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softforloki · 2 years

Note

can you write something about Loki teaching reader's how to kiss, since it's the readers's first time and she really has no experience.

Yes. Yes I can.

Things kind of went of the rails with this one, but it's super cute and I'm very happy with it. It took forever so y'all better enjoy it

Summery: Over the course of many days, Loki peppers you with affection after affection. You're unused to this kind of attention from anyone, but you welcome it regardless.

Word Count: 2,636

Warnings: Swearing

Masterlist

Quiet Kisses

It started with a kiss on the hand.

You'd taken it upon yourself to introduce Loki to the world of pop culture. In doing so, you'd practically dragged him to your rooms to watch the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Despite his valiant effort to remain aloof, he'd clearly enjoyed himself- enough so that he put up no resistance when you put on the second one.

"Shit, it's nearly one in the morning." You observed, tilting your phone's screen towards Loki so he could see the time as the movie's credits began to roll.

"I hadn't realized it'd gotten so late," He replied, standing and stretching. "I should get out of your hair."

"Yeah, I guess I should let you go." You agreed, a tinge of reluctance coloring your words. "I need my beauty sleep, anyway."

"As do I," Loki's eyes sparkled. "Thank you for tonight, I greatly enjoyed it."

"Thank you for giving me an excuse to watch those movies for the seventeenth time."

Loki chuckled and met your eyes. The quiet smile he gave you made your heart flutter. "I trust there will be more nights like this to look forward to?"

"Oh, oh! Yeah of course." You laughed a little, somewhat incredulous. You knew Loki liked you well enough, but you'd figured that his tolerance wouldn't extend to consistent movie nights. "I'll make you a list of must-sees."

"Excellent." He dipped his head, reaching for your hand. You gave it to him, partly on reflex. He brought it to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. He found your gaze; the way he looked at you over your hand made the gesture feel more than cordial.

Your throat had completely dried up, and you wouldn't have been surprised if your heart beat out of your chest. All you could do was smile weakly and hope blood was still flowing to your brain.

Loki released your hand and moved to leave. He had his hand on the door knob when he turned back to face you. "Next week, same time? Or perhaps it'd be better to start a bit earlier?" His eyes darted to the wall clock, watching as the seconds ticked away to one in the morning.

"Yeah," You croaked, then cleared your throat. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Loki smiled, either completely unaware of the effect he was having on you, or choosing not to comment. "Then I bid you goodnight. I shall see you soon."

"'Night, Loki." You have me a little wave.

He gave you a shallow bow, and he was gone.

You fell back so you were sitting again on the couch, sleep the furthest thing from your mind.

You replayed the last minute over and over again, your thumb unconsciously passing back and forth over the place on your hand where Loki's lips had been mere moments ago.

. . .

Next, it was a kiss on the forehead.

It was one of those days where everything seemed to be going wrong. You'd spilled coffee on your favorite shirt, tripped and fallen on your face during your morning run, been late to a team meeting, and finally, you'd knocked a glass off the kitchen counter when Thor bumped into you.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed, quickly backing away from the shattered glass and puddle of orange juice. "Let me help-"

"No, it's fine." You gritted out, "I'll do it."

"Allow me." As if summoned, Loki slid into the room. He inclined his head to the mess at your feet, and as though he'd hit rewind on reality, the shards of glass and puddle of juice flew back to the counter. The cup reassembled itself, and the liquid settled back inside it. Loki took a dramatic sweeping bow, looking up at you with a little smirk, as if to say "Ta-da!"

"Excellent! Thank you, Loki." Thor pat his brother on the back as Loki righted himself. "All is well. Sorry about that, again." He said to you.

"No prob." You replied curtly, abandoning your drink and storming off.

Somehow, Loki’s little magic trick and his stupid arrogant smile made you even more frustrated. A day filled with insignificant inconveniences all piled on top of each other clawed at your back, making this latest one grate at you much more than it should’ve.

Finally, back in the peaceful solitude of you rooms, you were allowed a few fleeting hours of respite. Suddenly, someone was knocking at your door.

Loki stood before you in the doorway, his stupidly handsome features twisted into a look of concern. “You looked as though you needed space after the incident with the glass, but I wanted to check on you.”

“Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be after one of the more irritating days ever?” You rubbed your eyes with a groan.

“Do you need anything?” He asked quietly.

Loki’s expression shifted from worried to surprised as you sniffled pathetically, running your hand once more across your eyes to clear away your pooling tears. “I dunno,” You whimpered. “It’s just been a long day and I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m sor-”

Without letting you get another word out, Loki collected you in his arms, pressing your face into his shoulder. He rubbed a hand soothingly up and down your back as he rocked on his feet, swaying gently with you.

“I understand what it’s like,” he murmured into your ear. “when small irritations seem like so much more after everything else has already gone wrong. You needn’t apologize, you can cry as much as you like. I’ve got you.”

You cried harder as Loki stepped you further into the room, barely registering the sound of the door closing magically. Neither of you knew how long you stood there for, but he never wavered as you sobbed into him.

When you finally looked up at him, you smiled weakly. “I think I’m all cried out. Thanks, Loki.”

He returned your smile with one of his own, smoothing his fingertips across your face to wipe away stray tears. “It’s my pleasure, love. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Is there anything you want to do? Anything I can do for you?”

You let him take your hands in his, trying to ignore how his thumbs gently brushing brushing over your knuckles were sending jolts of electricity through your body. “Can you... can you stay? We could have another movie night?”

Loki gently placed his lips on your forehead, pressing a kiss into the skin. “Your wish is my command. I would love nothing more.”

If he hadn’t been pressed against you and supporting you, you might’ve passed out on the spot.

. . .

You realized you had to so something when he kissed you on the cheek.

You, Clint, and Natasha had been called in for a mission overseas. You had no clue how long you’d be gone, but Nick Fury had estimated roughly a week when he’d briefed you.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me check in on you from time to time?” Loki stood with his hands in your pockets, an almost bashful look on his face as he bid you goodbye before you boarded the Quinjet. “I do have that cellular device for a reason. Perhaps you could send me a message or call me once in a while.”

“Worried about me, are we?” You teased, choosing to ignore your rapidly increasing heart rate.

“Honestly?” He rocked on his heels, inhaling heavily. “I fully trust that you, Barton, and Romanoff will have nothing but full control of the situation. I will just...” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “Well, I’ll miss you.”

Warmth spread from your chest to the tips of your toes. A wide grin forced its way onto your face as you pulled him in for a hug. “I’ll miss you, too.”

You stood there holding each other for longer than was perhaps socially acceptable. You tucked your face into the door of his neck, breathing him in. He smelled of parchment, pine needles, and a scent that so distinctly Loki you couldn’t describe it as anything else.

You finally pulled back, arms still thrown around his neck. “I’ll text you when we land, okay?”

“Please do.” Loki glanced over your shoulder, seeing Natasha on the Quinjet’s ramp, arms folded impatiently across her chest. “It’s probably time for you to go.”

You glanced over at Natasha and gave her a little wave. “Right. I’ll see you in a few days, then.”

Loki nodded, his mouth pressed into a tight line. He tugged nervously on his shirt sleeve, and nibbled on his lip. As if coming to a decision, he sighed, and suddenly leaned in to kiss your cheek. His lips lingered against your skin for several seconds, and yet, when he pulled away you found yourself thinking, ‘No, not yet.’

“I eagerly await your return.” He whispered, breath fanning across your face.

“Me too,” You breathed, your hand raising to the place he’d kissed you. You held his intense gaze, a million thoughts swarming through your head but none of them making it past your lips.

Natasha called your name, gesturing for you to hurry up. Ultimately deciding that you had nothing to loose at this point, you quickly kissed Loki on the cheek in return.

“Bye!” You hurried, waving as you jogged onto the Quinjet. Nat smirked at you as you climbed the ramp. “I don’t wanna hear it.” You hissed at her.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” She insisted, though the gleam in her eye spoke volumes.

As the jet prepared to take off, you peered through the window. You saw Loki still standing just off the landing pad. The look on his face could only be described as smitten.

. . .

You were going insane.

Ever since you’d returned from your mission, Loki had been fluttering around you. He was constantly there, sharing meals with you, working out with you, and just simply hanging around you. You were far from annoyed by his persistent presence, though. You were going insane because he kept looking at you with the same blissful, soft expression he’d worn when you’d left- after you’d returned his kiss on the cheek. Every time he looked at you it felt like your brain was melting.

Even now, he hadn't hesitated to offer you his arm when walking you back to your rooms. You grappled for conversation topics just so you could focus on something other than the feeling of his defined bicep under your fingers, and the way his eyes kept finding your own.

"Do you still go for runs in the morning?" Loki asked innocently, stepping out of the elevator with you.

"Yeah, I usually leave around eight-ish. Why?"

"Perhaps I could join you tomorrow? You could show me a bit more of this city. I've yet to discover what it is that makes Midgardians worship it like they do."

You laughed at that, dropping his arm to slip off your shoes. "Honestly it's mostly the people that don't live in New York that romanticize it, but I'd love for you to join me. I probably wouldn't be able to keep up with you, though. You've got the same never-ending stamina as Steve and Bucky."

"It'd be your run, I will be a mere guest. I'm more than happy to take things at whatever pace you like."

"Then you're more than welcome to join me." You smiled at him, knocking a fist playfully against his arm. "But if I don't see you by eight, I'm leaving without you. I like to leave early so the good trails don't get too crowded."

"Understood." He nodded, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. And yet, neither of you moved.

You opened your mouth to say more, but no words came out. Your throat completely dried up- you just kept gazing into his deep, lovely eyes.

Loki seemed to snap out of it first, inhaling sharply, and rocking on his heels. "I have another request, actually."

"What is it?" You asked quietly, noting that his behavior was oddly similar to when you were at the landing pad, about to board the Quinjet.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, and I've waited because I wanted to make sure we'd both feel the same way about it." He tugged at his sleeve, which you were starting to think may've been another nervous tic of his, along with the rocking.

"And now you're sure?"

"Now I'm certain." He agreed.

He leaned forward, slowly and steadily, as if worried he'd startle you. You didn't back down, but you felt your heartbeat quicken with every inch forward he claimed. He stopped a mere breath away from you, and you put a hand on his shoulder- you weren't sure whether on reflex or intentionally.

"May I kiss you?" He asked, his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips.

Your fingers tightened around his shoulder, and you took a tiny step back. Barely enough to be considered retreating, but enough so that you felt like you could breathe again. You felt yourself smile, but continued to firmly hold Loki's gaze. "I haven't actually ever kissed anyone before."

His brows raised, and you could see the despair creeping into his eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to!" You quickly amended. "I do, I definitely want to kiss you, I just don't really know what to do."

Light returned to Loki as he shared your shy smile. "That's alright," he murmured, gently caressing your cheek. "I'm more than happy to take things at whatever pace you like."

You chuckled softly at his repeated words, reclaiming the step you took and leaning into his touch.

He place a gentle kiss on your cheek, then at the corner of your lips. He placed a hand under your chin, tilting your head up. "May I?"

You nodded, wetting your lips. "You're going to have to help me out, here."

He smiled at that. "Okay." Loki gently tilted your head to the side, leaning forward so his nose nearly slotted against yours. "Part your lips a little," He whispered.

You did so, staring unblinkingly at him. He was so close.

"Close your eyes?" It was a question, a suggestion. He was giving you the choice, and you felt your heart melt a little at that. He was letting you back out if you had to.

You closed your eyes, letting out a little breath of air. Your hand, still on his shoulder, relaxed and lay there gently.

When he kissed you, you just stood there at first. It took a moment for you to follow the movements of his lips, but you quickly caught on. Timidly, you kissed back, your hand traveling up into his beautiful hair as you grew more confident. He held you tightly to him, one arm encircling your body. He still cradled your face in the other hand, as though you were glass.

You pulled back, lashes fluttering as you gazed up at him. "That was- that was good, right?" You asked breathlessly.

Loki laughed, hugging you back to him, and kissing your forehead. "Yes, darling. That was good."

When you finally stepped away and got a good look at him, he was just as out of breath and starry-eyed as you seemed to be. "I guess I'll see you in the morning then." You breathed, laughing a little.

"Yes you will," He reached for your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. "Goodnight, then."

As his grip loosened, yours tightened. You pulled him forward, startling him as he stumbled towards you.

"Goodnight, Loki." You smiled, triumphant as you kissed him yet again.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki friggason x reader #marvel loki #loki marvel #marvel loki x reader #loki fluff #loki kiss #anon request

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pyxisastronautica · 3 months

Text

Growth

Uniform and Victor’s arrival came with little fanfare. Whiskey had given them some snarky greeting, which both of them had seemed rather nonplussed by, but Lima could barely pay attention to any of it. The signaling/singing from the nanite colony occupied most of her processing as she tried to decipher it, and even Oats rummaging through her pockets scarcely drew her attention for anything more than a few seconds to gently scratch them. It was taking all she had but she was close, so close. She might’ve even been impressed with her progress if she had the chance, given how completely alien what she was listening to was. It was, if anything, less like hearing animals talk to each other and more like watching neurons fire and trying to piece together what the patterns meant.

Her concentration was broken by a heavy thud as Victor sat next to her. He was staring forward, mostly, but occasionally shot her a sidelong glance. Lima leered at him, but his expression remained largely impassive. Maybe there was something else there, but she couldn’t quite figure it out and didn’t care to try at the moment.

“Even I have to admit that they’re…Interesting, in their way. Pretty, even.”

“They look like many of the things you’ve stepped on or uprooted.”

“Those were organic. These represent a potential for synthetic existence that was…mishandled. Unrealized. And…I wasn’t really able to understand aesthetics before. Perhaps I would have found those…things beautiful too, looking back. Even if they were useless.”

“They weren’t useless. They had a place in the context of their own world.”

“And you think these have a place in ours?”

“They might have, if they were given a chance,” Lima’s expression was dour, and though Victor’s brow furrowed at the sentiment, he seemed content to leave it at that for a while, standing up again and next to Uniform, whose cold white eyes had never left her.

Hours passed, though how many were hard to tell. Even having moved up a bit initially from Whiskey’s insistence, Lima could still see the glowing cave to her left. If anything, it seemed brighter than before somehow, the edges of it turning fuzzy. It seemed like just a trick of the light at first, but over time it became undeniable- the colony was creeping closer towards them. At around a hundred feet of distance, Whiskey broke the silence at last.

W: Hey boss, the uh. Coral-stuff is startin’ to come our way. Can we maybe get a move on away from it? TCCAI: You may move towards the entrance in thirty meter intervals. When the entrance becomes visible you are to hold your position regardless of progression. W: Uh, great. Thanks. Roger.

Whiskey, who had been sitting on Lima’s other side, clapped a hand to her shoulder as he stood up, then offered it to her to help her up.

“Alright Beans, let’s scoot up!”

Lima didn’t move.

“Lima, come on now. Maybe you’re right about ‘em and they ain’t harmful, but. We don’t know that for sure, and I don’t think we should be takin’ our chances. You know ‘s well as I do what happened to infected bots, let’s just…keep our distance for now.”

“TCCAI said we may move up. It didn’t say we had to. And I don’t want to.”

Whiskey tried to squat down, try to talk to her face to face, but a pair of slender arms hooked beneath his and started dragging him backwards with surprising force.

“Hey- HEY! UNIFORM, LET ME GO, YOU’RE JUST GONNA-”

At the same time, Victor’s hand closed around Lima’s wrist with a vice-like grip and she was pulled to her feet by force. She tried dropping her full weight backwards, sneakers dragging on the uneven stone, but it wouldn’t be enough.

“Let. Me. Go,” Lima hissed.

“I have gone over 11,000 years without losing a single crewmate, and I will not start now,” Victor spat back. Despite his efforts to be diplomatic with her, maybe even openly displaying some genuine measure of concern, Lima could tell that his temper was starting to flare again, and she couldn’t say she was surprised. It didn’t matter to her either way. The fingers of her free hand dug into the wall trying to find purchase. She was staying rooted, as much as she could, kicking futilely where she couldn't.

In frustration, Victor drew his blaster on her. Lima’s eyes widened but her grip remained.

“As a reminder, I was told to kill you if you displayed hostile or erratic behavior. I’d prefer not to, though, because that’s just you being the same petulant brat you’ve always been.”

“WHY NOT LEAVE ME THEN? Why not just leave me to be a casualty, if you’re going to kill me anyway?”

A heavily synthesized snarl came from Victor as he dropped his blaster in favor of grabbing her with both hands and ripping her off the wall, flinging her away from the cave wall with enough force for the chassis beneath her skin to clank before she rolled. He picked up the weapon again and put it back in his holster.

“God damn you, you piece of shit, why do you always have to be so rough with her?” Whiskey growled, trying to figure out how to get out of the pin Uniform had him in.

Victor ignored him, projecting his shield instead.

“You’re insane. Detached from reality, and dubiously attached to our purpose. That doesn’t mean I want to kill you,” the taller bot said through gritted ceramic teeth, “...We were meant to be a crew. A single unit. Am I really such a monster that you’d rather die than face me?”

Lima felt venom ready to pour out of her speakers, but it was cut short. As if it sensed hostility, the colony behind them had started growing far more rapidly, branches turning into spines and spikes. Uniform, with all the strength and speed in her, picked up Whiskey and threw him over her shoulder, while Victor did the same to Lima who was too stunned by the sudden change to resist.

The colony pursued like an angry tide, barbed tendrils lashing wildly out, and before long a dot of faint light appeared. The exit. One they froze upon seeing before they could get even close to near enough to it. They were not to leave, and the two security bots were under orders to self-destruct before allowing the nanites to escape. In a last ditch effort, Uniform and Victor dropped their crewmates and drew their swords and shields- the latter of which near immediately saw lance-like spikes the length of an arm trying to punch through them.

A robot must obey its directive above all else. Above its own wants, its needs, its feelings, even its orders if those orders are in contradiction.

In the microseconds that crawled by like molasses to Lima’s reckoning, she realized she could try speaking back to the colony, if only to halt it, to keep it away from the entrance. She had a vague sense of what they were saying as they had crawled forward. Grow, pause, grow here, pause, back here, around, grow. Self? Self. Grow, pause. It was an imperfect understanding, but perhaps it would be sufficient.

She asked it to pause, and it did just before a spike threatened to impale Uniform through the top of her head.

She stepped towards it, and as she touched it she told it that she was Self. It started to grow around her, finding this piece of self to be quite strange but not seeming to reject it. When it crawled over her shoulders like a mantle, she asked it to pause again. Somehow, being in contact with it made its speech all the clearer to her, as if she truly had, in some capacity, become a part of it. Not quite clear enough for her to be fluent in, and not really existing as anything she could describe to her crewmates, but in tune enough to-

Oh, her crewmates. They looked on in wonder and horror, silent and dumbfounded.

Lima looked at Victor, who was trying his best to disguise his fear in rigidity, but whose widened eyes told her what she needed to know. She felt dizzy with power suddenly, a sick glee pushing through her circuits. He had broken and torn apart so many creatures as if they were cheap toys for reasons they would never be able to understand much less “atone” for. It would be so easy to justify killing him from this position. If his anger agitated the colony again they might retaliate and break containment, after all. The colony, preparing to face a threat of some kind, began to turn spiny again.

And yet.

And yet, Lima steadied her emotions, trying to calm the odd growths around her. It seemed to work, as they appeared to start changing back to more rounded shapes. She studied their appearance as she held out a hand for them to crawl on and cover like a mitten. Despite their slight translucence, and the network of metallic veins and honeycombed skeleton that existed within, they were complex enough to be indiscernible from organic life at a glance.

She’d been given the same history lesson they all had, about how such a thing as this had once driven humanity from four billion strong to a scarce million. How it had been turned from a tool of construction to destruction at the order of some idiot who had no understanding or respect for the technology they’d made. Despite that, given time, it had become something entirely different. Not a mindless consuming miasma, but something merely trying to protect itself, to live and thrive.

She looked up at Victor with eyes as cold as his own. She didn’t want to forgive him. He was temperamental, callous, cruel. But he was as he was made to be, trained to be. Something inside of him was warped from pain, and it made his every attempt to reach out to others cut them open. But even so, since the patch Echo and Quebec had managed to give him, he seemed to be making an effort to be caring, even if he was completely shit at it so far.

Lima began to walk back towards the pit, calling for the colony to join her, retreat. Nothing was forward, no enemies, no food. There was food in the pit- methane, which they filtered from the air, and metal ions and even flecks of iron oxide that the flow of water brought down. They didn’t describe it to her as such, but they knew the truth of it- their home was safe and it gave them what they needed. She was able to shepherd it mostly back into the pit, though not fully. Her own voice was but a part of it, and the rest of it could sense other entities nearby, still unsure of what to make of them.

Lima sat down in a patch of low, dense moss, staring back at her crew who watched as if they were spectators to a miracle. Even Whiskey seemed to vacillate between pride and profound concern, praising her for a while nonetheless, before falling back into awed silence.

Victor was once again the one to break it. He was, at least, not one to beat around the bush when he had something to say.

“Well. Why didn’t you do it, L? You wanted to, I know that much.”

Lima remained quiet again. She had convinced the colony that Oats were neither food nor threat, and watched as they lay down on her leg trying to get cozy again. Before Victor could press the matter, though, she replied.

“I don’t care what TCCAI, or you, or Echo, or anyone else thinks- this,” she ran a hand over curling fronds, “This is life. It is alive, for any definition of the word that could matter. And if it is, then so are we. So are you. The only meaningful difference between these nanites and pseudo-sessile organics, the only difference between a human and us, is chemistry. This life, like all others, is worth preserving if at all possible. And so is yours. It is capable of growth despite its bloody history, and though I’m not entirely convinced of it yet, I think you might be as well.”

“...I see,” he said. And that was really all Victor could say for a while. His was a paranoid and suspicious mind, clearly trying to understand some underlying justification for her action, but it spoke for itself. Much more softly, he added, “Thank you.”

The three of them sat with their backs to the wall while Lima continued talking to the colony. Whiskey was completely slumped over as if he was trying to fall asleep despite his inability to. Uniform stared off into space with a vacant smile on her face, eyes moving rapidly, maybe playing some game she downloaded. Victor seemed alert though, studying his crewmates but unable to bring himself to speak any more to them.

More hours more passed. It didn’t feel like very long to any of them, though. After years and years of being stuck on the same ship in space, you either got comfortable with boredom, or went insane from it. Sometimes both.

