to attend the much closer and safer option of University of Indianapolis. The way their gloved hands tended to brush on colder nights, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder for warmth. When they ordered takeout and Nancy gave Robin bites off her fork without Robin even having to ask, remembering that she liked lo mein but not the steamed carrots in her order of vegetables.

It all seemed to stack up. Maybe Robin was drunk. Maybe she was delusional. At this point, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Her crush on Nancy Wheeler was so overpowering that, though it was difficult to admit, it would hurt more to continue having to stand beside the most beautiful girl on the face of the earth than actually confess her feelings for her. Robin sucked in a deep breath as she reached the top of the stairs, peeking around into the dark hallway. Hopefully she found nobody having sex. Hopefully she found Nancy and hopefully, hopefully Nancy would kiss her back.

11:54 PM

Nancy was not upstairs, but Steve and Eddie certainly were, and Robin was never going to be able to get that image out of her head. As she stumbled back down the dimly lit hallway, pulling her sweater to her chest and grimacing to herself, Robin racked her brain. Where could Nancy possibly be hiding? Could a portal to the Upside-Down have opened up underneath her, removing her from the party? Would Vecna be that cruel and unusual?

As Robin stormed past the blaring television, where Argyle and Jonathan had sprawled out on Steve’s pleather couch to watch, she could hear the crowd cheering on the ball drop. T minus five minutes until Robin had to spend another year helplessly alone.

“Nancy?” She called out to nobody in particular, rounding her way through Steve’s empty dining room and back into his kitchen. There she found Will up on the counter, in a much better mood than he had been twenty minutes prior, swinging his legs and talking to his sister. “Have you guys seen Nancy?”

“Sorry, I told you where I last saw her,” Will said, shrugging. “If she’s not by her car, I have no idea.” Robin realized she hadn’t checked outside. El didn’t speak, she just took a sip from her twisty straw cup and smiled, pleased, at Robin. Robin couldn’t help but reach over and ruffle their hair before ducking away and rushing outside.

“Don’t forget to come in for the ball drop!” El spoke up in that soft voice after her as she ran through the patio door.

She passed Max and Lucas at the pool, no doubt making out or on the verge. Robin nearly broke the hinge on the wooden fence gate as she went, leaving it to swing behind her as she stepped out into Steve’s front yard. The street was alight with houses celebrating New Years’ similarly to theirs, streetlights with no warning blink and roads empty for the night. She stumbled down the lawn, glancing at every passing shadow with her eyes narrowed.

11:55 PM

“Nancy?” Robin shouted, hands on her hips. The space by her car was void of a person, Jonathan or Nancy. So clearly she’d moved on. As Robin walked back to the house, she heard the familiar pitter of flats on pavement.

She burst back through the patio gate to find Nancy on the opposite end of the backyard, shrouded in the light from the immense amount of Christmas lights Steve kept strung up year-round.

11:56 PM

Robin sprinted along the poolside, skidding across pavement to reach Nancy in time. The girl in question glanced up from where she’d been focused on watching the stars, eyes bright and beautiful and dilated. Her brown eyes felt like oceans at this point. Robin was teetering on the edge of falling in.

“Nance,” Robin began, realizing with embarrassment that she was out of breath from her sprint across the house. Nancy blinked in acknowledgement, smiling that beautiful pink-lipped smile. Her lips looked glossy in the moonlight, face stained by the gray light. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

11:57 PM

“Why?” Nancy asked with a twinkling laugh, stepping closer to Robin. Her hand came out to smooth down a part of Robin’s shirt she hadn’t realized she’d ruffled - her turtleneck halfway up against her pale neck. Nancy pulled down the fabric and smoothed out both hands across Robin’s shoulders, looking proud that she’d cleaned her up. Robin could barely swallow down her fear, let alone make any proper sentences. Nancy’s face was so close to hers now. It was to an unbearable degree.

“I have something to tell you,” Robin admitted shakily, glancing back at the house. She could hear their friends all gathering in the living room, no doubt surrounding Steve’s television and cheering on the oncoming ball drop. She ignored them, shaking her head and pulling her focus back to Nance.

11:58 PM

Because, in the end, Nancy was just a girl. She was just a girl shrouded in moonlight, looking up at Robin with that mesmerizing face of hers and a giggle on the end of her tongue. Nancy’s wide-eyed expression brought with it an intoxicating feeling Robin never wanted to be rid of. Her hands drifted up to stop Nancy’s from leaving the place they’d settled in on her sweater, pulling them down to clasp them over her chest. Nancy’s eyes, swift and detective-like, followed the movement curiously.

“I-” Robin felt herself faltering and kicked herself for doing so. It was hard to string words together in the presence of Nancy. For all her anxious sputtering and running around, when it got down to it she tended to be utterly speechless - case in point. “I, um.”

11:59 PM

“Yes?” Nancy pressed, dark eyebrows raised playfully. Robin’s mouth was desert-dry. She swallowed again and shut her eyes. No more time to fret over it. She needed to do this.

The dim shouts of their friends counting down the last minute before 1987 officially got rung in spurned her on. Robin reopened her eyes to find Nancy inches closer, their noses pressed together.

She was just Nancy. Robin let go of Nancy’s hands to hold onto her face, fingertips pressing down the corners of her ears and thumbs brushing over the familiar blush. Nancy’s eyes went wide by a decimal, and then narrowed. In challenge. In agreement.

“I wanted to say,” Robin began again. Suddenly fireworks erupted above them, no doubt set off by one of Steve’s obnoxious neighbors.

12:00 AM

“I wanted to say,” Robin repeated for the last time. She wouldn’t let herself be shaken. Neither girl bothered to look up at the sky. “Happy New Year, Nance.” Robin steeled her jaw and leaned in. Unbelievably and dream-like, Nancy met her halfway.

Robin nearly fell over from the force of Nancy’s kiss, hands dropping from Nancy’s face to wind themselves around her waist. Their sweater fabrics brushed together as Nancy tilted her head, balance and access coming together underneath the stars. Robin pulled her impossibly closer and sighed into Nancy’s mouth. It felt like fireworks behind her eyes. It felt like the celebration was in her head.

“Happy New Year,” Nancy whispered into Robin’s lips, her big eyes only about a centimeter away. Robin didn’t know which one to focus on. “Were you looking for me to do that?”

“Yeah,” Robin admitted. Nancy laughed into her mouth, pressing a small kiss to the corner and then pressing back tenfold. When they came up for air again, Nancy was still laughing. “What?”

“I was looking for you, too,” Nancy admitted with a sly grin. Robin chuckled and closed her eyes, forehead to Nancy’s.

“Great minds think alike,” Robin said. Nancy nodded solemnly, pressing another kiss to Robin’s jaw.

“Do you know what I’m thinking now?” Nancy asked, eyes suddenly alight with a mischief that had Robin’s stomach churning in excitement. More fireworks above them crackled and now she couldn’t resist turning her head up to watch, bright colors exploding against a backdrop of black. A new year cleansed of the Upside-Down. The perfect girl in her arms. All in all, a pretty good night. Robin grinned as she watched them explode one by one.

She felt a hand on her chin then, longer fingernails pressed against her cheek. She let Nancy guide her head back down, feeling oddly chastised.

“I have no idea,” Robin admitted. Nancy winked.

“Take a guess,” She murmured before leaning in again. Robin’s hands found their way up her back, into her hair. Feeling her everywhere. Although the kiss was hard to maintain when they were both grinning so hard.

And from somewhere in the house, voices chorused in relief after their own excited New Years’ celebrations: “Fucking finally!”

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neptoons1998 · 1 year

Text

Swimming Lessons

Part 1/3

A/N: Soo I did it thanks to @mal-urameshi for the idea.

Summary; Okoye puts Riri in swimming lessons. Okoye meets er daughter's swimming coach Attuma. Okoye isn't going to do anything except look at him that's all.

Tag gang: @mal-urameshi @pantherheart @somethingcleaverandwhitty

Okoye would say she is a pretty okay mom. The greatest but enough that her daughter wouldn't die by her negligence. And like any helicopter parent Okoye put her three-year-old in swimming lessons. As much as she loved her daughter, Riri was a menace in a loving way. Riri couldn't sit still when she gets her hair done or sitting her car seat. So what does any parent do when they have an active child putting in classes.

Okoye had her daughter in ballet, karate, and piano lessons. The young mother was doing everything to keep miss.busybody from being too busy in her room. Plus on some mommy blog it said it was important for Riri’s age group to socialize with their peers. And her daughter was a genius but she just read the room incorrectly sometimes.

“Oh Riri,” Aneka greeted as she wrapped her arms around the young girl. Aneka took her job as the fun auntie very seriously always trying out for her niece.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” Aneka commented as she glared at her sister,” It’s almost like someone is keeping you away from me.”

"She needs to run this energy," Okoye reasoned to Aneka as she rolled her eyes. Her sister squahed down to Riri's height as she gave her a piece of candy.

"Thank you, Auntie!" Riri shouted as she hug her aunt. Okoye rolled her eyes, "That's why she is in so many classes."

Aneka scoffed at the insult, "Hey she's needs some fun in her life. And it's not like you and Ayo are going to do it?"

"She's needs structure-“ Okoye started.

"in her life. This is the foundation she needs and going to rely on when she gets older, I know I know," Aneka finished her sister's statement.

"It's good to know you listen to me every once and while," Okoye responded. Aneka waved her hand not taking what her sister was saying to her seriously, "So what's the next class that my Riri have to go to now? How to detonate a bomb?"

Okoye rolled her eyes before she can tell her sister about her daughter's next class. Riri jumped up and down, "I'm going to learn how to swim!"

Aneka's lighten up around her niece, "Really? That sounds like fun."

Riri nodded, "Yeah and I'm learning how to swim like swordfish because they swim really fast."

"Really where did you learn about that?" Aneka asked Riri puffed her chest loving the special attention that her aunt was giving her, "Mama and me went to the library today."

"Can you show me the book you got from the library?" Aneka asked Okoye inwardly groaning knowing her sister was going to give her unneeded advice from the peanut gallery. Aneka stood back up to her normal height, "I'm just saying I find it funny how you're the only one entertaining and taking care of her while you know who isn’t doing his share of the work.”

Okoye could only pressed her lips together as she waited for her sister to finish with rant with her good for nothing ex-husband. From Okoye’s view they went into marriage too fast and were pressured by their parents and traditions that their relationship just frizzed out.

“I mean the only good thing that happened from that relationship was having Riri,” Aneka commented as she was finally getting to the end of her rant. Okoye just nodded along letting her sister finish her ranting about her ex-husband. Okoye's eyes followed her daughter's movements between her bouncing on her toes while reading.

"Thanks for your unneeded advice," Okoye said as she moved closer to take her daughter's hand quickly leaving her sister's apartment.

"Are you ready for your swimming lesson?" Okoye asked her pebble as she buckled her in. Riri nodded, "Yeah, I can't wait to tell VIv and Miles about it."

Okoye went to the driver's seat. She looked through the reflection mirror at Riri, "Let's go, swordfish."

#attuma x okoye #attuma of talokan #general okoye #single mom in your area lol #daughter! riri #mama!okoye #mama okoye and daughter riri #riri williams #okoye x attuma #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #writing #romance

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tenpointsav · 1 year

Text

hungry like the wolf

Olivia meets up with her old friend Noa and wants to share every part of her new life with her...including her newest obsession.

cw: whew um...manipulation, smut, allusions to cannibalism, drugging, allusions to murder, blood, blood kink, biting, noncon voyuerisum

remember to like, reblog, and gimme a little comment or two. <3

The heat from her latte warms Olivia's fingers as rain patters the windows. She looks around the small coffee shop before checking her watch. The cafe is calm, people filing in and out the glass doors to escape the chilly, damp Oregon air. A slender brunette enters, eyes lighting up as she spots Olivia and waves.

"Noa! Hi! I was worried you wouldn't make it!" Olivia squeals. She embraces her old friend warmly.

"Sorry, the rain held me up. I'm so happy to see you!" Noa orders her coffee and slides into the booth. "What's it been? Like two years?"

"Since that trip down to San Francisco for Emma's wedding I think. God, she got so hammered." Olivia says with a grin.

"I think we were all a little out of control that weekend." Noa replies. Her smile is wide, big brown eyes gleaming.

The server brings Noa her coffee as Olivia braids her dark hair quickly to combat the frizz. The moisture in the air always makes her hair close to completely unmanageable.

"I love the new hair, Liv. When did you dye it?"

Olivia touches a hand to the crown of her head, smiling.

"When I started my new job! I thought it was time for a change. New job, new place, new me, you know?"

Noa nods, sipping her latte.

"I get that. How is the new job, by the way? Must be busy. I couldn't believe that you'd been here for six months and I hadn't heard from you!"

"Yeah, well being a surgical intern can take up a lot of your time. Feel like I never see the light of day sometimes," Olivia chuckles as her face heats up.

Keep it together.

"Have you picked a speciality? I remember when you did pre-med and were so stressed out over it," Noa says with a smile.

Olivia shifts in her seat a little.

"I'm trying a little of everything. Right now, I'm in plastics. I thought it was gonna be all superficial shit, but it's surprisingly…rewarding."

Noa's eyes light up as she leans forward.

"Ironically, I just went out with a guy who is in plastic surgery," she whispers. "He's so cute, like obnoxiously so."

Olivia listens as Noa babbles on about her new guy. She scratches at the paper coffee cup, making little marks in the sides. They are similar to the marks her nails are creating on the inside of her palm under the table.

Keep. It. Together.

For the next thirty minutes, the two women catch up and reminisce. Olivia studies the pretty lines of Noa's face, her slender neck and shoulders. There's a delicateness about her, something Olivia has never seen in herself.

When Noa stands to leave, Olivia does the same. They walk out into the cool night air, the wet pavement reflecting the lights of local bars and shops. Noa wraps her in a hug.

"We should do this again soon! It was so good to see you." Noa says with another friendly smile.

"Yes, totally! Let me know how your weekend with this Steve guy goes."

Noa gives Olivia another hug before she turns to head to her car. Olivia watches her walk down the block, heeled boots clicking on the pavement. She pulls out her phone. The blue light of the screen shines on her face as she selects her most recent contact.

"Hey. Yeah, just got done…." Olivia says before quieting to listen to the husky voice on the other end of the line. Her fingers twitch at her side, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

A burning pain causes Olivia to look at down at her palm. Little red crescents mark the smooth skin there from her clenching earlier. She stares at the blood welling up, spreading into the creases of her hand. The engine of a passing car snaps Olivia out of her trance and she replies to the voice on the other end of the call.

