#and then you will have a sort of domino effect on your hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

levanterhaze · 3 months ago

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── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡ ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader dirty talk, masturbation, fingering, face sitting, use of nicknames, overstimulation, oral sex (f. receiving).

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[5.1k words ]♡― i keep thanking you and saying how grateful i am for those of you who follow gameboy and always wait patiently for the next chapter. you make it worthwhile. i wanted to apologize for the delay, there was a lot going on in my life and i needed some space to try and sort it out. but even so, almost a month later, you're still supporting me and that makes me so happy! PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three] ♡ [part four] ♡ [part five]

They don't know how special you are They don't know what you've done to my heart They can say anything they want ' Cause they don't know about us

Then, like some cosmic reward for all your suffering, things started falling into place one after another, a perfect little domino effect.

First, Yeojin vanished after the party—poof, gone, like a bad subplot finally getting axed. One less headache for whatever this thing was between you and Bangchan. Changbin, bless him, looked downright relieved, muttering about how she was basically a walking red flag factory. You just nodded along, pretending to be appropriately neutral while secretly basking in the win.

Then, to top it all off, Seungmin landed the lead role in the play. You were so damn proud you could’ve cried—not that you would, obviously. You had a reputation to uphold. But still, he deserved it, and it felt good to see him shine.

But of course, life wasn’t going to let you just ride the high of that for too long. Because hiding whatever was going on with Bangchan? Yeah, that was getting harder by the day. It was like trying to keep a wildfire contained with a spray bottle.

It was late after class when he sent you a text—short, simple, with just enough implication to make your stomach do a nosedive. You knew exactly what it meant. And like the absolute fool you were, you didn’t even hesitate.

After finishing up your work for the day, you found yourself at his door, pulse already kicking up, knowing exactly what kind of chaos you were about to walk into.

You scoffed, smacking his hand away—weakly, because let’s be real, you didn’t really want him to stop. Bangchan just smirked, like he knew exactly how easy you were for him. Annoying.

“I swear, you’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, shifting on top of him, your thighs still shaky from earlier. His hands found your waist again, steadying you with that effortless, possessive grip that made your stomach flip.

“Not my fault you keep proving me right.” His voice was all slow and smug, and when he squeezed your hips, fingers digging in like he owned you, you had to bite back a noise that would’ve immediately ruined your whole tough-girl act.

Instead, you rolled your eyes. “One day, your ego is gonna collapse under its own weight.”

Bangchan hummed, unimpressed. “And yet, you’re still sitting here. On top of me. In my shirt. Looking real comfortable, by the way.”

Okay, he had a point. You weren’t about to admit that, though.

You huffed and leaned forward, placing your hands on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your palms. “Yeah, well. I was comfortable. But now you’re being annoying, so I should probably go.”

His arms tightened around your waist before you could even think about moving. “Mmm. Nope. Stay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You got a real bad habit of telling me what to do.”

His lips curved, lazy and dangerous. “And you got a real bad habit of listening.”

Your breath came out shaky, but you still gave him a look, one eyebrow quirked. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Bangchan smirked, the kind of smirk that should come with a warning label. “Not when it comes to you.” His fingers curled inside you again, and you swore you saw stars.

Your hand clenched the fabric of his shirt, trying to ground yourself. “You talk too much,” you muttered, voice betraying you as it wavered.

He chuckled, slow and deep, the sound sliding down your spine like melted honey. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your body wanted to betray you—again. Your thighs trembled, heat curling low in your stomach, and you knew you were already done for.

Still, you weren’t about to go down without a fight. “You only say that to fuck me.”

Bangchan bit his lip, amusement flickering in his eyes before he rolled his hips up against yours, making you gasp. His fingers, still teasing, still ruining you, curled just right. “Fair enough.”

You barely had a second to process that before another wave of pleasure crashed into you. He had you—again—right where he wanted. And you hated how much you loved it.

His fingers moved like he knew you—like he had you mapped out, every weak spot memorized, every reaction anticipated before you could even process it yourself. It was infuriating. And unfair. And so, so good.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened as a choked sound left your lips. "I hate you."

Bangchan grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, his fingers never slowing. "Yeah?"

You nodded weakly, trying to not fall apart embarrassingly fast. "So much."

"Funny," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw now. "You feel like you love me right now."

Your breath hitched, an embarrassingly desperate whimper slipping out before you could stop it. Bastard. You would've cursed him out properly if your brain hadn't turned to static.

Bangchan's other hand slid up your back, holding you firmly against him as he kept working you over. "I could do this all night, baby," he muttered, voice low and smug. "But I don’t think you’d survive that, would you?"

You barely managed to shake your head, thighs shaking around his hand. Your nails dug into his skin, grasping at something—reality, control, maybe just him.

"Then give it to me," he coaxed, lips brushing yours, his voice thick with that tone. The one that sent you straight over the edge.

And you did. Hard.

“Like that...” he moaned, his voice all rough and wrecked as he watched you move in sync with him. “You're so good.”

Smug bastard.

You tried to open your eyes, tried to look at him, but that familiar, electric wave was already creeping up on you. The stretched fabric pressing against your skin, the way his fingers worked you like he had nothing better to do—it was all so damn much, teetering right on the edge of insanity.

“You’re an asshole...” you managed to bite out, sinking your teeth into your lip to keep the moan threatening to spill free.

Bangchan chuckled, low and pleased, and you felt it—right under your hands, vibrating through his chest like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Because of course he did.

And then—oh, fuck—his movements turned ruthless, all precision and pressure, sending you spiraling so fast your moans broke right out of you. Your head tipped back, your nails dug into his skin, and your whole body rocked with the force of it.

Somewhere through the haze, his voice curled around you, thick with need. “I want you to do something for me... Hm?”

His words barely registered past the white noise of your brain, but what did register? The way he sounded completely wrecked, the way his own pleasure was tangible in the air. And then there was the very, very obvious bulge tenting the thin sheet between you two, because of course he hadn’t even tried to hide it.

It was obvious. He wanted you to know.

Know what you did to him.

Know you were the one responsible.

You would’ve done anything he asked at that moment. You were right there when—out of nowhere—he stopped, completely shutting you down. The crash was brutal, like free-falling from the sky straight onto solid concrete.

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, like you were trying to remember how breathing worked.

“Come here,” Bangchan said, dead serious.

You blinked, still catching up. “What…?”

He let out a sharp breath, clearly losing patience. “Fuck, I want you to sit here. I wanna taste you.”

And that’s when it clicked. He wanted you there. On his face.

Your hands slipped under the hem of his ridiculously loose shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin. Your face felt hot at his words. It’s not like you were some shy little girl scared of sex—far from it—but damn, Bangchan was direct. No hesitation, no second-guessing. And no one had ever treated you like this before, like your pleasure was the priority. It was all so new. And kind of insane.

“Uh—are you sure?” you needed to check that he wasn’t just caught up in some post-sex delirium. Because let’s be real—most guys just wanted a blowjob. Not this.

His jaw tightened, his hands twitching as they hovered over your body, already impatient. “Don’t make me ask you again.” his voice was raw, almost desperate, as he nudged you forward.

A shiver ran down your spine, excitement buzzing under your skin. Biting your lip, you moved in, knees sinking into the mattress as close to his lips as possible. His hands found your ass, guiding you effortlessly while you adjusted yourself.

“I think—” you started, but the words died in your throat the second his tongue hit. No warning, no teasing—just straight to it.

And holy fuck.

Your entire body lit up, a storm spreading from the inside out, consuming you whole.

His deep brown eyes locked onto yours, dark and hungry, and—Jesus—it was too much. You could barely keep your eyes open, but the sight of him, lips buried between your legs, savoring every inch of you like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted?

Absolute. Heaven.

Bangchan worked his tongue like he had all the time in the world, licking, sucking, tasting every inch of you like he was starving. And the way he held your hips—tight, unyielding—made it clear you weren’t going anywhere. Every time you tried to pull back, leaning on the wall in some desperate attempt to escape the onslaught, he just forced you down, making you take it.

“I—I can’t!” you practically sobbed, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing relief and running from it at the same time.

His response, a low, satisfied hum that vibrated right against you. And then—with wicked precision—he pressed a hand against your clit, slow but relentless, while his tongue slipped inside, teasing, fucking you in a way that had your brain completely short-circuiting.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Your body dissolved, reduced to nothing but sweat, shivers, and the kind of pleasure that made your vision blur. Your moans were loud, raw, helpless—like you had no control over them anymore.

His lips never stopped moving, never stopped devouring, as you rocked against his mouth, riding his tongue with a rhythm that neither of you wanted to break. And then—just when you thought you had a grip on reality—his fingers found that spot, rubbing slow, intentional circles that sent you crashing over the edge.

You shattered. Completely.

A scream tore from your throat as the most intense orgasm of your life slammed into you like a damn avalanche, ripping everything in its path. For a few seconds, there was nothing—no sound, no thought—just feeling. A feral wave that dragged you under, leaving you breathless.

Bangchan held you through all of it, keeping you exactly where he wanted. Not letting you escape. Not letting you run from the pleasure he was so determined to give.

And fuck, you came hard, leaving him groaning against you, swallowing every drop like he lived for it.

With a smug, satisfied grin, Bangchan flipped the script—literally—rolling you onto the bed and hovering over you. His fingers brushed your hair out of your face, tracing the curve of your smile like he was memorizing it.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, still catching your breath, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

He chuckled, then dipped down, nipping at your breast before trailing his way up, capturing your mouth in a slow, filthy kiss. His tongue teased yours, making sure you tasted yourself, and god, it was so messy, so hot, you almost forgot how to think.

Your hands cradled his face, holding him there, as if letting go would snap you out of whatever daze this was. And then, out of nowhere, a thought barged into your mind, uninvited but very much there:

This—whatever this was—couldn’t just end.

Because beyond the mind-blowing sex, Bangchan was actually good to you. In a way that felt… different.

“Can I ask you something?” he blurted, his tone suspiciously casual.

You quirked a brow.

“Depends.” pulling the sheet up to your chest, you met his gaze, unshaken.

“Would you stay the night?”

“What?”

“I know it’s risky and you don’t want anyone finding out,” he said, already playing defense, “but I was thinking—order some food, put on a movie… I’ll behave. Promise.”

Your lips quirked as you tried to hold back a laugh. “Liar. Fine, I’ll stay.”

He studied you for a second, like he was waiting for the catch. “...you serious?”

“Mm-hm.” you reached up, grabbing his chin with playful authority before pulling him in for another kiss. “I’ll stay.”

The second the words left your lips, he lit up like a kid who just got handed his favorite candy. And as he got up, grinning like an idiot, something inside you clicked.

Maybe—just maybe—keeping things a secret wasn’t as important as you thought.

Bangchan was suspiciously decent. Like, shockingly so.

He helped clean up the mess you two had made of his sheets, let you use his shower, and even tossed you one of his shirts—which you absolutely did not sniff like some lovesick fool (except maybe a little). And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he got you fried chicken and fries for dinner while he debated which movie to put on.