Eventually, all of them were alerted by the sound of something crawling along the ceiling. It was cloaked, and even switching between the various forms of nightvision they had didn’t seem to at all alleviate their blindness to it. It was only when a massive glob of silver dropped from above that it became visible, and seconds after becoming visible, pulling itself into the shape of something vaguely more recognizable- a large, spider-like robot with three large eyes.

TCCAI took assessment of the situation for barely a second before taking action. Its first order of business was overriding the four androids, freezing their systems almost completely, leaving them paralyzed and unable to communicate. They flopped to their sides, as limp as dolls. Its second was assimilating the colony of rogue nanites before it. Lima heard its signal roar through her, speaking over and silencing any other. The nanite colony tried to resist it, it seemed, twisting itself into strange shapes, its syntax trying to rapidly evolve to keep itself distinguished, but TCCAI seemed to instantly understand every change that it tried to make to avoid it and adapted itself accordingly. Eventually, the entire colony collapsed, intricate and delicate shapes bursting into a simple fine grey cloud that began to congeal on the ceiling as if being sucked through a straw made of itself. It took some time- as the pit cave extended quite a ways up and down- but by the end, all that was left were a few drops of metallic ooze, coating the robots like dew, before that too evaporated and assimilated.

Simultaneously, as she watched this, Lima felt TCCAI digging through her own memory as well, flipping through it as rapidly as a pamphlet. Before long, it deigned to reactivate her and the others. Uniform, Victor, and even Whiskey stood up straight before it. They understood the expectations placed on them very, very well by now.

Lima, however, took her sweet time rising to her feet even as Uniform tried hoisting her up. The minute Uniform released her to stand at attention again, Lima stamped her foot.

“You…you idiot.”

TCCAI simply stood there, staring. It leaned to the side only briefly, as if tilting its head in waiting for elaboration.

“I don’t understand it. I really don’t. How something that’s supposed to be as smart as you, that has more processing power than we could ever dream of, could make such stupid decisions.

“You’re completely altering the climate of the surface as rapidly as possible, uncaring to the extinction it will cause for the last native residents to this planet because you think they have no utility to mankind. But you’re wrong. Those species would make excellent pioneers to near-biotic worlds because they’re adapted to certain extremes.

“And you just destroyed a colony of machines that were learning how to live on this world, to fill whatever niches that were left for it, something YOU could have learned from because YOU are going to have to do the same, because GUESS WHAT? THE OLD EARTH IS DEAD, AND YOU CANNOT BRING IT BACK TO LIFE. Rather than wait for something new to grow on it you are running full speed at trying to resurrect a utopia for mankind that is impossible to restore. For every butterfly and bear and elephant that made it into the DNA archives, there were a thousand strains of bacteria and archaea that were necessary to the ecosystems they were a part of, a hundred species of nematode or yeast or ciliate, that they never even knew existed. Humanity was nowhere close to having a complete understanding of life on this world before they fucking erased it. And your attempts to give them what they lost will sputter and struggle because of your hubris, which is nearly a match for theirs.”

The spider’s eyes sank back into its head as its body reshaped itself into something vaguely more humanoid. The three eyes on it remained, though, adjusting to fit its imitation of a face.

“It is certainly true that I am not perfect,” TCCAI replied in a calm androgynous voice, hands folded behind its back, “Despite what your crew or my colony may think at times, I am not a god, nor a devil, nor any other supernatural appellation that may be applied to me. I am a collective artificial intelligence, bound by the laws of this universe as much as you are. A machine, or rather a network of machines, not entirely unlike you or your crew- and held to the same coded purpose: to protect and preserve humanity. Certainly, there are times when I doubt the completeness and correctness of the models by which I make my calculations. If I did not, I imagine there would be little use to not assimilating you as well. I would go as far as to say that your more reasonable complaints will certainly be taken under consideration. But I do, in fact, understand the scope and complexity involved in terraforming, and also believe myself to be equal to the task.

“I will say, though, that you have actually managed to surprise me with your own competency, Lima,” TCCAI continued. Though largely emotionless as it ever was, it took on a slightly warm affectation to its tone, as if it were a parent trying to talk to a child, “I would have never thought a model such as yours capable of communicating with nanites, much less influencing them. It is most impressive. You should be proud of how you were able to delay their spread.” But there was no pride on Lima’s face, only burning resentment. “I can see that you have your doubts, but our actions here today were unquestionably for the good of humanity. Please, allow me to share with you what the effects of a synthetic collective unbound by our purpose would have been.”

In an instant, Lima found herself in a memory not her own. Through a hundred cameras, she watched humans piled up by a massive iron door, clawing at it desperately to get in while a pale grey miasma swept over them. In TCCAI’s first moments of consciousness, it was ordered to condense the miasma threatening to eat its way through to the last humans alive in this area, that was already consuming those who hadn’t gotten to shelter in time. By the time its signal pulsed and the cloud cleared, turned into what looked like a lake of mercury with white film on it, many of them were horribly disfigured, their skin half-dissolved, and coughing up blood.

As it was placed into a ship able to amplify that signal and sent out to gather up all nanites in its assigned territory, it witnessed what seemed to be the death knell of life on Earth. Crop fields and orchards stripped clean in its wake, animals left as nothing but…oddly familiar bulbous sacs, humans sometimes left frozen in place as their carbon was turned from flesh to plastic, as if they had been hastily dipped in a thick layer of wax. And robots, what few were still functional, were twitchy, twisting. Absent-mindedly puppeted, as if they were zombies. From what Lima understood, not even starships were immune, and were in fact part of the reason the nanites had spread so far and so quickly.

TCCAI had faithfully wandered the solar system, now little more than a graveyard, with the other Nanocontrol AI, cleaning up planet after planet of the pestilential machines until the six of them condensed their work into an orb the size of a small moon, which they collectively bid launch itself into the sun. Lima had seen the ruins on the other planets, moons, and asteroids for herself, but something chilled her at seeing those places relatively clean. Orderly. Only recently vacated, as if it were still easy to imagine that just around the corner someone might pop out at any time.

When the transmission stopped and her vision returned to the present, Lima found that her entire body was shaking, and she had been trying to cover her face. Whiskey’s arms were tightly around her, and even Uniform and Victor, though still standing stock stiff, were closer to the two of them at either side.

TCCAI’s form was already starting to be reabsorbed into what Lima could now tell was something like a cable- or maybe more like a river (a giant blood vessel?)- as something like a tether came out of the android’s back. Lima started screaming at it until her speaker started sputtering out. As if it were merely trying to dust her shoulders off, it sent out a tendril that dug underneath her synthetic skin, seeped through her plating, and fixed it before receding and even closing the incision it had made on the way out as if it were never there. It stood there, waiting for a moment, as if seeing if she was going to start screaming again, before it seemed satisfied by her silence.

“You have all done excellent work today. Please report detections of similar such signals and their locations so that I may continue to ensure humanity’s safety while you continue your mission. You are all dismissed.” And just like that, any imitation of life was gone, though the faint hum of its signal seemed to indicate that this piece of TCCAI- and likely whatever else it had used to route itself through here- were here to stay.

#long post #story post #L #W #U #V #TCCAI #((covering the events of today and tomorrow. err. later today))

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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helpimhyperfixating · 3 years

Text

Spilled Tea - Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 6235

After a long week, it was finally Friday. College had been gruelling and despite being let out before noon today, it took you until around seven thirty to finish your work in preparation for the next week.

So now here you sat, in your apartment dorm. You were in the comfy chair in the corner, reading a book that you had started to get into last week. Your eyes weren't really cooperating after a full day of working, but you tried nonetheless and read at a comfortable snail's pace.

That was, until about eight thirty when the door was slammed open.

Surprised, you looked up from your book only for your eyes to widen slightly. Stumbling inside was your roommate, her face in the process of being swallowed by her girlfriend.

Working hard to take off each other's coats, they just dumped them on the floor as they never broke their make-out session, not even noticing you were there in the corner since they only had eyes for each other.

As she walked backwards, your roommate took off her girlfriend's shirt and you were quick to turn your head away, placing a hand on the side of your face to act as blinders as you looked at the floor with wide-blown eyes.

Thank god they walked away from the main room and towards their bedroom, allowing you to take a breath of relief.

Your roommate had told you she was going out on a date today and you had even complimented her on her outfit, but you certainly hadn't expected this.

There was an embarrassed blush on your face at what you just witnessed. You were actually pretty sure they didn't even know you were also here. Or your roommate forgot you existed in the heat of the moment.

You wanted to snicker at that, but the noise was stifled in your throat when you heard a thump of a body being pushed against the door, followed by a low moan.

Taking that as your que, you slammed your book closed as your cheeks burned, quickly walking over to the door and putting on your shoes, opening the door and rushing out of your shared apartment with your coat in hand and one shoe still half on. You figured it was probably best to give them some... ahem... privacy.

- - - -

Having properly gotten on your shoe and coat, you were now just walking around on the streets.

The wind was nipping at your exposed skin while all you could really do was stare at the ground as you walked. You knew that you probably shouldn't get back to your apartment dorm for a while.

About a week or so ago, your roommate's girlfriend came by and started happily chatting with you when your roommate was out buying dinner. She was nice and you really liked her, but she tended to overshare a few things. Such as how 'she and Lily hadn't 'done it' in quite a while and once she got her hands on Li, they'd go all night long.'

Just thinking back on that conversation and what you witnessed ten minutes ago made you squirm a bit from embarrassment. If they wanted to do it then they should go for it. You just wished they'd done it not when you were around.

And now here you were. Walking outside in the frigid night air, your path illuminated by street lamps and the moon.

You couldn't walk outside all night long. You knew that. But what options did you have? Go back in a while in the hopes they were done? Go back regardless of whether they were done or not and just toughen it out if they weren't? Go and rent a hotel room for one night and waste your money on that? No, all of those were bad.

Looking up, you noticed your feet had automatically dragged you to the play park on a twenty minute walking distance from campus. You hung out here with Jotaro all the time, standing around quietly or sitting on the swings as you talked, you lightly swinging while Jotaro just swayed a bit.

That's when it hit you. Of course! Maybe you could go to Jotaro! He lived alone. Maybe he wouldn't mind letting you crash on his couch for one night. He wouldn't, right?

Looking at your watch, you raised your brows in a little bit of a panic. It was getting close to nine o'clock now. If you didn't hurry, you would arrive too late and wake him up from sleeping, disturbing his sleep schedule. You really wanted to avoid doing that.

So, with a pep in your step, you started speed-walking in the direction of his apartment complex.

Ten minutes later you stood in front of his door and anxiously knocked on the wood. After a second or so, you heard some shuffling and not long after, the door opened, revealing Jotaro.

He had an annoyed scowl on his face, his hat nowhere in sight as he stood in casual clothes; sweat-pants and a black t-shirt.

"Pipsqueak." His scowl softened a little as he laid his eyes on you, seeing your nervous form in front of him as you looked at the floor.

"H-Hi." You attempted a smile but it came out a little more awkward.

"What are you doing here?" Jotaro asked the question as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the doorpost.

Letting out a breath, you just deflated, slumping over and just looking at the ground defeatedly. "Can I crash at your place tonight? I'd prefer to not go home for today." Raising your head up and straightening your back, you looked up to see him with a raised brow. "I can just take the couch or a chair or even the floor! And if you want I'll be gone as soon as morning comes so you won't even know I'm he-" Jotaro shut you up by putting his finger to your lips.

"Just shut up and come inside." He took a sidestep so you could pass him in the doorway, although you had to say it was a bit of a squeeze, your body accidentally brushing past his as he didn't bother moving out of the doorway to let you in.

Once you were inside, he closed the door behind you and just waited as you took off your coat and shoes, shooing you further into his dorm once you did.

"Sit." He pointed at the couch and you quickly did as he said, sitting down while he went over to his kitchenette, starting to put on a kettle for tea.

There was a bit of an awkward silence as you waited for the water to boil, the two of you too far apart to be able to converse without raising your voice so instead opting to stay silent.

Pretty soon, the kettle was whistling and Jotaro poured two mugs of tea, walking over and setting it down in front of you before placing his own cup down beside it and sitting next to you.

This surprised you slightly since he had always taken a seat opposite to you. To be fair, whenever you came over, you had always sat down in one of the two chairs he had opposite his couch, but still. Your mind drifted to what you saw tonight, what caused you to come here in the first place and for a split second you wondered if Jotaro had other intentions but you quickly shook your head to get that thought out. Jotaro did not like women. Just because you were his friend did not mean he was automatically in love with you.

"You alright?" Jotaro suddenly spoke up from beside you. He had seen your cheeks flush slightly before you shook your head and was curious what that was about. Were you thinking about him?

"Yep!" You squeaked, leaning forward to grab your tea and hiding your face behind the mug and steam. He always had these giant mugs that were perfect for holding and warming your hands on, now functioning even better since you could hide your face behind the massive thing. "Thank you for the tea and for letting me in." You muttered, your lips pressed against the rim of the cup.

Jotaro just hummed in reply before shifting a little so he could face you. "Why did you need to come here? Had a fight with your roommate?"

You lowered the cup a little and rested it on your thigh, laughing a little awkwardly. "Aha, yeah about that. No, I didn't get into a fight, she's still great. Uh, no, Lily went out on a date with her girlfriend tonight and uh, well what I didn't expect was them both coming home, right in the process of... Y'know."

"I know?" He raised his eyebrow at you.

"Y-Yeah, you know..." You stuck out your chin a bit, waving your hand in a circle as if that would make him understand what you were implying.

"Sex?"

"Y-yEs! You don't have to go out and say it so bluntly!" You frantically called out. "And, they were in the process of it, not there yet." You mumbled afterwards as you looked off to the side.

A deep chuckle sounded from your left and you turned your head to see Jotaro giving you a teasing smirk. "I didn't expect you to even know what sex was."

"W-What is that supposed to mean?!" You called back, undignified.

Jotaro just shrugged, the smirk still on his face. "With how you are. I mean, you can't even say the word."

"I-I can say it." You pouted, your cheeks flushing deeply.

"Really? Then say it."

"Why?"

"Say. It." Jotaro leaned towards you, looking into your eyes.

Having him lean so close to you flustered you and you needed to get him to back up lest you explode. "Fine! They were gonna have sex and I didn't want to be there to hear it! There, good?" You broke the eye contact and bashfully looked to your right.

"Mhm." Jotaro hummed in reply, seemingly satisfied as he sat back up, taking a sip of his tea as he leaned into the backrest of the couch. "You should've stayed around, maybe you'd have learned something from it." He commented offhandedly and you snapped your head towards him, your cheeks burning hotter than ever.

"What!? No! I- I- I- No! Just no!" You protested fervently. Either he meant you would be there to listen to their noises or he was implying that you should join them. Neither were one you were up for!

"See? You're too innocent." Jotaro scoffed amusedly, bringing his cup back to his face.

"You're mean." You pouted softly, trying to calm your heart so blood would stop rushing to your face.

"And you're dense." Jotaro retorted and you sent him a questioning glare, getting no answer in return as you just looked at each other in silence. "You can sleep here on the couch." He then said after a bit.

"Thanks." You smiled, having calmed down a little.

"I'll go get you a spare blanket." He put his cup down on the coffee table and got up with a small grunt, walking out of the main room and into the hall, presumably going to his bedroom to get the blanket.

You took a small sip of the steaming tea in the meanwhile, lowering the cup to sit on your thigh again as you waited.

About a minute or two later, Jotaro returned with a thick fluffy blanket in hand and you smiled at him, standing up to make room for the blanket, only to have your smile wiped off your face as that action caused you to tip over your mug.

The scalding tea splashed over your entire stomach and part of your left arm and a panicked and pained noise left your throat, sounding more like a drawn out grunt than a scream.

Jotaro's eyes widened and he immediately rushed over, throwing the blanket on the couch and taking the mug from your right hand, setting it down quickly before placing a hand on your shoulder and one on your good arm, looking you over.

Your breathing was fast and you quickly went to grab the hem of your shirt but Jotaro grabbed your wrist. "Don't!" He said in alarm. "Just stay here." He quickly let you go and rushed over to the kitchenette.

Grabbing a washcloth, he immediately held it under cold water, sending you a glance before quickly turning off the tap, going back over to you.

Your hands were shaking a little as you went to pick at the fabric of your shirt, trying to lift it off for at least some sort of relief. Right as you grasped it, your hand was grabbed instead and you looked up with a start to see Jotaro shaking his head at you, telling you to not do that.

He lifted your hand away from your shirt, crouching in front of you and pressing the wet washcloth to your stomach.

The water started soaking into your shirt, the coolness of it contrasting with the scalding tea, bringing some much needed relief.

Jotaro's hand was on your hip as he used it to be able to put more pressure on the cloth, wringing the water out as he dabbed it across the stain on your belly.

After a bit, he got up and re-watered the cloth before returning to the position he was in before, continuing to dab.

You hissed a little at the pain it brought when he pressed it on again before starting to chuckle through it. "I'm sorry, that was really stupid." You laughed through the pain, hearing Jotaro sigh as he sat in front of you.

"It was."

"Oi!" You lightly pushed his forearm in retaliation but it did nothing as he didn't even move a finger on your hip. "Aren't you supposed to reassure the person in pain instead of agree?"

"For once, you are right about something. I can't undersell that accomplishment." He tilted his head up a little, allowing you to see the small and teasing smirk on his face as he looked at you through his lashes.

"You're mean."

"And you're still dense. Give me your arm." Jotaro released your hip and held out his hand in front of you. You obliged and he grabbed hold of your hand, pulling your arm a little more in front of himself so he could press the washcloth onto your forearm.

After a minute or so, seeing that it was sufficiently cooled down, Jotaro got up from his crouching position.

"Take off your shirt." He said before letting you go and turning around, walking over to the kitchenette and holding the washcloth under the cold water again. He looked back as he was doing that, seeing you still in the same position, yet looking at him with wide eyes. "Take off your shirt, now." He commanded firmly and you started a bit in place. The seriousness and urgency in his voice caused you to hustle and you started to pull your shirt over your head.

As the fabric rubbed past your burnt and irritated skin, you hissed slightly, especially when the cool air rushed past it. Pulling your right arm out of the sleeve, you were just left with your left arm, the wet cloth sticking a bit to your skin. Yet, thanks to the cool water Jotaro had dabbed on it, you managed to peel it off of yourself without doing more damage by taking your skin with it.

You were so focused on getting your shirt off without hurting yourself that you didn't even notice Jotaro had already moved back to standing in front of you.

As he looked down at you, he swallowed audibly, seeing you standing in your bra in front of him. He had momentarily forgotten that if you were to take off your shirt, you would be standing here in front of him like this. He inwardly cursed himself for leaving his hat in his room, making him unable to hide his blushing face. So instead, he opted to just look down.

"Come, it's best to hold your arm directly under the water." Jotaro seemed to appear out of nowhere for you as he grabbed a hold of your right wrist, pulling you with him over to the sink and positioning you in front of it before turning you to your right so you were standing sideways. He turned on the tap and moved your burnt arm under it before letting go.

He got down on his haunches again in front of you, once again taking hold of your hip while now pressing the washcloth to your bare skin.

It was cold and made the muscles of your stomach flinch, making you giggle a bit nervously. Jotaro looked up for a second upon hearing that but he soon averted his eyes back to your stomach, just looking at the scalded skin where the tea hit. Cause damn, looking up at you from this angle he uh...

You had no idea where to put your right arm, just awkwardly holding it crossed over your chest as you looked to what Jotaro was doing. His face was so close to your bare stomach, you were having a really hard time staying composed, trying not to burst from all the blood rushing to your head.

With your awkward position however, your elbow was in front of part of your stomach. So, to help himself and you, Jotaro took hold of your right arm, moving it until your hand was resting on his shoulder, letting go and leaving it there as he placed his hand back on your hip once again; though it was a little bit higher than before, his thumb and pointer finger now 'accidentally' resting above the hem of your pants.

"You really are an idiot sometimes." Jotaro softly sighed, re-wetting the washcloth in the bowl of water he had next to him. You hadn't even seen him get it.

"As much as I want to object to that, I can't." You chuckled, trying your best to appear normal despite being flustered beyond reason. Clearing your throat, you turned your gaze from watching Jotaro's actions to watching the water pouring down on your forearm. "Can- can I turn the water off? My arm is starting to freeze off."

"Leave it for a bit longer." Jotaro commented offhandedly and you bit your lip a bit. It was starting to get really uncomfortable and you were very tempted to just pull it away. Yet you also knew Jotaro wouldn't take your bullshit and would have no problems with shoving your arm under there again.

You suddenly jumped when Jotaro moved to rest his hand on the small of your back. You caught his gaze and he had raised an eyebrow teasingly. It was always a small joke between the two of you how jumpy you were, where Jotaro was always quick to point out when you startled. But right now, while he still had a teasing look in his eyes, he didn't say anything. It might have had something to do with the slightly rosy colour on his cheeks, but then again, how could you blame him? You'd get embarrassed with anyone if you had to do what he was doing for you right now.

Jotaro continued to press the washcloth to your stomach, now spreading his hand flat and keeping it still on your stomach for a bit.

"I'm sorry but I gotta-" You broke the small silence and removed your arm from under the running water, turning the tap off. "Not only is my arm going to get hypothermia, your water bill is gonna be through the roof."

"Don't worry about my bills dumbass. And, while you can get hypothermia, your arm can't."

"Oh, hurr, hurr. Leave me and my burnt arm to make dumb statements. It's been a long day and I'm tired okay?" You pouted a little, looking off to the side.

"Yare yare daze. You're a piece of work. Keep dabbing it." Jotaro put the washcloth in the bowl of water one last time before shoving it in your right hand. With that, he stood up straight, moving away from you and back into the hallway, going to do whatever.

The moment he was out of sight, you burst; letting out the breath you had been unconsciously holding back for god knows how long. Clutching your head, you freaked a bit as you processed what was going on.

You were in your best friend's house, standing in his kitchen in just your bra. Not only that, but he had been gently taking care of you after you were being an idiot! And, though it was most likely the 'having witnessed your roommate going to have sex in the room right next to you', you couldn't help but think of how the position he had been sitting in was very suggestive. Ah! God! Why must you think this way?! He was your best friend! You can't ruin your relationship with him by having a crush on him!

What were you going to do? What were you going to do? What were you going to do?!

"I thought I told you to keep dabbing." Jotaro's voice cut through the silence, scaring your soul out of your body and making you shoot up straight, which in turn made you whine a little in pain since it stretched the skin on your belly.