"Of course I'll be there," she says with a smile. "I wouldn't miss it."

Olivia hums to herself as she runs her hands along the polished wood paneling of the hallway. It's some 80s song that she'd never heard until recently, but has come to like. This house always makes her feel warm, unlike the rainy, unforgiving world outside. She would live here full time if he let her.

There's a buzzing in her brain, the kind she gets before surgery. It's addictive and makes her fingers tingle to cut into warm flesh and to saw through bone. He wasn't kidding when he said it would be the greatest feeling she's ever experienced. However, Olivia can name one thing here that's even better.

The little tune in her head is still going strong as Olivia reaches a door at the end of the hallway. She places her key on the sensor and slides the heavy wood frame open. In the corner, a bundle of blankets moves slightly. She can hear whimpering and sniffling. Olivia struggles to keep from rolling her eyes. Brown eyes look up at her from the floor, red and filled with tears.

"Oh my God, Liv! Olivia, please. Help me. I can't…I don't know…" Noa mumbles.

The sedative he gave Noa was strong, hospital grade. Olivia should know. She helped him steal it. Olivia gave her more anesthetic when she brought her back here earlier today. He doesn't know about that, but that's what makes this fun.

Olivia crouches down to look at Noa more closely.

"You know, when he told me that he met a girl at the grocery store, I never in a million years thought it would be you."

Noa's sniffling quiets as her eyes flit over Olivia's smiling face.

"What…what are you talking about?" Noa asks, voice quiet from exhaustion and stress.

Olivia stands up straighter, hands on her hips. She never comes down to talk to the girls, but this one was too good to resist.

"I'm talking about you, silly. You're really lucky, you know? He likes you. He likes you a lot, actually. I'd be jealous, but I guess I have certain…assets that you don't possess anymore."

Olivia smiles widely as Noa looks up in horror. She starts to cry again, burying her face in the pillow. Olivia's voice is light as she looks around the room.

"It could be worse, Noa. You get food everyday, a comfortable place to sleep, nice lighting. And look at this view!" Olivia exclaims, gesturing to the mural painted on the wall.

Noa turns her head back to Olivia slowly, tears shiny on her face. Olivia can practically taste the salt from here. He loves it when they cry, and she loves anything he loves.

"Why? Why are you doing this? You…were my friend." Noa mumbles.

Olivia sighs. This time she doesn't resist rolling her eyes.

"Because….well, surgery got boring. The same thing, day after day, week after week. He offered me something better. He saw something in me that I didn't even realize I had," she says dreamily.

"The first time was…rough. But with practice, I got used to it. Now, he needs me in a way that he will never need you, or any other girl that comes in here. That…that's special, you know?"

Olivia gets back down onto the floor at Noa's eye level. A simmering rage appears under the surface of her skin, begging to be let out. This girl is ungrateful, not knowing how lucky she actually is to still be here. How lucky she is to even be breathing. If Olivia had it her way, she'd slit her throat and watch the blood stain the plush carpet.

"Tell me, when he fucked you…did he go down on you? Make you come with his tongue until you felt like you couldn't take it anymore?" Olivia asks, her tone cold and flat. "Do you know why, Noa? Because he wanted to taste you first. Needed to know how sweet you could be. He did the same to me. The only difference is instead of cutting me up, he kept me."

"You're fucking insane," Noa slurs.

The anger boils over as Olivia feels her teeth grind together. Red spots her vision as she stands and takes a step forward, only stopping when she hears the door behind her slide open.

"Olivia, that's enough," Steve tells her sternly.

She quickly turns around, the furious expression replaced with one of joy. Her heart flutters at the sight of him, a dark button down paired with dark slacks. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off toned muscles and veins that make her mouth water.

"Sorry, baby," Olivia murmurs as her arms wrap around his neck. "You know I like to play with my food."

Steve hums and smiles slightly as Olivia gets on her tiptoes to kiss the spot behind his ear. She turns back to Noa who is mumbling from her spot on the floor. Olivia's back is pressed to Steve's chest, the muscle there lean and toned from years of meticulous exercise and a very specific diet. He rubs the tip of his nose along Olivia's neck as he inhales.

"I told you she was a good one," Steve murmurs against her soft skin. "She just needed to learn some manners first, that's all."

Olivia shifts from one foot to another, her ass brushing against Steve's hips. She lets out a whimper as he wraps an arm around her torso. His grip tightens and she feels teeth graze her earlobe.

"You wanna show her what happens to good girls, sweetheart?"

Olivia nods her head rapidly. She feels his smile against the side of her face. Her body melts as Steve continues to kiss the wisps of curls at her ears. One of his hands drifts up to her slender neck, making Olivia moan. Heat spreads along her core as arousal starts to drip into her panties.

"Use your words. Let Noa hear how much you want it."

She moves again, this time rubbing against Steve's hardening length. He squeezes her throat a little harder. His long fingers nearly meet his thumb around the back of her neck and Olivia knows what those hands are capable of. The thought makes her thighs rub together as another moan slips between her full lips.

"Steve, please fuck me," Olivia whines. It's high pitched and needy, going straight to Steve's cock.

He steps back to drag the zipper of Olivia's dress down her back slowly. She feels his fingertips skim her bare skin. It sends shivers down her spine. Olivia looks down at Noa, who can barely raise her head up off the floor. Her brown eyes are red from crying and it makes Olivia smile.

Soon, her dress is pooled at her feet as Steve walks around her slowly. He likes to appreciate her, taking in every curve of her body and angle of her bones.

"Fucking exquisite," he rasps as he stops in front of her.

Steve leans down, capturing her mouth with his. Olivia graps the collar of his shirt, pulling Steve closer to her as she wraps her tongue around his. Steve's teeth pierce her bottom lip, breaking the skin and causing the taste of copper to flood their mouths. He groans, pulling back. His pupils are blown out as his breath comes in short pants. The sight of blood on Olivia's lips makes him throb.

"Gotta have more, Liv. So fuckin' sweet."

Still gripping the collar of his shirt, Olivia walks backwards until her ass hits the edge of a small table against the wall. She hops up, spreading her legs to show Steve the dark fabric of her soaked panties.

"It's all yours, baby. However much you need." she purrs.

Steve licks his lips, squeezing her thighs and falling to his knees. Olivia feels a surge of power go through her as she looks over at Noa, helpless and weak on the floor. She doesn't get to have Steve like this and it makes Olivia grin even more widely.

She looks down and runs a hand through Steve's thick brown hair and around to his cheek. Her thumb grazes along his plump, pink bottom lip. With her hand still on his jaw, she guides him forward. Instead of straight to her pussy like he planned, Olivia turns his head slightly until his nose rubs the soft skin of her inner thigh.

"You need me to taste you here first? I can smell how ready you are for me, like a fuckin' whore. You sure you even need it?" he asks, looking up at her through thick, dark lashes.

"Please, fuck, just do it! It's been too long, Steve, just please," Olivia keens as she grips his hair tightly. She knows that he loves when his girls beg.

He smirks up at her from between her trembling thighs and bites the skin there, hard. Olivia screams as his teeth go even deeper into the soft flesh. Warmth runs down her thigh onto the wood surface below. She arches her back, pushing the meat of her leg deeper into his mouth. When Steve pulls back his lips are tinted red, a bloody smile on his handsome face.

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl," he growls. He stands up, pulling the lacy fabric of her panties down her long legs.

Olivia frantically grabs at his waistband as Steve kisses her deeply. She can taste the copper on his tongue, salty and sweet when mixed with the mint of his toothpaste. He trails his mouth down her neck to suck on the skin above her collarbone.

"You're gonna get what you need, don't worry. Gonna fuck you until that pussy is sore," Steve growls against her skin.

Once his belt is undone and pants unbuttoned, she reaches inside to grip his cock. He groans, teeth cutting harshly into the skin of her shoulder as his hips rut into her soft palm. She feels blood trickle down her chest and lets out a whimper.

"Fuck me like you couldn't fuck her. I want her to see," Olivia moans into his ear as his fingers slip between her legs and into her soaking cunt.

She looks over at Noa, smiling widely at the dead expression on the girl's face. She gets off on this, the violence, the pain, and the desperation.

His fingers spread her open as Olivia pulls his cock to her. Steve drives in quick and hard, filling her up to the hilt. The pace he sets is immediately vicious. Blood smears on their thighs and Olivia's chest as Steve throws his head back.

"God, fuck, you're perfect. Take it all, baby, so good for me," he growls as Olivia's body bangs into the wall.

Every thrust pulls a whimper from her as she digs her long nails into his broad shoulders.

"Daddy, it hurts," she whines, knowing how much he enjoys having her like this.

"I know, you fuckin' love it, don't you? You're fucked up, just a fucked up little slut," He murmurs against her lips as he pounds into her harder.

The table rattles against the wall and the mirror behind Olivia presses into her back sharply. She likes this side of him. It's the one he has to hide from everyone else except her. Anyone else who sees it doesn't usually make it out alive.

The pressure that's been building between her legs is multiplied by a thousand as his thrusts get deeper. She can feel herself dripping down onto the table, a mixture of blood and arousal that makes everything throb.

"God, Steve, just like that, harder please," she begs.

Steve grips her thighs and pulls her up off the table a little. Her hands scramble to grip the sides. His cock starts to hit the spot she loves and her breath comes in higher pitched pants. She looks up at him, sweat dripping down his sharp cheekbones as he flashes her a sinister smile.

"Gush for me and I'll let you taste her first."

Like magic, Olivia comes hard. Her back arches towards him as white flashes behind her closed eyes. Steve's whispered praises fill her ears as she screams. His cock throbs and he groans, warmth flooding her cunt as he spills into her. His thrusts become uneven and slow as he finishes filling her up.

They both are panting, covered in blood and sweat as Steve kisses Olivia on the temple softy. She looks back to Noa, whose eyes are closed tightly. A fog comes over her as she leans her head on Steve's shoulder before he pulls out. Her legs ache and the bites on her chest and thigh burn and throb like her cunt.

Steve's blue eyes meet hers as he pulls his pants up, belt buckle clanging slightly from the movement.

"I meant what I said, gorgeous," he rasps before licking his lips. "You can have her first."

Olivia slides off the table. She feels his cum and her blood drip down her legs, leaving her feeling filthy and used. A bright smile fills her pretty face before placing a kiss on Steve's glistening face.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen."

#steve kemp #steve kemp x you #steve kemp fic #sebstan #freshmovie #fresh the movie #sebastian stan

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mushroomllama · 7 months

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Hiiiii!! <3

I'm back with chapter 2 of Ocean Eyes! Thank you to everyone who read chapter one and I can't wait to see what you all think moving forward! Again no TW that I can think of but I'm working on chapter five right now and it's really ramping up.. tehehe. I hope you all enjoy and continue to follow along with Wendy because things are gonna get crazy soon enough.. THIS STORY IS +18 MINORS DNI

TWO~

I woke up the next morning to my alarm clock blaring. I groaned, rolling over I looked at the time. It was only 6:55 but of course, Nancy hated being late, so she would be here at 8:00 on the dot. I groaned again realizing I only had about an hour to make myself look presentable for my first day of senior year.

Finally, after lying there a little longer, contemplating whether or not my education was that important, I pulled myself out of bed and walked over to the window. I couldn't help but glance over at the house across the street. A blue Camaro was sitting in the driveway. I was just as curious as my mom was about the new neighbors. Did they have any kids? I wondered if they had a daughter. Maybe we could set her up with Steve so he would stop being so protective over me. I laughed to myself, shaking my head. Who was I kidding? Our moms were best friends, and we had been best friends since we were in diapers. We were like siblings but he needed to find someone because he was driving me crazy. Of course, he was the first person I went to after my call with Eddie and I thought he was going to kill him right then.

I was about to walk away from the window when I saw the front door of the house across the street swing open. The person who walked out of it was not the daughter I had been hoping for, but the boy with the crazy blue eyes from yesterday. I panicked and was about to duck down, but it was too late. We had already locked eyes and he was just staring at me. He was wearing a white shirt that fit him perfectly and jeans, with black biker boots. I saw him smirk, the same way he had yesterday. I rolled my eyes at the fact that I had let myself get caught staring at him again. After what seemed like an eternity he made his way to his car. Was he really that full of himself? He grabbed a blue denim jacket from the Camaro sitting in the driveway and then returned to the house. Before he went in, he turned around and looked back up at me giving me another smug look before closing the door.

I rolled my eyes again, trying to ignore that my face was burning with embarrassment. I scurried over to my closet and began trying to piece together an outfit. I finally decided on a pair of black shorts, a white sleeveless top, and my favorite pair of white sneakers. I got dressed and went into the bathroom, brushing my brown hair out to let it take on its natural frizz. Most people had to style for hours for their hair to look this way. Thankfully mine was natural, but not as wild as some of the girls kept theirs.

After I finished in the bathroom I made my way back to my room and began gathering my books, shoving them into the bag I bought to make it easier to lug them all around. When I was done I finally looked at the time. It was 7:55 and Nancy would be here any minute. Grabbing my bag and donning my favorite sunglasses, I practically ran down the stairs.

As soon as I made it to the bottom the doorbell rang, confused I made my way to the door to open it. Surely Nancy would've just honked to let me know she arrived? When I opened the door it was not Nancy on the other side.

When I opened it the curly-haired boy from across the street was leaning on my door frame. He was staring down at me with those piercing blue eyes, a smug look still plastered on his face. I pulled off my sunglasses and gave him a puzzled look, trying to find my voice.

"Uh- can I help you?" I asked annoyed that he would just show up at my door after our staring contest this morning.

" Yeah, thought I'd come over and introduce myself to the pretty girl who was staring at me this morning." He gave me a sly smile. "I'm Billy- Billy Hargrove. Didn't I see you at the pool yesterday too?"

I could feel my face practically catch fire as I responded, "Yeah that was me, sorry again by the way- for running into you, but I think you owe me an apology as well."

He gave me a puzzled look. "And what exactly should I apologize to you for?" He leaned away from the door frame. I could tell he was a little annoyed by my response.

"I believe your exact words were, watch where the fuck you're going. Before you stormed away with your little army." I reminded him, rolling my eyes.

"Ah well, my apologies princess. But you really should watch where the fuck you're going." He chuckled.

I cringed at the word princess. Who the hell calls someone they just met, something like that? Who was this guy? I could feel him staring at me as I looked at him in confusion.

"What did you just call me?" I asked. "My name is Wendy." I spat out. I think he could tell I was angry because he was smirking again.

"What? I can't call the gorgeous piece of ass from across the street princess?" He was now grinning from ear to ear. "Anyway, your mom stopped by my house on the way to work and told Susan- my stepmom, that she had baked a pie for us. So she sent me over here to get it."