Honestly? If this was his way of keeping you coming back, it was working.

You settled into bed, feeling weirdly at home in a situation that probably shouldn’t have felt this normal. Meanwhile, Bangchan, completely unbothered, sat next to you in just his sweatpants, bare torso on full display. If he noticed you stealing quick glances, he didn’t call you out on it.

Which was good. Because your brain was already wandering to places it probably shouldn’t.

“Wanna ask you something.” he asked, cracking open a beer.

You nodded, popping a fry into your mouth. “Go for it.”

He watched you for a second, then, out of nowhere— “What’s the deal with Mingyu?”

You choked. Like, full-on, almost died on a potato kind of choked.

Coughing, you took a deep breath and gave him a side-eye. “Damn. No warning?”

Bangchan just took a sip of his beer, completely unfazed. “Because he had his hands on you at the party,” he said casually. “And Changbin said he saw you two at a bar the other night.”

Damn Changbin and his big mouth.

You turned your head just enough to meet Bangchan’s gaze. It was time to be straight with him. No dancing around it.

“I wish I had a solid answer for you, but I don’t,” you admitted, inhaling sharply. You weren’t used to being vulnerable with him. It felt weird. “We went out a few times.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt the shift in Bangchan’s energy.

“He likes you,” he stated, no hesitation.

You blinked. “No, he doesn’t. Why would you think that?”

Bangchan searched your face, trying to put his thoughts into words without completely exposing himself. Because I like you and he’s trying to take what’s mine—that’s what he wanted to say. But things between you two were in a good place, and he wasn’t about to be the idiot who ruined that.

Instead, he shrugged. “I don’t know. The way he was looking at you at the party, plus everything else? It just seemed that way.” he paused before asking, “Do you like him?”

You snorted. “No. I don’t. We... Well, we kissed, but that was it.”

Bangchan clenched his jaw, staying painfully still. Oh, for fuck’s sake. He should’ve expected that, but it still made his blood pressure spike. The jealousy? Immediate. And irrational as hell. In his mind, no one should be touching you, especially not Mingyu.

“Are you mad?” you asked, watching his reaction.

He exhaled through his nose, forcing his expression into something neutral. “No, I’m not mad.” a beat. “I just can’t stand the guy. That’s all.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mhm.”

There was definitely something more there. You’d already clocked the tension between them at the cafeteria, and now this? It wasn’t just about you.

“Did you two have a fight or something?”

“We used to be friends. Way back.” Bangchan leaned back against the headboard, exhaling like the memory physically weighed on him. “Same university, studied together, all that. Then he joined the basketball team. I joined a semester later. Everything was fine... until I got made captain.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Lemme guess—he didn’t take that well?”

Bangchan let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, he lost it. Changbin kept saying he was up to something, but I refused to believe it. I mean, we’d been tight since we were teenagers. What harm could he possibly do to me, right?”

You stayed quiet, sensing he wasn’t done. There was a sharpness to his voice that wasn’t usually there.

“Then he went and lied to my girlfriend,” Bangchan continued, voice dropping slightly. “Told her I was cheating on her with some other girl. And she believed him—because, why wouldn’t she? He was my friend.” His jaw clenched. “And if that wasn’t enough, a week later, he hooked up with the same girl.”

You blinked. “No way.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bangchan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Then he quit basketball, and that was that. Haven’t spoken since.”

You whistled, leaning back. “Damn. That’s some high-level betrayal shit.”

He chuckled, but it was flat. “Yeah, well. Some things are for the best, right?”

You nodded, sitting up straighter. “Right.”

Bangchan glanced at you, something softer in his gaze now. “Listen, I don’t care about what you’ve done before. I really don’t.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I do hate that it was him, not gonna lie. But... I like this. Now.”

You studied him for a second, then smirked. “Yeah, me too. Even if you are a little dramatic.”

“Dramatic?”

“Captain of the basketball team and a tragic backstory? That's the main character's energy, dude.”

Bangchan groaned, throwing a pillow at you, and just like that, the tension broke.

Something warm settled in your lap—not just his body heat, but the weight of his words, pressing into you like they meant more than he was outright saying. Your heart pounded against your ribs, completely out of rhythm.

Bangchan had already made it clear that he wanted you, that this pull between you wasn’t one-sided. But lately, something has shifted. Like someone had flipped a switch, and suddenly everything was in high definition—colors sharper, touches lingering longer, words sinking deeper.

And yet, trying to read between the lines felt impossible. He wasn’t making it weird. If anything, it was... nice. Easy.

He leaned in, closing the space between you, his gaze dropping to your lips like he was about to seal whatever this was with a kiss—

And you shoved a piece of fried chicken into his mouth.

“Let’s watch the movie.”

Bangchan froze for half a second before bursting into laughter, eyes crinkling at the edges. He chewed, shook his head like he should’ve seen that coming, and then—without missing a beat—wrapped an arm around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Like you belonged there. Like you always had.

Another morning of rehearsal, another round of you showing up late because Bangchan had priorities. Specifically, you. And his mouth. On various parts of your body. Just for the record.

The stage was buzzing, students scattered around with scripts in hand, energy high as everyone prepped for rehearsal. You jogged toward Hyunjin, who was already shooting daggers at Bangchan. Meanwhile, the man in question was slouched in a chair, fingers flying over his laptop, pretending he wasn’t the reason you were running late.

Hyunjin pulled you aside the second you reached him.

“What’s with the face?” he asked, squinting at you like you had something incriminating written on your forehead.

You blinked. “What face?”

“Oh, don’t even try it. You look like you just walked out of a rom-com montage. Like, full-on birds singing, twirling-in-a-field levels of happy.”

You snorted, swatting his arm. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re glowing.” Hyunjin grinned knowingly. “Not that I’m judging. It’s actually nice to see. Ever since you and Bangchan… you know.” He waved a vague hand. “You just seem happier. Like, actually happy.”

Your eyes flickered over to the soundboard, where Bangchan was deep in concentration, brows furrowed as he typed something.

Could Hyunjin be right? Was this—whatever this was—more than just fun? Was the weird ache in your chest not confusion, but something else entirely?

Something dangerous. Something real.

The teacher clapped their hands, calling everyone to attention. “Alright, we’re starting with the first scene!”

Seungmin took center stage—the boy with a voice so good it could probably charm a snake, if not an entire room full of theater kids. His character, a small-town dreamer, rejected by his narrow-minded community for daring to want more. Enter Seulgi, your character—his sharp, ambitious, and slightly morally flexible guide to the big city. She introduces him to all the glitz, glam, and occasional questionable life choices that come with chasing dreams. Somewhere between the bright lights and late nights, they fall into each other’s arms, two lost souls trying to find themselves.

Seungmin, ever the pro, stepped into the scene like he was born for it. When the script called for him to be mocked and booed by the townspeople, he stood tall, his face a perfect mix of defiance and heartbreak. And then—his solo.

His voice hit the air like honey dripping off a spoon, warm and slow, yet effortlessly smooth. Even the most cynical among you had to admit it was kind of magical. You blinked rapidly, not about to let musical theater be the thing that made you cry today.

Rehearsal wrapped up, and the usual post-practice hunger kicked in. You, Hyunjin, and Seungmin made a beeline for the cafeteria. It wasn’t long before the whole crew assembled—Eunji and Sohee joining once their classes were done, Minho curled up with his girlfriend like a human-sized housecat.

Then came Jisung, followed by Changbin, Felix… and Bangchan.

And just like that, your heart did that thing again. The annoying, fluttery, completely out-of-your-control thing.

You were totally minding your own business, pretending to scroll through your phone, when you caught Changbin dropping the bomb.

“This weekend, I convinced my parents to let us use the beach house. So, everyone’s invited.”

Cue instant chaos. Eunji and Sohee screamed like they had just won the lottery. Meanwhile, you?

Full. Blown. Panic.

A whole weekend next to Bangchan? With all your friends around? No touching, no sneaking off, no getting lost in him the way you had been lately? That was actual torture. How were you supposed to act normal?

“Yeah, I think I’ll sit this one out,” you said, aiming for casual but probably missing.

The entire table immediately turned on you.

Sohee gasped like you had personally offended her entire bloodline. “Are you insane? It’s the beach. The ocean. The sand between your toes. Vitamin D!”

Felix draped himself over your shoulder dramatically. “And who else is gonna be my diving buddy?” His eyes twinkled with fake betrayal. You just laughed, shaking your head.

Then Bangchan, because of course it had to be him, chimed in. “What, don’t tell me you’re allergic to fun too?” His smirk was pure provocation.

You shot him a look. “Allergic to idiots? Maybe.”

Eunji groaned, rolling her eyes. “Took you two long enough…”

You fought the grin tugging at your lips, and you caught Bangchan doing the same. No one else at that table had a clue what was really going on, but you both knew exactly what this little game was.

“I dare you to be less grumpy and just go,” Bangchan said, arms crossed like he’d already won.

Sohee clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “Please?” she pleaded, giving you the full puppy-eyes treatment.

You sighed, dragging it out for effect before finally giving in. “Fine, fine. But only because I don’t owe this insufferable bastard anything.”

You shot Bangchan with another playful glare, but he just shrugged, smug as ever—completely failing to hide how pleased he actually was.

Everything was packed, the energy was high, and you could practically taste the salty ocean air even though you weren’t even there yet.

Sohee was perched in Minho’s car, swiping on lipstick in the rearview mirror while Eunji and Jisung got comfortable in the back.

“Wait, you’re riding with Changbin?” Minho asked, craning his neck out the window.

Changbin was posted up in his own car, already surrounded by Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin. Logically, there were still two more seats to fill before all the cars were set. And just like that—like the universe was playing some cruel joke—Bangchan strolled up with a backpack slung over one shoulder and his car keys twirling around his finger.

“You can ride with me if you want,” he offered, completely casual. “Plenty of space.”

A lump formed in your throat. Everyone here knew about the so-called rivalry between you two. But lately, that line had started to blur—truce or not, the pull was getting harder to ignore.

Inside the car, Sohee shot you a suspicious little smirk, clearly clocking the shift in energy. You straightened up, forced your best nonchalant expression, and turned to Bangchan with an easy shrug.

“Works for me.”

Without waiting for anyone else’s reaction, you strutted over to his car, refusing to acknowledge the silent stares—or the way Changbin’s smug grin practically screamed mission accomplished.

Bangchan trailed behind at his own pace, passing Changbin’s car just in time for his friend to flash him a knowing look. He ignored it, popping open the trunk.

“Lemme take that,” he said, grabbing your bag before you could protest.

You rolled your eyes, but let him. Because, well… maybe he was annoying, but at least he had manners.

That car held some insane memories—the last party, the way you two finally stopped pretending, how everything that had been simmering beneath the surface finally exploded. And now? Now, things were different. You could feel it in your gut.