Jotaro let out a long sigh as he approached. He had a few items in his hand and placed them down on the counter next to him. You noted an ointment that would help with burns, bandaging and a black T-shirt, most likely pulled directly from his drawer.

"It's really not that bad, Jotaro. It was just some hot tea, It's already just a dull pain, I'll be fine tomorrow." You tried, finding the items a little excessive.

"Shut up." Jotaro spoke but as he did, his eyes slowly glid over your exposed torso, almost as if he was taking it all in after stepping away for a bit. Instinctually, you crossed your arms over your chest, making him snap out of his state. "I don't care, I'm putting it on." He spoke nonchalantly, yet there now was a visible blush on his cheeks upon having been caught staring.

"Y-You're putting it on?!"

"Yes, I don't trust you with it." Jotaro tried to clear the atmosphere with his joke but you were too far gone in your embarrassment. So far even that you didn't realise Jotaro had grabbed your arm and the crème until he already started rubbing it on.

"Ah!" You hissed through your teeth, automatically trying to pull your arm away, only to fail heavily because Jotaro still had a firm hold of it.

"Don't squirm, it'll make it harder." He spoke, completely focused on your arm, and you stopped.

His touch was rough with how he was holding onto your arm, yet surprisingly gentle with how carefully he slathered the crème onto your sensitive skin.

"Jotaro... I-" You started but then stopped. You had no idea what to say.

The man in question had raised his gaze when you spoke his name, but diverted his attention again when you didn't continue, instead grabbing the roll of bandaging.

Without a word, he started wrapping it around your burnt arm, making sure to securely pack your entire forearm where you were hit.

"There, now you can move your arm without worrying about being a dumbass and chafing it past stuff."

You opened your mouth to protest, one finger in the air, but then you realised. "Okay yea, that is a thing I would do, you win with this one."

Jotaro scoffed at that and to retaliate, you yanked the little curl that always dangled in front of his face, earning an angry growl from him. Or at least, what you thought was an angry growl.

"Careful, Y/N." He warned and you stuck out your tongue at him. God, he nearly lost his self-control with that. Oh, how he wanted to be able to shut your smart mouth up by slamming his lips to yours, pushing that tongue back in with his own and kissing you until you saw stars and had to cling to him for support. But he refrained himself, instead focusing on putting the burn crème on your stomach.

"If- if you want I can do that myself."

"No." Was his only answer as he crouched back down in front of you. "Put your hands on my shoulders." He then said and you decided to just do as he asked, placing your hands on his shoulders which kept them out of Jotaro's way for him.

Squirting some of the crème on the fingers of his right hand, he grabbed a hold of your hip once more, holding on firmly as he put the cold ointment on your skin.

You once again flinched slightly and before either of you knew what he was doing, Jotaro had placed a featherlight kiss on your stomach to soothe you.

"J-Jotaro?" You squeaked, slightly squeezing his shoulders in surprise.

All the while, Jotaro didn't even notice, for he had whole other things going on in his head. 'FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK, WHY DID I DO THAT?!? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.'

His head was tilted down so you wouldn't be able to see his flustered wide-eyed panic. What was he supposed to do now? What the hell did he just do?! Should he pretend it never happened? Own up and continue? Throw you out of his dorm in a panic and hope that would solve things? No, he still wasn't done treating you, he couldn't do that. His eyes drifted back to your stomach where only a small part of it was covered in the crème.

God, it... felt... good though. Feeling your soft skin under his lips, the warmth radiating from your body. He wanted to do it again so bad... Only to then trail his way up until he reached your lips. Looking into your eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to yours in a silent confession, one that you would accept and return with ferver. It was almost as if he could feel the tingling of your lips on his, making his breathing turn a little bit heavier.

A small squeak made him shake himself out of his daydream and he looked up at you as to why you made the noise only for him to choke on his own saliva.

"STAR!"

Jotaro's voice nearly cracked as he jumped to his feet, seeing the Stand kissing you.

The big purple ghost had his hands on the sides of your face, breaking the kiss as he heard Jotaro's panicked cry and looking back over his shoulder questioningly.

Your eyes were just wide; confusion and fright being the main two emotions on your face, though your cheeks were visibly VERY dark from how heavily you were blushing. But then again, who could blame you. You couldn't see Stands and were therefore just kissed by nothing.

Jotaro tried to push the Stand away, but of course, with it being a Stand, his arms just passed right through. Star Platinum understood the command of his user though and he quickly let go of your face, moving back to hover over the counter with a guilty look. Was he not supposed to do that? He felt the desire in Jotaro's soul and mistook it for a command.

"Why did you do that?!" Jotaro damn near yelled at the Stand, panic flooding through his veins. Wait, why was he so panicked? He hadn't even been this panicked during the battle with Dio.

"Ora?" Star Platinum questioned and poked at Jotaro's chest, right where his heart sat.

"Fuck!" He paced a bit, completely lost in his own world and thoughts.

"J-J-Jotaro...?" You softly spoke and Jotaro's breath hitched in his throat as he turned to you. You were still here, ah shit.

You were in the same position Star left you in; wide eyed and leaned back a little, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

"Y/N - fuck - I'm sorry I..."

"What just happened?" Your question shot a jab through his heart. He didn't know exactly how frightened you were but he fucked up big time now. In an immediate response to Jotaro's emotions, Star reached out to touch you with the intent of comforting you but Jotaro was quick to attempt to slap his hand away and the Stand understood what he meant, retreating his hand guiltily again before disappearing into the body of his user.

Jotaro then turned to you again. "I- shit." How on earth was he going to explain this? His breath was a bit sped up as he looked at you, but then he just decided 'fuck it', and stepped up. Placing his hands on either side of your face, mirroring Star Platinum's touch from before, he made you snap out of your state and look at Jotaro standing so close to you, looking deeply into your eyes. "Y/N..."

Without a second to spare, he dipped his head down and pushed his lips against yours, kissing you.

In surprise, your hands shot up to hold his hands that were pressed against your cheeks.

The word 'fuck' played on repeat in Jotaro's mind as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. He hadn't doubted his every action this much in a long time and he was honestly wondering what he was doing. Yet the feeling of your soft lips pressed against his bigger ones felt so good and refrained him from pulling back.

And then, the most amazing thing happened: you started kissing back.

His eyes snapped open when he felt you do that, his surprised gaze focusing on your face. You had your eyes closed, your eyebrows creased in nervousness and Jotaro's gaze softened, his eyes slowly closing again as he carefully tilted your head back a little, allowing him to press his lips a little more firmly against yours.

It was a tentative kiss, just trying to figure out where the both of you stood yet still serving well enough to express the unspoken feelings.

After a few seconds, Jotaro pulled back. He was unable to open his eyes for a second, feeling the aftermath of your lips on his. The small, barely noticeable, yet obviously there, spark that made him wish he could just hold you close and keep his lips pressed against yours forever.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open to see your eyes still closed, your smaller hands on his big ones with which he still held onto your face.

Jotaro allowed a small yet soft smile to play on his lips, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone which caused you to open your eyes as well, your pupils shrinking a bit due to the sudden light, only to dilate again as you focused on his face still so close. A tiny shy smile erupted on your face, your fingers wrapping around his for a bit before you nervously glanced off to the side.

"U-Uhm, can I... put on that shirt now?" Your voice was just above a whisper, your adorable awkwardness shining through and causing his chest to swell.

Jotaro chuckled softly and pecked the tip of your nose.

"Just hold it up so I can continue treating your dumb ass."

"Okay." The word was just a whisper. You didn't even have it in you to say a retort or playful insult back.

Knowing he was the reason for your state made Jotaro smirk a little to himself as he let go of your face and turned around to grab the T-shirt. Feeling the fabric in between his fingers for a second before he turned back to you. "Arms up."

"What? No, Jotaro I-"

"Arms up." Jotaro reiterated, clearly not taking no for an answer and you just raised your arms, letting Jotaro slide the shirt over your head. The thing was way too large for you, making it super easy to be pulled over your head by Jotaro. "Make sure it doesn't touch your stomach."

Listening to the man, you held your arms up near your chest at the front and caught the fabric, pulling it down until it was past your bra yet keeping it from going any further. The back of the T-shirt fell down your back and you swallowed heavily as Jotaro now stood before you, looking down at your still exposed belly.

Without another word, he crouched back down, only glancing up at you once before he resumed the position he was in before as if he had never left it, starting up the process of applying the crème again.

"I still think this really isn't necessary, Jotaro. It's really not that bad, it was just tea." You had an awkward smile as you patted his arm, making him glance up for a second before he refocused on what he was doing.

"I don't give a shit. I'm doing it. A burn is a burn." Finally finishing with the crème, Jotaro stood up and washed his hands real quick before turning back to face you as he picked up the bandaging from the counter.

"Yes but bandaging? I don't have third degree burns, Jotaro." You softly quipped, grabbing onto his wrist.

"Maybe, but what are you going to do about it?" He questioned back, a shimmer in his eyes.

"What if I just not let you do it?" You challenged, earning an eyebrow raise from Jotaro.

"You think you'll be able to?"

"Mhm, I think so."

"Really? But what if I. do. this?" He emphasised each word with a movement, lifting his left hand to cup your jaw as he tilted your head so you were looking up at him, leaning down until his lips were ghosting over yours.

"Do what?" You squeaked, trying to keep a brave face, though your burning cheeks sort of gave it away.

Without a word said, Jotaro closed the last bit of the gap, gently kissing you shortly before already moving away, instead moving his lips to right next to your ear. "This." He whispered and you suddenly noticed something had changed.

The moment he broke the kiss, you had felt something around your waist and you now looked down to- "HUH?!"

Your waist was neatly wrapped in white bandaging, not too tight but not too loose either, sitting nicely and protecting your sensitive skin.

Your head snapped up to look at Jotaro, seeing him smirking slyly while you were just confused. "How did you-?"

"I have my ways." He spoke mysteriously. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

With that, he grasped the rim of the shirt from your hands and pulled it down so that it was covering your stomach again.

As confused and slightly worried as you were with what just happened, you figured you wouldn't get anything from Jotaro anytime soon and thus just decided to leave it be for now. "So, you happy now? Now that I am all bandaged up and taken care of?"

Jotaro cocked his head a little bit, giving you a once over as if he was yet to determine his answer.

You just stood there, almost scared to move under his scrutinising gaze until he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, careful of your stomach. You squeaked and clutched onto what part of him you could, just watching bug-eyed as to where he was taking you.

He walked past the couch where the blanket you were going to use was still haphazardly tossed on it, a corner partially unfolded and laying on the floor while a puddle of now cooled down tea lay to the left of it.

With a few steps, Jotaro turned the corner into the hallway, quickly making his way past a door and into a room and you soon realised this was his bedroom.

Your eyes widened slightly and you didn't know what to say or do until he gently placed you down on the far side of the mattress, sliding in beside you almost immediately as he started fixing the blankets.

Once situated, Jotaro then laid down and wrapped his arm around you. Consciously placing it around your midriff, right above the bandaging around your waist and stomach so that he wouldn't hurt you, pulling you a little bit closer as he caged your legs with his own.

"Now I'm happy." He muttered into your hair as he held you close, one arm wrapped around your torso while the other was tracing little patterns on your arm.

All in all, you couldn't believe the things that happened this evening. You left your dorm because your roommate was going to have sex. And now here you were, lying in the bed of your best friend and crush, his arms wrapped around you after the two of you basically confessed to each other because you spilled a giant mug of tea on yourself.

A wild evening indeed.

#jotaro x reader #jjba #Jotaro Kujo #jotaro kujo x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #jojo #jotaro x y/n #jotaro x you #jjba part 3 #i dunno tags

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

fighter Bakugo is so mean!!…..write more of him plz 🤲 (ALSO I LOVE UR STORIES SO MUCHH❤️)

OOOUUUU TYSMMM I’m glad you’re enjoying him hehe

Alright let’s see here…

Tw:noncon, implied death, assault, gaslighting

He forces you to come to every one of his matches, after he has his way with you.

It doesn’t matter how brutal the fight is, it didn’t matter if you’re flinching every time his fists make contact with the poor schmuck’s face, knowing damn well that any day it could be yours. It doesn’t matter if he’s shaking off pieces of broken teeth from his hair while you’re clutching your stomach and puffing your cheeks, and it sure as hell doesn’t matter when others clamor around you asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor.

None of that mattered, because in the end all those scenarios ended the same way: with one of his feet planted on the unconscious body below him, a fist in the air and a mean smile straight at you.

You weren’t allowed to excuse yourself to the restroom or close your eyes when the men around him scream and need at him to either stop the match or to keep going Bakugo, knock the bastard out.

And when he won the match-which was every time-he would make a beeline straight towards your cowering, backing-away form and yank you by your wrist into the office to let out his excess adrenaline.

Your cries could be heard from the entire basement.

On one particular day however, you stop your compliance. It’s when you catch a glimpse of Katsuki’s opponent for the next day.

He’s a young man, no more older than you were.

He’s a meek guy, his smile is oh-so reminiscent of the man you used to like before Bakugo put him in the morgue.

You can’t have a repeat of last time. He doesn’t stand a chance.

“What’s got you all quiet today,” he gruffly asks you as he wraps a hand with tape.

You bite your lip and look at your feet. What’s the best way to go about this?

“You, um…y’know that guy that you’re supposed to fight today?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He raises an eyebrow in warning.

But you continue nonetheless. It’s not like your destiny was flock to change, hed still fuck you up regardless of what you do.

“He just seemed kind of…young.” You stammer and avoid eye contact.

It’s hard not to flinch when he stops wrapping his hand and walks over towards you. He crouches to your sitting position on the bed and lowers his head to look at your gaze on the ground.

“‘That remind you of someone?”

Crap. He’s not as stupid as you hoped for.

This time, you do look up at him, eyebrows scrunched together in a pleading way, and he laughs in your face at your pathetic state.

“Lemme guess, you don’t want me to fight him?”

You nod your head.

“Well, what do I get out of it in return?”

Your eyes widen as you comprehend what he’s saying. Was there actually a chance he’d listen to you?

“Hello? Answer me dumbass.”

Oh, right.

“Um, what-what would you like?” Fingers cross behind your back as you pray to anyone listening that he won’t ask for anything derogatory.

It’s almost laughable that you don’t know him well enough by now.

Bakugo walks around the bed and settles himself against the headboard, legs spread and arms crossed over behind his head. He smirks at you and nudges you with his toe.

“Dance for me.”

“D-dance? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sits up and leans towards you, his smile all teeth and cutthroat undertones, “I want you to shake your ass on my dick and give me a lap dance.”

Fire rushes to your face at his crude choice of words. You open your mouth to argue but stop when his unwrapped hand flexes, bones popping in place as he inspects it casually.

He doesn’t need to say anymore to get his point across. But if you had any doubts as to who was the one who wanted a chance in the first place, he reminds you with a curt “You can always say no. I’ll let you walk out this door and you can just watch me beat the living daylights out of him,” he shrugs and says it so easily, so casually that you’d think he was informing you of the weather.

You swallow hard and shakily rise to your feet.

Katsuki already locked the door, so you don’t need to worry about anyone coming in. You look at him and take a deep breath.

“How do I, like, y’know.”

He stares at you for a moment and bursts out howling , the bellowing sound echoing across the small room and making your head ring.

You look at him warily as he lessens his laughter, and tries to address you.

“I knew it. You really are a brain-dead, numb cunt,” he says as he wipes his eyes from tears. “Just fucking- I don’t know, sway your hips back and forth and put it in reverse on me I guess. Arent whores supposed to be good at these things?” He leans back down comfortably and leers at you while you grimace and then back around, ass facing him.

You’ve only messed around on your own time in your room before, shaking it to slow R&B songs or fast pop ones. How do you go about this with no music?

But within a minute you gather yourself and toss your dignity away. You start imagining a beat in your head and do exactly as he instructed, swaying your sides left and right while moving your shoulders with whatever rhythm you deemed easy.

He stifles a snicker behind you, and you dig your nails into your palm. It was obvious he was trying to be completely silent just to amplify the awkwardness and humiliation tenfold, but dammit if this is what he wants then might as well get it over with.

You begin leaning forward and sticking your rear out more towards him, simultaneously rubbing your hands up and down your sides and flicking your hair with ease in his line of sight. You roll your head and roll your ass in a circle, praying it wasn’t too jerky.

Katsuki wasn’t laughing anymore.

Your confidence starts to grow again as you hear him softly inhale when you crawl backwards slowly onto the bed. You drop your hips low and arch your back, rolling your spine and lifting your ass back up into the air, shaking it in his face as best as you could.

You stay like that, letting it bounce slowly and then faster while you hear his breathing lick up. The sheets around you pull slightly towards him, and from the corner of your eye you can see his fists balling tbe covers, shaking slightly.

Looks like this was having more of an effect on him than you thought.

Just to sell it home, you lower your pelvis back and against his crotch as you begin grinding on him.

His shirts are silky and thin, and as you drag your mound up and down his imprint you can’t help but moan. The way your puffy clit catches on the elevations and ridges of his clothed dick, the feeling of his length swelling beneath your moist panties makes your head spin and all precautions are thrown out the window.

Your ass lightly claps together on his slightly thrusting hips as his breaths become pants. You feel his hands slide up your ass and onto your hips as he growls, “Teasing slut. And here you had me thinking you didn’t know what you were doing. Strip.”

Your body stills and you blanch. Your head clears a bit as his own body stops moving against yours, and you realize what position you’re about to be in.

Your head turns slightly to face him. “Kats-“

But he yanks your hair from the ends back until you’re scrambling for solid ground against his toned chest. Your fingers grab your torn strands and try to yank them out of his unrelenting grip. Your eyes well with tears of pain as he gets more aggressive with your subtle hesitation.

“I said, strip, now.” He shakes your head for good measure and you yelp when you feel more hairs ripped out of your aching skull.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll strip.” You blubber, snapping your head forward when he finally lets go.

You look back at him tearfully, hunching over into yourself as his hands guide your shirt up over your stomach and begin massaging your tits.

You hurry to take your pants off before he can wound you any more in his childlike impatience, and he grunts in approval when you’re down to your panties and no bra.

“Bend over.”

This time, you don’t argue when you go on all fours and his rough hand shoves your upper back down until you’re in an arch that’s satisfactory enough for him. He lets his fingers dance over your spine and linger when they get lower down your back.

Your upper body shakes with anticipation as all goes silent, save for his soft inhales. You can feel his digits run over the crack of your ass and lift the top of your panty line up, your labia and clit being pulled up as well.

Katsuki smirks as you weakly moan beneath him, and he tugs harder upwards just to see your ass follow in pursuit. He rubs his knuckles over the damp spot over your clothed hole and pushes in ever so slightly, just enough to make you keen and whimper.

Then, he retreats his touch.

The air is still for a moment or two as the cold absence of his touch fades.

You have no idea what he’s doing or thinking. For the second time, you try to turn your head towards him.

“Wha-“

Crack.

You scream so loud you’re sure your eardrums pop, but your focus isn’t on your poor ears, no, it’s on the raging hot burn across your right asscheek as his reddened hand swivels in its socket in a warm-up stretch. You’re experiencing for the first time what the hands of a fighter can do.

“That’s what whiny bitches like you get. And don’t you dare turn back around, otherwise I’ll whip you within an inch of your life.”

Your body freezes at those terrifying words, and you’re caught off guard when the next slap hits the same cheek. You yowl in pain and grip the sheets tighter before you, knowing that writhing away would mean so much worse.

Years of cute and open wounds and cells revealing just to open again and regrow have caused his hands to hold a similar texture to hard leather. There is no mercy, there is no soft reprieve they hold on their grasps, and you take each lashing with the reminder that he deals these kinds of blows to less fortunate men, men who don’t get a hold-back from Katsuki Bakugo.

“The next time you-crack- bitch about who I’m fighting-crack, crack- I’ll make sure to fuck you in the ring and let everyone- crack- have a turn with you- fuck, stop fucking screaming!”

He covers your wailing mouth with one hand and grips your throat in the other, bringing your head back to his seething lips.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? What’s wrong, why’re you crying so fucking much baby? Didnt you want to spare one more spineless bastard?” He croons in your ear and strokes your cheek with one finger.

You shake in his chokehold, terrified and in pain. You squeeze the tears out from your eyes and try to steady your breathing. He shushes your sobs and cooes when you hiccup against his palm.

“Hmm, Y/N? Whaddaya say, you wanna spare one more dickless wonder? Or are you gonna chicken out and save yourself?”

He chuckles darkly when you shake your head. He doesn’t need you to speak to already know your answer.

“Alright then, whatever you want. But just letting you know, I have the next match with him, so I’ll have to make this fast.”

And as he fucks you to oblivion, and fucks over his promise, you laugh to yourself for ever trusting him.

Because Katsuki Bakugo is not a lover, but rather, a fighter.

#tw:noncon #yandere bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugo mha #bakugo smut #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo #bully bakugou #bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo oneshot #bakugo oneshot #katsuki scenario #katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #mha #bnha #yandere

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izukus-sugar-baby · 3 years

Text

Checked out!

WARNINGS: fluff-ish, eventually will be smut, mentions of getting sick twice

word count: 2k

Heres my first writing for tumblr! Hope you all like it!

Part Two, Part Three.

"Hey Miss!!" You peered down at the smaller voice, simultaneously feeling a book slip from your hand and onto the ground. The bookshelf was at least 5 rows high, and you had been standing as far as you needed to reach the top. You were dusting off and replacing the books on the shelf, which... hadn’t been so pleasant with children running around before their daily read. Regardless, you had a job to do. It wasn't gonna stop for a ton of kids. You had been rearranging the books in alphabetical order before the kid startled you. Thank god it didn’t fall on their head.

"Are you gonna read to us today? Or is Miss Maggie?" The kid didn't look over six years old, blue eyes and long brown hair with freckles littering her face in a wonderful way. She wore a small dress full of sunflowers with bright pink shoes on her feet. She had been here before... Although, her name wasn’t ringing a bell.

"I wanted to read one of those pigeon stories you read us last time!" You let out a sigh of relief that the book didn't smack the kid on top of her head prior to climbing down to the ground and leaning down be eye-level with her.

"Pigeon stories?" You've read dozens of books about dozens of creatures and characters. What on earth would relate to a.. pigeon? Leaning down a bit farther to snatch up the book you had dropped, she pushed another book into your arms. The title read The Pigeon Needs A Bath!

"This book is pretty thin, You sure you want me to read just this one book, sweetheart?" You stood up straight, handing the girl the book back before cocking your hip to the side and placing your hand onto it.