I was staring at him in disbelief at what he had just called me. He changed the subject so easily. Did girls usually just succumb to him when he spoke to them like this? Without another word, I walked to the counter, grabbed the pie, and practically threw it at him. Slamming the door in his face I could feel my blood boiling. I turned around and grabbed my bag, hearing Nancy honk from out front.

Pulling open the door, I was about to storm out of it when I realized Billy was still standing on the front steps. He turned back around when he heard the door open. I'm sure he could tell I was fuming, but of course, there was that smug look again.

"Fancy seeing you again, Wendy." He laughed, emphasizing my name.

I stormed past him, making my way to Nancy's car. "Go away, Billy," I told him, not taking the time to look back at him. What a piece of work this neighbor was turning out to be.

"Oh come on doll, I was just messing with you." He retorted.

"Could you stop calling me that? My name is Wendy." I yelled back, still not turning around. "Also if you think a girl is pretty and you wanna make any kind of impression, you probably shouldn't call her a 'gorgeous piece of ass'," I say finally turning around and making air quotes. I hear Nancy from inside the car, telling me we're going to be late.

Turning back around I climb into Nancy's car, slamming the door shut behind me. Looking out the window I put my sunglasses back on. As silly as it was, I tried to put them on in the snarkiest way possible. Why was I letting him get to me?

"Who's he?" Nancy asked me, bewildered.

"Oh, just the new neighbor," I tell her, rolling my eyes.

"Hmm." Is her only response as we pull away from my house.

Looking in the side mirror I see Billy still standing on my front steps. His smirk is gone and boy he looks pissed. Was that how he usually got girls to bow to him? Had that really worked on his little army at the pool? I chuckled to myself. If he thought that was going to work on me he had another thing coming.

Chapter one

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nancypullen · 7 months

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Fiona

We're back! We're home and I'm sorting through hundreds of photos, trying to choose how I can share the highlights of the trip without burying you in vacation pictures and boring you to death. Ireland was wonderful. What a beautiful country and what incredibly kind and friendly people! I think small talk is the national sport. You will not meet a stranger in Ireland. The weather during our trip was about what we expected it. Ireland is a rainy country, and even when it's not raining, it's rarely sunny. A year has 8760 hours and Ireland averages 1100 to 1500 sunny hours per year. I don't mind that a bit, I love a moody sky. We had two rainy days, both cleared by mid-afternoon. We had several days that started with fog and just a barely there misty rain, again clearing by afternoon. And we even had three days of actual partly sunny or outright sunny weather. The hottest, sunniest day was luckily when we took a ferry out to Inisheer (Aran Islands), so that worked out perfectly.

The point of all that weather talk is to introduce Fiona. That's what I named my Irish hair. I tried to control her, but she was wild and free. There was no amount of product that could tame her and no tool in my arsenal was strong enough to break her spirit. You guys, I walked around looking like a clown. Not exaggerating. You know that in the 15 years that I've posted on this blog, a healthy portion of the content has been ruining/fixing/complaining about/laughing at my hair. The universe gave me the gift of blarney, but not the blessing of good hair. If a picture is worth a thousand words, allow me to illustrate.

American hair...

Irish hair...

My husband was unaware that he was vacationing with Diana Ross. Does anyone remember that episode of friends where they all went somewhere in the Caribbean and Monica's hair exploded?

Yep.

I thought I was prepared. I expected the rain and packed my anti-curl and anti-frizz products. They were no match for the constant misting and wet fog.

Yes, I did wear a lot of black on this trip. Perhaps I knew there'd be a funeral for my dignity. I swear, I started each day with a plan to subdue her, but Fiona roared back and refused to be vanquished. You have to respect a spirit like that. She was a worthy opponent, stronger and more determined, and I feel no shame in admitting defeat. Okay, now that we have all of that nonsense out of the way, I'll get down to the business of sharing beautiful Ireland with you. My favorite spot was Dingle. I could have stayed a week there. I've got too many pictures so I'll sift through them and try to hit just the highlights. I have so much to tell you, from scary cliffside driving and interpreting the Irish language, to my search for a green vegetable. Ten days of beef, potatoes, and bread made Mickey very happy. My body was craving greens. I did find some beautiful salads - a smoked salmon salad in Dingle, and this beauty in Galway.

I wanted to marry that salad. Rocket greens, beet root, crispy crown of goat cheese, walnuts, a drizzle of honey....it was perfection on a plate.

But enough about food, I'll leave you with a view of yet another castle. They were everywhere. We'd be buzzing along toward the next village and just on the roadside, beyond a field of sheep or sitting in a cove - a castle! This is Dunguaire Castle, located in Kinvara. It had closed for the season on September 30th so we didn't go inside, just roamed the grounds. I'd planned to add pretty music to the video, but decided to leave in the original audio. There we were, not a car in sight, so we pulled over to explore the castle. Across the road was a field of sheep and donkeys. Peaceful, bucolic...until I took my phone out.

youtube

That donkey had a lot to say. I couldn't understand him though, it was all in Irish. Alright, back later with more. I promise it will be prettier and more interesting. SO MUCH to share! Stay safe, stay well, stay tuned! XOXO, Nancy

#Youtube

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codenamehazard · 1 year

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InFAMOUS Headcanon: Winter Woes

Hey guys! For those of us who's winters are cold, dry and chock full of static, you know the struggles. Hair frizzing more readily, socks and sweaters clinging to each-other for dear life after a tumble in the dryer, carpets, fuzzy clothes and doorknobs seeming to conspire against you and things are sticking to you more than you'd like... And this is just the stuff in the home going on. Outside, it's cold, sometimes it's icy and slushy, sometimes the winds are vicious and bitter and while the fluff white snow is a mostly welcome sight during the holiday season, after that, it's a slushy grey sloppy mess that has overstayed it's welcome.

But all this has got me thinking... What would Cole MacGrath feel about the grief that winter likes to cause?

So in honor of being shocked a little too much from metal doorknobs, here's my thoughts on the Electric Man and how he would deal with the static nightmare that is winter.

As stated before in a previous post I made, if Empire City's climate is anything like the city it was modeled after, than Cole MacGrath is no stranger to crap weather, including snow.

Though while Cole has a love/hate relationship with rain and thunderstorms, he strongly dislikes snow. The only thing it's good for is getting him days off if it's really bad and even then he has mixed emotions on it because, most likely, if he doesn't work that day, he doesn't get paid. Which isn't a good thing.

When he's getting ready to make his rounds, his brows would furrow and his lips would curl into a sneer if the forecast shows that the weather was gonna be shit. Rainy days he could tolerate, yeah they're wet and miserable and the roads are a bit on the slick side, but it's bearable.

Winter weather was a whole 'nother animal.

Even bundled up as much as he could, thermals and all, the wind as he rides and the cold fury of Mother Nature tears through the protective layers of clothing. Chilling him to the bone. Even the warmth produced by his movements is negated by the sweat that comes from exercise. It's even more hellish when he's stuck standing still for any reason, but the reason for his irritation is the roads.

Wet roads you can see, icy roads you often can't.

Black ice everywhere, making every road and bridge a potential death-trap for cars, literally metal cages on wheels. Can you imagine how dangerous those same conditions would be for a lone man riding a bicycle? It also doesn't help that, for some damn reason, people drive like idiots in snowy conditions. Making the roads all the more dangerous for Cole as he goes about his job.

Even on his proper days off, the snow and cold are nuisances. Parkour is dangerous enough, even with as seasoned of a practitioner as he is, icy rooftops and slick poles make things even too risky for him.

I guess he could go out with Zeke and Trish for sledding shenanigans, but knowing both Cole and Zeke and their tendency towards mischief, there's probably a lot of making ramps out of snow and a lot of yelling from Trish about the two guys (mainly her daredevil of a boyfriend) launching themselves airborne with the ramps.

On the whole though, all MacGrath wants to do is stay indoors as much as possible, be it in a bar with Zeke, curled up in his bed, escaping the cold with a nice warm shower/bath or all snuggled up on a couch under a cozy blanket with Trish watching "Home Alone."

His relationship with the cold worsens after the blast.

Now we don't really get to see much of what goes down in the year between InFAMOUS 1 and InFAMOUS 2 aside from what we see in the InFAMOUS comics, but I can imagine that the winter for that year was an absolute nightmare for the Demon of Empire City.

Everywhere he went, the air felt charged and buzzing. Sparks seemed to jump off him at random. Even after getting his powers under control, the dry air seemed to be the perfect storm for people to be zapped by accident. Touching him was like getting zapped by a doorknob, he was even more likely to accidentally fry electronics. Clothes and small light objects like plastic bags, thin pieces of paper and the like clung to him incessantly. It seemed like no matter how many times he'd discharge his body to get things to stop sticking to him and to make it so that he's not zapping every doorknob, shocking damn near every rando on the street and short-circuiting every piece of tech he wants to use, it's almost like the cold, dry, static-y air would just charge him back up again and he's back to fighting rogue sweaters and marauding foil decorations.

It also doesn't help that his main mode of getting around involves him zooming around on wires or the third rail of the train, friction from the wind and the electricity from the wires charging him up even more.

The parkour issue may have been resolved thanks to him not getting hurt from falling, but I'd think that landing wrong would still suck. His attacks probably have more punch too thanks to the added charge, but other than that, there were more negatives than positives in regards to being a living battery in the winter time.

Even indoors, Cole's powers cause issues for him. The constant charge of power makes him antsy, so being cooped up inside is irritating, when he and Zeke are on somewhat better terms, grabbing a beer has it's issues of being surrounded by bodies and those bodies are most likely gonna get a zap, electronics are still wigging out... Sleep has become an elusive thing, so he can't really enjoy being in his bed. With Trish gone, being under the covers on the couch feels just as cold as the winter air, he can't even find solace in the warm waters of a shower or a bath as the water would kill him and sponge bathing just doesn't cut it.

Cole MacGrath may have never been a fan of the winter weather, but after the blast, his feelings towards the ice and snow has turned from a strong dislike to straight up loathing.

He couldn't wait for warm weather to come and winter to be over.

#xeno's headcanons #xeno rambles #infamous 2 #InFAMOUS #InFAMOUS headcanons #cole macgrath #winter weather

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likesplatterpaint · 11 months

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Delights today:

Target shopping with anna. Momofuku noods sold ar targ now, so dinner was easy.

Caramel ribbon crunch frappe

Buying beautiful ceramic pots at discount from Marshall’s. I shouldn’t have. But oh well. Repotted the lime tree, the broccoli, cauliflower, and Brussels all in bigger pots. Lime tree is in one I’ve had but needed to clean out.

Talked o a lovely older woman about how pretty the pots are. She likes the blue glaze. She then asks me to smell this lovely subtle candle and it was a very nice interaction

Finally broke down and restocked my curl crème. The frizz is real.

Drive new car ZOOM

Gameplan phone call with dad about dive trip. Guys. Guys he’s so excited and went off on a two minute rant about how he wants this to be a perfect vacation and experience for me, and to only worry about my plane ticket because he wants this so badly for me. The water is home for us. But also after denying me basic ish like eye care when I was a kid, I can’t help but drink it in when he goes on about wanting amazing things for me.

Thus, booked my flight to and from Tampa for end of sept. Will leave right after school on a Thursday, and return Monday. Dad will get me from the airport and we’ll drive to palm beach Friday morning, do an afternoon dive. Saturday we’ll do a morning and NIGHT DIVE 🤩 HR can fight me if I can’t use my personal days. My dad is 70, and while he is in fact Florida Man, I have no idea how long his body will keep up with him in order to dive safely.

Feeling a lot better about life today, even if I did spend a chunk of change.

Dunc wants to be near me on the bed and keeps flinging his shark against me.

Shjork says halp.

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mbb-project-entity · 1 year

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Chapter 33

Upon reaching Floyds home . When they entered she saw a huge pile of clothes on the floor by the door. They were Floyd's clothes; business suits, polos, slacks and khakis, and so on.

Kyubi looked puzzled and shrugged as she looked around for Floyd. Then she heard some movement in the living room.

“Hey Kyubi! You dig the new threads? I figured I needed some new clothes" When she entered, she clasped her hand over her mouth to hide her snicker. Floyd was dressed in a custom tailored suit with red trim, a neat hat with a leopard band around it, several large gold rings, a gold stud in his right ear and what appeared to be the start of a trimmed goatee. He wore highly shined cowboy boots with gold tips on the ends. He topped his hat to his wife and grinned.

She let out a low whistle. “Damn boy. You are ROCKEN that look! You look hot as hell and as wild to boot. Lets go find your wife”

"Since you like her so much, I want you to go over to her and tell her that you've locked your keys in the car and can she help?" In a minute, she in her expansive suit and I in my pink stretch pants and tube top were walking through the parking lot. She never had a chance. Kyubi whispred in her ear and in moments she was as docile as

I was. “What’s going on here?”

I stopped, startled by the female voice. It was the woman who had shared my table. She looked absolutely furious.

“I should think that was obvious,” Mysto said.

The woman looked flustered by his calm reply. “He was acting strange the second he came off that stage. You’ve done something to him!”

“Jennifer, if you’re smart, you’ll leave us and not try to interfere.”

“Interfere? You’re damn right I’ll interfere! I’ll have you arrested.”

“This is my final warning, Jennifer,” Mysto said.

“Oh? And this is mine.” She stepped forward and slapped him on the face.

Mysto stepped back. His deep eyes blazed with anger. “Bitch,” he whispered.

“You don’t know how much of a bitch I CAN be,” said Jennifer.

“Jennifer,” Mysto said, his voice filled with danger.

She didn’t notice the tone. She looked.

Snap.

Jennifer’s eyes fell shut. Her body went limp and she began to collapse.

I reached to break her fall, but Mysto stopped me. “Let the bitch fall,” he said. “She deserves it. Just watch and do nothing.”

I let her fall. I could not disobey.

She lay in a heap on the floor. Mysto used his foot to push her onto her back. “How do you feel, Jennifer?” he asked.

“Good,” she murmured. "Take a good look at her, Cissy. Why is she so attractive to you?" "She's pretty, she has beautiful dark hair and she dresses

very well." I cannot lie. It's programmed that way. "We can certainly fix that. ,, The results were amazing. Her hair was burgundy frizz now.

She was squeezed into a cheap polyester pantsuit. Her makeup was applied sloppily. Her carefully hidden moustache had been darkened to emphasize the flaw. Who was this changed person?

“What is your name, slut whore?” Mysto asked.

“Jennifer,” she whispered.

“That’s a pretty name. Much too pretty for a slut like you. You will forget it. You will feel so much happier once you forget it.”