Bangchan clicked his seatbelt into place, his eyes flicking to you as you did the same. That little smirk of yours didn’t go unnoticed.

"Everything good?" His voice was low, like the others might somehow hear from outside.

"Yeah." You smiled. "And you?"

He exhaled, fingers flexing on the wheel, lips curving into something small but telling. "You have no idea."

The drive to the beach house was easy, comfortable. Bangchan let you take over the playlist, and the car turned into your personal stage. You belted out your favorites, even the ones he dramatically groaned about just to mess with you. He still sang along, though.

The city faded behind you, replaced by open roads and a sky that stretched endlessly. And then, there it was—the ocean, gleaming under the sun, like it had been waiting for you all along.

The weekend had potential. Sure, sneaking around with Bangchan would be a challenge—especially with nosy friends and zero privacy—but hey, you liked a little risk. And after everything that had gone down between you two, the idea of keeping it all under wraps was starting to feel… unnecessary. Too normal, even.

The beach house was straight out of a Pinterest board—huge, sun-soaked, and framed by a postcard-perfect yard that led straight to the ocean. Flowers lined the walkway, the grass was freshly cut, and you were pretty sure Changbin’s family was secretly loaded.

“Damn, Binnie. Didn’t know you were out here living like a rom-com protagonist,” you teased as you stepped out of the car, stretching after the ride.

Changbin just grinned. “Perks of being the favorite son.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. “Right, I’ll get my stuff upstairs.”

Inside, the guys were unloading groceries while Eunji and Sohee had already claimed the balcony for an impromptu photo shoot. You made your way up the wooden stairs, taking in the absurd amount of space.

When you peeked into one of the rooms, your eyebrows shot up. “Okay, damn.” The place was huge. You knew Changbin had money, but this was a statement. The kind of house that could fit a whole cast of reality TV contestants without feeling cramped.

Still, you had priorities. First, drop off your bag. Second, claim a decent bathroom before the others got to it. Third—well, third was figuring out how to not get caught sneaking around with Bangchan all weekend.

You barely made it two steps out of your room before strong hands wrapped around your waist, yanking you into a dark room. A startled gasp slipped out—one that quickly turned into something else when familiar lips brushed against your neck.

“Have you lost your mind?” You smacked Bangchan’s chest, though the effect was ruined by the way your breath hitched. He reached behind you, flicking the light on just enough to reveal his face—desperate, hungry, completely unapologetic.

“I know, I know,” he groaned, voice husky as he buried his face back into your neck, lips tracing the sensitive skin. “But hours. Hours in a car with you, pretending I don’t want to drag you into the backseat? I’m dying here.”

You laughed at his theatrics, but his hands were already roaming, gripping, claiming. His eyes were dark, his lips parted, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip like he was about to devour you.

“Are you gonna make it?” you teased, tilting your head, enjoying the way he tensed under your touch.

“I don’t know…” His fingers dug into your waist, his voice thick with need. “I think I’m too weak.” His gaze dipped to your lips. “And you’re so irresistible.”

“Then shut up and do something about it,” you challenged.

A spark flashed in his eyes—game on.

The second his lips crashed into yours, it was wildfire. His hands tangled in your hair, gripping tight like he was afraid you’d disappear. You fisted his black shirt, yanking him closer, pressing against him like you needed to steal his warmth, his breath, him. The scent of him—musky, intoxicating, familiar—wrapped around you as he kissed you like a man starved.

And you weren’t planning on letting him go anytime soon.

Bangchan was just about to hook your leg around his waist—his hands hot, his breath ragged—when the unmistakable sound of a car engine shutting off made you both freeze.

“Someone's here,” you whispered against his lips.

He groaned, forehead dropping against yours, his grip on your waist tightening like he was debating whether whoever just arrived really needed to exist right now. But you were already slipping from his grasp, smoothing your hair and straightening your clothes like you hadn’t just been seconds away from making bad decisions.

Bangchan cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair before following you down the stairs.

At the bottom, Changbin stood with his arms crossed, wearing an expression like someone had just kicked his dog.

You blinked. “Uh, everything okay?”

Changbin’s scowl deepened as he jerked his head toward the door. “Tell your friend she’s completely clueless.” Then, without another word, he stormed off.

You exchanged a glance with Bangchan before looking to Hyunjin for answers, but he just stood there looking like he’d seen a ghost.

And then you saw why.

Standing in the doorway, grinning like she’d just pulled off the best prank in the world, was Eunji.

And next to her, with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a hesitant, too-wide smile?

Mingyu.

“Surprise!” Eunji announced, her voice bright and excited.

The silence that followed? Absolutely deafening.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely @bitchysunflower11 @ravengxbss @letrascafeymar

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meganegatari · 1 year ago

Note

do you think Ellie would be more a strap, tribbing, or fingering girlie?

~🦈🦈

abby version. dina version. SMUTTY, BRAIN MELTING YAP AHEAD: TRIB TRIB TRIB. hands down. okay i mean, all of em have their perks. she likes the convenience of fingering, the way she's able to be discreet with it perchance. she likes strap because it's able to reach spots inside of you no one even knew existed before...fabled clusters of nerves that make your mind go blank as she hits them repeatedly. but tribbing?? oh girl. she loves everything about it. she loves the mutual pleasure it brings—not that she minds being on either end!—she loves the wetness of it all, if we were to get vulgar. but back to mutual pleasure for a sec, i feel like she'd just revel in the sort of domino effect it has. lemme elaborate. you're getting closer to the peak, which eggs her on to get closer to her own peak, because of the motions she's doing for herself (frantic, irregular humps and bounces on top, bucks of her hips upwards if on bottom...), the way you're reacting (whining and moaning as she fucks your brain to mush, or making her brain turn to mush), and most importantly the fact she can feel it all in real time. every twitch, throb, squirt, clench, yeah she feels it righttt where she needs. then it all tumbles in a domino, or snowball effect. positive feedback loop for the bio gals...just more and more and more and more, you get the idea. also wanna add: whatever the activity of choice was, she'd wanna clean you up properly afterwards, with her mouth of course. slurping and sucking to her heart's content, like a starved woman. like you were her death row meal. more for her own pleasure than yours let's be real...DAMN. went on a tangent lol BUT TRIB IS HER CHOICE METHINKS LMFAO.

#appreciate the pondering brainrot thought opportunity nonnie😤#ngl wanna start a new tag of these “ask brainrot thought” things bc it isnt a drabble but just an idea...ill think of one #☆ anons → 🦈#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬.#𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬.

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i-cant-sing · 1 year ago

Text

TIME TRAVELER AU PT 2

Original post/idea here. Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

I fucked up.

You thought as you sat on the bed, holding your head in your hands.

I fucked up so baaaaaad.

Not only have you healed Baldwin of his leprosy, forever changing history of the LEPER KING, but also managed to somehow be his bride. To make matters EVEN worse, you cant just up and leave right now because you dont know the disastrous effects it'll have on the future now that Baldwin wont die of leprosy, which means that the kingdom of Jerusalem wont fall to Salauddin and his muslim army and after that its just a domino effect.

You tried to view your options here.

I stay here, marry Baldwin and fuck up the fabric of time and space because how can someone from the future marry someone from the past? Wouldnt I cease to exist?

I leave, return to my time where authorities arrest me for fucking around with time- that is, if I even exist in the future now that I've altered history. Who knows if my ancestors survived/were born after this?

No. Neither option is good. I need to stay here and fix this. But in a way that i dont draw too much attention to myself so that im so insignificant that nobody remembers, let alone writes about me in the history books.

You were drawn out of your thoughts with someone knocking on your door. "Come in." You said, straightening yourself.

A couple of servants walked in, all women. "Princess Y/n." They all courtesied. "We've been sent here by his majesty to prepare you for dinner with him."

Princess? Ah yes. Only a couple of hours ago, Baldwin had proposed to you, I guess the concept of asking wasnt a thing here as he just slipped on the big beautiful ring on your finger.

You narrowed your eyes at them. "First of all, Im not a princess. You will address me as Y/n only. And secondly, Im not going to join him for dinner, so there's no need to prepare me" The maids all shared a look of confusion before the head servant spoke.

"But we cant address you as anything else until you wed the king, after which you will be our queen, princess."

"Didnt I just tell you not to call me princess? Just call me Y/n!" The head maid shook her head. "Princess, we can not do that. If we do, then we would be punished. And we must prepare you for dinner with his majesty!" The maids moved ahead to start helping you but you raised a hand, halting them.

"I said, no." You said sternly.

"What... what will we tell the king, princess? He's expecting you-"

"Tell him i cant come because Im sic- no, Im not feeling well and Id like to be alone." You cant say "sick" in this era, because that means "death sentence" here and you dont want to be fretted over and bring attention to yourself as "the king's fiancee got SICK!". Besides, you do need to be away from Baldwin as much as possible and have some time to plot your moves.

You had pulled out your notebook and began writing out dates and historic events of this era to plan your escape. You're trying to find some sort of shortcut where Baldwin gets sick again and dies, leaving his kingdom in the hands of his sister and brother in law, who will bring its downfall-

Someone knocked on your door gently. "Princess?" You quickly hid your notebook. "Come in."

Baldwin walked inside and towards you, eyes worried as they scanned you up and down.

"I heard you're not feeling well?" He asked and before you had a chance to back away, he had cupped your cheeks in his hands tenderly. "What's wrong? Shall I fetch the royal physician?"

"No." You replied with your face smushed in his hands. "I'm fine." You pulled your face away his large hands.

Confusion spread through his blue orbs. "Then why did you not join me for dinner?" He asked, using a hand to push your hair over your ear, not taking the hint that you didn't want him touching you.

"I just-" what possible excuse could you come up with that would be both effective and not insulting enough to have your head chopped off. "you- you dont care about me."

Baldwin looked at you in bewilderment. "I dont... care about you? Princess, how can you say that?" He tried to cup your cheek again but you backed away before he could, putting on a face of hurt.

"How can I not? You dont care about what I want, or even ask me what I need?" You feingned pain in your voice, turning away from him for dramatic effect.

He grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards him, his pupils grew wide as if trying to search for what it is that you need. "My love, what do you want? Just say the word, and I'll give it to you."

You looked down, again for the theatrics, and Baldwin lifted your chin. "Go on."

"You never- never asked me to marry you."

"Huh? But I did today-"

"No, you stated it- demanded I marry you." You furrowed your brows and looked down again.

Baldwin smiled. Of course, how could he have not asked you? You were a girl after all, you want to be courted the traditional way. Its not your fault that you dont know that kings do not ask permission for things. They just get it, because who would refuse to marry a king?

He kissed your forehead, lifting your chin again to meet his eyes. "Im sorry, princess. I shouldve asked." He took your hands in his and had that charming smile again. "Will you marry me, Y/n?"

"No." You shook your head. "I... I cant marry you, your majesty." You said, adding tears into your eyes. His brows furrowed in concern.