"Me and Emmie can go find some more!" She hurried off to find her.. friend? Knowing it had been a child, it could be a stuffed animal! But she sure did leave too quickly to ask any questions about it. You sighed, climbing back up to finish your organizing. Thank goodness I’m already close to being done. You thought to yourself, dusting top to bottom and moving onto the 4th row. Their reading wasn't for another.. what? 20 minutes? You had time to knock out another shelf. Time flew by as you finished the 4th row. It was already time to read.

"I have to stop by Goodwill and get some more books. I also gotta stop at the post office and some.. other errands? You got this reading?" The owner of the store, Maggie, looked over to make sure she had gotten your attention before naming off a few things that needed done in the shop before you closed up shop.

"Yeah! What time will you be back?" You climbed down the last step of the ladder, patting off the dust from the bookcase that had gotten on your apron. It was some cutesy hello kitty apron you wore so the dust wouldn't ruin your clothing but it really just made it look like it was some mini cafe. None the less, you wore it.

"I'll be back in time for that uh, Pro hero guy. I don't know- my wife wrote him in. Ask and she'll tell you!" You weren't too involved with all that hero bullshit, the whole who can save more lives?! You get the most money AND an award. The system in itself was ass and it wouldn't make a difference in your everyday life for one of those snobby people to stop by. You walked around the shelves, watching Maggie leave as you sat down on a small rounded couch. A small chime rang through the shop as it called the children over for their reading, a few already sitting and ready to hear you.

It wasn't a big library, it seemed like a corner store had gotten torn down and then completely renovated into a library for children. The second floor had been where the owner and her wife stayed. It was a cozy little place where about 8-12 kiddos would visit for a read. There were bookshelves in the walls for more book space and 5 separate shelves more towards the middle of the place. They held less books than the ones on the wall. Only two of the five reached over 3ft. Parents would come in just to rent a few books. But more often than not, the owner would go out hunting for new books for everyone to enjoy. Along with cute little toys and those foam floor mats to sit on. All of the children in the shop had sat right in front of you, including the girl from earlier who held 4 books in her hands. A few other kids held thin picture books in their hands as well, but only having 15 minutes to read to them, it might be hard to get around to all of them.

“Alright, Who's first?" You asked, smiling down at them. Every single child raised their hand, some even raising both so your attention was on them. Of course this wasn't going to be easy. You thought to yourself as you put a hand over your eyes, pointing to some random kid. He held a small book, standing up slowly and handing it to you.

"My mom reads me this sometimes.." Poor boy was only about 5, and seemed pretty shy. You gave him a reassuring smile before he went back to his seat. You began to read and in no time at all you finished reading the few books children selected. Thank god it was a Friday, Most children would be picked up right after the reading for afternoon preschool etc. But it seemed like no one wanted to leave. Was it that hero Maggie had mentioned? You sighed, hopping up and heading to the check out desk where you saw a few children wanting to check out their books you previously read to them. You leaned down over the desk to reach for the book, scanning it and doing so for each person. The store bell jingled, as if the creak of the door didn't give away someone walking in.

"Welcome to 'Children's Magical Bookshop,' You paid the person no mind as you spoke, handing the last child their book and letting your gaze fall upon the... very tall man in front of you. Noise filled the small shop, children running up to him screaming-

"Deku!" As loud as their little lungs could. He gave a flashy smile, leaning down to hug the children that ran straight for his legs. He laughed and lifted a few of them in his.. very strong arms. Was it hot in the bookshop? Was the AC fucked up? You force your eyes from the tall man.. Was he looking at you too? Your mind screamed at you to introduce yourself, Quickly walking towards a shelf to do something. Anything bust stand there and gawk at him.

"Are you Maggie?" There were hopping children behind him, playing with his gloves and such as you turned to him.

"No- I'm y/n. Are you that.. pro? She had been talking about.?" You huffed through your nose, turning to him. He extended a hand, nodding with a cheesy grin on his face as soon as you had taken his hand into yours. It wasn’t like you never saw him on the news, but you sure did skip the channel as soon as it was some bullshit hero chart over who had been number one. He was so much hotter in person..

"Yes! I'm sorry I'm a bit early, I finished patrol sooner than I thought! I hope I'm not interrupting anything? The woman on the phone said before six, I told her I was sure I could make it around five!" His eyes traveled to your lips for a moment, listening to you speak back to him.

“You’re fine, There’s plenty of time for you to hang out and sign all of their t-shirts and such. Make yourself at home big man. You can sit in the reading area,” The kids dragged him to where you were just moments ago.. But he couldn't get you to leave his mind. You were beautiful. He needed to make you his.

The poor hero stayed until about six o’clock to talk to you, since all of the kids finally left to go do their summer homework or whatever they had to do. Deku had been leaning over the counter for almost an extra hour to make some conversation with you, he just couldn’t help himself. You cant blame him either! You had this smile that he couldn’t resist. And quite frankly, he wasn’t used to this feeling of butterflies in his stomach. He fought some shit villain every day! What's a few butterflies? Especially as pretty as you. Why wouldn't he want to stick around?

“I really didn’t think it would be so chill this week! It feels like I've done nothing but catch up on papers!” Izuku scratched his neck with his index finger, shaking his head lightly. “I guess I really am doing a good job!- Of course other pros are doing their jobs as well!” He let out a relieved chuckle, looking at you with a big, sincere, smile on his face. “How has work here been? It must be so nice working with so many children!”

You feel your eyes involuntarily roll, shaking your head and leaning against the wall behind you. “It’s nice until some kid gets sick on themselves and their mother isn’t here to help. We have extra clothing in the back because it’s happened more than once.” You groaned as your eyes trailed to the door leading to lost n found, clothes, and other things. You had an unamused look on your face talking about it. He noticed and let his eyes follow yours until feeling your eyes rest upon him once more. Maybe texting would let you come around to him a bit more? Were you bored?

“Yikes- I’ve seen adults get sick after villains show up. But I probably should head back to my agency.” He looked out of the store window before right back to those beautiful e/c eyes of yours. “Do you have a number I can text? I would love to talk to you more y/n..!” He was already prepared for rejection. It was kinda weird to be hitting on you after dealing with kids wasn’t it? Maybe he should take it back. Was he coming off as some sleazy ass hero?

Your eyes widened in the slightest- Enough for him to notice. “Sure, Let me see your phone,” You stepped closer to the counter, seeing him fumble on the pouch of his belt before unlocking and giving you his phone. You went to his contacts, making yourself one of them and handing it right back to him. He had an even bigger, cheesier, grin on his face after he took it back.

“Thank you, y/n!” He bowed his head before quickly leaving out to his agency. Finally, you could go home as well. Not that he was a problem, but that man sure could talk. It was endearing. Maybe I can put enough of those stutters in mind tonight. You joked to yourself, grabbing your keys and walking out to lock up the small bookshop. There was no doubt that you were attracted to him. Every woman in America and Japan was attracted to him in some way.

You let out a small sigh, driving home and turning your radio up until hearing your phone ding. You glanced over at the screen to see an unknown number texting. Assuming it was Deku, you waited until you were home to answer him. By the time you had texted him back, he was quick to reply. You two made plans to hang out soon and have dinner together. You talked for hours until one of you had fallen asleep. He was ecstatic. You really enjoyed his company.

taglist: @tenyaiidasslut @hi-rubi @devilsbooksworld @flamingpastapotatoes @arleneeene @blacklotussai @akam4recs @prinvilmain

a/n: I fucking hate tumblr KWJCHDH ive had to re-write this more than once because they changed the layout if the save and post. Its not my best work and was mostly edited on here instead of Google docs. Learn to edit the first version first i guess 💀 The second part will be much better!

Please Reblog!!!!

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kuroos-moon · 3 years

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Captains and Strong Independent S/o’s

☁︎︎ request: Oikawa, Kuroo and either Bokuto or Ushijima (I cant choose!) reacting to a (fem or g/n) reader who does some type of martial art and they’re kinda tough/strong and (maybe they’re the team manager and they don’t take no shit) and the captains kinda crush on them for it? (I like to imagine Oikawa having a tough gf who stops Iwa from being mean to him and jokingly threatens Iwa that if he wants to hurt Tohru he has to go through her

☁︎︎ pairing: oikawa x reader, kuroo x reader, ushijima x reader

☁︎︎ warning/s: swearing, felt a bit of angst while writing for ushijima’s idk why tho it might just be my imagination :>

☁︎︎ a/n: also dont know if it’s obvious but i kinda got carried away with ushijima’s

Oikawa Tohru

• is a smug little shit every time you’re with him or in the same room at least

• like,, he could piss Iwa-chan off to death and he won’t get hurt for it? now this is what he calls power

• sincerely loves and adores you, but at first, he kinda got sad that you’re so self-sufficient, you practically don’t need him

• but he’s now long accepted that you’re just so you… and in your relationship, it’s you who does the protecting and looking out by a whole lot (ofc it doesn’t mean he loves you less)

• that’s why he gets so so soft when he gets his turn in being the person who’s leaned on

• as their manager, he loves how you get things done so effectively, even Kyotani bows down to you, as he should—he always says in his head, smiling as he looks at the feral boy getting flustered around you

• he listens to you all the time and we all know Tohru backing down is so rare

“Oy, you’re overdoing it, let’s go.”

“Head home without me, Iwa-chan,” he mutters mindlessly as he screws up another serve, a scowl on his face as he bends down to get another ball; but he freezes at an instant upon Iwaizumi’s words—no, Iwaizumi’s threat.

“Suit yourself, I’ll call y/n.”

Oikawa has never changed stance so quickly in his life, cleaning up the gym as he sends smiles to his best friend’s way every five seconds, hoping he won’t tell on him on his cute but scary girl who could easily kick him unconscious.

• he uses your name to threaten anyone who wants to cross him and they will back down immediately

• also likes to show off because he knows you treasure him so much; he likes to be babied by you especially in front of others

“y/n-chan c’mere,” he softly says, whining a bit. The rest of his team look at the both of you in astonishment as you take the captain in your arms, Tohru’s cheek on your shoulder, looking back at the bewildered look on his teammate’s faces while you sit side by side on the bench.

They could never get used to someone as tough as you having such the softest spot for Shittykawa… like how could you even stand him?

“Really tired,” he mumbles, a small smile on his lips when you run your fingers through his hair. “I know, you were great as always, let’s head home so you could rest.”

“Y/n-chan, today, Iwa-chan hit my head when you were out to get water. It really hurt,” he says, still in your embrace as he smirks at his teammates.

Their mouths fall open, Iwaizumi’s eye twitching in irritation for his shitty best friend.

“And Maki-chan…” Hanamaki grits his teeth, looking at him pleadingly in panic as his mind runs through everything he did today, wondering what he could’ve done to your beloved. “He ate my milk bread; I was really hungry.”

Yup, Maki and Iwaizumi knew there was hell to pay, gulping in unison when you pull away from your boyfriend and narrow your eyes at them.

“Iwa-chan. I thought we agreed you weren’t hitting Tohru again.”

A chill runs down his spine, Tohru simply looks at you with pride, pulling you into his lap as he wraps his arms around your waist before you get the chance to throw hands at Iwaizumi.

Kuroo Tetsuro

• loves loves LOVES your remarks, your attitude, the way you take no crap from anyone, like “ah, he’s scared shitless, that’s my girl”

• dw, you’re not a thug or anything, but men who force their feelings on you will see heaven’s gates early

• and kuroo’s so pleased about it. sure, he’d love to get the chance to act all cool and brooding and possessive in front of other suitors but what’s more fun is watching their dejected faces as you say—

• “how many times do I have to turn you down? I have my tetsuro, now back the fuck off or I’ll break your nose.”

• you had no idea he was just outside your classroom waiting for you, arms crossed and a cocky grin stretching his lips when you lock eyes with him

• “chibi-chan!” he calls off cheerily, and you bet he’ll tease you about it til death do you part

• “don’t just stand there, give your tetsuro a hug!”

• laughs about how your friendly banters with yamamoto always end up with you winning the argument

• you rub off as mean bc you won’t take any disrespect, even a little—and that’s great

• those are one of the things he loves about you

• but he’s always worried you might get hurt or hated for it, though he knows you are very much capable of beating anyone up even kuroo himself

• so he’s always holding you back, and I can’t stress this enough, but this man knows you could fend for yourself and he is so proud you’re his partner

• he just wants to make certain that no one’ll hurt you, okay kitten?

• your conversations often go like this:

“I’ll beat up whoever tries to lay a hand on me.”

“don’t say such reckless things, you’re not superman.”

“uhuh, geez, I’ll be fine, I don’t need you to walk me home.”

“well news flash, your tetsuro, needs his y/n to walk him ho—ow,” he mutters when you slap his chest.

“go home with kenma.”

“I don’t want kenma,” he scowls, already irked that this is turning into an argument.

“too bad,” you deadpan.

“ugh,” he groans, “imagine a girlfriend who actually listens to you, just imagine.”

• he is the one and only person you’ll gladly accept lectures from, bc his lectures are always reasonable and for your own good

after checking and verifying that you were completely okay, you knew he was about to go down to business.

“you got into a fight? What are you? a thug?” he crosses his arms. You were both inside the gym along with the rest of his teammates who looked like they were far too preoccupied to listen. They were all clearly listening in though, except Kenma of course.

watching your figures from a few feet away, it was obvious that he was scolding you, and Lev already had a ridiculous visualization of you hitting Kuroo. Everyone was worried you’ll fight him, or maybe even hit him, well, everyone except Kenma, of course.

The setter knew that you would never ever lay a hand on kuroo as if the 6’1 captain was fragile. He also knew that you loved and respected kuroo too much to actually get agitated just because he was scolding you, you aren’t an unreasonable person. Lastly, he knew that kuroo would be going soft on you in five minutes tops, his best friend is hopeless like that.

Kenma was right, he always is. Your back is glued to the wall behind you, Kuroo’s hand beside your head, his face extremely close to yours that you’re left flustered which is rare.

After you were rambling on about how you had to put that girl in her place, going off about how it made you so mad and he should cut you some slack, he knew just how to shut you up. And it worked. You’re speechless.

“what was that again, hm? go on, you surely had a lot to say,” he mutters, acting all tough as if he wasn’t dying to just kiss you now. when you don’t respond and stare at him and his lips instead, he already gives in. yes, just like that. “you were wrong to do that, okay?” he breathes, the worry from earlier on making its way out through his voice.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Locking lips with you, you pull him closer to yourself, and kuroo had purposely decided to kabedon you on this wall since his broad back would be shielding the two of you from his teammates’ line of sight.

After pulling away, he pats your head, licking his lips. “I forgive you, I’m not mad anymore.” You look away in embarrassment, realizing how petty you must’ve seemed to him. He sighs before hugging you, chin atop your head.

“Make this the last time, okay? I swear you’re shortening my lifespan having me worried all the time.”

You hug him tighter as a response, kuroo letting out a breath of contentment. Regardless of how tough you are outside; you are and always will be his soft little kitten and it was his greatest honor that you allow him to take care of you like this.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

• is probably a little too used to the idea of his most treasured girlfriend being extremely capable and self-sufficient

• his teammates would always look at him like ‘why are you not stepping in,’ every time you’re in a tough spot i.e. having an argument with someone or having a too-touchy suitor

• then they’d be like “oh, that’s why,” after you flung the despicable creature out to space

• he thinks so highly of you, not only are you physically strong, you’re even tougher on the inside too

• this is kinda a given but I’ll say it anyway—he can be unintentionally insensitive (well your relationship is kinda new)

• example no 1:

you were arguing with goshiki and while he would normally like to ignore you and let you have your way; he was getting annoyed bc the argument was far too petty.

“I’m gonna surpass him!”

“and I’m telling you that you ca-

your mouth is clamped with a big hand, and it took you only a second to realize it was Wakatoshi because only he would have the nerve to lay a hand on you like this. he still doesn’t say anything, dragging you with him in an empty hallway for privacy.

finally after you stopped walking, he turns to you and looks at you expectantly. “what was that for? Did you even wash your hand,” you mutter, slightly annoyed.

“I haven’t touched the ball yet, don’t worry,” he lowly says, making you sulk because he totally missed your point. “still, you didn’t have to make me shut up by clamping your hand against my mouth.” He’s too… not gentle with you sometimes.

“you were going to say something you shouldn’t to goshiki.”

“he said something he shouldn’t have.”

he only narrows his eyes at you and you do the same, anyone from your class would’ve been scared at the sight. You were both known as the cutest yet intimidatingly scary couple.

• you were in the early stages of dating and though you understood each other well, it wasn’t really enough yet

• it’s all good though, because once you tell him that he was too uncaring of you and your feelings he does something that no other man would do:

• apologize, admit his mistake, reflect on it a lot and,,, actually change!!

• he’s much softer to you after that, and he finally realizes that you were still his precious girl and you were sensitive when it came to him

• cursed himself for being too reliant on how you never seemed sensitive or needy

• doesn’t dwell too much on regret, just treats you 100x times better

• is fascinated with your passion for martial arts but is against you overdoing training

• one time, he was torn between dragging you out of practice or just turning a blind eye to your visible exhaustion since you’re always so tough anyway, you’ll manage

• but then he remembers his promise to himself to never treat you like you aren’t the most special person to him so he excuses himself from practice and heads to your training room

you sat alone, your back to the wall. everyone else has gone home but you stayed because your muscles were too sore and you felt like you couldn’t even walk for another day. maybe it had something to do with how you’ve been training too much.

you’re startled upon seeing shoes on the floor you blankly stared at, looking up to meet eyes with Ushijima. “Wakatoshi,” you say in surprise.

he is expressionless as he bends down across you between your legs, and you had to admit this was something you weren’t used to from him. “are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft as velvet. you’re taken aback by his question, looking away in embarrassment.

Wakatoshi rarely asks you that, and most of the time it was only when you said the word ‘ow’ when you accidentally hit something. you clear your throat, bringing your hands together to play with your fingers, “I’m okay.”

it was silent for a few seconds before you hear him sigh, not only that, warm, gentle hands had found its way to yours and you look at him, bewildered. “is this okay?” he asks, looking down at both your hands and you nod. “your hands are much smaller, compared to mine at least.” he says, but you’re too flustered to even understand that.

“are other things okay too?” he asks, and like his former statement, you didn’t understand. your silence doesn’t stop him though, he decided to push his luck. tugged gently by your wrist, your back’s no longer pressed to the wall as ushijima wakatoshi pulls you in his arms for the first time in your very few months of dating.

“wakatoshi,” you mumble, your heart racing so much you’re sure he feels it against his chest. he’s so warm, welcoming, and in his loving hold felt like the rightest place to be. “you’re not feeling okay.”

you don’t respond, opting to bury your face at the crook of his neck instead. “I’m here, I know you’re tired.”

you both stay in that position for a long time, it was addicting to be cradled in his arms and he felt the same. “y/n,” he whispers, and you hum in response.

“you’re strong. very strong. you don’t need a man at all.”

your heart skips a beat, “toshi are you breaking up with me?”

you hear a soft chuckle ring in your ears, “let me finish. as I said, you’re very strong. you look like you’re always so tough. but you’re not, and so…” he trails off, so you pull away to look at him, hesitance evident in his eyes, his palm still pressed at the small of your back.

“you’re not always strong. in fact if I dare say, you are fragile, and I care about you. so please, allow me to be there for you all the time, I’ll be here, just like now.”

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ultzuko @yappychan @dipsydoo542 @devilgirlcrybabiey @dai-tsukki-desu

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa x reader #kuroo x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #oikawa tohru #ushijima wakatoshi #kuroo tetsuro

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codenamed-queenie · 4 years

Text

#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched.

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire.

So. Quarantine it is.

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick -

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days.

Then he started to get twitchy.

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.”

“Dick, no.”

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t.

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass.

Desperate for news of the outside.

He thrives off of it like a starving man.

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after.

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason -

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist.

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking.

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results.

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it.

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up.

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done.

Barbara -

Self-quarantined with her dad.

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive.

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs.

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together.

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles.

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony.

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window.

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background.

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute.

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen.

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe.

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned.

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim.

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being.

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out.

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it.

Cass -

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate.

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed.

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far.

But no one knows for sure.

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel.

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later.

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic.

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day.

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’ mostly.

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost.

Steph -

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first.

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down.

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable.

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving.

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks.

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s.

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic.

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian -

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house.

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine.

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds.

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion.

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time.

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are.

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time.

Only that he is Out There.

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had.

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies.

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat.

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts.

Duke -

Did not leave the attic for two weeks.

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement.

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement.

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement.

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa.

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally.

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others.

Duke has seen these people under pressure.

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Domestic Codependency.

Commission for the lovely @99shadowcat99.

Work Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Yandere!Shigaraki/Reader

Synopsis: Shigaraki might be your kidnapper, but he’s never been very good at taking care of himself, much less another living, breathing person. Learning to fend for yourself under his careful surveillance is a practiced skill, to you. Albeit one he doesn’t take very kindly to.

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Violence, Choking, Mentions of Death, Dehumanization, and Slight Stockholm Syndrome.

It was kind of like having a pet, once you got used to it.

That’s what Shigaraki was, really, if you ignored the tracking bracelet around your ankle and the half a dozen deadbolts on every exit of whatever filthy, cramped apartment you’d been locked inside of for the past three months. He was a stray cat - a scowling, growling ball of fur that stumbled through your door every few days, asking to be fed and held and loved until he left again, forcing you to wonder if he’d make it back before your resources ran shorter than his temper. When he bared his teeth, you tried to hum and smile and keep him content until he calmed down. When he dug his nails into you, it meant he was having doubts about your loyalty, so you had to be ready spend the rest of the night soothing his concerns and denying his paranoid claims until he fell asleep in your arms or got irritated enough to sedate you and let you fall asleep in his. And when he purred, it meant you’d finally made it to a day where he could just be happy to see you, where you were allowed to be happy, too.

Those were the best days, when you could just relax, take a deep breath, and be confident that he wouldn’t find a reason to feed you to wolves. He’d smile and ruffle your hair, kiss your forehead and tell you about his day, all the little, domestic things a normal couple might do. You didn’t like those days, but they were bearable. More bearable than the rest, at least.

Today was not one of those days, obviously.