“Forget it,” Jennifer mumbled.

“You have forgotten it, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Happy,” she whispered.

“What is your name?” Mysto asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jennifer, smiling. It didn’t matter to her in the slightest.

“Very good. But you should have a name. From now on, your name is Ethyl Blatz. You work as a cleaning woman. You will use the money in your purse to buy a bus ticket to New York City. When you get there, you will get a job cleaning toilets." "Whenever you try to tell anyone who you are, you will want a drink of liquor. Whenever you are drunk, you will tell people who you are. You are the Queen of Sheba. Forget everything else, you are Ethyl Blatz the toilet-cleaning Queen of Sheba." Sheila was giggling jerkily, hysterical with the excitement of the injury she was inflicting. “What are you?”

“I am a hooker,” Jennifer mumbled.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.":

“I am a hooker,” Jennifer said, louder this time.

“Good. It felt very good, to admit that. Very good. Whenever you think that, it will make you feel good. Because it’s true.”

“True,” said Jennifer. “I am a hooker.” She smiled at the thought.

“Very good. Very good. You love the idea. But you’re not just any hooker. You’re a cheap little slut aren’t you?”

“No, I—”

“You’re a cheap little slut. Admit it. It will feel good to get it off your chest.”

“I . . . I’m a cheap little slut,” Jennifer whispered.

“Say it again.”

“I’m a cheap little slut.” Her voice was much stronger.

“That’s very good. It felt great to say that, didn’t it?”

Jennifer nodded. “I’m a cheap little slut,” she said, then giggled slightly.

“Very good. Because you are a cheap slut whore. Nothing pleases you more than fucking men, and you are absolutely shameless about it. Understand?”

“Yes. Shameless.”

Something about all this bothered me, but I couldn’t say why. I had been told to watch and do nothing, and I could not disobey Mysto.

our name has always been Tammi Teetz. You can’t remember any other name, so you know what I say is true. Now, say your name.”

“Tammi Teetz,” she said.

“And what are you?”

“A cheap slut. A whore.”

“Excellent. Now, tonight, when you leave this room, you will forget all about your life before you met me. You will forget you even came here. It’s unimportant. All you know, and all you need to know is that you are Tammi, the whore. Jennifer is gone forever. You are only interested in your next paying fuck; you aren’t smart enough to think about anything else. You are a cheap, stupid whore, and don’t care who knows it. Understand?”

“I understand,” Tammi said.

Mysto smiled. He snapped his fingers.

Tammi blinked. She looked disoriented for a few moments, then saw Mysto and me.

She smiled. “Hi, boys,” she said. “Want a little fun tonight?” Her hands began to unbutton her blouse.

Mysto was amused by the transformation. “I’ve already had plenty of fun.”

“I don’t think so,” Tammi cooed. “Take a look at what I can offer.” Her blouse was open, and she began undoing her bra.

“Actually,” said Mysto, “I was looking for someone named Jennifer. Have you seen her?”

“Nope,” said Tammi. She slipped off her bra. “Bet she doesn’t have tits like these, right? Give me five bucks and you can touch them.”

“Afraid I’m not interested.”

“You can touch my pussy, too. No extra charge.” She reached into the band of her slacks. “Getting wet already. Want to see?” She took out a wet finger. “How’s that look?”

“Actually,” said Mysto, “I was looking for Jennifer. Know her?”

“Never heard of her. But I bet she can’t give you a great blowjow. Not as good as me. Only twenty bucks.”

Mysto grinned. “Not interested.”

“What are you interested in? I can make sure you get it.”

Mysto nodded at me. “Him.”

She looked at me. “Oh, I see.” She held up her tits so he could see her better. “Sure about that? I can change your mind.”

“I’m sure,” said Mysto.

She began to button up, leaving off her bra. “Your loss,” she said as she headed for the door. “If I see that Jennifer, I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

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revengeisourlullaby · 3 years

Text

Everything Happens For a Reason

Warnings: 18+, smut, Cheating/mentions of cheating, “revenge” sex, arguing, dealings of breaking up, ex-partner being shitty, dom themes, hair pulling, dumbification, degradation, feelings of worthlessness, Thor being an asshole, Loki being an asshole sexually, sensual themes, some angst, some softness but mostly tough love vibes, this will take place around the time of Ragnarok for visual reference, kinda domestic but not really

a/n: This is my first time writing for marvel characters! I previously was writing for mha, which I still do if you’re interested. Apologies to the Thor lovers, he’s an ass in this. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it and that I do a good job of representing characters that we all enjoy. :)

Word count: 6.7k

Main: Loki x female!Reader Ex: Thor x female!Reader

You were on your way back home after ending a grueling shift at work. Everything around you left you in a sensory overload. The sound of your feet pattering on the sidewalk, the aggressive car horns of New York’s taxis, conversations you passed by all created a stinging buzz that roared in your head. Finally reaching the station, you walked down a flight of stairs, the horrific New York air filling your nose. A stench that made you feel at home but somehow could never get used to. Sighing you thought to yourself.

I just wanna get home.

The idea of having to mush yourself into the train in desperate hopes of not only being able to find a seat but to not be bombarded with the evening nonsense made the buzz in your head turn into an unfortunate headache. Waiting for the train to rush through the tunnel, you grabbed your phone and frowned, seeing that your boyfriend had yet to answer the text you sent earlier. He said he was free from any heroic duties for the next month so it was peculiar to not hear from him. You began to grow worried.

Picking at your nails, you were thinking about all the possible “what ifs” that could have happened with Thor. You guys had been dating for some time now, almost two years. It had become common to be met with all the craziness that his job title of hero held. Truly anything could happen. So, of course, your brain was constructing all of the terrible things that could’ve possibly happened with him.

You couldn’t fuss about it too long, the train came bustling through the tunnel, the air from up underneath it blasting you in the face with the trademarked scent of burnt rubber tires and gasoline smoke. You trudged your way into the train, squeezing your way to a spot closest to the door so you could make your way out quickly. Holding on to the railing beside you, you popped your AirPods in and dissociated. Trying your best to drown out the noise and the perpetual thoughts of what was going on with your boyfriend. You couldn’t help the aggressiveness of your worries so you pulled out your phone and gave Thor’s phone a ring.

You waited, and waited, and waited and the line went to voicemail. Your mind was running a mile a minute. It felt like you couldn’t breathe. You tried composing yourself, you were almost at your stop. When the PA system announced your stop, you rushed through the automatic doors and ran to your apartment. The sky, now overcast, and the slight smell of rain tainting the air, only adding to the tension. Running up the outside set of stairs, you headed to the elevator preparing yourself for the worst. Once the elevator dinged, you rushed down the hallway to your apartment.

Fumbling with your keys at the door, you began to hear a slew of moans. Stopping in your tracks, you moved your head closer to the door to make sure that you were hearing the moans slip from the other side of your apartment door. Placing your ear against the door your suspicions were confirmed with a groan that seemed to billow from none other than Thor’s throat. Your heart began to shatter and become blanketed with the bitterness of winter, you slowly turned the key into your apartment.

Conscious of your steps you tried your best to not cause creaks to squeak from the floorboards. The air wreaked of sex and was starting to become seasoned with rotten jealousy. Turning the corner to head down to your shared bedroom, you were acquainted with Thor pile driving into your best friend.

She caught you in the doorway and to your dismay, she called out

“Y/N! Oh my god. Thor stop!”

With the mention of your name, Thor whipped his head around but you were already making your way towards the front door. He threw on his pants that were thrown on the floor and rushed his way over to you.

“Y/N!”

You turned around with a quickness and landed your hand right across his cheek. Leaving him with a scarlet mark to brand his betrayal upon him. You looked up at him through your eyebrows because you didn't have the strength to look at him in the eyes for the tears that were welling up would threaten to spill over.

“Thor...why don’t you go finish your business with her. Since clearly, she’s the priority.”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think it is. She brought herself upon me.”

“Oh! And you just couldn’t resist right. Cause she was just so overbearing against yourself?”

His silence solidified your suspicions and you wanted nothing more than to just get out of that apartment. Not waiting for him to come up with another response you grabbed your bag that you dropped on the floor and turned on your heel to leave.

“And when you release yourself of whatever leftovers you’re straining to hold, I want you to get your shit and leave. There’s nothing here to be salvaged and honestly, the last thing I wanna do is attempt to fix this.”

You slammed your apartment door and took the stair exit, not wanting to chance to have to confront him again while waiting for the elevator. Coming up on the last flight of stairs you held yourself up against the railing and felt the emotion in your throat bubble up and release itself.

It hurt. A strangled whine erupted from your throat and you hid your face in your hands. Hoping that it would muffle your cries enough so that no one would hear you in the stairwell. All of your insecurities began to settle in and resurface. Why weren’t you good enough for him? What made your best friend better? It's not like she was otherworldly or something. You could maybe understand if it was Valkyrie, but this was some regular bitch. This was someone you knew and felt undeniably close with. It felt sour, like residual vomit on the tongue.

You pushed yourself up from the stairs and slowly walked to the main door of your building. You were brought out of your haze with cold droplets of water that began to roll down your face.

“This is just comedic now.”

You laughed to yourself. Not only did you just spoil your eyes by seeing your now ex-boyfriend inside of your best friend but now you're stuck out in the exordium of New York rain with no real place to settle. Not at least until Thor packed his things and left. You put your bag over your head and searched for the nearest station to just catch a ride on. Walking down the steps, you again waited in the queue for the next train. Leaning on the wall you were suddenly overwhelmed with the stench of your wet outside clothes and wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep.

With the roar of the train coming through the tunnel, you got on. Unaware of where you were going just desperately wanting to get away from the drama currently suffocating your mind. Trying to forget about the world around you, were brought back into reality by the buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

Of course, you had a list of missed calls from Thor as well as your best friend. Lists of texts from Thor, but the notification that stood out the most was a text message from Loki. It was unlikely for you to hear from him and coupled with today’s events it felt like salt being rubbed in a wound.

It can’t get any worse, honestly. Just open it. Fuck it.

Going against your brain and entrusting your gut, you opened his message.

Would you happen to be in the Manhattan area?

You looked up at the sign above the train doors, flashing the streets of the next stop. Luckily for you, you were getting ready to be dropped off right in the heart of Manhattan. Sighing you swallowed the lump in your throat and straightened your shoulders. Replacing your previous weight of mourning with now a sudden spark of pride and revenge running through your veins.

Yeah, I’m actually on my way there now, why?

You rolled your head back and bounced your leg, sudden nervousness striking your body. You didn’t fear Loki, it was nothing like that. But rather you were intimidated by him. His presence demanded attention and you were one to give it to him. You couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome. Despite his condescending nature, you found him all too alluring. Yet, here you were awaiting a response from him to come through.

Interested in some company while visiting your planet for personal business. Care to be that company?

Your heart started to thump behind its ribcage, beating a rhythm that you hadn’t been familiar with. You were excited. Quickly you typed back, not wanting to wait too long.

Sounds like a plan. The train is getting ready to stop, probably will be in central Manhattan in about 10. Where should I meet you?

I’ll be waiting outside the Baccarat.

The train doors dinged and you rose from your seat and maneuvered your way through the 5th Avenue-53 St. station. Climbing the stairs, you were met with the unfortunate luck of it still raining and now with nightfall completely draped over the sky, you were beginning to regret accepting the invitation of meeting Loki. Looking ahead you noticed a store on the corner. You bolted in there, desperate to find something to change your soaking top out for. You walked in and saw yourself in the mirror. Your hair was still okay somehow, not too damaged by the wetness in the air. Just a tad more frizz. Fluffing your hair, you walked away from the mirror and searched for the men's section.

Wanting an oversized hoodie you felt you had your best chance to find what you wanted there. Coming across a graphic hoodie, you pulled it off the rack and walked to the checkout.

You got into a fitting room before you left, taking off your soaked shirt and now bra, and slipped into the hoodie. Stuffing your hair under the hood, you placed your clothes into your bag, sprayed some perfume on, and walked back outside to head to the hotel. The rain had let up some but you weren’t trying to risk it considering today had been littered with bad luck. You quickly walked up the street and finally made it out to the front of the hotel.

You went to pull out your phone from your pocket, but when you did you were tapped on the shoulder. You whipped your head around, an instant attitude flooding your body. You were about to mouth off until you looked up and realized it was Loki who had grabbed your attention.

“Tense, are we?”

You rolled your eyes, wondering why you showed up. His tone worming through your ear and rattling your brain with contempt. He seemed to be a bitter reminder of his brother and you questioned why you thought this was a good idea. Looking up towards his face, you remembered why you came. His features, absolutely tantalizing, and the cadence of his speech almost always put you in a trance. The suit he was in only added to your inner desire. This was a moment of revenge, a moment of sheer pride that you needed to take advantage of. Finally, you opened your mouth and looked up at him.

“A little, the day has been quite rough, but I don’t think you’d want to hear about all that.”

You looked toward the entrance of the hotel silently wondering why you two were still waiting outside.

“Shall we go in? Standing in the rain like this is quite puerile.”

You looked up at him incredulously,

“I swear you can read minds.”

You both shared a chuckle while he guided you in the hotel, his hand resting upon your lower back. Once you were in, you were struck in awe of the decor of the building you were in. It’s not that you had never been anywhere nice before but compared to your day-to-day lifestyle this was something very unexpected. You soaked it all in, not wanting to ever leave the luxury.

“Y/N? You in there?”

You finally came to and gingerly shook your head to settle back in your body realizing you were now standing in front of the elevators.

“Yeah, I just got distracted, my bad.”

The door dinged and you two stepped into the elevator. He pressed the last set of numbers on the pad and you waited to be dropped on the floor of what you assumed where his room was. Your stomach dropped when the elevator arrived on the floor, almost adding to the anxiety you were feeling being so close to Loki. Walking down the hallway you reached his room and he pulled out his room key. Wanting to cut through the silence you broke the ice by asking Loki a question.

“So what are you doing back on Earth? Here to cause some trouble or just for leisure.”

“Leisure, more or less. I came back for my brother but he has yet to inform me of his whereabouts.”

Dropping your bag down at the door you felt your body become heavy. Like someone had just dumped an anvil on your shoulders and expected you to be fully prepared. It stung. You couldn’t escape the sour taste that lingered from the day's earlier events. You sat down on the bed and had become unusually short. You had spit back at Loki.

“Yeah, he failed to let me know as well. Had to stumble in on him.”

“What do you mean “stumble in on him”? Where was he?”