"What? Why?" You tried pulling your hands away but he didnt let go, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

"I-" well, you could say that youre not catholic and the church would never let you two get married, but you also dont wanna be tortured for being a "heretic". Maybe religious differences could be the last plan. Taking your silence as hesitance, Baldwin spoke. "I can offer you everything and more. Jerusalem would be yours. What is it that I lack that anyone else could offer?"

"I am not a good match for you!" Ah yes, lets do the typical "its not you, its me." You bit your lip as you yanked your hands out of his and walked towards the window, your back to him (theatrics). "You and I are not equals- no we are nowhere close! Youre a king, your father was a king, your family is royalty. I come from nothing, as did my ancestors. There will never be stability in our marriage when we come from such different backgrounds!" You never thought that you would be putting yourself down and call yourself "inferior" to break up with a man.

Silence hung in the air, as you held your breath.

"Youre right." You heard him say behind you. "We are not equals, we never will be." For some reason, instead of being relieved, a chill ran down your spine. Baldwin wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "I may be a king, but youre far superior to me. You're an angel, sent to me by God, and you saved me. I wouldnt be king anymore if you werent here, princess."

Warmth spread from your cheeks to the tip of your ears, both due to the close proximity and his words. Sensing your bashfulness, he chuckled, kissing your cheek as he turned you around to face him. You could hear your own heart beat at how close he was.

Baldwin tilted his head, half lidded eyes staring at you. "Youre everything and more that I could ask for, princess. Never put yourself down and compare yourself to me, hm?" He said, giving your arms a gentle squeeze before moving away, but not detaching himself completely as he took ahold of your hand and looked back at you.

"Now that this is settled, let us go eat. I've had the servants prepare a feast for us and then we can discuss wedding arrangements-" shit shit shit shit shit fuck it!

"I'm not catholic!" Baldwin halted at that. You've already said it, might as well dig yourself a deeper hole. You let the tears form in your eyes. "Im... Muslim. I didnt tell you because I didnt want you to think I was working for Salauddin and spying on you for him, you know I wasnt! I really did only want to know about you. Please believe me, I wasnt-"

"I believe you."

What? Just like that.

"You- you believe me?" You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Once again, Im sorry i didnt tell you I was a Muslim, but dont worry, I'll pack my things and leave tonight-"

"Why? We still have to get married."

You blinked slowly. "But... Im Muslim?"

Baldwin shrugged. "So? It doesnt change anything."

You looked at him in bafflement. "It does! It changes everything! We cant get married! Im a Muslim! The church wont allow interfaith marriages, and I dont intend on converting to catholicism either if thats what youre suggesting!"

"I am not suggesting that. You can be a muslim if you want to, but we're still getting married." Baldwin stated matter of factly.

"The church wont allow it-"

"The church will do as I say. I am the head of the church. Besides-" He smiled.

"I dont remember angels having to prove themselves to be a catholic. You saved my life, you cured my incurable disease. As far as the church is concerned, youre a miracle sent to me by God. Youre the Chosen One!"

Is he... is he hearing himself? Can you try to convince him?

"But... but Jerusalem deserves a Catholic Queen-" you tried weakly, but he cupped your cheek and smiled gently at you.

"I am Jerusalem, Y/n. And I deserve you." Was all he said before pecking your forehead.

He tugged you along with him. "Now, we have to eat."

You dont want to eat. You want to stay behind and think of another strategy because clearly you cant talk yourself out of this wedding.

"I'm- I'm not hungry." You said, making him frown.

"How is that possible? You havent had anything since morning. I dont want you getting sick before the wedding." Baldwin continued to pull you along.

Does he not listen?

"I dont want to eat- I- dont feel like it." You said a bit harshly this time, hoping he'd take the hint.

And he did, finally stopping. He sighed and let go of your hand. "Okay. I suppose if you really dont want to, we can skip dinner tonight." Fucking finally. "Its just... I seem to have developed a habit of enjoying meals with you. And now that my leprosy is cured and I have no more diet restrictions, I just- I had the kitchen prepare some of my favourite dishes that I was able to enjoy before my disease disabled me."

You stared at him. Is he- is he trying to guilt trip you? Baldwin once told you that due to leprosy he had ulcers in his mouth, and he couldnt eat different types of food, and was only able to have bland, soft goo.

You looked away from his big sad eyes. He's not getting to you. You need to go back to your room, make yourself scarce, be far away from him as often as possible.

"You can still go and eat dinner alone."

With one hand, he cupped your cheek. "Princess, you know I cant eat until you eat too. But its okay, if you dont want to eat, then I wont too. I guess I'll just have the servants finish the chicken roast and oh-! They even made strawberry cream cake for dessert. But- maybe another day."

You looked into his eyes, those blue orbs that were filled with sadness, resembling a kid who was just told "no candy!"

Sighing, you held his hand. "Maybe I can have a few bites."

His face lit up. Ah, he knew you'd come around. "Lets go!"

The next day, youre helped by the maids to get ready for the day. Apparently, Sibylla wanted to meet you and discuss some things, and you suspect she wants to talk about the wedding preprations.

The maids had prepared your bath and were very insistent on washing you themselves but you made them all leave the bath chambers. Finally, they compromised when you told them that they could dress you up if they wait outside.

Setting your old clothes on the bed, you entered the bathroom and settled into the warm water. The essential oils and flower petals soothed your mind and body, and you finally had some desperately needed silence to hear your own thoughts.

Last night at dinner, Baldwin was very- well, "happy" would be an understatement to how he felt near you. And all those forehead kisses and skin contact doesnt go unnoticed by you either. You suppose that since he had leprosy, he never really had or was allowed to touch anyone else. But now that hes cured, all thanks to your dumb ass, he craves the physical intimacy.

You closed your eyes as you sank deeper into the warm water. Gosh, did I really have to give him the water? Had I not done that, he would still be ridden with lepro-

Your eyes snapped open. Thats it. You just have to make sure he never drank your water in the first place! Yes! You can go back in time and sure, its always dangerous to go back in the same time period more than once, but you really dont have any other option now, do you?

After half an hour, you finally exited the bathroom and the maids practically ushered you to sit in the chair as they finally, FINALLY got to dress up the future queen of Jerusalem and after a whole hour, they're finally done. And... well you look good. Your hair has been done nicely, and a delicate golden headpiece, almost like a elegant hair band sits on top of your head. They added some color to your cheeks and lips with crushed berries. As for your clothes, they dressed you in a dark blue tunic with loose, flowing sleeves. The tunic itself was made of silk, probably brought in from the Byzantine empire and was only available to the upperclass of this time.

"I am not wearing those!" You said when they opened the jewellery boxes. There were diamonds and other precious stones adorning the earrings and necklaces.

"But princess, you must wear these. It is royal protocol for the king's bride to be, and the future queen to wear the royal jewels." The head maid said. She doesnt know that you dont plan on sticking around and if you leave wearing these jewels, who knows what havoc would that cause?

"No. I dont want to wear them."

The maids shared a look of concern. "What?" You asked them.

"Its just... his majesty picked these out for you himself. He would be mad at us if you were not wearing these." One of the younger servants spoke as she fumbled with her fingers. Through the mirror, you looked at everyone's worried expression. You doubt that someone as calm and collected as Baldwin would lose his marbles over his fiancee not wearing jewellery.

"I dont think the king would be mad at you if I dont wear some jewellery. He isnt one to get angry that easily, you know?" You said chuckling, but it died when you saw them share the same concerned looks again. This time, you turned away from the mirror to look at them directly. "What? Go on, no secrets."

Another maid mustered up the courage to mumble. "Well- it's just- the king- I mean- his majesty is calm but um-" she paused to look at the other maids for help but they all avoided eye contact. "Out with it." You said a bit sternly.

"His majesty... gets... emotional- yes, emotional! When it comes to matters concerning you."

"Emotional? What do you mean? Speak clearly, no word will get out of this room, I promise." You spoke all while glaring at the other maids to make them silently comply to not tattle on their friend.

The maid bit her lip. "His majesty... gets mad when he thinks that you're not being treated well." You gave her a look to continue. "A few weeks back, while you were strolling out in the garden, his majesty reprimanded some of his knights for not escorting you. He asked them why they weren't guarding you?"

A few weeks back? It may have made some sense for Baldwin to be protective of his bride to be, but you two weren't engaged until yesterday. And before that, his relationship with you was barely platonic, more like a king-servant thing.

"Tell her about the kitchen incident too." Another maid whispered.

"What kitchen incident?"

"Um, 2 months ago, when the kitchen had prepared a feast for his majesty, he almost fired the entire kitchen staff for serving olives with the entree." You gave them a quizzical look. "Well, his majesty had told them that you can't eat olives and had told them not to include it in the palace's food. But it was a feast to celebrate his victory and the staff thought it'd be best to add olives because the king likes them."

Your eyes widened at that. He almost fired the kitchen staff because you said you can't eat olives? I mean, it's not like you're deathly allergic, you just didn't like how tart they were and when Baldwin saw you picking them out on your plate, all you could manage to blurt out was that you can't eat them. Perhaps, he thought you had diet restrictions like him.

You huffed. That still didnt warrant such a reaction from him. "That isn't nice. Don't worry, I'll talk to him."

The maid looked at you in horror. "No! I mean, his majesty would not like that we- um..." she tried to come up with appropriate words that wouldn't be insulting. Her scrunched up face as she thought hard made you giggle.

"Fine, fine. I won't say anything to him. You have my word." You said, smiling at them assuringly.

The head maid then held out the pearl necklace to you. You sighed and nodded, and they all cheered as they started picking out the jewels for you.

Its okay. You told yourself. I can always drop them somewhere before time travelling.

As soon as you were dressed, one of Sibylla's lady-in-waiting came to fetch you. She hurried you, saying something along the lines of "you must see princess Sibylla right away!" And you couldn't stop her from pulling you along, so time travelling will have to wait.

"Princess Sibylla needs to see you right away, princess!" The maid said as she pulled you towards a room. Knocking on it, the door swung open and you were met with the sight of different gowns hanging on dummies with maids tending to them, and right in the center of the room was Sibylla, practically jumping on her heels.

"Y/n!" She yelled out as she ran towards you and engulfed you in a hug before her lady in waiting, the same one standing beside you, cleared her throat. It caught Sibylla's attention who gasped softly before backing away and immeadiately giving you a courtesy. "I mean, princess Y/n." You gave a nasty look to the lady in waiting before shaking your head at an embarrassed Sibylla. "You don't need to courtesy to me, princess Sibylla."

She immeadiately beamed. "Of course I do! You're not going to be just my sister in law, you're also going to be Queen of Jerusalem! Of course i bow to you."

Me, a queen? Yeah, we'll see about that.

"Still, I consider us friends before anything else." You offerer her a small smile. "You called for me?"

"Oh? Oh, yes!" She immeadiately grabbed your hand and pulled you further into the room. "I didn't know what colours and material you preferred, so I ordered them to bring everything with the best seamstresses in kingdom!" She pointed at the seamstresses, who bowed to you.