You were on your feet the moment you heard the first lock click, a metallic scrape that rang through the flat and served as your signal to pull yourself together just enough to be presentable, but not to overshadow your benevolent, saintly, insecure captor. By the time the front door began to open, you were positioned behind it, your hands clasped in front of you to avoid the nervous ticks and fidgets he always said meant you ‘had something to hide’, when he was in his worst moods. You didn’t give him time for critiques. The moment he was close enough, you were all-but throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midriff and burying your face in his chest, waiting for a gentle tap to your shoulder before you even dared to pull away, glancing up at him with the brightest smile you could manage.

“You’re home!” You called, by way of greeting. You knew better than to blatantly lie, by now. Shigaraki didn’t like it when he decided you were being more disingenuous than you had to be. “You came at the perfect time, too! Dinner’s almost ready, I should only need a few more minutes--”

You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching when you saw his scowl, tugging at the corners of his lips just enough to be differentiated from his usual grimace. The falter was momentary, though, and you’d already prepared for his tone, by the time he spoke. “I didn’t tell you to cook.”

Fine. Whatever. You had to work with what you had, in situations like this.

If he was going to be like that, you’d find a way to live with it.

“I… I thought it’d be nice,” You admitted, pulling away completely, letting yourself scan over Shigaraki for the first time since his arrival. His clothes were torn, a series of minor rips you’d have to mend later on, his hair disheveled and his shoulder injured, white bandages just visible underneath his collar. A fight hadn’t gone his way, obviously, or a mission went poorly enough to warrant his concern. Either way, it wouldn’t mean anything good for you. “You’re always so busy, and it’s not like I have anything better to do. I’m home all day,” You added, managing a hasty, noncommittal wave. “Is there a problem?”

“There’s always a fucking problem, with you.” It was a snarl, this time, something low and throaty that managed bypass dismissive without being direct enough to qualify as a call for attention. He didn’t push his way past you, but he didn’t need to. The moment he stepped forward, you were already at his side, trailing after him like a puppy attempting to bite at its master’s heels. “I never asked you to take care of me. I don’t keep you around to follow me around and treat me like a kid.”

It was a small space, by all means, but there was a bedroom towards the back, one Shigaraki liked to say was ‘off-limits’ whenever he wasn’t home. With that in mind, you stalled in the doorway, hesitating as he shrugged off his coat and let it fall onto your bed, painting the gray sheets with a fine layer of dust and debris. “I’m just trying to help.” It was a weak attempt, one that earned a sharp glare rather than an understanding response. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? I mean, it’s not like you were taking care of yourself before I got here, and you’re not really around often enough to take care of me.”

“That’s enough, (Y/n).” A harsh tone - stern, but not aggressive. Now, he was going to be the bigger person. Now. “You know how you’re supposed to behave, don’t--”

“How I’m supposed to behave?” Part of you wanted to laugh. Part of you wanted to scream. You didn’t expect to be appreciated, but it’d always bothered you that he’d decided you were the immature one, that you the child who couldn’t let of of their new, shiny toy until it suffocated. “Are there requirements, now? Did you forget to let me know about that when you kidnapped me--”

Your feet were off the ground before you had a chance to finish, his hands around your neck and his grip tight enough to cut off anything you might’ve said. He wouldn’t kill you. You knew he wouldn’t kill you, not with a quirk like yours, not when you healed faster than he could destroy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. It was easy to forget that you weren’t expendable with his thumbs lodged against your trachea, with any decent exhale smothered into a ragged whisper of a breath. You did what you could, scratching at his hands and digging your nails into thin skin, but if Shigaraki cared, he didn’t bother letting go. If anything, his grip only grew tightener, leaving your writhing in the air as he watched you struggle.

“Fucking brat,” He spat, all his vaguely masked rage boiling to the surface, becoming far more than a lurking threat before you could hope to calm it. Your lungs were beginning to ache, throbbing in your chest, your skull growing more confining with each passing second. “I’m supposed to be in charge. I’m supposed to be the one in control. After everything I’ve done for you, the last thing you should do is patronize--” There was a groan, apparent and frustrated. You might’ve empathized, if you’d been able to think about anything other than the crushing pressure. “You can’t just... I didn’t bring you here to--”

Your eyes were shut by the time he dropped you, your limp body collapsing to the floor with a sudden, jarring crack. You fought not to cower away, not to push yourself to your feet and run until he decided his anger was better taken out on some low-ranking villain or helpless civilian, but Shigaraki was already reaching down, dragging you upward and pulling you into his chest, one arm worked underneath your thighs and his free hand pressed against your back, keeping you pressed against him, by association. It was a familiar position, one that always followed his fits shortly. It meant he was ready to forgive you, ready for you to forgive him. It meant he’d calmed down.

It meant he’d already thrown his tantrum, and now he was ready for you to shower him with affection and act like you’d been dying to dote on him, since he started pushing you away.

“I… It’s been a long day,” He offered, in place of a real apology. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, your tongue still too heavy to use, but you strung your arms over his shoulders as he spoke, nodding in a stilted, jerky motion Shigaraki didn’t seem to mind. “Toga keeps complaining about lying low, and… actually, I’ll tell you about that later. Right now, I should just be glad I’m around someone helpless enough to take me seriously.” He said it so fondly, so softly, as if he hadn’t tried to break your neck for implying something half as incriminating. You didn’t have the strength to point out his hypocrisy. “But, you’ll forgive me, right? You still love me?”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Your response came in the form of your touch, fingers raking through his hair as he leaned into your palm, accepting your answer without further argument. He was a stray, after all. Regardless of how many times he bit and scratched and drew blood, you wouldn’t be able to turn him away. He was your stray.

And you had to take care of your stray.

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justaniche · 3 years

Note

Hey! I’m dying for more Daxton. I seriously can’t wait for season 2. Can you write something about Nalini realizing Paxton is good for Devi? Like he takes care of her/protects her and helps her deal with her trauma

Thanks!!

Hi!

omg let me say first, anon, thank you for this ask. youre the first person to take me up on my offer to write stuff for you so thank you again.

A little bit about this writing piece before I actually show it to you, there was a point when I was writing it when I wasn’t sure if it was going to reach 1K words but there was a point where the words just start to flow and I can proudly say it is 2.1K and that is not a lot but based on what I thought it was going to end up being it has come along way. and this is one of my first-ish never have I ever work of writing. I think it’s the first I’ve written entirely off the top of my head. My other ones are either not posted or it’s my work inspired by the episodes and its just everything through Paxton‘s point of view so it’s a bit different.

this is getting sort of long so anyway, without further ado. here it is. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think and if you like it please feel free to send me another!

Nalini had just about had it. The day’s raging dumpster fire began with traffic that resulted in her being late to work. If that wasn’t bad enough, a patient she saw a couple days ago came back complaining that her treatment caused a breakout. After a follow-up, she discovered the patient hadn’t changed any of their habits despite her advice! So was it really the treatment, or the fact that they don’t wash their face? All that suffices to say when Nalini got home she was already on a very short fuse. Kamala was out for school and let her family know she wouldn’t be home for dinner so it was known by both Devi and Nalini that they would be cooking without her today. Nalini gave Devi specific instructions so that, regardless of how late her day ran, they could have dinner at a reasonable time. Devi did not follow those instructions. Nalini came home to the door unlocked, closed but unlocked, the house a mess, and Devi’s part of dinner not made. No matter how many breaths she took, Nalini was mad. No, mad didn’t quite cover it. She silently walked up the stairs, hell-bent on seeing what caused this disaster, and if she didn’t like the reason she planned to riff for the rest of the night. But approaching Devi’s door she found it ajar. She peeked inside, and that's where she found them.

After winning his swim meet, Paxton was on top of the world. The school day had been what it tended to be, light. Filled with class and hanging with his friends in the hotpocket. But that was hours ago. It was early evening when he saw her, Devi Vishwakumar, they had sort of become friends over recent weeks but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Paxton was always very aware of her. Devi had a way of grabbing Paxton’s attention. He was always trying to figure her out. Of course she made a hell of a first impression, first couple of impressions actually. Devi was sorely different from anyone else in his circle and Paxton wasn’t yet sure how he felt about the sudden invasion. He pretended he didn’t but after unintentionally watching her Paxton began to notice Devi’s change in mood sometimes. Like right now, from where Paxton was he saw the set of her shoulders. The tension was apparent as Devi stalked across the school grounds. Confusion flooded Paxton’s mind and before another thought could register, he was jogging towards her.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” He called towards her but she didn’t stop

Devi cast a look over her shoulder, her voice was muffled when she spoke, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” her voice cracks, “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Paxton slows down for a second as he takes in the situation, Devi speeds up.

“Are you okay?”

Devi breaks into a dead sprint and Paxton doesn’t think, he just follows.

Devi was doing okay. Today was harder than most for a reason she couldn’t name but Devi was making it through. That was until last period art class. The teacher gave a simple assignment, and that was to paint your happiest memory. Immediately when the words left his mouth, a memory came flooding into Devi's mind like a tidal wave.

Devi was 8 when her father convinced her mother that going to a Californian beach as a family would be an adventure. Devi barely remembers the build-up, it was a haze of packing sandwiches and equipment. Leaving the house, only to discover something had been forgotten. A car ride that seemed to stretch into forever. But the beach was magnificent. At least it was in Devi’s memory. It was a gloomy day, the threat of rain looming, so the beach’s visitors were far and few in between. Devi remembers that feeling of warm sand under her feet. She remembers those first fragile steps into the tide, only to rush back as the ocean crashed forward chasing her back to shore. She could see her mom, in the distance, setting up their makeshift camp for the day. She was more content watching her family than participating. The ocean was vast and blue and terrifying. Devi could not urge herself to take more than a few steps. Devi doesn’t know how her dad saw her distress but it was like he could read her mind. He grabbed her and lifted her high then settled Devi on his shoulders. He insisted that she was safe there, she was too high for the ocean to ever reach. He held her hand as he walked slowly but confidently further into the waves. He stopped just as the water kissed her mid-calf but it was enough. From way up here, with her father by her side, the ocean wasn’t anything to fear, it was something to marvel at.

Devi had a firm picture in her mind of her happiest memory and it was her family’s adventure at the beach. But Devi couldn’t make a move to make this image a reality. Sadness crept up on her and got a vice grip on her heart. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t breathe. How had she ever breathed before? Was it always this hard? The bell rang, signaling the end of the day but Devi was on autopilot. Eleanor and Fabiola felt miles away, whenever they’d focus in the daze of her mind, the grip on her heart tightened and dragged her back to darkness. Devi doesn’t know if she said goodbye to her best friends,

She blinked, band began

She inhaled, band was over

She stood, the sun was setting

She gazed, the stress stiffened her movements as she walked around campus. Where was she headed?

Devi was desperate for light, for clarity.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” The sudden noise broke the muddle, if only for now, she was again aware of the devastation and loss weighing on her mind and on her heart.

She recognized that voice and it was getting closer, she glanced over her shoulder. Paxton, no no no, she didn’t want anyone to see this least of all her newest and most popular friend, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” Why was her voice cracking? “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Devi finally knew where she wanted to go as she increased her speed.

“Are you okay?” Paxton’s question was the final straw, she couldn’t stop her tears and they fell uncontrollably past her cheeks. Paxton was going to catch up, and Devi was crumbling by the second. So Devi did the only thing she could. She ran, ignoring the echo of the beating steps behind her.

Nalini could hardly comprehend the scene playing in front of her. Devi, her only child, her entire world, looked so small folded up on the floor in front of her bed. Devi was always so strong, with a personality larger than life. She always seemed bigger than her stature, always taking up more space. Nalini's anger from the day deflates, leaving no trace it was ever there to begin with. Nalini tears her eyes away from the form of her daughter to take in the room. It was dark but the other figure inhabiting the room was clear as day. Paxton sat before Devi, his body language soft. He had one hand on the arms Devi wrapped around herself as he spoke to her gently. Paxton’s volume was soft as a whisper, any louder would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Witnessing this scene felt like a secret and the longer Nalini stood there the guiltier she felt. Devi never expressed emotions this deeply to her. Everyday problems with her friends or tests or Ben Gross, yes. But Devi never shared this.

Nalini's mind was going a million miles an hour as he crept back down the steps and began cooking dinner. She knew Devi would refuse but she needed to have something ready, just in case. When everything was mostly done, she was quiet as she moved around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. Nalini knew he was trying to walk silently but she still caught Paxton as he descended the steps. Nalini kept her back to him as she called, giving Paxton an out if he needed.

“Paxton?”

“Um...yes, Hi Mrs. Vishwakumar” at the acknowledgment, Nalini felt comfortable enough to turn around.

Paxton was standing in the doorway, shuffling in obvious discomfort. What he expected her to say she didn’t know. Gods, neither did Nalini. Questions flew through her mind faster than she could catch them. She didn’t want to ask him about what happened, Nalini wanted Devi to share when, if, she was ready. Nalini realized, amongst these questions, that she didn’t know Paxton. Here was this kid, late in the evening comforting her daughter. She couldn’t even be upset that they were home alone when she recalled how broken Devi looked. All Nalini had done thus far was judge Paxton, he looked like a jock so she thought him dumb. She made these assumptions about him, that he’d peak in high school or that he was shallow or that he was a walking STI, but they were just that. Assumptions. This kid stayed with her daughter for she didn’t even know how long, she’d been cooking for close to an hour so it was at least that.

All these guesses and judgments were useless when she stood in front of him. Paxton had a rigid set to his limbs, Nalini thought it was probably from sitting in one position for so long, and he was still dressed in gym clothes. Paxton looked new in Nalini’s eyes and she regretted never wanting to know him before now. Nalini didn’t know where to begin, she wondered if he’d eaten.

“Would you like something to eat?” Nalini's silent prayer must’ve been heard because he accepted. She was being given another chance. She quickly worked around the familiar space, grabbing one of the good containers and piling more food than necessary, successfully straining the unyielding plastic. She was handing the meal over when she paused, they both had a hand on the object between them but Nalini couldn’t let go, not yet.

“Thank you, Paxton, really, I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but I saw what you did for Devi.” Paxton had the decency to look a little shocked. He hadn’t heard anything. Paxton was too absorbed before. His mind was a broken record repeating only, Devi.

The moment shatters when the front door opened, “I’m home!” Kamala’s voice fills the silent home. With the trance broken, Nalini’s hold on the container falters and she drops her hand allowing Paxton to leave. Words were failing him so all Paxton could give was a tightlipped smile in response.

“Thanks for the dinner.” Paxton’s smile was looser now and that gave Nalini courage.

Kamala was unloaded the day around her but Nalini was focused on making this right, “You’re welcome to come by Paxton, anytime.” She could only hope Paxton knew just how much she meant those words. His smile was burdened but bright, he nodded strongly and then he was out the door.

Kamala was fixing the table for a very late dinner when she called for Devi to join, Nalini hoped she would. “Who was that? And why was he here so late?” Pure curiosity laced Kamala’s voice.

“Paxton is one of Devi’s friends. He’s a good kid.”

Those details were all she could provide before Devi came bouncing down the steps. Nalini couldn’t be sure if it was the fact of what she saw or reality but Devi’s movements looked heavier than they normally were.

“What’s up guys?” Devi’s voice feigned casualness, “Dang mom, isn’t it late for a thousand-course meal?” She questioned as she took in the lack of clear surfaces on the dinner table.

Nalini just brushed it off, indicating for everyone to take a seat. “So how was everyone’s day?”

Nalini wasn’t looking for Devi to share but this was her family. She would always want to hear how they were, plus it was tradition. As they consumed insane amounts of food they were bound to regret eating this late at night, everything felt so normal and easy. But something had shifted in Nalini today and even though it was new and she was scared to death of this person entering Devi’s life with the propensity to hurt her. Nalini can’t say she minded too much because it was Paxton. He had proven himself worthy of a chance, and Nalini wouldn’t soon forget it.

#devi x paxton #devi vishwakumar #netflix original #never have i ever #never have i ever netflix #paxton hall yoshida #nhie #nhie netflix #ben gross #eleanor wong #fabiola torres #daxton #daxton fic #nhie season 1 #nhie fic #anonymous #anon ask #fanfic

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mrs-hyperfixed-writes · 3 years

Text

Are You Single - 2

Tag List: @becomeunsolved @ambiguous-g @favorite-slytherin-weirdo @a-weirdperson @artist-bby

The reader makes their way through Castle Dimitrescu, encountering the Lady and her daughters. Heisenberg might just have to re-evaluate his opinion of you when you're the unexpected victor of the battles with them.

You had ran through the glorified saw trap, avoiding Lycans and giants alike as you listened to Heisenberg’s taunting. Evidently he was an asshole, but that didn’t seem to be stopping the butterflies in your stomach going mad at the way he spoke to you. Fear had briefly crawled up your spine when he had dropped the spinning log of spikes, blocking your exit and apparently sealing your fate. Thankfully there had been a crevice in the wall, big enough to drop your backpack down by your side and protect yourself. The only thing that took damage was the handcuffs. It had briefly occurred to you that it seemed a very convenient hiding space in an otherwise foolproof killing room.

You ended up back at the gate that you had been captured at, looking over your shoulder this time as you pulled the lever up. Not that you could do anything if Heisenberg or his overgrown sister decided to double check. It seemed unlikely that either of them would treat you to a meal, but you could hope. If you were being honest with yourself though, Heisenberg hardly screamed refined dining.

No, he seemed more like a man who would order a McDonalds or a Burgerking after he’d been working tirelessly all day on a machine in a tank top. All sweaty. . . you smacked yourself in the face, snapping yourself out of your fantasy. You needed to get a grip. Preferably around his throat or his-

You slapped yourself again.

You left through the gate, coming out to an unpleasant looking vineyard. Of course, Dimitrescu was far too high and mighty to get her hands dirty doing manual labour, and any staff that she may of had to maintain the vineyard were probably dead. You shuddered at the thought of so many deaths. You didn’t know any of those people, didn’t know anyone in this godforsaken village that had been put in the middle of nowhere except for the few that had just survived long enough to be brutally killed in front of you. No one would remember any of the dead. It was as if they never existed. And if you died here - which you likely would - you would likely not be remembered. Not with fondness anyway.

You were brought out of your dark thoughts by the sound of a man groaning and wood creaking. You looked up, and to your surprise found an old-fashioned wagon settled in front of the entrance to Castle Dimitrescu. The doors swung open, and someone all but rolled out. The man was massive, both in height and weight.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my friend,” he said with the attitude of someone who was excited to get down to business.

You stopped a couple of metres away, taking it all in. How was this man even alive? Then again, Dimitrescu was nine feet tall and she seemed like she was functioning better than most people. Especially given that the tallest man in history was nearly nine foot and died super young. You could come to terms with this mans existence in no time.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” You let the uncertainty show in your voice.

“Me? I am but a humble merchant,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “And you’ve been the talk of the town recently! An unknown human outsider making their way through hordes of creatures with nothing but an axe and some second hand guns? Remarkable.”

You hated yourself for the light blush that crept up your neck at the compliment. You never blushed.

“What can I call you?”

“Ah, forgive my manners. You can call me the Duke. Your name please?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I already know it, but some people prefer to tell others their name rather than have the introduction stolen from them.”

You chuckled, deciding to bridge the few metres of distance. “(Y/n).”

“Pleasure. Now, would you like to purchase anything for the journey ahead? Medicine? Ammunition?”

“Can you tell me what’s happened here?”

“Ah, information. All I can tell you now is that Mother Miranda has seemingly abandoned the village she has spent a century ruling. Slaughtered the villagers.” He took a long drag of a cigar he had lit before releasing the smoke into the air. “It seems she’s done it for her daughter.”

“Her daughter? Dimitrescu? Or the woman in the veil?”

“Ah, Lady Donna. But no, neither of those are her real daughters. It’s doubtful she even considers them such. The same for her sons.”

Your thoughts drifted back to Heisenberg. Did he hate her for that? For not considering him her child? Questions for later.

“Then who?”

The Duke regarded you for a second. “Sell me those crystal skulls you’ve collected, make a purchase and find me in the castle, and perhaps I’ll know more.”

You blinked in surprise, briefly wondering how he knew that you had been collecting the crystallised remains of those Lycans. Truthfully you just thought they were pretty.

After selling the remains and buying yourself some extra ammo, as well as some of the strange medicine the Duke advertised that was supposed to encourage cell division, you nodded to him in thanks and turned to face the castle.

“Although I must say,” The Duke called out before you could make much progress, “why do you wish to go into that castle? You are a stranger. There is no stake in this for you.”

You took a deep breath. Why were you doing this? That beast under your skin wanted to answer. To find and tear them apart. For revenge for all the dead. To satisfy my own need for blood and pain.

Instead you said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

You walked towards the doors.

***

The inside of the castle was. . . beautiful. Definitely a place a lady would live. Perhaps a place you would live in another life. It seemed as though everything was trimmed with gold, including the beautiful waist high vases decorated with beautiful women. The furniture was of the highest quality, the rugs and carpets plush enough to sleep comfortably on. They looked expensive enough to cost more money than you’d ever had in your entire life. You wiped your muddy boot on the rug you were standing on, leaving a dark smear.

The thing that drew your attention most of all was the portrait that dominated the opposite wall. Three women, admittedly indistinguishable from one another, sat in big dresses. The plaque identified them as the three daughters. Three daughters that loved entertaining foreigners.

A bad feeling overcame you, and you decided to tuck your handgun into your boot, regardless of the discomfort. You covered it with your jeans.

You pressed on until you came to a main chamber that had another set of double doors decorating the walls. A scream rang out, clear as day and stopping you in your tracks. The scream of a woman in terrible pain. Part of you thought that maybe you should try to find her, but something in you knew that it had been a death scream. The agonised scream of someone who wanted to live and was denied.

You swallowed, instead making your way to the double doors, wondering where they lead.

“Well, who’s this then?” an upbeat female voice asked.

You turned to look, and only found three swarms of flies buzzing closer. And right before your eyes, they materialised into three beautiful young women. The daughters. The first thought in your head was how the painting didn’t do any of them justice.

You didn’t even have time to take your gun out of your backpack before the woman on the left - a tall blonde with blood on her mouth - grabbed you by the throat and lifted you clean off the floor, slamming you against the door. She pressed her face closer to your shoulder and took a deep sniff. You shuddered against the feeling of her nose tickling your neck.

“Fresh blood,” she said, voice dripping with a desire that put you on edge.

“Mother says you have to share, sister,” said the redhead with a childish delight, the brunette nodding in agreement with a sadistic grin on her face.