Expelling air, you puffed out your cheeks slightly. Silently expressing your disdain for the question asked. You suddenly became aware of your hair still being tucked under your hood when you went to trail your hands across the top of your head. Removing the hood and fluffing your hair, you stood and walked up to the mirror to fix yourself before sighing again. Tears of frustration began to well in the corners of your eyes. You pursed your lips into a tight pucker and had to look up toward the ceiling to prevent them from spilling.

“I’d prefer to skip over the antics, darling-”

“-Your wonderful brother was fucking somebody I was once close with, but now that relationship is undoubtedly severed, and quite honestly thinking about the event makes me want to cry and vomit.”

You finally let your voice shake and a fat tear rolled down the left side of your cheek. Hot and stinging your lash line before it fell. Exhaling more air, you shook your hands in a feeble attempt to calm yourself down. You heard the springs of the bed squeak as Loki situated himself on the bed.

“No one ever listens to me about that brute. He may be my brother but he lacks the capacity of decent intelligence.”

Turning around to face Loki, your eyebrows furrowed wondering how in the hell you thought sitting in a room with the smuggest piece of shit to ever exist would be a good idea after being cheated on by none other than his brother. Sniffling you brought yourself together and smiled at him.

“You know, for someone to be baggin on someone else about decent intelligence, you sure are lacking in the emotional department.”

“Never said I was perfect sweetheart, just alluded to being better.”

You laughed. You had to. It was all too much to bear. Your ex-boyfriend sleeping with your ex-best friend and now you’re stuck in a hotel room with his shit-eating brother. You wanted to peel off your skin and remove your brain from its confinements. You needed to leave, you could find somewhere else to loiter around until tomorrow.

“Ya know, I’m still trying to figure out why I thought having you for some company would be a good idea. Think I’m gonna leave you and your better than average intelligence to fuck off together.”

You couldn’t even look at Loki because inside you didn’t really wanna walk away. You were just projecting because all day everything that could go wrong, went wrong. It felt like your legs and heart were going to buckle at any moment and it was becoming too much to lug around silently. You wanted to scream for hours on end. Walking towards the door, you picked up your bag. Too engrossed in your thoughts to hear the bed creek signaling Loki’s movement.

“Y/N, wait.”

Loki grabbed your wrist and your heart stopped beating for a moment, almost forgetting what it was you were upset about because you had someone else’s warmth heating your tainted soul. You looked up at Loki, creases in between your eyebrows beginning to form from you trying to hold back the tears that were welling up once again.

“What? Look, Loki. I don’t want to be the downer of the evening and I’ve surely already done that. The last thing I want to do is burden you fully with what’s going on. I’m not gonna dump it all on you.”

“Will you sit down, please. Don’t leave.”

Sighing you dropped your bag and flopped onto the bed. Leaning over and burying your face in your hands.

“Let me apologize. I was not thinking about the severity of what you were dealing with, that was foolish of me.”

He sat next to you on the bed and once again placed his hand on your back but this time it was rubbing back and forth. An action that seemed to calm you down instantly. Taking a deep breath you looked at him and couldn't help but feel an overwhelming amount of lust pool in the pit of your stomach. It felt wrong but, so right. You hoped he wasn't looking too deep into your eyes because you could almost predict how blown your pupils must’ve looked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap and be so dramatic.”

Loki chuckled to himself, a small smile dancing across his face as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and laid it on the bed.

“No need for an apology, I was being insensitive. As for your dramatics, I’ve grown used to them.”

Your face folded and your lips pursed, annoyance clear on your face.

“Yeah, you would be used to dramatics, Mr. “I need to rule over Earth cause I can’t back home.”.”

Your eyes lidded, you had your lips rolled around your teeth trying your best to hold a snicker in.

“You Midgardians never know how to let things go, do you?”

“Well considering you were demolishing half of New York with an alien army it’s kinda hard to forget....I forgive you though.”

“Do you now?” Loki raised his eyebrow smirking at your remark.

“Yup, kinda hard to stay mad at someone so easy on the eyes.”

It wasn’t until after you said your words, did you realize what just rolled off your tongue. Your eyes grew wide and heat rushed to your face. You breathed heavily out your nose and brought your gaze to his.

“Easy on the eyes huh?”

“I-” you couldn't even get any words out you were so embarrassed. All you could do was laugh to yourself and decide to be a little bit bold.

“There’s no reason for me to be shy about it. You’re obviously the more attractive one.”

Grazing your hand across his knee, you trailed your hand up to the meatier portion of his thigh.

“Are you planning on plowing through every Asgardian you meet?”

Mouth agape you couldn’t believe what he just said to you. But you realized quickly this was your time to go in and plant the seed.

“Not exactly. You’re the one I really want. Your brother just happened to fall in my lap first. It’s always been you though. Honestly, I was just too afraid to say anything. I couldn’t fathom the thought that you’d look my way.”

In the moment of your ramble, you hadn’t realized Loki rolling up his sleeves, using his nimble fingers to expose his veiny forearms. Once you had looked down you noticed his now exposed arms and your eyes met Loki’s again, the tension between you two becoming so thick it created a fog.

“Honestly, I have yet to meet someone as dense as you are. The verity of my liking for you I thought was terribly noticeable. Yet you still somehow ended up with my oaf of a brother. It’s quite amazing actually.”

You were astonished, to say the least. While Loki was sarcastic with you, he had confessed his liking for you. Not just an inkling for you but a liking for you in a romantic aspect. You were over the moon. You stood up not being able to contain your excitement. Walking towards the desk you stared in the mirror and composed yourself. Looking in the bottom right-hand side of the mirror you caught Loki’s blue eyes in the corner. He stood up and walked behind you, almost stalking you like a predator does prey.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Truly I thought you were happy darling, it wasn’t my business to interfere. Although, if I knew your deepest feelings sooner, I would’ve acted with more haste.”

Hearing “darling” come from his mouth so freely made butterflies fly hoops in your stomach. It did something to you that you had yet to describe outwardly. Turning around to face him, you hooked your fingers into the loops of his pants and pulled him closer to you, all so nonchalant.

“Shall we make up for lost time then, Loki?”

Lust dripped off your tongue when saying his name. Your tone penetrating through the fog of sexual tension and your eyes undressing him before the affair would begin. You heard his breath hitch while you looked back up at him, his blue eyes were now almost black. His breath heavy and waiting for the go-ahead to indulge in each other's desires. For a moment you saw his eyes flicker to portray something of uncertainty. Dare you say something of insecurity.

“Only if it’s true. I want you to want me in the purest form of carnal desire. Not as a pawn to veil what you want to erase from your mind.”

You moved your hands from his belt loops and traced your hands up his arms and planted them upon his neck, playing with the hair at the nape.

“ Don’t stop now, we’ve already started. I’m begging for you Loki. Always have, always will.”

With the quick reassurance, his lips found yours in a heartbeat. Intertwining with each other like flies in a spider’s web. It was intoxicating you couldn’t breathe properly and still you pressed yourself closer against his body. Your leg inching up on his side and grinding into his now hardening dick. Your hand that was resting at the nape of his neck, crawled its way into his hair and grabbed a fistful of it, fully giving into the moment of you and Loki getting lost in each other. Your fistful of his hair would soon be gone, being replaced with his hand buried in your mass of hair and craning your neck back to look up at him.

“I control things around here, Pet. Don’t forget your place.”

His voice seemed to drop in pitch. Your eyes glossed over fully with lust and the sheer need to be ruined. Dominance enveloped his being which instantly quelled the brat in you. The reality of sleeping with Loki made you dive headfirst into a subservient space. You wanted him, you needed him. In being completely lost in submissive thought you almost forgot who was in front of you. That was until he spoke again.

“Understand?”

He grabbed your hips and pressed your body against his, eliciting a slight whimper from you while nodding your head.

“Yes, Loki, I understand.”

Your voice was so meager, a complete 180 from your previous behavior in the night. You wanted as much of him as you could get so you shoved your lips against his again. A fiery kiss that made you dizzy and warm all at once. He moved with such fluidity, it made you feel like you were floating. His hands snaked down your back and his large hands landed on the cush platform of your ass. Squeezing, you moaned into his mouth and he picked you up. Turning around and laying you down on the bed. Your lips dislodged from one another and you felt empty and needy without him on you. He preyed over you, his stygian locks falling down his face.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now and we’ll never speak of this aga-”

“-Loki, there has been nothing I want more than you…I need you. Please.”

With that, Loki attacked your lips again, his hands wandering up your hoodie. You had forgotten you ditched your bra earlier until Loki’s hands found your pert nipples.

“Expecting this, weren’t you.”

You went to respond, but Loki rolled them between his fingers and a breathy moan was all you could muster up. Your hips rolled upwards, aching for some type of friction to your core that was more than soaked.

“Maybe I was. Have to be prepared for anything.”

To emphasize your tease you moved your hand down to the tent in his black pants and applied a bit of pressure. Loki sucked in air through his teeth and released a light laugh.

“Careful, Pet. Make sure you can hold up this front you’re putting on for me. Not sure you can handle it all.”

It was a challenge and a challenge you’d be more than happy to oblige in. Smirking up at him you began fiddling with his belt and undid his pants. Fishing your hand into them you lightly stroked his cock.

“Try me.”

The restraint in him broke and a sardonic smile adorned his face. You knew you were in for it and were entirely ready for everything he had to offer.

“Darling I hope you’re ready to feel what it’s like to be fucked by a real god.”

Your hoodie came off with one swift motion of his hand and they wandered over your body egregiously. He was taking his time with you and was determined on making you fall apart. You messed with his dress shirt buttons but couldn’t get them off fast enough for your liking. Catching onto your frustration Loki mocked you,

“Aw, look at you, Little one. Having some trouble there?”

You huffed, the attitude in you not wanting to fully give in just yet. You finally got the top button undone and slid your hand back down to his pants in a feeble attempt to take the heat off of you.

“Ah ah, it doesn’t work like that. Let me help you out since you’re in such need of relief.”

Finishing off the rest of his buttons, he pulled off his shirt and threw it somewhere in the room. Snaking his way down your body he undid your jeans button and peeled off the zipper with his teeth. Looking down at him you shuddered, excitement coursing through your veins.

“Easy now Y/N, I’ve barely even started.”

Removing your pants and underwear completely, you were now fully exposed to him and almost felt a bit of shyness envelop you. And of course, he noticed your legs attempt to cover yourself,

“Don’t hide from me darling, I want to see every bit of you crumble before me and show you how it feels to have your concupiscence satiated.”

You let your anxieties fade away once his tongue placed a swipe across your aching cunt. A moan louder than you expected emitted from your throat, catching you off guard and a chuckle to release from Loki. The vibrations only added to the pleasure you were already feeling. Losing yourself in the silver tongue of the god between your legs, your hand found itself in his stark black locks. Your moans became more frequent and you were beginning to feel the coil tighten in the bottom of your stomach, heat spreading to your core.

“Loki, please I-”

You hadn’t enough time to finish your sentence for Loki had wrapped his arms around your hips pulling you closer to him and making your back arch off the bed. Your moans becoming higher in pitch you could feel yourself coming to the precipice of your orgasm. Lifting his head for a moment he caught your eyes as you moved your head to look down at him.

“Cum for me Y/N, I can feel that you’re there.”

As Loki went back to devouring your pussy, you threw your head back into the pillow behind you, your orgasm finally washing over you. It was like none other you had before. Your legs caved in around his head and your body began to shake. Coming down from your high you reached for his neck to guide him up to your face, sharing a sloppy yet intimate kiss. The taste of yourself evident on his tongue and glistening on his chin. You felt the need to return the favor. Turning you two over you were now on top and you slid your way down to his basal regions. Undoing his pants you felt his hand upon your wrist.

“Not tonight, this is about you Y/N”

You shook your head, surprised by his actions. But, it wasn’t in your nature yet to fully comply. You went back to the hem of his slacks and went to pull them down. While Loki let you slip them off with ease, egging you on with a few hitched breaths, it wasn’t until you came back up and lined your mouth up with the head of his painfully erect cock that he took control again. You placed a kitten lick on the tip of his head, looking up at him while doing so. Loki then grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing you to stay stuck on his face and giving him full leverage of where he wanted you.

You crawled up his body because you had no other choice unless you wanted to continue to feel the slightly painful pull on your hair. Obeying his silent command you were brought face to face with him once again.

“You just don’t know how to listen, do you?” he chided

“Neither do you, but you don’t see me complaining.”

In an instant you were flipped over again, being towered by Loki’s body. Your breath quickened and you watched his blue eyes dilate once again. A lascivious smirk and energy cast across his body. Wanting nothing more than to feel him, you raked your hands down his back and dragged them across the sides of his ribs, only to let one of them begin stroking him again.

“Ah~ Y/N”

It was at this moment that the last bit of power you had completely dissipated. Loki’s hand moved with such a quickness that it took you a moment to realize that his hand was now wrapped around your throat. Sending your eyes to roll to the back of your head in absolute euphoria.

“Such a dumb little girl you are. Can’t follow simple instructions yet here you are begging, for me to ruin you. Fortunately, you’re pretty. Otherwise this would be quite pathetic of you.”

Your walls clenched around nothing. It was becoming painful to not have some form of release. You just kept being pushed towards your edge with his words bringing you closer every time he spoke. He was dragging it out on purpose, you could see the sadism glint behind his eyes. Strangled you spoke, tears of desperation falling lightly from the side of your eyes.

“L-Loki, please. I need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore, please.”

“You may need me, but do you deserve it is the question at hand.”

“I promise no more games, I’ll be good for you”

Removing his hand from your neck, he traveled them down the valley between your breasts bringing one hand to massage one while the other traveled further, landing on your soaking clit.

“All this, from a little degradation...I expected more from you, darling”

Jutting your hips toward the hand currently nestled between your folds you begged,

“Loki, please I need you inside me, I need to feel you.”

He finally lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you with just his cockhead, reveling in your juices. You couldn’t help but whine the teasing was getting to a point of something almost unbearable. Your voice breathy and hot you whimpered one last plea,

“Please~”

When he fully sheathed himself inside you, your head rolled back, moans coming out of you at a pace you couldn’t control. He made you feel so full. You had yet to feel something so reminiscent of rapture. It almost made you dizzy. When you looked up at him there was a softness in his eyes that contrasted his tone of dominance a moment ago. It caught you off guard, but you were soon brought back to reality when his head brushed against the inflamed spongy spot within.