"But... I don't need clothes. I already have a wardrobe." Your statement made Sibylla laugh as did a few of her hand maidens.

"Ahh, you're so naive!" Sibylla giggled. "That wardrobe doesn't exist anymore. You're a princess, soon to be queen, you need a royal wardrobe!" She said as she dragged her hand over one of the gowns, feeling the material. "And! You still have to select your bridal gown!"

For the next 3 hours, Sibylla had the maids show you different gowns and materials, even helping by giving her input as to what would suit you.

"I still like my old clothes, they're quite comfortable." You sighed. Designing your new wardrobe was not something that needed your urgent attention at the moment. You need to return to your room and get the time machine from your old dress and leave this era.

Sibylla nods. "I understand what you're going through. I still remember how they burned away my entire wardrobe when I married Guy. But I suppose its poetic in a way. Since you're starting a new life, so why not start one by getting new clothes!"

Wait.

"They burnt all your old clothes?" Sibylla nods. "Mmhmm! In a way, you're burning away your past! And starting a new-" You didn't stick around as you immeadiately rushed out of the room and made your way towards your own.

You can't- your old clothes has your time machine. If they burn it, you can't ever leave!

You burst into your room, looking at the empty spot on your bed where you'd left your clothes before going in the bath.

"No." The maids, they must've put it in your closet. You searched it, searched your entire room but to no avail.

A maid walked into your room, watching you tear apart the bedroom. "P-princess? May I help-"

"Where are my clothes?!" You walked upto her, the poor maid's fright apparently on her face. "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES!?"

"They- they're burning it-"

"WHERE?!"

"The gardens!"

You ran out of your room, and made your way towards the royal gardens as fast as you could, but with how huge this palace was, getting there took a while. Not to mention when you did get to the gardens, you didn't spot anyone there, but you did notice the smell of something burning, which lead you to the back of the gardens, that was away from everyone's sight.

There you found them, two maids burning your clothes in a small bonfire.

"PUT IT OUT!" You yelled as you rushed towards them, startling them.

"Princess-" they began bowing.

"Didn't you hear me? PUT THE FIRE OUT!" They scrambled about trying to find some water, but of course, they didn't have it.

"I'll get it from the fountain!" The two maids ran to get a bucket of water for you, but it would be too late by the time they came. So when you spotted your old dress burning, you pulled it out with bare hands, not caring about burning yourself.

The dress was mostly burnt to ashes, while only few bits remained that were still on fire. You managed to wrangle out your time machine out of it, the small metal box that was burning hot and left marks on your skin as you tried to hold it.

But even from here, you could see the damage was done. The area that displayed the year had now completely melted off, as did some of the buttons.

No. No. No. No. No. NO!

You couldn't help but cry as reality began to set in. You're stuck here.... you're stuck here forever.

Heart wrenching sobs wracked your body as you tried to hold the hot metal machine in your hands, your skin burning as you tried. Even when the servants came and poured the water on the fire, you still kept on crying, clutching your machine to your chest, partly to conceal it, partly from helplessness.

The maids looked at each in worry as they tried to console you, tried to pacify you, lest you had them executed. But it didn't matter, you were inconsolable. While one of the maids sat by your side, trying to soothe you, the other one ran in to get help.

Moments later, when you were able to hide the machine in your clothes again, someone came up and touched your shoulder from behind.

"Y/n?" You looked up through your tears. It was Baldwin. For some reason, seeing him only made you cry harder as you finally realised that you were stuck here with him. That you fucked up permanently.

"Oh princess. What's wrong? Don't cry- shhh, I'm here." He pulled your body towards him, letting you sob into his chest heartbreakingly. Exhaustion, frustration and shock must have overtook your body, as you fainted in his arms.

"Princess? Y/n?" He tried waking you up before collecting you in his arms and rushing back into the castle.

Hours later, you woke up to find yourself back in your room, lying in your bed. Your eyes looked down at your hands which were now wrapped in bandages. They only served as a reminder of what youd lost- your time machine.

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Am I- am I really stuck here? You sniffled.

A hand came up to caress your cheek, startling you.

It was Baldwin. "Princess? Do you want to tell me what happened?" His soft tone made you even more sad, and you raised your bandaged hands to wipe your tears, but he caught your wrists and lowered them back gently, using his own hands to wipe away the tears.

"No, you cant use your hands for sometime. The burns need to heal." His hand remained on your cheek, thumb caressing the area under your eye. "What happened, Y/n? Why were you so upset?"

You cant avoid the topic for long, and now that your way of escape is gone, you need to be careful of what you say and how you act around the king.

You let out a shaky breath. "They... they burned my clothes."

"Mmhm. Dont worry, I will have them bring in the fanciest clothes for you. Sibylla will make sure of it. Only the best for my princess." You shook your head. "Its not- its not that... They were my clothes... they burned away-"

"I know... but its a tradition. The maids burn away the bride-to-be's old clothes to signify that youre detaching yourself from the past and starting a new life." He explained, watching as you sniffled. Clearly, you were still upset over this.

"But the maids, they still should've informed you of this tradition before doing anything. I know how emotional of a transition this could be for girls." You nodded sadly, heart still sinking at the loss of your machine. "Dont worry though, they will be punished harshly for it. I have them in the dungeons tonight, and tomorrow-"

"What? Punished? No!" You cut him off. You dont want anyone to die because of you, especially when you dont know if anyone these people could potentially be an ancestor of yours.

"But they caused you harm. You burned yourself due to their-"

"No, no. Please, don't punish anyone- I- it was my fault for not knowing about royal traditions! Please, your Majesty, I beg you- don't do this- i- i-" You pleaded.

"Shhh, okay. Okay. I won't punish them for it." He patted your hair. "On one condition."

You looked at him in confusion.

"You call me Baldwin from now on." He grinned. "We are to be husband and wife soon, I don't want us to use royal titles with each other."

Your eyes widened. Is he- is he really giving up titles? You're not that blind to see his attempts at intimacy, but what you don't understand is why or even how you came to be on the receiving end of it.

What exactly is it about you that has made him want to marry you? Surely, Baldwin would've preferred to marry someone of this era, someone who is more compatible with him. Despite you trying to blend in the past months, you allowed Baldwin to see how you're not... as Conservative as most people of this time period are. One could say that he may be impressed by how intelligent you are than others, but it also brings up the factor of being "threatened" or "insulted" by the same intelligence.

Even though you consider beauty to be a "subjective" thing, the whole "beauty is in the eye of the beholder", you're not blind to how attractive others are. So why not them?

Did he only like you because you're intriguing? Does he still think you're a spy? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?

Probably. Or maybe he really does believe all that mumbo jumbo about you being "an angel sent to save him."

"As you wish... Baldwin."

Last night, after Baldwin had left you to rest, you stayed up and tried to figure out if you can fix your time machine, and if not, then can you built another one?

Fucking hell. You closed your eyes. I made it once, I can build it again. But it's easier said than done.

Back in the present, you had the technology to build it. Now? You have to first make the technology and the tools from scratch before you could even get on making your time machine, all while keeping your science project discrete, which was easier before because you weren't going to be married to a fucking King!

Right now, you're sitting in Baldwin's private dining room (yes, there are more than one dining room. He's royalty, what did you expect) having breakfast- well, being fed breakfast.

"You really don't need to do this." You said as Baldwin fed you another spoonful. He smiled as he wiped your lips with a napkin. "I don't need to, I want to. Besides, I don't want my princess starving."

Involuntary, your face flushed. "I- the maids could've fed me. And im not a princess." He frowned slightly. "Why would you- open wide, princess- why would you want the maids to feed you when you have me?" He pushed the spoon to your face as you parted your lips, but then he pulled it away and brought his face close to yours. "Do I make you nervous?"

You backed away immediately. "I- no- I mean-"

He burst out laughing. "I'm- I'm sorry princess, but you are just too endearing!" Baldwin chuckled as he grabbed the spoon again and fed you.

Your cheeks reddened, this time more out anger than embarrassment. "I don't want to eat anymore." You muttered, turning your face away.

He smiled as he brought the spoon to your lips again. "Ah ah, but you still haven't had enough." However, you rejected again, looking away instead of replying.

He sighed, placing the spoon back on the plate. "I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't have laughed at you."

"You shouldn't have." You mumbled, face still turned away from him.

His lips quirked up a bit. "You know, for someone who insists that she's not a princess-" He turned your face to him gently. "- you sure have all the blandishment of one."

"Blandishment?"

"Flattering actions of a princess." He nodded.

You frowned. "Are you calling me a spoiled princess? A brat?"

"I would never!" Baldwin gasped. "I enjoy you acting like royalty, demanding respect and attention. You deserve it and more. Besides-" He picked up some food on the spoon again and brought it to your lips. "Even if if you were a spoiled, bratty princess, I wouldn't mind. I would enjoy spoiling you, hm?" He nudged the spoon to your lips softly.

You parted your lips, making him smile. It really is hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you with his baby blue eyes. They just- they draw you in.

"Also, before I forget, I will be leaving the castle today to meet Salauddin. So you can either hand out with Sibylla, who still wants to help you design your wedding gown, or your can-"

Salauddin? "Why are you meeting Salauddin? Isn't he your enemy?"

He chuckled. "Only on the battlefield. He and I have developed a friendship, or a mutual respect over the years. As to why I'm going to meet him, is... well, you."

"Me?" He nodded. "Since you told me that you're a Muslim, I thought that we could perhaps have a discreet Islamic wedding- what is it called? Nikkah? So, I could go and learn more about it from Salauddin."

You opened your mouth to protest. You don't need to be part of history as the "king of Jerusalem's Muslim wife" or "the Muslim-Christian wedding that took place during the Crusades", even if it might make the world more progressive.

But then, you didn't protest. "Can I come?"

Baldwin raised a brow at you. "You want to meet Salauddin?" You shook you're head. "Well, no, not really. I mean, I don't mind meeting him, but I just want to get out of the castle for a bit. It's been months since i left this place, I just want to get some fresh air." This could be the perfect opportunity for you, because if memory serves you right, Muslims of this era had made significant advances in science. Maybe you can use their help to get some tools to make the time machine again.

Baldwin looked unsure. "I don't know if it would be safe for you-" you held his hand with your bandaged ones. "Please, Baldwin? Can't you take me with you? And wouldn't I be the most safe when I'm with you?" Ah yes, stroke the male ego.

Finally, he smiled.

"Alright. I supposed it would be fine, after all, you should see the kingdom you're going to be the queen of."

Thoughts? (Also, I need to go shower rn, so I'll put the read more later. Doing so much effort for u guys, my spoiled greedy children)

Part 3 is here.