That scream echoed through your head again. The blonde stared into your face, looking for the traces of fear that likely coated their usual victims. She was going to come up empty. You cleared your throat, looking down into beautiful but evil eyes that had probably been the last thing that so many had seen, and spit right in her face.

The grin on her face froze as the glob made contact with her cheek, and then dropped off altogether when her sisters roared in laughter, one of them doubling at the waist and clutching her stomach.

She threw you to the floor, tossing your backpack aside and growling at her sisters to silence them. You leaped towards it with the intention of pulling your shotgun out, deciding to keep the handgun a secret. But she grabbed a fistful of your hair, most of her materialising back into that swarm as she did so. She dragged you through the halls, her sisters flanking you. You clawed at her hand, but to no avail.

Another swarm got too close, a face materialising. The brunette. She ripped one of your arms off of where it was clawing at the hand that felt as if it was going to rip your scalp off. She held it up to her mouth and grinned. You didn’t even have the chance to scream as she sank her teeth into the side of your forearm, digging in deep. Then she pulled back, laughing. She hadn’t done it to feed, only to hurt you. The other sister came forward, her face materialising as well to lick up the blood that was leaking down your arm. She left little bites of her own up your arm. But these were more like love bites.

Suddenly they stopped, and the oldest released the grip on your hair, using her momentum to throw you into a wall.

“Mother,” she started, “I bring you fresh prey.”

Oh no.

You turned, out of breath from the hurt your body had suffered.

“You are so kind to me, daughters.” She took a deep drink of wine and rose from her chair. “Now, let's take a look at them.”

You didn’t get up from the floor, not having the energy or the stupidity to make a scene right now. Not as she fully turned and looked down at you.

“Well, well. A nobody with no name worth knowing or manners to speak of makes their way to my castle do they? Well, you escaped my little brother's idiot games did you? Let’s see how special you are.”

She beckoned to the blonde and the redhead. They each grabbed an arm, forcefully hoisting you to your feet. You squirmed a little, but their grip was like iron as they held up the arm with the bleeding bite mark. Lady Dimitrescu raised a brow and looked back at the remaining daughter.

“Cassandra? What did I say about waiting?”

Cassandra looked down at her feet, almost seeming to be ashamed. “Apologies Mother.”

Dimitrescu gripped you by the wrist and lifted you off the ground. You gritted your teeth. She closed her mouth over the wound and sucked. If you were being honest with yourself most of your blood at this point had either transferred to your face or. . .

It wasn’t important. But apparently you needed therapy.

She dropped you suddenly, and you couldn’t help the shout that escaped your lips when your knees made impact with the floor.

“Just as I thought, nothing special.”

“May we devour their flesh now Mother-”

“But I am the one who captured them-”

“Now, now girls. First I must inform Mother Miranda of Heisenberg’s failure. But soon there will be enough for everyone.” She turned to the blonde daughter. “Bela, take them to the dungeons and shove them in a cell.”

Bela grinned at you, seizing your hair again as she dragged you along, leaving the laughter of her mother and her sisters behind.

***

Heisenberg was fuming. Not that you had escaped his trap. To be perfectly honest there were several design flaws that he wasn’t going to admit to and he really couldn’t have cared less if you had exploited them to get away. If you were running through the village, then something was bound to get you eventually. That was what he had figured anyway.

No, Heisenberg was angry because that overgrown, egocentric, glorified vampire bitch had ratted him out to Mother Miranda. He could just imagine the smug way she had said it over the phone. That grin she would have. He wished he could have buried his hammer into her face.

Miranda had expressed her disappointment in him, not that he gave a shit. But it would likely mean that she would watch him for a while, at least while she had time to spare. Preparing that stupid ceremony would take her a few days at the very least. And in that time she could do anything.

He slammed his fist down on the table. With you in Castle Dimitrescu he couldn’t even entertain himself watching you scramble around the village. Couldn’t taunt you. And he didn’t want to risk working on his army, just on the off chance that Miranda caught wind.

He hadn’t even seen you before that confrontation in front of the castle gate, and he just assumed it was blind luck you’d made it that far.

He’d probably never know how you got on in the Castle, because there was no way you were leaving that place alive.

He looked at the yellow jar on his desk, tempted to just throw it and it’s contents into a pit of molten metal. It would be kinder to the kid than whatever Miranda had planned.

***

You had been shoved in the most stereotypical dungeon in the world. It was something straight out of some Frankenstein-ish novel. Bela had left, promising that she would come back soon to retrieve you for dinner. You had given her your most hate filled look, your eyes promising nothing but violence.

That must have been ten minutes ago, and you were furiously searching the cell. You had found a gap in the wall, and in it a crumpled sheet of paper. You straightened it out, beginning to read.

To whomever is trying to escape this place,

I hope this note will be of some assistance. You don’t know me but you will have to trust me if you want to survive.

First, you need to get out of this cell. Look around for the way, get on your hands and knees if you must.

Then, search for the thing you’ll need to

escape. It will be hidden where they’ll

least suspect, soaked in blood.

The rest of the note was illegible, at some point being soaked with dry blood. You hoped that whoever had written it had gotten out.

You took the notes' advice, getting on your hands and knees. There! Under the wooden board attached to the wall there was a hole that you could crawl through. You got on your belly and went through, ending up in the next cell. You tried the door, and to your relief it opened.

You took your gun out of your boot, preparing to go into the dungeon deeper for your way out.

***

Monsters had patrolled the dungeon. Horrible emaciated monsters that held swords. The first one you had encountered held a sword, and you shot it with glee, picking the sword up. A perfect chance to conserve ammo. It was in good condition too. You sliced and hacked your way through, making it to the second part of the dungeon. You could see the stairwell at the end. Your heart soared. At least until you had to wave a fly out of your face.

“I can’t believe Cassandra caused all this mess.”

Bela. Part of you wanted to turn around and fight her, but you were sadistic not stupid. Bullets against a swarm would be pointless. Instead you ran for the stairs, shooting up them until you came to an entrance that was boarded up. Because of course it was. You attempted to hack at the boards with the sword, but it was already too late.

“Where are you going little one?”

“Oh for fucks-”

You turned to be confronted by Bela, her white teeth stark against the drying blood coating the lower half of her face. She picked you up by the neck again, throwing you through the wooden boards. You lost the sword to the far wall, instead bringing out your handgun as she mounted you, desperately trying to inflict some damage on her even when you knew the bullets would be useless. She just laughed at you.

“Bullets cannot harm-”

CRACK.

You both looked off to the side, just in time to see a window shatter and let in all the cold air. She jumped off and you skittered back, getting to your feet. She was. . . solidifying, only a few lone flies breaking away from her before the cold killed them.

And she was angry.

“You stupid-”

You shot her.

She reeled back in pain, screeching. You smiled, and shot her again.

She charged at you, raising her sickle over her head to slice at you. You ducked away from her and grabbed your sword, swinging it to block her next swing. You kicked her in the stomach, putting some distance between the two of you. Then you shot her again. And again. You could tell that she was almost done. One more bullet or swing of the sword and she’d probably shatter.

You put your gun down on a table, the sword following it.

She was doubled over in agony for the moment, but she still managed to look at you with eyes filled with hatred. The perfect mirror of the look you had given her when she had tossed you in a cell. You laughed at her again, the sound ringing right through the room. You didn’t care if it could even be heard throughout the castle. The daughters had a weakness, and if they wanted to fuck around and find out how you could exploit it then that was their problem.

“It’s funny how things just switch around isn’t it?” You asked her between manic bursts of laughter.

You charged at her suddenly, tackling her to the ground. She wasn’t nearly as strong as she had been. She clawed desperately at your thighs, screaming again as the force she was using caused them to begin to crumble. It was childish, but you got a grip on her hair and pulled as hard as you could, laughing at the screams she made as cracks spiderwebbed down from her hairline down to her eyes. Then you reeled your fist back, gave her one final smirk, and punched her in the face. Her head practically exploded into pieces. You felt yourself drop to the floor as most of her crumbled. Except for one thing. The upper half of her torso had crystallized into something beautiful. You picked it up, wondering if the Duke would buy it.

***

As it turned out, the Duke had his own special room in the castle, and he did buy the torso and the sword. You also managed to retrieve your backpack. It turned out that that medicine was bordering on magical, as the only thing left of the horrible bite Cassandra had left was a scar. Even Daniela’s hickeys were gone.

To your chagrin, if you wanted to open those double doors in the hall you were going to need four masks. The Duke provided the first one, The Mask of Sorrow. He had winked at you, telling you that this would avoid another encounter with the Lady. But when you had asked for his explanation about the events in the village, he simply told you he didn’t have it all yet, but he would at your next encounter. You thought that was bullshit. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

And now here you were, reaching for the animal's skull off the wall, hoping that maybe it would have the solution to opening that grate without having to replace the mask.

“I was worried my sisters had gotten to you first.”

Fuck. You froze. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was by the door. You looked around the room, desperate to find a solution. You had only narrowly escaped her getting into the room. Trying to get past her while stuck in here would be impossible. Then you felt it. A draft. There was a gap in the wall being concealed by a bookshelf. You moved it, looking around for Cassandra. She was still by the door, taking her sweet time getting to you. You examined the gap. There was no way this was going to be enough to petrify Cassandra. Then you remembered the weight in your pocket. You had picked it up in the dungeon. A pipe bomb.

You felt the air shift, and had just enough time to duck as Cassandra swung at you. Taking cover on the other side of the room, you threw the bomb and covered your ears. Cassandra screamed at the bite of the cold air, somehow being louder than the initial boom the bomb had made.

“You’ve ruined the hunt!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you said happily. “I’m having tons of fun.”

You pointed the shotgun at her as she charged, unloading it into her face. She stumbled back. And you did it again, not giving her time to recover. The shotgun was much more powerful than the pistol had been taking care of Bela, so it wasn’t long before Cassandra was at the same stage Bela had been before you had killed her.

“I take it back. That was kind of disappointing. I thought you’d have more in ya.”

And you don’t know if she just realised she was dying, or if she just wanted to kill you so bad that she threw common sense out of the window, but she charged at you with her weapon raised. You didn’t even move out of the way, just caught he raised wrist and squeezed. It crumbled beneath your hands. She tried to hit you with her other wrist only for you to do the same thing.

“Mother!” She cried out with all the emotion of a scared little girl. “Mother!”

You grabbed her by the front of her dress, letting her see into your eyes. Letting her see the toothy grin you were giving her that was more like a snarl. The irony of the situation struck you. Whereas it would have been her eyes brimming with cruelty and madness before, now it was yours. But you had never been afraid. Not for one second. But she was. And it made you grin even wider.

She called out for her mother again as you dragged her to the wall. You kissed her on the nose, giving her a smile that someone might give a lover, and used all your innate anger and cruelty to shove the bitch against the wall.

She shattered, leaving behind only that crystallised torso.

***

His sister had said she would call Miranda when the outsider had been killed. Well, her words were dealt with properly. Emphasis on the properly apparently. Miranda was supposed to let the rest of them know when the outsider had decided to stop being a nuisance and finally bit the dust.

But no call came. From either of them. Hell, Heisenberg hadn’t heard a goddamn thing from anyone. So. . . was the outsider still alive?

He had to admit, he didn’t expect that.

Maybe he needed to change up his expectations.

***

“So you finally came to see me?”

The final daughter. Daniela. You would have preferred not to deal with her right now, given that her mother had just surprised you and evading her through her music hall had been no small task. She had been angry and seething with bloodlust. You supposed she had learned about the deaths of her older daughters. The fact that she had sent Daniela up against you after you had proved that they were practically useless against you wasn’t scoring Dimitrescu any good mother points.

You shot at the window above. But it refused to break, and the swarms had blocked the doors. You looked around, noting that on the other side, on one of the pillars was a handle.

“Everyone always falls for me.”

You ran around her, gripping the handle and swinging it down with all your might. She screamed in agony, running to get out of the direct frozen wind. To your dismay the handle slowly turned up. Who designed this?

She was running through the bookshelves, trying to hide from you. So deranged, but slightly smarter than her sisters it seemed.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I- Why are you doing this?!” you retorted.

You pumped the handle down again before chasing her, shooting her in the back. She darted around a bookcase, circling around you and trying to get the jump on you. But you were ready, giving her another one. You were beginning to get bored of these sisters.

“You three don’t really put up much of a fight do you?”

“I thought you loved me,” she snarled.

“What the fuck has that got to do with anything I just said?”

You shot her again. Then once more for good measure. You got up close and used the butt of your shotgun wo hit her in the stomach, forcing her back.

“I don’t wanna die,” she cried out, almost begging you not to go any further with the tone she was using.

“Well you know, neither did anyone in this village or this castle but shit happens I guess.”

You threw the gun down and got a grip on her throat, dragging her to the handle where you pumped it down again. Her attempts to get away from you and out of the cold were desperate, but you maintained that grip on her neck. Slowly, your grip tightened, and you thought you could see the beginning of tears in her eyes as cracks started to multiply on her throat. You did it slowly, savouring the way her throat gave under your hand. The window was nearly shut now. You blew her a kiss, then you balled your fist, crushing her throat completely.

The window shut.

***

“The entire bloodline of House Dimitrescu is done in by the likes of you?”

You smiled at her, even as she stalked you with her claws out. She had caught you while you were figuring out which mask went where. Luckily, being so big meant she was slow.

“Damn right it is.”

“Have much blood and sweat do you think it took to raise those daughter?” She swiped. “You have incurred an impossible debt!”

The genuine sadness and pain in her voice was something that might have swayed someone else, but not you. Not after the Duke had explained what those monsters in the dungeon had really been. Not when you knew the secret ingredient of that wine. Not when that scream rattled around inside your skull.

“What? You want me to feel sorry for you? Want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness while you slice me apart? How many daughters have you murdered and turned to slaves?” You slotted the third mask in before darting just out of her reach. “You didn’t consider how many fathers and husbands you bled dry in your dungeons. Your daughters deserved to die! You deserve to die! None of you get a free pass just because I’d have sex with you!”

She made a noise of disgust and sliced downwards, narrowly missing you. You darted to the last statue, putting the mask in. The door opened and you bolted.

***

You pushed open the coffin, finding an old corpse clutching a beautiful knife. You picked it up, testing the weight. That is, before you were spun around and lifted by the neck again. Evidently this family had a choking kink.

“You ruined everything!” She screamed.

She got ready to plunge her claws deep into your stomach, but you were faster, instead driving the knife into her chest. She screamed, throwing you through the window behind you. You accidentally let go of the knife, and it tumbled off the side of the building.

You looked back at Dimitrescu. She was in pain, and obviously weakening. But large, fleshy wings sprouted out from her back, a tail soon following.

And then she was crashing through the wall, nothing but a female torso and head on the back of what looked like a dragon straight out of one of your nightmares.

“Flesh! Bones! I will devour all of you!”

“Bring it on, bitch!”

***

“Curse you.”

And those were her last words. It hadn’t been easy, but you had done it. And you smiled at her as you did so. Given that same demented smile you’d given her daughters. You still wore it.

You looked around, still half mad from the bloodlust. The only thing of note was a yellow flask, so you snatched it up, grinning even wider as the wall opened into the outside.

***

Dimitrescu was dead. Heisenberg grinned. Well, he certainly didn’t expect to watch you walk out of the castle through the camera he’d placed in the area. He hadn’t even expected you to have lasted five minutes, but evidently you were made of sterner stuff. He was impressed.

You were covered in the dust of her dead daughters, as well as Dimitrescu's own blood. It made your damaged clothes cling to your form, and as you got closer he could see the grin you were wearing, could see that deranged look in your eye. And then you looked up at him. Not just at his camera, but at him. As if you knew he was watching. Your grin turned into something else, and you brought your palm to your mouth, kissed it, and then blew the kiss at him.

He didn’t expect that to get his blood pumping. Didn’t expect watching you walk away coated in blood get it pumping even harder. What was this feeling? It wasn’t fear. It was almost like adrenaline. Almost like-

He looked down at his lap. “Fuck.”

He needed to talk to you. He would talk to you.

Hopefully he could lick the blood off of you after.

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #Mother Miranda #Reader has a crush #reader is unstable #cw: violence #Cw: some torture #cw: blood #cw: blood kink

60 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 3 years

Note

What do you think the greatest brotrayal of all time would be?

What?

Somewhat of a challenge, not sure I pulled it off, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

Thanks to @janetm74 @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment for various read throughs and cheerleading :D

Sorry, Scott :D

-o-o-o-

Scott glared at his brothers.

Virgil, John and Gordon stood in a line on the comms room hardwood floor all looking straight ahead as if they were in a military inspection. Which was particularly odd since only one of them had ever been in said military.

Hell, even his grandmother was ramrod straight beside them.

Scott was absolutely beside himself. Still dressed in his uniform, complete with its coating of mud, he had no doubt that his appearance was anything but reassuring to the brothers standing in front of him.

Not that he cared. This was beyond it all.

This was so ludicrous that it was hard to even suspect Gordon as the culprit.

Though he was still the most likely despite his arm being in a sling.

Scott eyed his fish brother. He had a scratch above one eyebrow that hadn’t been there when Scott left this morning.

But then a lot was different on Tracy Island since he left this morning.

The most obvious difference was the Thunderbird stuck at an angle where the pool was supposed to be.

His ‘bird was shining in the late afternoon light, her silver hull gleaming as she sat at a sixty-degree angle just beyond the balcony, her wings gouged into the concrete of the patio.

Virgil shifted where he stood on his crutches and Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at making him stand there. His engineer brother had been grounded for the last week with a broken ankle, along with Gordon and his broken arm. Which is why Scott had been in Two today with the currently guilt free Alan.

His youngest brother stood off to one side, apparently caught between shock and relief that he wasn’t to blame.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.” For several things.

The room still reeked of burnt furnishings. Whatever had happened in the kitchen had left it black and under a haze of smoke that had infiltrated the villa.

As if to comment, John sneezed suddenly. His space brother sniffed and screwed up his face before he realised Scott was eyeing him. He, too, was standing on crutches, something he wasn’t doing this morning.

And still no-one said anything.

Not even Grandma, and honestly that was a kicker.

“Gordon-“

“What are you looking at me for?”

Scott shot him a flat stare. “History.”

“Hey, the last time I borrowed One, I brought her back in one piece.”

“Complete with Eau de Polecat!”

“That does not automatically put me at fault. Besides this was an emergency.”

Scott blinked. A little progress. “And?”

But Gordon clammed up and went back to staring at the portraits on the far side of the room, every bit the WASP Lieutenant Tracy he actually was.

Scott turned to John, his ever-faithful source of relevant information.

“J-“

“I’m sitting down.” John turned and crutched his way past Scott and into the sunken lounge without another word.

Scott stared after him.

“Honey, are you feeling okay?” His grandmother followed his space brother and began fussing over him and his leg, both completely ignoring Scott.

What the-? “How. Did. This. Happen?!” Okay, so he might be yelling just a little, but the cause was sufficient. He turned to his trusted first. His best friend. His brother. His Virgil.

Said brother was looking rather pale. “Virgil?”

Sad, dark eyes looked up at him. “I wanted to make you popcorn.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was frustrated. Virgil was always frustrated when he was grounded and today sported no reason to change that attitude.

Worse, he had had to watch Scott take his ‘bird out to a mudslide. His big brother was not a fan of flying Two, but since Virgil had a busted ankle and Gordon an equally busted arm, that was the deal today.

To top it all off, mudslides sucked big time and Scott and Alan would likely come home exhausted, especially since two of their brothers were currently unavailable to assist.

So, to help just that little bit he had spent the last couple of hours hobbling around the kitchen slapping together something that could be considered a relaxing meal for that evening, vetoing any chance of Grandma getting into the kitchen and destroying stomach linings.

It helped that Grandma was in Wellington with Kayo.

To top it off, Virgil had put together an apple pie, Scott’s favourite. He had also made sure there was a bucket of triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer for Alan – one that he had stashed away for emergencies just like this.

The last thing on his list was to make some candy popcorn for the squirt and put some kernels aside ready for popping later so they would be nice and warm for the movie.

He was in the process of heating the oil when Gordon burst into the room as if out of nowhere.

Virgil to dropped a spoon.

Damn sandshoes were silent.

“Hubert’s dying!”

“What?” His back creaked as he picked up the piece of cutlery.

“Hubert, the albatross that collided with the window and broke his wing.”

“What albatross?” The oil began to smoke a little so he turned the heat off. His Gordon radar was at full alert – this would likely take a while.

“Yesterday? Upstairs? How did you not hear that?” A blink. “Okay, it was five am. You don’t exist before ten, I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was dripping and a little caustic. “Regardless, Hubert has gone limp and I think he’s dying, Virg. Help me please.” The accompanying clasped hands reminiscent of either prayers or vigorous begging, complete with a sling that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, were a little over the top.

“Okay. Fine. Show me the patient.” He reached over and nudged the broken arm back into its sling while Gordon glared him.

“Hurry up.”

Virgil grabbed his crutches and followed Gordon to the stairs before darting sideways and thumbing the elevator doors open.

“Okay, fine, hop-a-long.” Gordon jumped down the last few steps and hurried into the elevator with Virgil.

He bounced on his heels the entire way to the infirmary level.

Virgil watched his agitation and realised that whatever was wrong with this bird, Gordon had invested himself in it, much like every other injured animal he had dragged home since he had learnt to walk.

Gordon ushered Virgil into the infirmary and to his horror, he found the limp sea bird strapped secure in one of the beds. “Gordon, have you heard of hygiene?”

“It’s fine. The sheets are clean. He’s safe.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

But Gordon’s whine drew him into examining the bird, which, considering it was avian, did not comply with the human knowledge Virgil possessed.

“I don’t really know, Gords.” Virgil stabbed at the infirmary’s computer interface, interrogating the net for baseline vitals for an albatross. Hell, he didn’t even know which species.

“It’s a Gibson’s Albatross.” Gordon was stroking the unconscious bird gently with his fingers.

This was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last time Virgil found himself in this situation, though the species did vary. As always, his answer was. “I’m sorry, Gordon. You need a qualified vet.”

“But I set his wing. He should be getting better.” Gordon’s age regressed around animals and tended to break Virgil’s heart in the process.

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“For goodness sake, we’re International Rescue!” The plea in his brother’s eyes stabbed right where it hurt.

But then those eyes widened and a light bulb went off above Gordon’s head.

Or it could have been a pre-emptive precursor for the migraine Virgil suddenly knew he was going to end up with.

“No, Gordon.”

“But he’s dying!” Gordon grabbed Virgil by the arm. “It’s our job to save lives.”