“Oh! My god”

“Yes darling, I am your god-”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. His cockiness always finding a way to rear its head. But in your moment of ecstasy, you didn’t think he’d be able to catch it. Wrong. In a second, his length left you, flipped you on your hands and knees, and slipped back into your drenching cunt. You settled into the position, propping your ass out even more so to give him better access. You heard him growl behind you, his hand coming across your ass check and without a doubt leaving a mark. You yelped, startled by the sudden action. His pace became unrelenting, pounding into you with a ferocity that would make angels weep. His hand slid down your back and rested and the bottom of your hairline, once again grabbing your hair and pulling you back so your back met his chest. Directing your head to the side to face his own, he got in your ear,

“Roll your eyes at me again and there will be more than just a simple punishment awaiting you.”

Your walls clenched around his cock, eliciting a loud groan to come from Loki. You couldn’t help it, the noises he made were beyond divine and each one had you one contraction away from being sent over the edge one more time.

“Fuck, Loki, you feel, so good~fuck, please.”

You weren’t quite sure what you were pleading for; it just felt right leaving your mouth.

“Yeah, you like it when I fuck you like this. Like the little whore you are.”

“Fuck! Loki, oh my god~”

You were in so much pleasure you couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your face. It felt so good to have this instinctual release. Loki released his grip from your hair and pressed your face down into the mattress. Unable to truly control the noises that flew from your mouth, you were now whimpering in the mattress. The ravaging of your body sending you into a full-blown frenzy that you never wanted to be free from. Loki’s thrusts became more erratic and his moans and groans flew more freely from his mouth. Enjoying the moment of approaching his climax.

“You’re going to cum with me and I’m going to paint your pretty little insides my color. Wanna know why?”

You tried your best to be attentive, flipping your hair out from your face, you looked behind you facing the god above you.

“Why, L-Loki?”

Bringing his hand around your body to massage your clit, he gave you an answer that you weren’t prepared for.

“Because you’re mine now. There’s no leaving after this. You belong to me.”

With one final clench, you tightened around his cock. Both of you reaching your peak at the same time, milking him of his seed. Both of your breathing was heavy, bodies sticky with sweat. Loki pulled out of you, his seed spilling out of you like donut filling. You rolled over on your back as he did the same and there was a comfortable silence that filled the room.

With the distraction of reaching a climax now faded, you felt violently vulnerable under his gaze. You found your courage and looked back at him, his eyes still dilated but now with a different emotion swimming through them. Adoration? Wonder? Regret perhaps? Before you could let one more intrusive thought in Loki brought you out of your head.

“Stop worrying, you’ll make the wrinkle between your brow permanent.”

Your mouth opened slowly in disbelief, slightly offended by his comment but also at a loss for words for him figuring you out so quickly.

“Is it that easy to figure me out.” you chuckled.

“Yes, in fact, you wear every single emotion on your sleeve. You couldn’t hide what you feel even if you wanted to.”

You sighed, a smile stretching across your face as you exhaled.

“Can’t fool you, can I?”

“It’s quite hard to fool someone who is the master of fooling others. I’m the creator of the ins and outs of mischief.”

You shared a light laugh but you couldn’t ignore the overwhelming feeling of guilt and disquiet swirl in your head. Did he honestly feel for you, or did he perhaps just indulge your desires because he had wants of his own. You were in the perfect state to be taken advantage of, heartbroken and needing something else to fill the hole in your heart. You rolled on your side, your hand resting on his chest, beginning to draw feather-light patterns on his skin. Your hand created a path up to his neck, your fingers guiding his face forcing him to have nothing else to focus on but you. You needed to quell the noise in your head, you didn’t want this to eat you alive as well.

Worst he can say is no and we just move on Y/N. That’s all that can be done. Just ask him.

“I know you’re not one for sentiment, but did you mean what you said to me? About your liking for me.”

Moving a few coils of your hair away from your face he gazed into your eyes with an intensity you were unsure how to read.

“One thing about me darling is that through all my moments of deception, dealing with such intimacy is not something I take lightly. While not sentimental, I meant every word. I assure you of that. Now, dry your eyes.”

You hadn’t even realized the petal-soft tears slowly rolling down your cheek. You were too engrossed in Loki’s words of affirmation that you felt you left your physical body for a moment. Loki’s hand came up and wiped the tear streaks away from the bridge of your nose and under your eye. He made you feel at home. Warm and comforted even if he had his instances of sharpness, you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

You chuckled and the light was restored in your face.

“I don’t care what you say to me, you can read minds. Now stop reading mine, you’re freaking me out.”

Your laughs echoed through the room, any remnant of tension long gone from the space. You stared at the ceiling thinking about how the rest of your days would pan out. You felt the waters would be rocky but they would calm eventually. The thrashing of emotional waves turning into gentle swells. You felt at peace for the first time in a while. Pulling you once again from your thoughts, Loki’s voice filled your ears.

“Now, I am aware that we have done this quite backward, but would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night? And do this the right way?”

Rolling back over onto his chest you smiled against him

“I’d love to”

Amiable silence fell over the room as your body began to rest. The beating of Loki’s heart created a rhythm that seemed tailored specifically to put you to sleep. Eyes growing heavy, you fell asleep, ultimately feeling secure within his arms.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki laufeyson smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #loki fanfic #marvel smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki odison x reader #loki imagine #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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blackenedwhite97 · 3 years

Text

Coming Out [Poly! Erasermic x {Fem}Reader]

Hello! this was a requested fic from like before Christmas. I'M A MESS I KNOW I'M SORRY! I’ll be catching up at some point, I'm in my final sem at uni and have MAJOR senioritis. Me no do unless me have to. Instead, now I just spend my time staring at the existential abyss the threatens to swallow my ceiling and think about everything I'm procrastinating. But I digress...

Content Warning: This story is of a negative experience coming out as poly to your family, this deals with rejection from the reader's mother, father, and a grandparent. This story demonstrates Homophobia, xenophobia, traditionalist and conservative values and attitudes and may be triggering to some folks.

This story includes a Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

Word Count: 3.7 K (A baby story)

Y/N --- 4:06pm

Hey can my roomates come to dinner?

DAD --- 4:06

You mean the gays?

Y/M --- 4:08

Please don’t call them that. Neither of them are gay anyways, there’s more than just gay or straight.

DAD --- 4:10

Yeah whatever. Let your mom decide.

MOM --- 5:12

Sure, they can come.

Mom --- 5:23

Gma might be coming dinner tho. Maybe talk to them?

That conversation should have been enough of a warning for how the evening was going to transpire. At news of your grandmother attending dinner, you panicked and tried to back out of your plans. You had been growing steadily farther apart from your parents anyways, barely seeing them more that once a year if that. It’s not like they didn’t have their suspicions anyways, to them you were a single woman living in the big city sharing an apartment with two gay men. Not that they’d ever been to the apartment. If they had they might have notice that one of the two “bedrooms” was being used as an office. Earlier on in the relationship you were so deeply uncomfortable being around your parents alone, that you had Shouta come with you every visit because you were so paranoid you were just going to come out on the spot.

At first your parents were sure that you and Shouta were together. He had subconsciously cleaned up quite nice the first few times he met your parents anyways, wanting to make a good impression on them if you finally did tell them about your polyamorous relationship. Then as time went on you got busier and started to see them less. Shouta’s parents lived in the suburbs and you saw them on holidays, plus Shouta had come out to them as being bisexual a long time ago and hadn’t felt much pressure to hide the polyamorous nature of your relationship to begin with. Hizashi’s mom was still a city dweller in her 60’s and on top of doing the cute mom things like baking fantastic cookies and handing down family jewelry to the daughter in law, she’d also taken Hizashi and Shouta to their first pride in Tokyo and had an in-home recording studio where she recorded for local punk bands. She was, quite literally, a cool mom.

You gnawed vigorously at your thumbnail, not quiet biting the whole way through, instead riddling it with dents and cracks. Chewing your nails wasn’t a habit you’d always had, it became a sort of silent worry thing you started to do when you got to your agency and had to remain still and quiet during briefings, no matter how terrible the news was. Your ruined nail beds were an atrocity to Hizashi, who had paid several times for you to get a manicure to get your nails short and evenly trimmed so you could manage them on your own. You still somehow found a way to gnaw on the short squared off nubs of your nails though, and it drove him nuts. Shouta cared less, his hands were in ridiculous shape, he was callused and bruised, cracked and flaking all over the place and Hizashi would regularly force moisturizer on them. Shouta cared more about figure out the root stress, it’s not that Hizashi didn’t, he just didn’t know how to, so he settled for pampering you.

“It’s dead.” Hizashi huffed from the bedroom door. “Obliterated, actually.”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, you hadn’t been reading any of the messages in the chat for a good few minutes and just let your eyes unfocus instead. You yanked your thumb from your mouth and hid it below the table like a child caught with a sweet they’d snuck from the kitchen before dinner, you knew he saw.

“Your nail.” Hizashi gently patted the end of his hair with his special fluffy towel that he’d convinced you and Shouta he needed to control his frizz (which he didn’t have) and padded towards the kitchen table where you sat. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he strode around you.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured softly, leaning against the table next you. One of his legs propped up on the chair to your right and leaned down to look at your phone screen.

“This is going to go horribly.” You breathed, panicked as you set your phone down on the table.

“You don’t know that.” Hizashi looked back up at you and smiled sweetly.

“Not everyone’s mom is a cool rocker lady in her 60’s who lives in the heart of downtown still and is fully supportive of her child’s bisexual polyamorous relationship with their childhood best friend and an ex-small-town girl with an ultra-conservative family.” You huffed out in one long breath.

“That was oddly specific.” He chuckled softly. “What about Sho’s parents, they’re conservative?”

“Yeah, but his parents are at least polite and send us both Christmas gifts every year and keep any and all of their shittier opinions to themselves because they want their son to be happy.” You groaned dramatically, dropping your head onto his thigh, using the extra meat to muffle the noise.

“Y-your-” Hizashi’s leg twitched from the vibrations of your groan. “Your parents want you to be happy too, Y/n.”

You groaned into his thigh, trying to explain the difference between your parent’s and Shouta’s. Hizashi laughed and gently grabbed the side of your face, lifting it so you were no longer muffled by his leg.

“Try again.” He instructed.

“They only want me to be happy if it fits into their rigid frame of what acceptable happiness looks like.” You explained again.

“Hey,” Hizashi ran his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “have faith, baby. They’re your family, they love you.”

If only he’d been right.

Shouta was the know it all, the one that way always right. Hizashi on the other hand was quiet used to being the one that was not always right, he had no hubris about his intelligence what-so-ever. So much so that sometimes you and Shouta had to remind him that he was intelligent and offered a lot of knowledge and wisdom in many many ways: public speaking, social relationships, radio scripting, he spoke two languages fluently as well. However, this one-time Hizashi wished dearly that he had been right, that he was an insufferable know it all who never got it wrong. It was a different twisted feeling in his gut, sitting the back seat watching you try to keep it together in the front seat, than the usual mild embarrassment that faded after a couple of minutes when he was wrong about something. That was damn near luxurious compared to the painful knot tearing into his stomach.

The silence in the car was so dense and absolute that it almost physically gagged Hizashi and Shouta, the two of them were too afraid to say anything and break it. It felt as though the heavy silence was keeping you from breaking, as if it were applying enough pressure at all sides to keep the thin veneer of composure you were managing together. You felt it too, along with the heavy weight that was nearly crushing your chest, the thick doughy lump clogging your throat and the tremble in your lips. You took a deep breath, it getting caught halfway and freezing in to an unrealized sob that you pushed down.

Shouta huffed and pulled off to the side of the dark country road, slowing into the gravelly shoulder. He turned in his seat to face you, undoing his seat belt so he could fully turn his body. You kept your eyes out the window, trying with all your might not to let the tears that clouded your eyes to fall. You knew you’d need to cry about this, about your parents and their conditional love. You knew that this was something you would need to deal with, but you didn’t want to at this moment. You wanted to go home, take some sleeping medication and go to sleep, you wanted to wait until the open wound in your chest had stopped bleeding to begin treating it.

Your father was being facetious about your living arrangement as usual, whenever he was faced with Shouta and Hizashi his first reaction was to constantly point out that fact that you were a woman living with two men and that if they weren’t gay that one of them should have married you by now. Shouta and Hizashi had taken these comments like water rolling off of a duck’s back, Hizashi even grinned and mumbled something about your father tempting him. You could have kept your mouth shut, you could have kept your cool but Shouta’s hand was brushing against your thigh and you felt it tense into an annoyed fist. Something about Shouta’s minimal reaction lit a fire in you, more like an explosion. It was a surge of very sudden and very ferocious courage that lasted a split second and no longer. You’d practically shouted it, the ringing in your ears drowning whatever words you’d used out.

You were met with complete and utter silence, shock and fear thick in the air. You’d almost believed for a moment that you hadn’t done it, that you’d just shouted randomly and just scared everyone. But then your dad stood up, his shocked open mouth flattening out into a hard straight line, this jaw swelling as he clenched it.

“W-what?” he growled, stepping back from the table as if you were a threat.

You were ready to backtrack, you were so ready to just laugh and pretend you were fucking with him. But you spared a glance to Shouta and Hizashi, their faces pale and guilty. They, regardless of what you could say in an attempt to cover up what you’d just said, were basically admitting to it already. You instinctively shrunk back into your chair like you’d do when you were younger at the dinner table whenever something uncomfortable would come up. You could tell everyone was at a loss for words, the difference was that you were scared and at a loss for words, Shouta and Hizashi were shocked and at a loss for words and your father was steaming angry and at a loss for words.

Your mother, who had always been the least confrontational of the two turned away from you and almost in a show of disgust immediately went to comfort your grandmother. It was as if you were an afront to goodness, an act of moral atrocity being committed in front of them. Your father began to barrage you with passive aggressive questions and accusations towards Shouta and Hizashi. He was trying to understand while at the same time refusing to give you a chance to explain. You stopped listening after the first few sentences that came out of his mouth, falling back into an internal monologue filled with regret. He must have said something exceptionally terrible because in an instant Shouta was standing, his arm reaching out to separate you from him and he was shouting. Shouta never shouted, he barely voiced any form of annoyance or frustration in general when it wasn’t a learning moment for his students, but here he was on his feet volleying harsh word with your father.

Hizashi, you realized was attempting damage control, his hands raised and his voice lower than either of the other two men’s. You blinked back into the present, as noise filled your ears, you mother was crying, your father and Shouta were shouting and Hizashi was rambling panicked. You took a couple of deep breaths and stood up on shaky legs, gripping Shouta’s protective arm for support, and looked your father in the eyes. He faltered at the direct eye contact and you saw an opening where there was less shouting to contend with.

“Stop,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “this is why I never wanted to tell you! Why I was perfectly okay with living away from you guys for the rest- This is why I haven’t been home.”