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x darling #yandere #baldwin iv

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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filling the void II a.putellas x sister!reader

biiiig thanks to @girlgenius1111 for brainstorming this lil fic with me and listening to my rambles - would recommend listening to after the storm by mumford and sons for max angst as that was the soundtrack in my ears as i wrote this. filling the void II a.putellas x sister!reader

you'd known you were taking a rather large risk the moment you'd arrived to the event with your friends and realized just what it was. this was of course followed by the staggering domino effect of knowing who ran and organised it lingering in the back of your mind.

you'd not been responsible for the tickets, only accepting the invitation of a night out with your co-workers turned friends, your older friends to say the least with most of them in their early to mid twenties and you still only at seventeen, though majority of people would never guess so if meeting you for the first time.

having grown up with a significant age gap between you and both of your older sisters you'd only had so many years living in your childhood home with them before suddenly they had lives and jobs and partners all of their own, and one day it felt like you blinked and suddenly you were left behind.

weekly family dinners slowly strayed to become monthly or just on occasion, trying desperately to find any sort of common ground with your sisters which might attract them back to spending time with you like you all used to.

but time stood still for no one and they got older while still seeming to refuse to accept you did too, the things they enjoyed doing together not something you ever seemed to be included in.

gone were the nights you'd all spend curled up together arguing over what movie to watch, often followed by the spontaneous late night drives you were snuck out for afterward once your mami was asleep.

bribed with the promise of ice cream the three of you would sit on the beach and listen to the waves, talking about everything and nothing for hours and hours.

sometimes when you were much younger you'd fall asleep on the sand with your head on either alba or alexia's lap, their fingers carding gently through your hair they spoke softer as to not wake you.

when it came time to leave they'd argue for a moment over who was carrying you back to the car, alexia nearly always losing as she very carefully returned you to your seat, alba sliding in the back with you as your head was cradled safely into her shoulder, arm draped protectively around your back.

you'd stir a little as the engine roared to life, lifting your head slightly as alba softly pushed it back down to slump on her shoulder again. "go to sleep fresa." your sister would coo, kissing your forehead as you'd drift off again.

fresa, little strawberry.

the small red berry your favorite fruit growing up meant as a baby your face was always stained red with the juice, finding endless amusement in smushing them against your lips rather than eating them properly.

the nickname given to you by alexia who would always laugh as she tried to feed you one and you'd almost take her finger off in your eagerness, having to be extra careful once your teeth came in and suddenly the small nips hurt.

as a small child your affinity for the fruit continued, t-shirt often stained with blotchy red patches to your lack of care when eating, your entire family now dubbing you as fresa, the name affectionate and loving and sweet.

but now, now it felt like ashes in your mouth.

growing up with such a large age gap had made both your sisters fiercely protective over you. your first year of school an eighteen year old alexia walked you there hand in hand every single day, often leaving the barcelona academy early to make sure she was there on time to pick you up again at the end of the school day.

her heart would swell as your face lit up everytime you saw her, waving goodbye to your friends and sprinting over toward her, the footballer often still in her training kit would drop down as you launched at her in a tight hug.

swinging your tiny little hand in hers she'd smile in amusement at your bookbag which was nearly the same size as you as she listened to your excited little ramble about your day, waiting patiently while you forced her to stop so you could pick a bunch of wildflowers from a small park near your home which blossomed every spring.

sometimes they were a gift for her, sometimes for your mami, even sometimes for alba though that was a lot less as your fifteen year old sisters unpredictable mood swings could be truly terrifying at times.

the year your father died was hard for the entire family, but it seemed to fall hardest on you. still too young to understand why suddenly one day he just stopped coming home, and no one really knew for awhile how to explain it to you in words which made sense among dealing with their own grief.

it confused you that as you asked when he was coming home again everyone just seemed to cry, your sisters often pulling you into a hug so bone crushingly tight at times it hurt your chest a little as your shirt became damp from their tears.

of course with time you eventually understood why he no longer came home and had instead made a new home in heaven.

the tight hugs with your sisters you now offered to them rather than they just be taken from you at will as you all did your best to move forward together in this new scary norm.

back then you'd been a tightly knit family unit, bonded by a loss which would always leave a hole in that unit. but overtime with a support system full of love and care it began to close a little, relishing in the time you got to spend with your two older sisters who were your biggest idols and in turn your biggest protectors.

you cheered very loudly and very proudly when alexia played her first senior game for barcelona, sitting on alba's shoulders and watching in awe as your sister blazed up and down the pitch so fast she was like a superhero.

and back then to you both of your sisters were your superheros.

but now dismissed and brushed off by the two women you'd always looked up to and held on such a pedestal growing up left you with a wound carved a lot deeper than you cared to admit or either of them cared to notice.

though of course nothing was missed by eli who with now only you at home to look after meant the pair of you grew even closer. though even eli's subtle attempts to hint to her two eldest that maybe you were feeling a little neglected and left out were waved off.

as far as alexia and alba could see by your instagram you had an active social life and a good handful of friends you hung out with regularly. why would you want to hang out with them anyway if you had friends your own age? what teenager chooses their sisters over their peers.

but what they failed to see was all the over posting and the near forceful attempts to shove a healthy social life down the throat of your followers was to try and prove you weren't a loser.

prove you went out and had fun with your friends, so it hurt even more to not be able to answer the question of why wouldn't your own sisters deem you worthy enough to invite you to do the same with them anymore?

instead now on your own you'd been forced to watch on through a phone screen as the pair of them seemed to grow closer and you suddenly felt a million miles away, some days even on a different planet despite both their homes being a mere twenty or so minutes from yours.

you'd always been smart, you weren't by any means cocky or arrogant you were just intelligent. both emotionally and logically you found yourself head and shoulders above your peers, excelling through school and graduating a whole year early at only sixteen.

you'd hoped maybe this display of maturity and achievement might allow you a small crack to slither through to spend more time with your sisters, and for the weekend following your graduation it seemed to work with both older girls plastered by your side for the entire 48 hours of celebration with your loved ones.

but of course the moment monday rolled around they were nowhere to be found when you'd woken that morning, returning to their own lives and their own homes which just didn't seem to hold a place for you in them anymore.

discussing with your school careers advisor from afar the options which were laid out in front of you now you'd finished school, you found yourself put forward for a junior position with a local pathology lab.

at first they were quite firm they were looking for someone older and with more experience, but with a gentle forceful push from your advisor you were offered the chance to interview anyway.

you'd spent the days leading up to it doing your research, you'd always had an uncanny knack for retaining information and this was no different.

you'd reached out to both your sisters for some advice, hoping they might be proud enough to come see you and help you prepare. though when all you got back were simple texts wishing you luck and not even asking you call them afterwards with how you went, you deflated like a balloon someone had taken a pin to.

the day of the interview came and passed.

it hurt that neither of your sisters bothered to check in, though given they were on yet another weekend away together with a few of alexia's teammates you tried to tell yourself they were just busy and hadn't realized, deluding yourself as the days passed that anytime your phone went off it could be them.

but it never was and you knew deep down they'd likely forgotten all about it, and in turn it felt like they had forgotten all about you.

and when after a few days you'd not heard anything back from the lab you emailed your advisor thanking her for the support but that you were unsuccessful in the position.

but not even five minutes had passed before your phone started to ring and you clicked accept, your eyes widening as you were offered both the job and even an apology.

your chest swelled at the positive feedback that you were the ideal candidate and that in fact your age was an advantage, you might have been young but you were eager to learn with a good mature head on your shoulders and that was exactly what they sought out in a junior position.

that had been twelve months ago and now you were qualified to both take and test the blood with careful supervision, having assumed you might stay in the role only a few months while you worked out what you wanted to do next you found yourself quite drawn to pathology.

over those twelve months you'd found yourself withdrawing from your school friends, struggling to find common ground now you seemed to be in an entirely different life phase to them and through no malice you all just seemed to drift apart.

with a large chasm opening in your chest at the breakdown in relationship with your sisters, your sisters who at some point in time you'd go to for everything and anything, you sought that out elsewhere.

from your very first day you'd felt welcomed and looked after, everyone assuring no question you had was stupid and that the very best lessons came from mistakes made.

so taken under the wing of a few of the more senior girls working you found yourself invited out for dinners, then to parties and birthdays, then just to hang out as that chasm lessened a little with your new older friends offering you the life advice and comfort you'd lacked with alexia and alba stepping back.

which brought you back to now as you chattered eagerly with your coworkers turned friends, all of you grateful for the weekend off since the lab only operated monday through friday.

your heart started to race and you felt your head spin as you looked up at the very large manuelas banner stretched out across the top of the entrance, though that could be attributed to the large amount of alcohol you'd already consumed at pre drinks.

you'd tried to plead with your friends before you entered the line outside the club, already able to hear the thundering bass and laughter coming from inside but all you could focus on was the knowledge your sisters girlfriend was likely already inside.

you knew at least your sister herself wasn't going to be here, having seen on her instagram that alexia was out for dinner with her agent and management team celebrating a brand new deal she'd just signed with nike for a further three years under them.

of course you found that out through instagram as well, as you did with most updates about their lives or careers. the text thread with both of your sisters pushed right down at the bottom of your contacts, rarely speaking to them much these last few months.

you’d stopped going to alexia’s football games, she hadn’t seemed to notice which only solidified she didn’t care if you were there or not. instead you spent your weekends with your new older friends, the ones who actually wanted you around and cared for you in a way you hadn’t felt from either of your sisters in a long time.

though no matter which way you explained the olga situation and your worries you'd be caught out for being underage your friends were not taking no for an answer. promising they'd look out for you and that the chances of you being noticed among the hundreds of women crammed into the club was slim to none.

so with a sigh you allowed yourself to be pulled into the line to get in, your friends doing their best to distract you as your nerves were obvious, though they eased a little by the time you finally made it to the front.

you all had your tickets scanned, that was easy enough and without an issue you stepped forward, hovering in the middle of the group as you tried not to look nervous when you handed the bouncer your fake ID.

really it wasn't all that much of a stretch and you knew you passed for nineteen always having looked a little older than your peers, especially with the amount of makeup slapped on your face right now as you shifted and subtly tugged your dress down a little as it hitched up your ass.

when you'd bought the ID you knew better than to age yourself up more than a few years, nineteen was reasonable, achievable, anything more and you knew you'd be pushing it.

before anything else you'd contemplated just stealing alba's ID, but trying to pass for twenty seven was laughable and a disaster waiting to happen so you'd abandoned that thought quite quickly.

flashing the rather hulking and stern looking bouncer a smile as charming as you could manage, you withheld your sign of relief as he handed the ID back to you and nodded for you to proceed.

your friends dragging you inside your body sagged and they all announced this called for shots before you were even a few feet into the club.

you blinked a few times as you were pulled and jostled toward the bar, slightly disorientated from the tequila pumping through your blood stream, the amount of insanely attractive women surrounding you and the flashing strobe lights which pulsed above your head as the bass vibrated the floor beneath your feet.

a shot of something shoved into your hand you couldn't help but grin as the cheers rang out celebrating you, having been given a pay raise today at work on the anniversary of your first year with the lab.