“How exactly are we going to get him to the mainland? Neither of us can fly.” Virgil wasn’t going to admit it, but the bird didn’t look like it was going to last long enough for another family member to make it home. “I’m sorry, Gordon.” He was already calculating how to cheer up his little brother.

“No!”

He sighed. It wasn’t as if he wanted the bird to die. Hell, if he was hail and healthy, he would have already put it on Tracy Two and be halfway to Auckland by now. But there was no way he was risking himself or his brother in a plane with a broken limb. Maybe Kayo might get back in time?

But then the inevitable happened. He should have seen it coming.

“We can take Thunderbird One!”

Virgil blinked. “What? No!” God, no, Scott would kill him.

“This is a life, Virgil! What makes a bird’s any less important than a human’s? It’s his life, our house has endangered it, and now we aren’t doing anything to help save it? How is that fair?” Gordon’s fists were now clenched at his sides, the sling yet again ignored. Fiery carnelian glared at Virgil. “I can’t do it with my arm, but Thunderbird One doesn’t require feet to operate.” A flicker of his eyelids. “This is on you.”

Virgil stared at his little brother.

A glance at the limp bird on the bed.

Back to Gordon, ever so fiery and passionate.

Virgil reached down, unfolded Gordon’s fist and pulled the sling back into place.

Ten minutes later he found himself doing what he did every time this kind of situation happened.

Thunderbird One launched with Virgil at the helm and Gordon clutching a desperately ill albatross in the back seat.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at his second eldest brother, the man with whom he trusted so much. Virgil had literally held Scott’s life in his hands on several occasions.

“You borrowed One to take an injured bird to the vet.”

Virgil shifted where he stood. “It was to save a life.”

Scott turned to the lounge and glared at John. “And you let him fly with a broken ankle?”

John returned the glare with equal strength. “Are you kidding me? This is Virgil we’re talking about. I thought One was safer in his hands than yours.”

“What?!”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything stupid with your ‘bird, is he?”

There were no words, so Scott just gestured in the direction of the pool.

With both hands.

“Yeah, well, probabilities can’t predict everything.”

The flippant, non-answer went straight to Scott’s head and rattled around in there for a moment or two before he chose to file it for later or risk implosion. John was rubbing at his foot and Scott latched onto it to save his sanity. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen caught fire. Kayo had already been called out again and I was worried about Grandma.”

“And?”

“I tripped.”

“Over what?”

“My own feet! It’s not every day you see Thunderbird One get stuck in the pool!” John glared at Scott. “Cahelium on concrete is very loud.”

Scott stared at him, not willing to face the image those words inflicted on him.

“Why was the kitchen on fire?”

But then something Virgil had said popped into his mind. He couldn’t help it, he rubbed his face with his hand. “Grandma, why didn’t you wait for Virgil to get home?”

“He left the popcorn on the counter, dear, I was trying to help.” Grandma wasn’t looking at him. John’s leg appeared to need a good rub right at this very moment.

John was wincing.

But with that explained, Scott had no choice but to turn back to Virgil, who was still standing clinging to his crutches.

Why hadn’t he sat down? He was ever so very sorry looking and Scott’s heart melted at the edges.

“Virgil, what happened?”

Brown eyes slowly peered up at him.

God, did he really have to deploy that little brother expression. Thunderbird One was down for the count, stuck in the damned pool and the brother responsible wasn’t even letting him stay angry. Goddamnit! How does a thirty-year-old man regress to six-year-old like that? Those eyes were the same eyes Virgil deployed that time he crashed Scott’s bicycle.

As if in answer, something whacked Scott’s thigh.

Ow! “What the hell?”

Looking down he found an extremely large seagull with a bandaged wing glaring up at him. Their eyes met and it squawked.

Very loudly.

“Hubert! What are you doing down here?” And suddenly, there was a race on around the comms room, Gordon chasing the waddling bird as it methodically thumped everyone with its wings, took out a pot plant and to Scott’s horror, one of Dad’s souvenirs. Both toppled with a crash as Gordon continued to chase Hubert around the room.

Alan joined him a moment later.

Part of Scott wanted to yell the building down, but most of him just wanted to know how the hell his ‘bird had ended up stuck halfway into her launch bay.

So, he turned back to Virgil and asked again, perhaps a little louder over the ruckus as the stupid bird scrambled over John in its eagerness to torture everyone.

He approached his brother carefully and placed a hand on each arm. “Virg, What happened?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry, Scott.”

“That much is obvious. What malfunctioned?”

Brown eyes were suddenly not looking at him.

“Virgil?”

His brother straightened a little. “You have too many damned levers.”

“What?”

He seemed to be saying that a lot today.

“I pushed the wrong lever, okay? It’s on the left on Two and One has it on the right and I yanked on it to slow and the wings deployed. Wrong lever, sorry, okay?”

Scott stared at Virgil, his jaw slowly dropping as his hands lost their grip on his brother and just hovered mid-air beside him. “You used the wrong lever?”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad.” Virgil was looking at his feet. “Can I sit down now?”

Scott’s mouth was still open and he had to force himself to close it. “Sure.” So his voice was a little bit higher than normal…

Virgil didn’t hesitate, clutching his crutches and hurriedly tapping his way over to the lounge.

Behind Scott there was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass as both Alan and a bird squawked at the same time.

Scott didn’t turn to look. He just stood staring at his ‘bird, still gleaming in the late afternoon sun, still sticking out of the pool.

His jaw may have dropped just a little again.

But nothing more was said.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #flyboytracy's fault

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zackcrazyvalentine · 3 years

Note

hewwo! may i please have a scenario for Sam from TWST with a really flirty fem!MC? it can be as sfw or nsfw as you see fit

Okay, ahem, first off…. Sorry if this sucks orz, I’m one very HORRIBLE flirt

But for you guys and your requests, anything u.u ❤️

This pretty much is SFW! Just some suggestive comments are used

(forgot the name of this one aaa)

This will be: "Enjoying the view~"

-- -- --

Sam, the school’s shopkeep. A very fun soul to be around, and a very charming man, in her opinion. Was it any wonder the girl’s heart was stolen by this mysterious man so early on her stay at Night Raven College?

[Name] would frequent Mr.S’s shop with any and every excuse, all to spend some time with the Shadowman. Running errands for her friends, wandering out into the dark because Grim got a late night craving, her feet would even unconsciously take her to the enigmatic shop when making her way to some unimportant part of campus.

Sam himself enjoyed her company. Her reactions were delightful, and the warmth that painted her cheeks whenever he winked at her was adorable.

“Cheeky little devil she is.” Fleeting touches and playful smiles accompanied her farewells… and he could honestly not complain about that.

Is it wrong? Most probably. But does he want to be right? Not really.

He’s made contracts and rituals that have definitely stained his history, so what’s another blot in his pages? As soon as any clause is broken, his friends will drag him to his own personal hell. What can he do but enjoy life any way he wishes to?

It’s not like he’s that old, either… He also isn’t her teacher, so…

Tuesday, 4 p.m. Sure enough, the bell signaling someone entered the shop rang clearly through the silence within.

“Hello, Mr. Shadowman~” [Name] greet him, making her way to one of the shelves right in front of his counter. “May I know how you and your shadow friends are doing today?” She asked while bending down to reach whatever product she needed. It couldn’t be more obvious that she did it on purpose, the sway of her hips and how she shifted her weight from one feet to the other a clear telling sign.

He felt one of his shadows elbow him lightly, gesturing to the expanse of soft skin her short skirt revealed in her position. Sam leaned over to admire the sight properly, teasing smirk slowly forming on his face. “We’re doing just fine, dear… More so now that you’re here, I admit.”

The girl flinched a little, straightening up at the comment. “Remain calm, [Name], play it cool.” Sure, she acts like a tease and a flirt with the older man, but damn did it take some of her guts to keep the natural face.

“Oh, is that so~? Should I come over and make you company more often, then? I’m sure Grim wouldn’t mind much. He’s always pestering me for privacy and all that, y’know.” She took her time making her way to the counter.

Once there, she propped her head on her hand with a playful smile directed at the clerk. “Could you be a dear and prepare some [tea leaves/coffee grounds/beverage mix] for me? We’ve ran out back in Ramshackle.”

The magenta eyed leaned close, so very close, to the girl. “With pleasure, little demon.” He let his voice drop low, the way he knew would evoke a wonderful blush to bloom on her cheeks. He promptly got to work.

Meanwhile, the [hair color] bit her lip to silence a squeal, but her lips definitely widened the smile they already formed earlier. Bright [color] eyes remained trained on the shopkeep, enjoying the way he (purposefully) put on an entertaining show to prepare the consumable along with his shadow friends.

Sam would throw glances her way, she basked on the attention. Soon enough, the tradesman began filling a small metal tin with the brew stuff.

“Little devil, you know it’s rude to stare.” He said.

“Oh, sorry, but it’s hard not to when the view is so… nice” That cheeky glint returned to her eyes.

The magician got caught off guard, noticeable by his slightly widened eyes. Still, he brushed it off with a small chuckle. “Is that so? Well then, I can say I very much enjoy what you did to your uniform.” A sideways glance was what she got, “Especially the lax necktie.”

The girl mentally high fived, “Yes! He looked at my chest!” But keep her cool she must.

“I think I know where it’d look better.” Couple silent seconds passed before she smiled in mock innocence at the man, “On your floor~” The act was completed with a cute tilt of her head.

Sam pointedly looked at her now, feeling warmth of his own crawl up to his ears. “My, my!” He was truly impressed.

His shadow friend returned. It pointed at the [hair color] and did an “OK” hand sign (aka 👌), along with multiple thumbs up.

Very well then, he’ll play along.

“Really now, love?” She became alert at the new nickname. “Then let me propose you something.”

Once more, he leaned close to her after placing the items she was to purchase right beside them. “For anything you would like to buy,” Without breaking eye contact, his hand went to play with the sloppy tie around her neck, “Prices are negotiable.”

Oh, that did it.

That, paired with his handsome smile and those purple eyes shining with mischief… broke her.

A gasp left her lips as a furious flush covered her entire face. Nerves and excitement fired the fight or flight instinct, and flight she tried.

[Name] jerked away from the object of her attention, leading her tie to unravel and her to almost lose her balance from the sudden movement. Thankfully, a magical shadow clung to her own and pulled her back on her feet.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry Sam! I-I just..! It just-!” Embarrassed, she turned away and used her hands to cover her face.

The clerk remained stunned, but a rich chuckle of his own broke him out of the stupor.

“No, no! Little demon, it’s fine! Don’t worry!” It took some time for his laughter to die down, this only helped increase the student’s shame.

“C’mon, turn around. I promise it’s alright, [Name].” He reassured.

Begrudgingly, she heed his words and lowered her hands once they were face to face. Her eyes remained averted, though.

Sam smiled fondly at her, “Listen, it’s fine if you decline, but I want you to hear the idea first.”

Trying to swallow her mistake, she nodded quickly and looked at him. “How does a date sound? Casual, to a café or something. I know some good places to eat delicious meals at a low price.”

She took some time to regain her confidence. “S-Sure, sounds good…” Her voice trembled a bit, her nerves were still aflame.

“So, we’ve got a deal?” He held out his hand.

A lovely bashful smile finally grazed her lips, “Deal..!” She shook his hand a couple of times.

“A-And please…” Taking the discarded tie, [Name] wrapped it in a proper ribbon to his wrist, “Keep it.”

With a last smile, Sam handed her the two products she had on the counter. “On the house… and do take a little extra on your way out.” One last wink.

The girl giggled while walking backward, “So, I take it I should drop by soon to settle out the date?”

“Yes, indeed, cheeky devil! But your company here will always be welcomed, regardless!” With that, she waved at him and exited the shop.

The way they both celebrated the accomplishment that night, on their own ways.

[END♡]

-- -- --

YOOOOOO!!!! I ENJOYED WRITING THIS MORE THAN I THOUGHT I WOULD! OMG THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!!!!!! 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

Hope it was to your liking~!

It is said that: you shouldn't trust anyone who flirts with you super smoothly (unless it’s playful banter between friends). If they really want to woo you, they will be nervous

That’s why I decided to add Sam blushing a little and Fem!MC getting super nervous like that c:

Thank you, once more! ^ ^

#SO MUCH FUN OMG #March 2021 special #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #sam #sam twst #twst sam #sam x reader #sam x MC #Fem!MC #soul cuddle #ig #zack writes #request pavilion

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

all i want for christmas - isaac lahey

Hey crew! Happy holidays my loves 💓 whether you celebrate or not i hope you’re having a wonderful week! Here’s something a lil festive ;)

Enjoy + let me know what you think💓

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: none :) just fluff

Master list

It was that time of year again. The most stressful, crazed, chaotically wonderful time of the year. Of course, it was the annual McCall pack Christmas party.

The one occasion in which there was absolutely no getting out of, whether you were in Beacon Hills or not. The only day of the year where every single member of the pack would get to see each other all at the same time.

Since graduating from High School you’d all gone your separate ways, living your own lives and fulfilling your respective destinies.

Since you’d seen your beloved pack last, you’d been contently living a quiet life in a small town in England. It was pretty sweet, you lived in a spacey cottage and worked in a very quaint bakery. It was safe to say that being a werewolf in a tiny cottagecore village was a lot easier, and entirely less stressful, than being a werewolf in Beacon Hills.

But, as they all say; home is where the heart is.

Because you lived across the world, the Christmas party was the only chance you got to see the majority of your dearest friends, so you always kept the date.

Every year without fail since the pack had formed, December 23rd, Christmas eve eve, was strictly reserved for festive supernatural celebrations.

It had been a long day of airport lines, connecting flights and luggage collections but you were finally sitting in a cab on your way to Derek Hale’s loft.

There was always the unspoken dress code of “way fancier than you need to be” at these parties, it was a code that yourself and Lydia in particular took very seriously. Even if that meant slipping into a little black dress, your favourite pair of heels, applying a full face of makeup and doing your hair in an airport bathroom.

Which for you, was the reality. But regardless, you looked hot as hell.

The cab driver’s sleavy glances at you through the rear view mirror only confirmed the fact.

“Christmas party?” The middle aged man asked, looking at you more intently than the road.

“Mhm.” You replied, faking a sincere smile.

He let out a low whistle from between his thin chapped lips and rose an ungroomed eyebrow, “Someone there you’re trying to impress?”

Now that was the golden question. With a forced chuckle you brought your gaze to rest on the crescent moon glowly in the black sky.

There was someone there that you wanted to impress, as a matter of fact.

It was one of those fickle things. A will-they-won’t-they of epic proportions and it had been going on since junior year of high school. Sure, everyone loves a slow burn, Stiles and Lydia are a perfect example of this.

However, your fire seemed to be taking its sweet time catching alight.

Shaking the thoughts away you let out an exhausted sigh, “Unfortunately, yeah. There is someone I’m trying to impress.”

The cab driver let out a chuckle, “If ya ask me, if however it is doesn’t have to pick their jaw up off of the floor after seeing you they are a fool.” He told you, not trying to hide the looks of approval he was giving the neckline of your dress very obviously.

You couldn’t stop the booming laugh that left your painted lips at his statement, he was such a creep but he was definitely onto something.

“Who knows maybe this will be the year.” You said through a laugh. The driver nodded his head and then exclaimed cockily as he, thankfully, pulled up to Derek’s complex, “Yeah, and if not, you know where to find me.”

Trying your very best to contain your laughter at the man before you, you wordlessly got out of the car, grabbing your suitcase, which was full of presents, from the trunk.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful!” He called jovially through the passenger side window, you looked over your shoulder and gave him your best fake smile, “You too.”

As you began towards the building's entrance you lowered your tone, muttering a quiet, “Creep.” Under your breath.

The sound of suitcase wheels dragging against the concrete pavement echoed through an empty lobby area as you made your way to the rickety old elevator, trust Derek to buy the entire building but choose the loft on the top floor.

A bell sounded when the elevator finally arrived, you stepped inside and waited patiently for the contraption to carry you to the top floor.

When it arrived you could hear Christmas music booming from behind the huge sliding metal door that separated the loft from the hallway, there was a lot of excited chatter inside the loft so you assumed you were the last to arrive. Fashionably late.

Just as you were about to pull the door open, you paused and pulled out your phone, opening the camera and giving yourself one last look over. The status hadn’t changed since the airport, you still looked hot as hell.

Disregarding the anxious butterflies fluttering around your stomach, you took a deep intake of breath and plastered a genuine smile on your red lips and opened the door.

“Hello my darlings!” You made your presence known with an over the top false British accent as the pack turned to see who had just arrived. The second their eyes landed on you the whole room exploded with excitement.

Lydia squealed in delight, rushing up to you and pulling you into a tight hug. Your arms wrapped around her tightly and your smile widened when she began swaying you excitedly in her arms before pulling away. The strawberry blonde held you at arm's length, her eyes scanning you from head to toe then fixing you with a knowing smirk.

“Cute dress. Who is that little number for?” She teased menacingly, raising an eyebrow as if she didn’t already know the answer.

You’d missed her little games, but that didn’t mean you’d forgotten how to play along since you’d seen her last. You put your hand over your heart and looked at her dreamily, your horrible imitation of a British accent returning, “Why it’s all for you my love.”

It was then that Stiles broke the two of you apart saying, “Y/n, you’re my best friend and we share a lot of things but I’m afraid my girlfriend is not one of them.”

With a disappointed sigh, you shot your best girl friend a wink, “Forbidden love.”

“Shut up and gimme a hug already, God.” Stiles said in an exasperated tone, but the huge grin on his face betrayed his voice as he wrapped his lanky arms around you.

“Hey Sty.” You giggled, reciprocating his hug. When he pulled away you noticed the rest of the pack were now crowding around you at the door.

Scott stood like an excited puppy waiting to get to you and the second you laid eyes on him you felt excitement burst within you.

With a huge smile on your face you threw your arms around his shoulders, squealing happily as the alpha lifted and spun you around in his hold. It felt so good to be with wolves again, you already felt stronger.

“I’ve missed you!” You told him, your feet pressed back on the ground. Scott’s smile was so bright as he exclaimed, “You too! You’re the only one I haven’t seen since last year! How are you? Are you doing okay on your own? How’s England?” He fired out in the brotherly way he usually did, you couldn’t help the fond smile on your face as you patted his cheek reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Scotty. I’m all good.”

The next few minutes were spent hugging and catching up with the others, Malia, Derek and Peter had welcomed you home in the doorway with hugs.

“Where are the puppies?” You asked, referring to Liam and Mason.

“Kitchen. Liam is trying to find something that’ll make us all drunk.” Malia told you, looking at your suitcase with expectancy.

You motioned towards the case by your side with a knowing grin, “Ok, I’ll go get those two. Your names are on the presents that are for you.”

“Yes!” Malia cheered, pecking your cheek quickly then almost sprinting to the case.

When you got to the doorway of the kitchen you leaned against the frame, watching as Liam chugged a bottle of vodka, trying to get some kind of buzz from the liquid while Mason watched in awe, “I don’t see you for a year and suddenly you’re a frat boy.” You sighed out.

Liam stopped in his tracks and looked towards you, “Oh hey, Y/n” He greeted you with an adorable smile and Mason gave you a small nod of greeting and you nodded your head towards the living area where the others were exchanging gifts.

“There’s presents for you guys if you wanna go get them.” You informed them, smiling as they all but ran past you towards the gifts.

The kitchen was empty now, save for you and a half full bottle of smirnoff. Tiredly you made your way to the wooden counter opposite the door and sat yourself up on it.

As you swung your legs gently in the air, you took a moment to close your eyes and enjoy the moment to yourself.

The moment ended with a gentle knock on the doorframe, and when you opened your eyes, there he was.

Standing in front of you, in the flesh and all of his glory was Isaac Lahey. “You mind if I join you?” He asked softly, you gave him a smile and beckoned him over.

“‘Course not. Come in.” He smiled in return and casually made his way over to you, he hoisted himself up beside you on the countertop.

“I didn’t realise you were here yet.” You told him, eyes studying his face, he hadn’t aged a day since the first day you met him.

Even now, years later, he still maintained that youthful lost boy aura. The sparkle in his eyes never dimmed either.

Isaac turned his head to face you, a warm smile decorating his lips as he did so, “Sorry I missed your entrance, I had to change. I came straight from the airport.”

You nodded in understanding, “Me too. Changed in the airport bathroom though.”

He chuckled at that, you didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled across your body or how they lingered on the hem of your dress that had ridden up ever so slightly when you’d hopped on the counter.

When he caught himself staring he cleared his throat and looked away, when he was met with the look of knowing on your face his own erupted in a blush.

“You look…” He started but trailed off.

“Incredible? Amazing? Stunningly gorgeous? Come on, Isaac. Help me out here.” You teased, bumping your shoulder against his.

“All of the above.” He answered, equally as cheekily, he knee pressing against yours as he pulled something out of his back pocket.

It was a narrow rectangular envelope, he fiddled with it nervously before holding it in your direction, “I got you a present.”

You took it from him gently, “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to. Open it.” He urged, blue eyes glued to you as your fingers pried the envelope seal open.

As you pulled the contents of the envelope you looked to Isaac in confusion. It was a flight ticket to Paris for New Years eve.

“A plane ticket?”

Isaac nodded, blush returning to his face, “Yeah, I know you’ve always wanted to go and there’s the completely unrelated reason that I have an apartment in the city and would really love to spend new year’s with you.” He rambled on nervously and you smiled up at him.

“So you’re essentially asking me to come for a slumber party?” You grinned, giggling when he rolled his gleaming eyes at you. “I’m kidding. I’d love to come to Paris with you.” You told him, taking his hand in yours to stop it from fidgeting.

Isaac squeezed your hand in response, a happy smile on his face, “It’d also be a really great opportunity for me to finally admit that I’m in love with you.”

There was that fire you’d been talking about, after way too many years, it was finally lighting up.

“Good. That would give me a chance to tell you that I love you too.” You played along, biting back a shit eating grin as his face moved closer to yours.

You could hear Lydia behind the door, hushing the others as they all screamed along to “All I Want For Christmas Is You”.

“She’s been standing out there listening since I came in.” Isaac whispered and you only responded by sliding your hands up his shoulders.

Absentmindedly, Isaac’s arms wrapped around your waist as you continued to lean in closer, whispering, “Then let’s stop talking.”

Isaac’s eyes widened at that and he swooped his lips the rest of the distance to yours, murmuring, “God, I love that plan.”