Your mother gasped a ragged, tear-filled breath. She’d expressed before that she’d wished she could see you more often, that she’s noticed you’d been coming home less and less. You’d been good at covering it up, saying you were busy with work and simply couldn’t get the time off. You knew that what you’d just said hurt her, not in the way it should have. It hurt her because you’d just told them it was their fault that you felt unwelcomed here and not because you were afraid of your own parents.

“How long?” she breathed.

“Three years.” You sniffed, hand tightening around Shouta’s wrist.

“THREE?! THR-” your father bellowed in disbelief. “For three years they’ve been brainwashing and forcing themselves on you?!”

Suddenly you understood why Shouta had leapt up, you had just now caught up with the conversation. Red hot anger flared up in your chest, the mere insinuation that you were being forced in anyway to be with your partners filled you with utter rage.

“No!” You growled, for the first time in your life matching your father’s volume. “For three years they’ve been by my side, showing up at the hospital when I got hurt at work, celebrating my promotions at the agency, helping me make a home that I feel safe in and actually fucking caring about me!”

There was silence again, this one was thin but not light in anyway, like it was a delicate thread barely holding a great weight from falling and crushing you.

“We care for you.” You mother said darkly.

“No,” you swallowed hard, “you haven’t for a long time.”

“Get out.” You father growled.

Hizashi was already moving, grabbing your coats from the back of the chairs and pulling Shouta by the arm away from the table. It took you a good long second to move, even then it was because Shouta latched onto your shoulders and Hizashi tugged him along.

“I’m sorry.” Shouta whispered, his hand finding yours in your lap. You kept your eyes focused out the window at the pitch-black fields with barely visible for off golden dots of light. You couldn’t talk.

You heard Hizashi shuffling around in the back seat, scooting closer to you and his hand joined Shouta’s, pulling up onto the storage compartment between the seats. It was cracking, that veneer.

“It’s not your fault.” Hizashi murmured.

You sniffed hard, biting int you bottom lip. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that your parents didn’t accept you, that you weren’t good enough or right for them, that you weren’t on par with the apparent morality of the rest of the family. It wasn’t your fault that they were backwards people with terrible ideas of how a person should be. It still didn’t hurt any less that you couldn’t meet those backwards ideals, that you couldn’t be the right kind of person for them.

“Y/n,” Shouta whispered, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face towards them.

They were looking at you the way a mother looks at her crying baby in the first few months, the desperate need to connect and nurture glowing in their eyes. They were filled with worry, with pity, with understanding but also, with fear. No doubt, what had just happened had been traumatic for them too. Looking into their emotion filled eyes you felt that veneer shatter, falling away and unleashing that mournful sobbing that had been trapped inside.

Shouta pulled you towards him, holding you firmly to his chest placing his head atop yours. You vaguely felt Hizashi disappear from you for a moment, but you were too preoccupied with the trembling muscles seizing violently in your chest. Then you felt him sliding in behind you, only now realizing he’d stepped out of the car and slide in through your door as he shut it behind him. He draped himself over you rubbing circles into your back.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmured into your hair over and over again.

At first you didn’t really focus on it, thinking it idle words of comfort but the more he said the more it sunk in. The more your realized that you were holding onto the hope that there was something about this, about you, that you could fix. With every repetition of those four words that false hope chipped away and that heavy weight in your chest began to fall away. It was still painful, it still felt like you had a pen festering wound that you’d never fully heal from, but it also felt lighter. It felt as though a burden you’d believed was yours to bear was suddenly the responsibility of the many.

“You don’t have to change,” Shouta whispered softly as your sobs ebbed into weak beaths, “they do.”

That reignited some tears, to hear what you needed to said so plainly. Shouta was good at that, putting those intangible thoughts and feelings into plain words. You cried until the tears and the worry and the late hour caught up with you, until your head felt heavy and waterlogged and you slumped backwards into Hizashi sniffing. You cried until your wavering breaths evened out and your tired mind fell to silence. Hizashi pulled you into his lap and cradled you against him like a parent holding and oversized child, running his hand slowly through your hair.

When you awoke you were swaddled thoroughly with the fuzzy blanket from the couch Shouta hated because it shed and sandwiched between the two men who snored away. As you blinked in the early morning light that just barely peaked through the blinds you noticed the red rims around Hizashi’s eyes and deep-set circles under Shouta’s as if they both been awake all night. Shouta was still in his dress shirt and Hizashi had stripped down to his boxers and pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun. Neither were properly snoring which told they hadn’t been asleep for very long.

You tried to ignore what had happened last night, what had led to the heavy feeling in your head and crusty dry eyes and tight cheeks. You tried to pretend that they had stayed up for work, that they you had swaddled yourself up in the blanket nor because you were sad but because you just wanted to be cozy. Then you heard a phone vibrate on the nightstand and any and all work towards denial washed away as you dreaded checking it. It could just be a work thing, it could be Hizashi’s phone even though he’d never had it on silent even once since you’ve known him. It could have been Shouta’s vibrating against the wooden table even though you could see his slightly peeking out of his back pocket.

You sighed and sat up, daring the smallest of glances at the nightstand. It was your phone screen that was lit up, several notifications on the screen. You groaned and laid back down, scrunching your eyes shut begging for sleep to suddenly and miraculously take you. It buzzed again and you huffed. Fine. You’ll check it. I guess someone could be dying. I do stop that from happening for a living.

You very cautiously crawled over Hizashi and reached to get your phone, electing not to look at it until you settled back between your boys. You scrolled though your notifications, weather, news, a work email, a second email from a contact that made your blood run cold and three missed calls and two answering machine messages from the same contact. Grandma. Your hands trembled at you unlocked your phone and typed int your voicemail password. You held the phone up to you ear and listen to the first message which was more or less just some frustrated grandma noises and mumbles about the inconvenience of technology, followed briefly by a set of hellos. If you hadn’t been ready to shit yourself, you’d have laughed. Then the second played and you had to take a deep breath to hold yourself together enough to keep listening.

“Hello? Hello? Y/n? Oh shi- well this is just ridiculous. Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me, or maybe this is your answering machine, I don’t know I can’t hear too well but-” her soft worn voice said into the phone, “I want you to know that I love you. Your parents love you too, even if they did not act like it tonight.”

She paused and your eyes welled up with tears, a lump forming in your throat. It was this strange feeling of pure sadness but also happiness and relief.

“Those boys,” she continued, “probably would have killed your father last night if they had the chance. I’m not saying I get it, but they sure do love you, sweetheart. I quite like the blond one he is very-”

The message cut off and the automated voice asked you what you wanted to do with the message. All you could do was laugh, laugh and cry. You were still sad, still in pain, but it was already starting to feel less life-ending.

“Hey,” Shouta mumbled blearily, “S’okay. I’m here.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, trying to pull himself from sleep. You hugged him back and massaged the back of his scalp gently.

“Listen to this.” You sniffed.

He nodded and you pressed repeat, listening to the whole second message through again. You watched as a smile spread across his sleepy lips and he laughed softly. He pouted suddenly when it ended, his eyebrows pulling together as much as his drowsy state would let them.

“What?” you asked, worried he’d heard something you‘d missed.

“Why does she like Zash more?” he grumbled, barely awake now.

You smiled and curled into him, electing not to answer knowing that he wouldn’t like being told that Hizashi is more sociable than him. Besides, you smiled to yourself, he’d be asleep in a matter of seconds.

You were still hurt; you still had that big open wound in your chest. But with Shouta and Hizashi at your side you knew you’d heal; you knew they’d give you anything you needed. You knew that your grandmother was right, that these two boys loved you very much.

#polyerasermic #eraserhead #erasermic #erasermic x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #present mic x aizawa #eraserhead x reader x present mic #eraserhead x reader #reader insert #bnha #mha #myhero #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha fanfiction #y/n x mha #y/n x bnha

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hellimagines · 4 years

Text

Collateral -- JJ Maybank (Part One)

Masterlist

Summary: JJ’s stunt with Barry bites him in the ass when the angry drug dealer kidnaps you and decides you’re JJ’s collateral for the stolen money.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, angst, mentions of child abuse and drug use

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Routledge!reader

Word Count: 4,800+

A/N: I started writing this after binge-watching Outer Banks, and before I knew what was happening, I had written 20 pages of this and hadn’t even gotten to the climax… So, this has clearly been broken up into parts. I have part two already finished, and I’m almost finished with part three, but I’m not uploading them tonight because I want this to see the light of day first, and gain some love before I do anything. Please let me know what you guys think of this! I know there isn’t a lot of mushy-feely stuff in this chapter, and it’s mainly angst but, I had so much fun writing this, so please give it a chance and tell me what you think. Also, it’s canon divergent because I tweaked the DCS storyline and everything after John B. finds the first gold bar.

Your shift at The Wreck had been a long and strenuous one, more so than usual, because Kie hadn’t shown up for her night shift which left you to pull a double and cover for her. In your opinion, the nighttime customers were always worse than the morning customers since they typically consisted of kooks and tourons who expected the best of the best and nothing less. You had a short fuse, similar to your boyfriend, and would often get snippy with customers who complained about trivial things: their drinks having too much ice, their salad too much dressing, or their Chef’s Board not enough cheese or the wrong kind of cheese. Kie’s dad kept you on morning and afternoon shifts as much as possible due to the locals of The Cut coming to the cafe during those times, and your ability to make them feel at home while they ate their toast and sipped their coffee. So, having to work a night shift unexpectedly without a break from your morning shift left you feeling exhausted and detached from the world.

As peeved as you were with Kie for pulling a no-call-no-show, you were more worried than anything; especially when you noticed JJ wasn’t waiting outside to walk home with you like he normally was. You hadn’t heard from any of the other pogues since yesterday, when you had to go to work and they went over to Crain Mansion in search of the gold. You would’ve gone with them, but you couldn’t risk missing another day of work and possibly being fired. After your shift yesterday (and noticing the lack of blond curls outside the cafe), you had headed home with the plan to meet up with your friends and learn of any new updates--but, when you arrived, nobody was there. You waited around for the rest of the day, but when 10 o’clock rolled around and nobody had shown, you retreated to your bedroom and fell asleep. When you had woken up around 5 a.m to get ready for your shift at work, you were relieved to find JJ curled around you fast asleep, and your brother, Sarah, Kie, and Pope passed out together on the futon in the living room. They had a pot cradled between the four of them, but you thought nothing of it as you got ready for work. You left behind a note, asking them to stop by The Wreck when they woke up to fill you in on whatever you had missed, but they had never shown up.

Now, as you locked up The Wreck at the end of your 10 o’clock shift and waved to the cooks and other wait staff as you all parted ways, your worry only increased. The Cut was warm and humid as you made your way toward the chateau, forcing you to shed your work shirt in favor of the tanktop laying beneath. Your hair was pulled into a high-pony, and while it had been sleek and put together at 6 o’clock this morning, you now had frizzed strands falling into your face and the bottom of your hair was sticky from an exploded champagne bottle earlier that night. Your feet ached and your hips felt unbalanced from the constant speed-walking and maneuvering around tables and patrons, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse against JJ in your room and sleep for a solid 12 hours straight. Before you could do that, though, you had to continue your thirty-minute walk to said paradise and make sure everyone was okay.

As you left the hustle and bustle surrounding The Wreck and the docks, and ventured further into The Cut, you felt the tension beginning to ease out of your body at the familiar surroundings. As much as you loved The Wreck, you were not a fan of the kooks and tourons that migrated there throughout the night, bothering you during and after your shifts. As expected, the night held the worst of the batch, with alcohol and other drugs filtering their systems and giving them loose tongues and firm hands. Even though you could handle yourself and those who tried making a move on you, you never felt at ease or safe while leaving The Wreck; unless JJ or your friends were with you and you didn’t have to check over your shoulder every few feet. Crossing the imaginary threshold between The Wreck and The Cut always eased your mind, allowing you to slow your steps and cease checking your shoulder. This was also primarily because on The Cut, people knew who you were--not only as a waitress, a pogue, or (Y/N) Routledge, but as ‘JJ Maybank’s girl’. It pissed you off to no-end that people referred to you as ‘JJ’s girl’ more than your own name and you’d often chew people out on it, but you couldn’t deny the protection (and love and warmth and all-things-JJ) it gave you. You and JJ had been dating for two years, and while you loved him more than life and he loved you more than surfing, you often wished you could be seen as your own person: as (Y/N). Regardless of your annoyance at being solely known as JJ’s girl, as you walked the barely-lit streets of The Cut in nothing but a tank top and shorts, you were appreciative of your unofficial title. Very few people were walking around this late at night, but those who were offered you a simple nod or kept their eyes trained on the ground as you passed by, a complete contrast to the tourons near The Wreck. You expected this to continue until you reached your house, no longer looking over your shoulder for an unwanted kook or a touron that didn’t know the rules.

You turned another corner, now only fifteen minutes away from home, and rolled your shoulders to try and release some of the built-up tension you gained from your shift as you walked. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting your muscles relax and a gentle breeze from the ocean to cloud your senses. Just as you were about to open your eyes and continue forward, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. Your eyes shot open and your body turned but before you could see who it was, you felt the barrel of a gun press against your lower back. The metal was cold against your tank top as it dug into you, the owner’s hand coming up to grab your shoulder and keep you from moving away.

“Maybank shouldn’t be leaving his things unattended, especially ones as pretty as you,” a voice muttered into your ear, jabbing the gun harshly into your spine. You froze, trying to place the voice to a face as you heard a vehicle approach and stop beside you.

“I’m not a thing, actually,” you retorted, keeping the fear out of your voice as the man behind you jerked you forward toward the black SUV. The backdoor swung open, but you couldn’t see who was driving it or if there was anyone else waiting for you inside. “What do you want? JJ isn’t his dad, whatever Luke’s done to piss you off is his own problem, not ours.”

The man laughed sharply in your ear as he shoved you forward, causing you to drop your shirt and tumble off the sidewalk, and your torso to fall into the backseat. You yelled out when the man grabbed your legs and pushed your body into the car, your body bending painfully as he slid in beside you. The door slammed shut and the man backed you into the corner of the SUV, caging your body against the door. Your hand shot down to the door handle, yanking on it to open the door and let you fall out, but it didn’t budge.

“Child lock, snowball. You’re not going anywhere.”

You looked up, finally able to see the man’s face as he grinned down at you. His grill shined each time the SUV passed under a streetlight and the black hair dangling in his face tickled your nose from how close he was. Instantly, you brought your foot up and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away from you as you struggled to sit up.

“What the fuck do you want, Barry?” you snapped while the dealer across from you laughed loudly and held onto his stomach.