"vamos!" you all yelled and downed the drinks, your nose scrunching at the sambuca which burned its way down your throat.

doing your best not to cough or gag one of your friends clapped you on the back and kissed your cheek, grabbing your hand and tugging you with her onto the dance floor.

your friends following suit and yet another drink placed into your hand you found yourself finally able to relax a little, calmed by the mass of sweaty drunken bodies crammed into the room you'd all but dismissed your fears of being found out.

but really, you were caught out long before that first shot passed your lips.

olga had been stood on the second floor with her team, watching with eager grins as the line to enter grew longer and longer and the cheers rang out, glasses of champagne clinking as one by one her partners slipped downstairs to continue the celebrations.

olga however relished in the gentle evening breeze fanned with the fresh fragrant air of summer, having spent what felt like the last month packed into that club organizing every little detail to be as perfect as could be, so understandably she was in no rush to go and join the party just yet.

she had always enjoyed people watching, a smile curling on her lips watching the groups of atendee's below. some clearly already maybe a little too drunk she trusted her security team to keep everything at bay, in olga's mind as she did with all of her events she'd prepared a solution to any possible problem which might pop up.

well, she thought every single problem that could have arisen.

eyes scanning faces and nursing the now lukewarm glass of champagne in her hands olga's gaze passed you by without a second thought, making it a further seven faces before suddenly she snapped to attention as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her head.

her grip on the half empty glass tightened and eyes narrowed as they locked in on you, the sound of your laughter floating through the air confirming her fears as her chest tightened watching you make your way easily through the security team and disappear inside.

the moment you did her phone was already pressed to her ear, champagne abandoned as she paced back and forth, olga dismissing one of her colleagues who popped her head out to check in with a wave of her hand.

"hola, amor?"

your worries were now long gone as you downed your third drink of the hour, bodies packed against you from all angles as you and your friends sang screamed along amid your laughter.

"your round chiqui!" you felt a poke to your cheek and rolled your eyes playfully, one of your friends shoving you halfheartedly. "vale vale i'm going!" you laughed at their insistence, shuffling and jostling your way through the crowd toward the bar.

finally busting out of the throng of drunken sweaty patrons you were able to breathe properly again, standing in line and running a hand through your hair tugging out a few loose knots.

"hola." you turned your head at the new voice, a tall brunette grinning down at you, the alcohol coursing through your veins impairing your judgement a little as you smiled back and returned the greeting.

"can i buy you a drink querida?" the girl asked, tone clearly flirty as you raised an eyebrow at her forwardness. you opened your mouth to reply however a different pair of eyes caught yours from the bar and suddenly your heart dropped into your stomach.

"no, lo siento." you apologised before turning to make your way away, the girl shrugging and turning to another woman on her other side, repeating the question as you pushed your way back in trying to find your friends.

though the longer your eyes searched the more desperate you became and so abandoning your plan you decided to just make a break for it.

"oye! pequeña?" your blood ran cold at the familiar voice calling out behind you, eyes widening as you ignored the urge to turn around, instead making a beeline for the door, mumbling apologies as you elbowed your way through the crowd.

you flashed a nervous smile to the bouncer whose eyebrows furrowed but before he could say a word you'd taken off, the man deeming he had other priorities as he made no move to follow you.

by the time olga made it to the front you were already gone, the security team confirming you'd left as olga dismissed their questions as to why she was looking for you, the older girl needing to keep this as under wraps as possible as she hurried upstairs already on the phone to her girlfriend.

your uber account linked to eli's you couldn't call one of those, so it was looking like you were walking home considering you didn't have the faintest idea of what bus would get you there.

you were grateful that the club itself was in the centre of town, plenty of people wandering around the warm summer night as the time had now passed midnight.

you were so caught up in your own head you hadn't noticed the car pulling up on the curb behind you, the slam of the door pulling you from your thoughts as you glanced behind you out of curiosity.

but the sight which met your eyes had them widening and the breath quickly snatched from your lungs, the furious hazel orbs burning a hole in your head.

"tienes muchos problemas." your sister growled, both of you locked in a stand off as you sized one another up and you swallowed hard, eyes darting around nervously.

"no!" alexia warned as she took a step closer and you bolted, quickly snatching your heels off and sprinting away as your sister took off after you.

"mierda!" alexia swore as you quickly disappeared, returning back to the car and instructing olga to drive as it was now suddenly a race to see who got home first.

your chest heaved, calves throbbed and lungs burned as you finally stopped running, almost home now and profusely sweating out the alcohol which was pumping through you.

adrenaline and fear having carried you to your final destination everything started to catch up as a wave of nausea washed over your body and you careered over, throwing up the remaining contents of your stomach onto the grass.

wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you forced yourself to your feet, darting around the back of the house and moving the trash bin as quietly as you could, shaking your head to try and remove the dizziness as you climbed up.

meanwhile back around the front alexia and olga arrived right as alba was dropped off by one of her friends, having been at manuelas herself and by the luck of god not running into you she'd only just checked her phone while in the bathroom.

"where is she?" alba asked confused as alexia jumped out, kissing her girlfriend goodnight and promising she'd be home soon, olga sensing this was now a family matter as alba waved and she was gone.

"joder when i get my hands on her, ten foot under in a grave!" alexia warned coldly, body tensed with rage as the two made their way to the front door, alexia pounding her fist against it and tapping her foot impatiently.

"ale!" alba pushed her hand away as she did it again, the door swinging open before another word could be said. "Dios mío. what is wrong?" eli questioned worriedly, alba paling a little as alexia rolled her eyes unfazed.

"mami do you know where your daughter is right now?" alexia asked coldly, eli frowning at the question. "i know two of them have just woken me up at nearly one in the morning." the woman responded calmly, raising an eyebrow as alexia huffed and gently moved the shorter woman out of the way striding inside.

"alexia what-" eli started, the blonde making a beeline for your bedroom as alba closed the front door, alexia all but kicking your door open as you froze like a deer in headlights, halfway through the window.

"oh que perfecto!" your sister was hauling you the rest of the way inside as you stumbled and almost fell, wincing as she grabbed your ear and twisted hard causing you to hiss and try to pull her hand off to no avail as you were dragged across the room.

"alexia? let her go ya mismo!" eli ordered as your sister shoved you to sit down on the sofa, towering over you with a murderous glare as you tried to stand again, quickly abandoning that idea as you slouched backwards with a frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

"mami do you know where she has been? where we found her? what she has been doing?" alexia was on the brink of exploding, and there was a time where perhaps you'd have teased her for the vein in her head looking ready to pop but long gone were those days.

"hija?" eli sighed tiredly, raising an eyebrow as she took a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room, alba and alexia's glares trained on you as you refused to meet their eyes.

"i was out with my friends mami, like i told you i was." you answered with a shrug causing your sisters to scoff. "tell her where." alexia continued to probe as you rolled your eyes, digging your grave a little deeper but beyond the point of caring now.

"at a club." you mumbled, picking at a loose thread of your dress. "más fuerte!" alexia growled in warning. "no, i heard her." eli held up a hand and you chanced a look up to meet her eyes, face unreadable.

"she was at manuelas mami, at olga's event in a club drinking with women twice her age! drinking, at seventeen in a club!" alexia hissed, fists balled by her side as once again your eyes rolled.

"you roll your eyes at me one more time hermanita and i will turn them black!" alexia exploded, taking a step toward you as alba grabbed her wrist and tugged her back.

"some friends hermana, sneaking you into a club and buying you alcohol? group of idiotas!" alba snarked adding in her two cents as your jaw clenched and you bit your tongue.

"do you have any idea how much trouble olga could be in if someone reported that there was minors at the club and drinking? she could lose her license, maybe lose her business, her team would be investigated-" alexia ranted on and on as you sighed quietly.

"no one would have found out alexia, stop being so dramatic." you muttered, and if you were all in a cartoon you were sure steam would have poured from her ears.

"pequeña since when are you this stupid? this reckless? this selfish!" alba spoke up again, shaking her head in disbelief, disappointed in you while alexia remained angry.

the last word caused a bitter smile to be painted across your face, body vibrating with a chuckle as alexia's eyes widened. "is this funny to you hermanita? are you laughing right now? because i will give you something to laugh about if-" alexia warned, cut off by eli clearing her throat in a silent warning.

"i went out with my friends and did a few shots, lock me up alexia!" your voice dripped with sarcasm as you pouted and held up your wrists mockingly as if ready for them to be cuffed.

"hija." eli's stern tone cut through that as your hands dropped and you sighed. "mami por favor i am tired and it is late, can i go to bed?" you asked quietly, eli's face softening as the older woman took pity and nodded.

"sit your ass down hermana we aren't done here!" alexia warned as you stood, her words ignored as you moved to kiss eli's cheek as she drew you into a hug, murmuring an apology to her as your sisters watched on in disbelief.

"mami. really?" alba scoffed as she gestured for you to head to your room and you shot your sisters a filthy glare. "you ruin my night, alexia's night, olga's night and you have nothing to say pequeña?" alba accused as you only shrugged.

"i was fine, i was safe, you had no reason to come here. you ruined your own night!" you snarled back, the sudden tone catching your sister off guard, not used to you pushing back like this and certainly not expecting that as a response.

"sit. down." alexia's larger form blocked you from moving, glaring down at you as you both stood chest to chest. "no. move, puta." you growled, the blondes eyes widening as you tried to push past her and she grabbed the material of your dress in her hands and shoved you back harshly into the wall.

"go on la reina, hit me!" you challenged with a twisted smile at the pure rage in her eyes as you raised your chin up, daring her to make contact.

"alexia! déjala ir, now." eli stood and warned firmly, alexia's grip loosening as you pushed at her chest sending her stumbling backwards. "you don't scare me anymore alexia. i hate you both! stay out of my life." you hissed, both your sisters eyes widening further at the venom in your tone.

but at your words and obvious lack of remorse toward the situation all the midfielder could see was red.

"careless, stupid, selfish little accident!" alexia hurled back angrily as you paused by your door, hot tears burning at your eyes as her words cut you deep like a dagger dragged down your back.

but you wouldn't let her see that they hurt so you refused to turn around and give her the satisfaction.

your anger deflating and now numb and tired you stepped into your room, door closing with a gentle click and a thud of your lock as alexia stood chest heaving with rage watching you go.

"she's seventeen drinking in a club and she gets a kiss on the cheek and sent to bed? mami!" alba echoed her sisters thoughts with a scoff as alexia watched your door for a moment more, your light turning out before she stepped away.

"she's a baby mami! our baby. she is out drinking and dancing and doing god knows what with older women, who don't know that she is a minor! are you blind? deaf? do you not care about her? her safety? she needs rules, consequences, discipline! she is out of control." alexia struggled out, eli fixing her with an unimpressed stare at her words.

"she is not a baby anymore and it would do the two of you some good to remember that hija's, if you have any hope of fixing this." eli spoke calmly as both your sisters faces scrunched up.