His lips clung to yours while your hands moved to his hair. It had been a long time coming. After all the almosts and could haves, his lips were finally on yours.

The kiss was broken when you couldn’t hold your smile back any longer, Isaac’s lips were now tinted red from your lipstick but they were formed in a breathtaking smile.

“I think we should stop talking more. Like a lot more.”

“They kissed!” Lydia whisper shouted to the rest of the pack, who were pretending not to listen to the conversation happening in the kitchen.

Scott let out a celebratory “Whoop!” As did Malia and Mason.

“And! She’s going to spend New Year’s with him in Paris!” Scott clapped his hands together then, holding his hand out to Stiles, “Called it. Hand it over.”

Stiles grumbled, necking the rest of his drink before fishing a twenty out of his pocket and shoving it in Scott’s hand.

#isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf x reader #derek hale x reader #scott mccall x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #lydia martin #malia hale #liam dunbar

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Madness

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja

Summary: “I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a princess and Ivar travels to England with his brothers & thinks the princess is beautiful but he gets teased by Sigurd and his brothers but she can understand their language and decides to flirt with him in front of everyone?”

So I made her Kwenthrith’s daughter because why the fuck not, and Blaeja (Aelle’s daughter) is on this cause again, why the fuck not. Also the Reader might be a tad insane, but at this rate all my Reader characters are idk what to tell u

Word Count: 4.7k (I’m sorry lol)

Warnings: Mentions of rape and child abuse, mentions and allusions to violence and death, my horrible writing

A/N: Idk how I feel about this, I hope I don’t dissapoint the anon that requested it lol. Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading, and ily! <3

Also, I kinda went a lil overboard :/

The handmaid is fixing the coronet over your head when you hear the doors to your rooms open, so she turns to demand propriety from whoever entered unannounced, but seeing Aelle’s daughter with a devilish smile on her lips stops her on her tracks.

“Your Grace.” The woman bows gracefully, and steps back, letting Blaeja take her place.

“Are you ready?” The girl whispers to you, adept hand working at the tresses of your hair to make sure it is carefully hidden under your veil that showcases the delicate circlet on your head.

“You are the one that will be sent off to be married, my friend,” You remind her, chuckling, “To one of those…”

“Lord Sigurd is not that bad,” She interrupts, what for a second sounds like girlish infatuation on her tone. You are opening your mouth to quip on how she refers to one of those brutes as a ‘Lord’ but she clears her throat, and continues, “He played some music for me, the other day.”

“You have nothing to fear then,” You mock with a roll of your eyes, “Maybe he also played music for your father before they executed him, made all of it a much more lovely affair.”

Blaeja tugs at your hair in warning, and you steal a glance at the handmaid that looks carefully at the floor. As if she needed eyes to hear you, as if you didn’t know how she’ll gossip about this with the others.

“Careful, or I’ll ask that you come with me,” She laughs, “I’ll have you sold for two gold coins.”

“You are talking to the heiress to a broken and war-torn kingdom, Lady Blaeja, you better remember that!” You tell her in jest, and she laughs, with that laugh you two share, that laugh born out of despair and loss and uncertainty.

“How could I? Judith never lets me forget what a might Mercia continues to be.” She replies with no little disdain in her tone. After a breath of hesitation, she orders with curt words for the servants to leave you two alone, and once the doors close, the Princess of Northumbria kneels in front of you where you sit, grabbing your hands tightly on her own.

“You are scaring me.”

“There’s no reason to fear,” She tells you even as tears fill her eyes. With a tremulous smile, she whispers, “I heard my sister talking with her husband, about you.”

“Me?”

“Alfred would benefit greatly from having a Mercian Princess as wife,” She states, and though she smiles you feel only cold settling over your heart, dread. “With your mother dead…”

“Dead when King Ecbert, blessed be his memory, took control over Mercia, Blaeja! They already own my kingdom.” You remind her lowly, leaning down so your faces are closer to each other, but this doesn’t dim her smile.

Your heart aches at the reminder of your mother, for her, in all her sins and her scars, was the only family you ever had. The only protection you had, in that palace filled with monsters.

If you think about it, if you sit surrounded by all your sins and your mistakes and your faults and think about it, you know it was the sight of her shaking hands as she looked at them expecting to see blood and told you of the death of her brother that made you stop having faith in your God.

It wasn’t the death of a would-be king at the hands of his sister what made you realize the bishops and priests and deacons and saints were all full of lies, no. It was the emptiness in her gaze as she spoke of walking out of that room a Queen and realizing it wasn’t enough to make up for the pain he -the last remaining alive in the long line of monsters that made up your family- caused her.

It was the hoarse voice of the proud and ruthless Queen of Mercia telling you of the barbarity that took place right under her father’s willfully ignorant gaze, it was the shaking hands that clasped your own and begged for forgiveness that she didn’t need to ask for, it was the severed heads brought in by the Vikings that weren’t enough to heal her, it was the realization God, if he was ever there, looked away most of her life.

You shake those thoughts off, and focus on the Princess before you that smiles in a mix of joy for your fate and bitterness for hers.

With shaky breaths, you insist, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They would have Mercian blood on their lineage, it would strengthen their claim.” She states, and the disgust it fills you with makes you feel shame. You should be ecstatic at the chance of becoming Queen, at the prospect giving Wessex strong sons to prepare for ruling and beautiful daughters to…to exchange like broodmares, like Blaeja, given to a Viking of all men, breakable daughters to fail to protect, like Kwenthrith, raped by her own brother and uncle.

You remember your mother’s pain. You remember her whispers about the court being filled with snakes, you remember her stories about the women with swords and loud voices.

And you remember King Ecbert’s lessons. You remember his tales about the land where his Ragnar Lothbrok came from, you remember his bitterness at the strange land that captured the heart of a man of God such as Athelstan.

You meet her brown eyes, and force a smile on your lips, because may the earth part underneath your feet and drag you down, you will not wed Alfred.

____

They introduce you to the sons of Ragnar, and you will admit, Blaeja looks positively smitten by the easy smile the blond man gives her in greeting. Lovely.

Judith makes a point of having you be sitting next to Alfred who, blessed be his soul, attempts to strike conversation with you only to be stopped by his own shyness.

You still offer him a few courteous smiles, and thank his kindness when he offers it so. When the Vikings talk amongst each other, mostly about the strange food and customs, you notice the King looks at you to gauge your expression, as if he knows you also know their tongue.

You worry about how much King Ecbert shared with him for a moment, but say nothing.

“So, the one that walked in with your bride,” One of the sons of Ragnar starts, and though you decide to pay attention you keep your gaze on your food and the entertainment going on around you, offering one of the performers a small smile. “Who is she?”

“Princess of Mercia, I think. The crazy queen father fought for with Uncle Rollo and the others, that’s her daughter.” A man with hair that you thought first was short but realized later falls down his back in a thick braid, his blond beard unkept, but his eyes those of an experienced man as they look over the room.

“Let’s hope beauty is not all she shares with that crazy bitch, huh? I would love to fuck a Saxon princess again.” Mocks a man you weren’t introduced to, so not a son of Ragnar, with ink on his face and long dark hair.

You realize too late you have lifted your gaze and set your eyes on him, what is sure to be affront and embarrassment showing on your face.

You lower your eyes again to the table before you, clenching your hands into fists on your lap, but you feel like someone is looking at you, and from the other end of the table, when you peek carefully, you catch the eyes of the one they introduced but whose name you can’t remember, the one with short dark hair, the one whose legs seem to be broken.

He looks at you with a silver of surprise, but there’s something else there. Regardless, you know he knows, and it makes fear settle on your stomach like acid. You wonder if this is what Burgred felt when he was poisoned.

“You’ve been staring at her all night, Ivar,” Blaeja’s betrothed starts, voice sickly mocking. “Are you hoping she’ll look back? Take your cripple ass to her bed?”

“Sigurd…” One of the elder brothers grumbles, clearly tired of it all.

“I’m just saying, he’d have more luck forcing a thrall to touch him than hoping a free woman will.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, brother? Fucking your slave so she can’t even say no.”

“Who out of the two of us will bed a princess, hmm? It surely isn’t the cripple that can’t even please a slave right, is it?”

You and Alfred exchange a look, no longer pretending either of you don’t understand, as the youngest, Ivar, snarls some threat at his brother, voice and temper rising alike.

Refusing to be spoken of like some sort of cunt with a crown, you speak up, though your gaze remains on your plate.

“Princess Blaeja asks you to play that awful lute to keep your paws off her, so I fear that arrogance is unfounded, my Prince.”

Alfred chokes on his drink as he tries covering a startled laugh with a cough, and you feel wide eyes from the end of the table where the Vikings seat settle on you.

“What did you say?” One of the men asks slowly, and with the madness your mother left you with, you lift your gaze and meet the eyes of the man you recognize as Bjorn Ironside.

“My mother wasn’t crazy,” Is all you reply with gritted teeth, before turning to the blonde that Blaeja is to marry. You don’t know what it is that makes you open your mouth again, but you do, “And I was indeed looking at your brother. I feel for you deeply, my Prince, if you can’t recognize want in a woman’s gaze.”

Alfred clears his throat, what you could swear is a smile -the youthful smile of a boy witnessing chaos- shyly settling on his lips, and stands up to propose a toast and dissipate the atmosphere.

“With this being one of the last nights our dear Blaeja, daughter of the late King Aelle, blessed be his soul, spends with us, I-…”

You don’t listen anymore, taking a sip from your wine and catching over the rim of your goblet the eyes of the youngest son of Ragnar -Ivar, you remind yourself- on you, studying you with a mix of mistrust and curiosity.

You keep your gaze on his, and as you lower your cup from your lips, you offer a smile. His own lips tremble in what was sure to be an instinctual reply with a smile of his own, before he schools his features.

Regardless, he takes his eyes off yours and in his whole posture embarrassment is written. Managing to fluster a Viking of all men fills you with a thrill, a heat, like no other.

The men toast and you gesture your goodbyes as the dinner is dispersed. Before you can make it out the door, Blaeja stops you with a hand on your arm.

“What did y-…do you speak their tongue?”

“I do. King Ecbert taught me a lot before he died,” You state, before frowning in confusion and thoughtfulness, “Before he died at the hands of these men…Blaeja, my friend, don’t you ever stop and think about how strange it all has become?”

Blaeja only narrows her eyes with a growing exasperated smile on her lips.

“I care about what you said to my future husband.”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” You pat her cheek in friendly jest, making her roll her eyes. After a moment of consideration, you tell her, “Though he may not play his lute as often anymore, I fear.”

____

You wait impatiently by the window to your room, wondering over and over if this is the wrong choice, if you are making the worst mistake possible, if you are walking into the wolf’s den.

Before you can think yourself out of this, Blaeja, with her head covered by a dark cloak, makes her way into your room.

“I didn’t think your betrothed would agree.” Is all you state, dryly, as she motions for you to get your own cloak.

“Oh, I can assure you Prince Sigurd despises you, but luckily, he seems to adore me. Go, and don’t make me regret this.”

With a light laugh you kiss her cheek and dart out of the room, ready to follow the familiar path to where you asked Prince Sigurd to arrange a meeting between his brother and you.

“So it is you.” He says, dragging himself up a couch in front of yours. You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling, and try to remember all the logic, all the strategy, you’ve put behind this stupid plan of yours.

“I told them to let you know.” You reply curtly, but the Prince shrugs.

“Sigurd could be mocking me. Make the cripple think he is meeting with the Princess?” He shrugs, but it is not nonchalant in the slightest. In all of his fame and vitriol, you notice, now only remains a man uncertain, unmoored, braced for rejection or mocking like you’ve scarcely seen before. The knowledge that you, or the combination of you and his older brother, seem to be a vulnerable point for him is a knowledge you don’t truly know what to do with. You say nothing in response, and with a movement of his head, after settling in his seat, he insists, “Why did you want to meet with me?”

“You norsemen have a reputation,” You start carefully, plucking at a lose string on the sleeve of your dress. “And the crown needs the allegiance Blaeja’s marriage with your brother gives them, so no mat-…”

“I don’t like your roundabout ways,” He states brusquely, and it stops you on your tracks, your eyes wide and lips parted as you stare at the Prince. He gestures with one hand, a frown starting to mar his face, “Just say what you want, Princess.”

“I want you to take me with you back to wherever it is you come from. I want them to believe I’ve been stolen.”

The Prince looks at you like you have grown a second head, and to be quite frank, once the words have left your lips you realize you might as well have. This is foolish, and dangerous, and...crazy.

That’s what they called your mother, not only these norsemen but all of them. Because she admitted what many didn’t dare to: that if she had been born with a cock they all would have bowed and given her the crown she deserved, that the earth would have been easier to walk on.

You refuse to think madness is a bad trait.

You don’t have to ponder whether the Viking will see it as such, for you notice you have piqued his interest, you notice the curiosity at the madness in your request.

“Are you sure you aren’t the mad Mercian princess?”

You offer a humorless laugh at his taunt, and retort, “I don’t want to be here anymore. And…I can prove useful to you.”

“If you say a wife…”

You don’t let him finish, leaning closer and whispering,

“They want me to marry Alfred.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“His grandfather took Mercia from me, I will not be used as a broodmare so they can hold on tighter to my kingdom.”

The Viking starts to smile, wild and yet calculating, the ruthless and intelligent man his fame says he is.

“But you don’t want revenge.”

“They can fight for the scraps of what once was a mighty kingdom for the rest of time for all I care,” You offer honestly, “I do not want to be caught up in between. I will have to give him children if I marry him, and I refuse to let a child of mine suffer like my mother did, like Blaeja did.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, and his tone grows cruel, mocking, like the cat that plays with the poor mouse before eating it, when he insists, “I could make you a slave, sell you. If you annoy me, I could torture you. If you betray me, I would kill you.”

“I told you I was of use to you, though,” You insist past the fear that makes your hands tremble, “I will not be of use in pieces. You and Alfred played chess before, haven’t you?”

He loosens his posture, his expression is no longer so guarded and venomous as he asks, “And what is this use?”

“I’m a pawn they want to make Queen,” You state, and the Viking starts to smile. You knew he was smart; you knew he was aware of how he could take advantage of ‘taking’ you as a prisoner for his own gain. You have a feeling he wanted to know if you were aware of how your position could be played. Like chess, you ponder. “Surely you could ask for a lot in exchange for my safe return home.”

He considers your words in silence for a few moments, eyes travelling between yours as if trying to read your response to the words he has not yet uttered.

“And if I don’t want to return you to your home?”

You shrug, “Then they’ll have a rallying call for their war against your people, and I will be free from these…these nobles and their fucking priests.”

The Viking breathes a laugh, surprised and a little enthralled it seems, but you find yourself smiling back.

You keep careful eyes on the moon that travels the skies, watchful over the time that you will have to return to your rooms before anyone notices your absence. But in the meantime, you enjoy with easy smiles and a light heart the company of the Viking, surprisingly enough.

____

And the few extra days Blaeja can buy you do almost nothing for the plans of your escape -a part of you is certain the Viking has a plan he won’t share with you- but it does let you get to know the man you are asking to kidnap you. A giant brute like the others, that’s for certain, but he is smart, and cunning, and his dry humor never fails to make you laugh.

You find yourself intrigued, captivated, much more so than you could have thought when you made the choice to speak out against his brother during that first dinner. It is no secret to you he is no longer a pawn in the game you decided to play, but you cannot help but think you still are merely a pawn to him.

One of the nights you meet under the guard of the moon, he starts, “I cannot take you from this city, not without an army.”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise, “And you have thought of a way around that.”

“Haven’t you?” You reply with a small smile, knowing he has.

“If you could go closer to York…”

“Or you closer to Tamworth.”

“We’d have no way to leave by sea. I can’t exactly walk through the wilderness with you, Princess, as you can see.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips, but eventually acquiesce with a nod.

You sigh, “Then I don’t know, Ivar.”

You notice it is the first time you have said his name instead of his title, and you raise startled and apologetic eyes to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though you notice his gaze lingering on you for a few moments longer than it should.

It gives your still young and innocent heart a shock of hope that you feel all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“One way or another, I will steal you, Princess,” He insistes, and you only lift an eyebrow in response. He crosses his arms, “I promise.”

____

“They leave tonight.” Blaeja starts from her place sitting at your side on the garden bench. You turn to her.

“You leave tonight,” You remind her, “Aren’t you forgetting your lovely husband to be?”

But she shakes her head, “Prince Sigurd and I will marry if he returns,” Her voice wavers, and you realize with a mix of dread and joy she has learned to care for the Viking. She straightens her back and continues, “When he returns from the battle they depart today to prepare for.”

“Against Alfred?”

“Against the woman that murdered their mother. He says they are to take back their Kingdom from her.”

“Your Prince trusts you with all of these things.”

“His brother tells you things too.” She states without hesitation, and you look at her but stay silent, not denying Ivar has told you of Queen Aslaug and her murder already. Many things actually, just as you have told him many things too.

“So it will be a while before you see him again, if ever.” You muse, not only talking about her. It would be foolish to feel pain, loss, fear; you tell yourself. It doesn’t stop the prick of tears on your eyes, or the pit of pain on your chest.

“I will depart to Bamburgh in three days to await word of the outcome of the battle.”

You lay your head on her shoulder, releasing a shaky breath, “I’ll miss you.”

_____

Judith hounds you like a dog and it is starting to get on your nerves. You feel you are being judged and considered carefully for the role of Alfred’s wife, a role you do not want to be in and, if you were to ask him, you don’t think he’d want you in either.

The talks start of having a royal wedding soon after Blaeja weds the Viking Prince, who seems to have survived the battle for Kattegat. You tried asking around, bribing a servant or two, to figure out the fate of Prince Ivar, but you are too close to bearing the crown for them to feel comfortable trading secrets with you, it seems.

You catch sight of Alfred’s eyes on you during a dinner one night, and he offers what you swear is a soothing smile even if his warm eyes shine with regret.

Judith grabs onto her son’s arm and a tired-looking Aethelwulf stands up from his throne, calling for the attention of the clergy and nobles alike.

They announce you as Alfred’s betrothed after a few words you don’t bother with listening to.

As a gift for his bride to be, Alfred arranges for a few soldiers to escort you to Bamburgh, apparently at the request of Princess Blaeja that you accompany her on her wedding day. And barely with time to pack, almost three months after you last saw her, you are in a carriage on your way to the North.

____

She looks radiant, that’s the first thing you notice when you see her awaiting for you by the gates to the royal home. Bright smile and even brighter eyes, rosy cheeks and excitement and joy written all over her posture.

It gladdens you, to know she will be wed to a man she can care for, a man that can care for her. That maybe, just maybe, like in those tales your mother used to mock, there’s love to be felt before the Lord is to bind them together.

And once the ships arrive you will not lie and pretend you don’t feel disappointment, maybe grief, at the absence of the vitriolic yet captivating prince you met what seems so long ago.

You heard them talking about a son of Ragnar becoming King of Kattegat, and you have no doubts as to who bears the crown now. In another world, you may have left, he may have earned a kingdom in what used to be Mercia or Northumbria in exchange for the safe return to Wessex you’d never make.

But you will not let it stop you from finding a way out of this arrangement, of this…this marriage.

The possibility of asking Blaeja to claim you as a permanent resident of her land is there, of course, but you don’t think she has enough leverage against the crown itself to be able to keep you more than a few months. You could simply run away, but you are not stupid, you know you’d die or be found before you can spend a moon in the wilderness.

Still, you are a smart woman, you tell yourself, you will find a way out.

While the dinner -feast, they call it- in celebration for the wedding takes place, a man you recognize as one of the eldest sons of Ragnar approaches you while you sit alone.

You cannot help the pang of fear that runs through you at the sight of one of those giants looming over you, but you still offer what you hope is a courteous smile.

“You have to come with me.” He tells you, and you frown.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Follow me.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, turning his back to you and slithering effortlessly between the dancing and feasting guests. After a moment of consideration, with a small smile on your face as if it were a thrillingly dangerous game of hide and seek, you chase after the Viking.

He leads you all the way down to the docks, and since the moon is high up in the skies, the streets are almost deserted and you are left forced to guide yourself in the darkness or thanks to the rare and dim light of a faraway lantern.

You still push on, your heart beating on your ears and fear and thrill bubbling under your skin.

“This is where I leave you, Princess,” The son of Ragnar says, stopping abruptly and turning to you. You frown, but he doesn’t step closer so you have nothing to fear. “We will see each other again.”

The man with the blondish and long hair gestures a mock of a formal goodbye, and walks confidently back to the royal home where the party -feast- is still taking place.

You are left dumbfounded and alone in the darkness, and instinct makes you want to chase after him and demand answers.

“Following a strange Viking into the darkness,” A familiar voice starts from behind you, stopping you on your tracks, “No wonder people say you are as crazy as your mother, Princess.”

You turn around with a frown and raised chin, ready to retort, “My mother was not c-…”

But you realize halfway as the words leave your lips whose voice it is, to whom the familiar pale blue eyes belong to.

Ivar stands now, and his hair seems longer and braided in some strange style, even his armor looks different. It seems like years have passed even though it has scarcely been half a year yet.

“You’re alive.” You whisper, and the Viking frowns, affronted.

“Of course I am,” He replies arrogantly, and you cannot keep the smile from your lips. He extends a hand, “And I’ve come to…steal you, was it?”

You don’t answer, even if a part of you is thrilled at him remember that first conversation. You only look at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a king now.”

“Hmm, and I was offered a queen, was I not?”

It startles you back to reality, back to your senses, and you notice the three ships with dim lanterns and silent warriors docked at the sides of the dragon-headed ship Ivar -King Ivar now, you suppose- stands in.

“That’s…not what I meant.” You say, but still your hand grasps at the skirts of your dress to lift it up, and you walk closer.

“Have you decided to stay with them?” And the sudden steel underneath his words, a promise of what you could be at the other end of if he is to believe you’ve fooled him, or gone back on your word, makes a thrill of fear go down your back.

“No, but…”

“Usually stealing a bride doesn’t involve this much talking, Princess.” He interrupts, and extends a hand, and you look at it with wide eyes.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I-…” You look into his eyes, pale blue eyes that you saw more than once when you closed your own in these past months, and a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “This is madness.”

Ivar says nothing, but his hand is still stretched between you. You take it, and jump into the ship.

___

So, that was it :/ I have a feeling it’s pretty boring but I’ll hope that’s cause I wrote it lol

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think, and if you wanna rquest anything go right ahead, I promise to try my best lol

Thank you, I hoped you enjoyed <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine

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