He smirked at you, “I forgot how much of a kicker you were, snowball.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been tryin’ to sell blow to fucking 8th graders,” you shot back, glaring at him. “Now tell me what the fuck you want.”

He raised his hands in surrender, the smirk never falling from his face. “I want my fucking money back. You little shits stole 25k from my goddamn house.”

“What the fuck are you on about? The last time I went to your shithole was a year ago to buy an 8ball,” you scoffed.

“And while I do miss the revenue you brought me during your time as a cokehead, I’m not talking about you, snowball. Your boy, your brother, your brother’s new whore, the ex-kook, and Heyward’s son stole from me. I know you’re too smart and levelheaded to pull a stunt like that, and the ex-kook and her boyfriend have too much going for them to fuck it up by crossing me. This means it was either your boy or your brother,” Barry explained, his jaw tight with anger as he spoke.

“First of all, Kie and Pope have names. Second of all, they’re not dating. Third of all, what makes you think it wasn’t Sarah? From what I’ve heard, the Cameron’s have a history of robbing you blind.”

“Because my sister is too much of a pansy to pull a stunt like this, and she doesn’t even know who the fuck Barry is.” Your head shot up at the new voice, and you made eye contact with Rafe in the rearview mirror. “You dirty pogues have corrupted my sister.”

“I see someone’s been bitched,” you chuckled with a roll of your eyes. Rafe’s foot slammed on the break and caused you to slam into the back of the passenger seat with an oomph. He turned around, his arm already raised to throw a punch, when Barry grabbed it first.

“Chill the fuck out, Country Club. Can’t go beaten on her just yet. Now hurry the fuck up and get us to the hanger.” Rafe’s nostrils flared at Barry’s demand, and after a moment of his fist flexing in Barry’s hold, Rafe relented. He jerked his arm back and continued driving in silence. “Don’t piss off the driver, snowball,” Barry tsked, waving his finger in your face.

“Look, why would JJ or Birdie steal 25 thousand dollars from you? You know how much JJ despises you and your business because of what it’s done to his dad and the hole I fell into last year, and my brother doesn’t even know who the hell you are. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Barry chuckled, “I see they’ve kept you in the dark. Did they tell you about the gold they found? That they tried pawning off to me this morning?” At the frown on your face and your furrowed brows, Barry laughed even harder. “Oh yeah, they brought in a seven-pound chunk of gold to the shop this morning. Offered ‘em a cashier’s check worth a couple thousand, but your boy is quite the negotiator. So, I sent them to the warehouse for the cash they wanted.”

“And let me take a wild-fucking-guess: on their way, you jumped them, stole the gold, and left them with nothing but dirt under their nails?”

Barry grinned at your words, his tongue sliding over his grill as he laughed. “See, this is why they should’ve brought you along! Would’ve saved them from all the trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well fuck, no wonder they stole from you. You stole from them first, Barry. An eye for a fucking eye, it’s the way of the jungle ‘round here. It’s the only damn law you follow.”

“You’re right, it is the only law I follow. Which is why you’re here, snowball. You see, before I could complete my task, they jumped me and stole my wallet and the gold. You’re smart, I bet you’re starting to see the problem now. No gold, no wallet, no 25k,” Barry seethed, the smirk falling from his face as he leaned forward, pushing you back into the corner of the seat. “JJ Maybank stole from me, plain as day. If I had seven pounds of gold in my hand it would be different, I wouldn’t be as pissed. But, you see, I don’t. So, as you said, it’s an eye for an eye. And what better to steal from JJ Maybank, than the only thing he cares about? The only thing he owns?”

“He doesn’t own me, so jot that down.”

Barry threw his head back and laughed loudly, shooting an unnerving feeling down your spine. Rafe laughed along, though anyone could tell it was forced as his eyes darted from the mirror to the road. “This entire goddamn island knows that he owns you, snowball, and you damn well know it too. Which means until I get my money back, you’re my collateral.”

The bruises decorating JJ’s torso ached with each step he took, but he had to keep moving toward the chateau: he had to prove to the others that he was good. He had to prove that he could do the right thing with the money he stole. Even if his dad couldn’t do the right thing, and wouldn’t let him back in the house without another beating, JJ could do the right thing and be good. Even if he stole the money it didn’t matter, because Barry stole his life, and Barry didn’t deserve the money, and Barry wasn’t good. The money would pay off his restitution, and you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and Pope wouldn’t have to feel guilty or worry about it anymore, either. Nobody would have to worry about him anymore, and it would all be good.

But as JJ limped up the chateau’s steps, repeating to himself that, ‘it was all good, he was good, and everything would be good,’ he wasn’t expecting for the screen door to slam open and for John B. to body slam him into the ground. The blue thermos shot from his grip as he was flung down the stairs, and JJ couldn’t bite back his scream of pain when his already-aching body slammed into the dirt. He didn’t get a second to gather his bearings before John B. was pummeling his fists into his stomach and his arms and his face and anywhere else he could land a hit. JJ couldn’t even lift his legs to fight off his best friend from beating on his twice-battered body.

“This all your fault!” John B. screamed, his face an angry red as tears and spit rained down onto JJ. “He took her because of you!” He ceased his punches only to wrap his hands around JJ’s throat, squeezing and pressing down in an attempt to strangle the life out of his best friend.

Faintly, JJ could hear Pope, Kie, and Sarah screaming, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His entire body felt cold but his head felt hot, and the buzzing in his ears was growing louder and louder until it was all he could hear. He could see John B.’s face above him, his lips moving as he screamed and sobbed, and JJ could see his own blood splattered on his best friend’s jaw and shirt. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes, moving inward until he could only see the murderous rage filling John B.’s eyes. Just as the darkness settled over him, he felt John B.’s weight lift off of him and air came rushing back into his lungs. For a few seconds, all JJ could do was choke on the air whilst his body convulsed, and someone rolled him onto his side in a desperate hurry.

“-eathe, breathe JJ, come on.” Someone was talking to him, rubbing their hand up and down his back as he continued to shake. He still couldn’t see anything and he couldn’t tell who was talking to him and rubbing his back and all he really wanted to do was blackout for a bit. A harsh slap against the center of his back had other plans, causing the air to finally force itself into his lungs. JJ began to cough violently, continuing to choke on the air that was now entering his body. He tried pushing himself to his knees as he dry-heaved onto the ground, but his shaking arms and legs were too weak to support him.

Pope was yelling in the background, “Chill the fuck out, JB! You almost killed him!”, his voice bringing JJ’s senses back to where they belonged.

“He fucking deserves it! He’s the reason she’s gone!” John B. yelled back, his voice deeper than JJ could remember. JJ blinked a few times, trying to focus on the bloody grass in front of him while his two friends continued fighting in the distance.

“Hey, just keep breathing,” the person helping him - who JJ now recognized as Kie - soothed, pulling his sweaty hair out of his face as more blood dribbled from his lips. She was upset, JJ could tell by the way her hands were shaking and the sound of wet sniffles every few seconds. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, who John B. was talking about, but all that came out was a harsh wheeze from his burning lungs and even more blood. “Don’t- don’t say anything. Please, JJ, just… just breathe for a few minutes,” Kie whimpered before a sob slipped from her lips.

He did as she asked and allowed his eyes to close, his body sinking into the ground as he focused on regulating his breathing. After a few minutes, JJ could hear John B. storm inside the chateau, kicking JJ’s crumpled body on his way up the stairs.

“John B., stop it!” Sarah yelled as she followed him inside.

Pope came and knelt in front of JJ, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up. “You fucked up, JJ, worse than I ever thought possible,” Pope sighed as he adjusted JJ against the railing.

“What-” JJ broke off to cough into his fist, ignoring the blood that splattered across his hand, “what happened?” His voice was hoarse and barely understandable, but Kie and Pope knew what he was saying.

“You stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from a drug dealer. One of the most nefarious drug dealers on this island, that’s what happened,” Kie said, standing up and pacing in front of the blond. “What did you think was gonna happen, JJ? That he’d let it go?”

“What did he take? The HMS Pogue?” JJ rasped, looking up at his friends in confusion. “(Y/N)’ll be pissed, but we can get it back, or I’ll buy her and John B. a new one with the money.” His thoughts didn’t make sense inside of his pounding head, but he still voiced them regardless.

“How are you so stupid?” Pope yelled, causing JJ to flinch as the other to shot to his feet. “Why would John B. try to kill you over a boat? Don’t you think (Y/N) would be out here yelling at you, too?”

“My girl doesn’t yell, you know that, Pope,” JJ shook his head. “She’s got work and the boat- the boat is all they’ve got left of Big John,” JJ said, coughing a few times. His head was foggy and his vision was still blurry, so he couldn’t see the mentioned boat sitting on the dock to his left.

“No, JJ,” Kie sighed, “Barry didn’t take the HMS. He took (Y/N). He left a note on the van--he wants his money back, plus the gold, and an extra 5k in exchange for (Y/N). He’ll be back in a week to make the trade.”

“He didn’t say what he’d do to her if we don’t give him what he wants but… it’s not something that needs to be said,” Pope whispered as he carefully watched for JJ’s reaction.

A cold chill fell over JJ, causing him to shiver violently despite the warm temperature outside. “You’re lying,” he spat, forcing himself to his feet. Pope and Kie backed up, steering clear of his sudden burst of energy. “You’re fucking lying, she’s not- she’s not gone, he didn’t lay a fucking finger on her. Barry knows better. You just… you just want me to return the money, that’s it, she’s fine, she’s inside right now, she’s-”

“JJ, stop, please,” Kie cried as JJ spun around, tripping over himself in his haste to run up the stairs. Pope grabbed ahold of him before he could make it very far, pulling him away from the house and John B.’s anger. JJ flailed in his grasp, but he was too weak from the lack of oxygen and two beatings his body had just endured, to fight Pope off.

“She’s fine!” he screamed, not noticing the tears that were falling from his eyes. “I told her I would protect her, I promised nobody would ever lay a finger on her! She’s inside, and she’s fine--Barry didn’t fucking touch my girl, you’re lying,” he sobbed, straining against Pope’s hold on his biceps.

“Why would we lie about this?” Kie yelled back, suddenly overwhelmed with having to watch JJ fall apart like this in front of her. “Why would your best fucking friend try and beat you to death if it wasn’t true? Why would the gold have been included in the letter? Huh JJ? Do you think (Y/N) would have ever gone along with something like this?” she screamed, her voice hoarse from crying as well.

“We’re telling the truth, JJ. She’s gone,” Pope said, holding onto JJ even tighter as his thrashing momentarily increased.

JJ let the words wash over him, the truth of his mistake settling deep in his bones. The guilt, and the grief, and the anger weighed him down, and before he could stop himself, he let out a deep, guttural, inhumane scream of agony. Pope couldn’t hold him up anymore as JJ’s knees gave out, his entire body collapsing to the ground while he screamed. His throat burned more than it had before and he didn’t notice when his voice gave out, leaving him a mess on the floor with spit and blood dribbling from his gaping mouth. Pope cradled JJ to his chest, crying into his best friend’s shoulder while Kie fell beside the two, trying to get JJ to breathe again through her own tears.

Half an hour later, you were pulling up beside a hanger at the very back of a storage facility. You knew kooks used this area to store their boats, planes, cars, and other expensive things when they weren’t intending to be used in the near future--so you weren’t surprised when Rafe got out of the van and opened up the hanger, revealing a vintage boat and a handful of different furniture. With hurricane season already underway, and summer having begun, you knew kooks weren’t going to be visiting the storage facility very often, meaning there wasn’t a high hope that someone would stumble across you.

“Welcome to your new home, snowball,” Barry leered, before opening the backdoor and dragging you out of the SUV. He kept the gun pressed against your waist while leading you into the hanger, leaving Rafe to pull the SUV around the corner. It was cold inside, much colder than you were expecting, and you had to fight to keep a shiver from trickling down your spine. “You and I are gonna be real comfortable in here for the next week, maybe longer if your boy doesn’t come through.”

‘He’ll come through’, you thought to yourself, worry spiking inside of you at the mention of JJ. You looked over your shoulder as Rafe came into the hanger and loudly pulled the door down behind him. “So, what? You’re just going to keep me locked up in here until you get what you want? I have a fucking job, Barry. I’ve already called out enough as it is, pulling a no-call-no-show for an entire week is going to get me fired.”

Barry reeled around to stare at you, an incredulous look on his face. “I’ve just kidnapped you and held you at gunpoint, and you’re worried about your damn job?” he asked, waving the gun in front of your face for emphasis.

“Uh, yeah, no shit. My job is the only reason DCS hasn’t snatched me and my brother into the system. Mr. Carrera has agreed to help us maneuver a few technicalities with DCS--so long as I take on extra shifts when needed, and show the fuck up. Plus, a week’s worth of zero tips means bills won’t be paid and stomachs won’t be fed,” you scoffed, knocking the gun away from your face.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, snowball-”

“Ay, nuh-uh, Country Club. Get your own nickname,” Barry cut in, prompting you to raise your eyebrows.

“But you-”

“Nope. Get your own.”

Rafe paused, glaring down at you in thought, before nodding to himself. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, Maybitch-”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you groaned, pressing your fingers to your forehead in exasperation. ‘It’s got a nice ring to it, though, and JJ would eat it up… Could even get a laugh out of Pope, I bet,’ you couldn’t help but think.

Barry knocked the gun against Rafe’s shoulder, shutting him up with a look of annoyance. “Your boy has gotten himself in a lotta trouble, 25k worth of trouble. So until I get my fucking money, you’re not going anywhere,” Barry simplified.

You pouted in mock disappointment, “Could you at least write a note to my boss?” Barry groaned with a roll of his eyes before he nodded his head at Rafe and directed him toward something you couldn’t see. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, Bear. JJ and the others have probably spent the money already. JJ’s got restitution to pay, Pope has an interview he needs a suit for, Kie’s been wanting a new surfboard, and Birdie’s been wanting to fix up our boat with somethin’ pretty. There’s no way they’d let 25 thousand dollars burn a hole in their pockets.”

Barry chuckled darkly with a shake of his head and turned your body around. He forced you to face the spot he had sent Rafe to, where you saw a metal chair bolted to the ground with Rafe stood beside it. He held a boat chain, a lock, and zip ties in his hands and a wicked grin was cracked along his face. Barry moved your ponytail out of the way so he could lean his chin on your shoulder, taking satisfaction in the way your body trembled. “Trust me, snowball, after they see how well you’ve been treated at Hotel Barry, they’ll find a way to get me my money. And you,” he paused to laugh softly in your ear, “you’ll be providing me all the information I need on where to find the rest of that gold.”

‘I’m so fucked.’

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @sophster1881 @alilcloudy

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