"fix it? por favor we have to be sorry? for what mami you are joking!" alba laughed bitterly, shaking her head and shooting a glare at your door with half a mind to kick it in and lay into you herself if no one else would.

"both of you. venga aquí." eli nodded for them both to follow her as she lead her two eldest daughters out onto the balcony, ordering they take a seat as she firmly closed the doors, your ears not needing to catch wind of any of this if you were still awake.

you were, sobs muffled into your pillow as your eyes stung from the salty tears pooled in them and the smeared makeup not yet wiped off your face, mascara stained tears carving their destructive little path down your cheeks as your body shook violently at the effort to try and stay as quiet as possible.

"mami it is late we-" alexia started, the night air cooling her flushed cheeks as eli took a seat across from them. "no, you woke me up and caused all of this, and now you will both listen to me." the woman warned as both girls nodded.

"before tonight, when is the last time either of you saw your hermana?" eli asked calmly as alexia and alba both shared a look, clearly struggling to remember.

"maybe your birthday? but mami-" alexia started, silenced by a hand held up her way. "my birthday was three weeks ago hija's, and it was just dinner. what did you do afterwards?" eli's tone was a little sharper now.

"we went to ale's house, i wanted to see olga since she returned from her trip." alba answered this time as eli nodded. "and did you invite your sister?" both girls hesitated before shaking their heads, starting to sense where this conversation was headed.

"but mami-" "no, i will ask the questions."

"tell me ale, how long has your sister worked at the lab?" eli asked quite casually as alexia opened and closed her mouth a few times. "eh, a couple of months?" she guessed, even alba wincing at that as eli hummed.

"no, one year. one year today, well yesterday. that is why she went out with her friends, to celebrate. i knew she was going to drink, she was honest with me about that as she always is. we went to dinner together on friday to celebrate her achievements." eli informed as alexia and alba shifted a little uncomfortably.

"she didn't tell us." alba dared to speak up, eyes dropping to the table at the fierce look from the older woman across the table. "no she didn't. i asked if she wanted to and do you know what she said said?" eli questioned, neither girl daring to answer.

"your sister said why mami? they won't care, they don't have time for a stupid dinner." eli's tongue cut like a sword through the tense silence rolling in like a fog around the table. "time. something the both of you no longer have for your sister it would seem." eli hummed, crossing her arms and resting them on the table.

"mami we-" "no, i am not done."

"growing up the pair of you have always had one another, three years apart and always close. always filled with love, always looking out for each other like we raised you to. always together." eli started as alexia awkwardly fiddled with the hem of her shorts.

"i know your sister is younger, much younger. but never did i think that would ever mean the two of you do not care for her and look out for her the way you looked out for one another growing up. you had each other, but when you both moved out she had no one but me." eli's tone became harsher as both girls sank deeper into their chairs, both on the verge of throwing up with guilt as her words hit home.

"i am partially at fault as i should have said something sooner. i know you both love her, i do. but she does not, she does not think you care and i can see why. i watched her try desperately to gain your attentions once you both left, i watched her heart crack that little bit more when she was rejected again and again. and it broke my heart because that is not how i raised any of my girls to be!" eli continued as alexia swallowed a hard lump in her throat and alba stared blankly down at the ground.

"i am getting older hijas, and so is she. i can see her now going backwards, she pulls away from you both and if you do not make attempts to fix this then she will pull too far and she will be out of reach. is this what you want?" both girls were quick to shake their heads.

"then do better, find a way to fix this. go to your own homes and think about why your sister does not feel she is welcome in them anymore, and why she no longer feels she holds a place in your life or that either of you deserve space in hers. before it is too late all together, you both need to fix what you have broke."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part two

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #🍓☀️

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navybrat817 · 3 months ago

Text

Hardpack

Pairing: Motocross!Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Summary: Curtis isn't in a good mood and takes it out on you.

Word Count: Over 2.5k

Warnings: Eventual enemies(ish) to lovers, tension, swearing, nicknames, light angst (sick parent), Curtis doesn't want to admit he wants you; he's a bit of an asshole (and he's a warning, okay?), and both of you are moody.

A/N: More Rusty and Princess! Maybe I can start a Motocross Monday sort of thing? Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

Curtis needed a drink after the shift he had. He tried not to drink much during the week and definitely not when he had practice or a race, but today was a domino effect of everything that could go wrong going wrong. It was like that some days. Shitty day or not, he was still going to wish his boss a good night.

Seeing you sitting in your dad’s chair when he went into the office, he sneered and decided he might have to have a double when he got home. How was it that you were still so clean and pristine after walking through a salvage yard? Why did you look so beautiful?

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, crossing his arms when he stopped in front of the desk.

You didn't spare him a glance as your fingers flew across the keyboard, not at all phased by his intimidating stance or voice. “Rusty, always a pleasure.”

He had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping. You weren’t the cause of his mood, but you loved pushing his buttons. To be fair, he pushed yours, too. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Didn’t realize I had to answer to you,” you said, pausing to take a sip of water. “But if you must know, my dad had to leave early again, so I’m helping him out.”

“You?” he asked.

“Yep. Me,” you smiled sweetly. He wasn't sure why he was surprised. You weren't an employee, but you knew the system thanks to your dad, and it wasn't the first time you stepped in to assist. “Don't worry. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Good,” he muttered, catching a flicker of hurt in your eyes before you went back to typing. He tried not to stare when you bit one side of your lip. Did you realize you did that when you were concentrating extra hard? Why did he know that? “If he needed help, why didn’t he just ask me?”

Not that the rest of the guys weren’t hard workers, but everyone knew Curtis ran the show when your dad wasn’t around. The funny thing was he hadn’t planned to be a leader, but he had a knack for it and your dad taught him a lot. You on the other hand had your own career that didn’t involve the salvage yard, so he didn’t understand why you were there. Sure, you knew the system and you were incredibly smart, but he was computer savvy when he wanted to be.

You sighed and stopped typing again. “Maybe because you had your own work to do and we didn’t want to add more to your plate.”

“We?” he growled. “Just like you don’t answer to me, I don’t answer you. I answer to your dad.”

You shrugged. “Then you can talk to my dad tomorrow.”

“I will, and I’ll remind him that I can handle the extra work, even if it’s desk work.” Curtis took his hat off and scratched the back of his head. He swore you were checking him out, but your gaze went back to the screen when he took a seat in the chair. It was fine. He didn't want you checking him out.

Yes, I do.

“I don’t mind helping,” you said.

Curtis scoffed. “You don’t belong here. Minus your dad, no one asked you to be here.”

The flash of fire in your eyes didn’t scare him, but he had to shift in his chair since it turned him on a little. “What the hell is your problem? Seriously?”

“You are my problem.” He leaned across the desk and made sure you were looking him in the eye when he said, “And you don’t belong here because you’re a fucking spoiled stuck-up brat, Princess.”

Silence filled the air, minus your sharp intake of breath. The words tasted extra bitter on his tongue as he sat back in his seat. He should’ve gotten up and walked away instead of snapping at you. It didn’t matter that he was in a bad mood. You were the boss’s daughter and speaking to you like that could have consequences. Not to mention, you hadn’t exactly deserved that.

Of all of your reactions, he didn’t expect to hear a quiet laugh. “Of course, that’s what you think when you look at me, Rusty, because you know everything, don't you? I must be spoiled and stuck-up since I’m not covered in dirt and grime like you.” He gritted his teeth when you pointed at him. He bet you never got a spec of dirt under your manicured nails, and he wondered what they’d feel like digging into his back. “Excuse me for taking a bit of pride in my appearance.”

“I wasn't-”

“Or maybe you think I'm spoiled and stuck up because your job involves physical labor and mine doesn't,” you continued, typing so hard and fast he was shocked sparks didn't fly from your fingertips. “I take pride in everything I do because my dad taught me the value of hard work, you judgmental asshole.”

Curtis opened his mouth and shut it when you leveled him with a glare, making him think about his talk with Daisy after he met you. He had judged you and she was quick to defend you, trying to make him see that maybe you weren’t spoiled or stuck up just because you dressed nicely. But he saw how women who dressed like you looked at him after a shift, like he was beneath them. It was easy to lump you into the same category as them when that wasn’t really fair.

You didn’t work with your hands, but you were still a hard worker according to your dad and Curtis had witnessed it, too. He witnessed your kindness as well. You never demanded praise or thanks when you brought food for everyone or when you checked in on the crew, and you never made it feel like it was charity. Even now, helping your dad, you weren’t acting like a martyr. Had he not gone into the office, he likely wouldn’t have even known you were there.

And while you liked to tease him you never once acted like you were better than him.

He really was a judgmental asshole, and Daisy would tear him a new one if she knew what he said to you. Not that he’d blame her. He wanted to kick his own ass for it.

“Sorry,” he said above a whisper.

“Mmhmm. Sure you are.” You didn't sound happy and it made him feel worse. “There. All done. I’m out of your buzzed hair now.”

“Wait.” Curtis stood up when you did and moved to block your path. He didn't want you to leave angry with him.

You didn't hide your irritation when you asked, “Why the hell should I?”

He almost took a step back, half expecting you to knee him in the crotch so you could go. “It’s not like your dad to take off and not let the crew know,” he mused when he should’ve said he was sorry again.

You avoided his gaze when you put your phone in your bag, some of the anger leaving your body. “He was running late for a doctor’s appointment,” you said easily, but there was a hint of something in your voice that concerned him.

“He had another appointment?” he asked. Your dad had just gone to the doctor recently and he was the pillar of good health from what he knew, but looks could be deceiving. You were living breathing proof of that. “Is he okay?”

This time, you hesitated. “I don’t know,” you whispered.

Curtis’s heart seized in his chest, remembering the day he saw you leaving with tears in your eyes. Was it because of your dad? And here he was giving you shit when you had to be worried. Jesus, he really would have to kick his own ass later. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, taking a step forward.

He wasn’t sure if he’d consider himself to be a comforting sort of man, but seeing the worry in your eyes had a soft side itching to get out. Not that you’d accept his comfort after what he said. He probably fucked up any chance of anything with you after he ran his mouth.

“You can do two things, actually,” you replied, taking a deep breath. “First thing is a favor.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Princess needs something from me?”

You rolled your eyes, and he was happy to see some of your spark back. “My dad's birthday is coming up, and I thought it would be nice if you and some of the riders came out to help him celebrate,” you explained. Your dad stopped racing years ago, but the guys all knew and respected him. “I was hoping you could pass the details along to the others.”

“Can't do it yourself?” he asked.

“I don't have their phone numbers or social media accounts, but I’m sure you do. And it’ll make up for you being an asshole if you can just pass along the details.”

He sighed. You had a valid reason for asking him, and he sensed a couple of the guys would tease him because they’d know he did this for you. “Listen, I don't-”

“Please, Curtis,” you said softly, all of the hostility between you gone. You didn't say Rusty or any other nickname. You said his name. Fuck, he loved hearing you say his name. Loved hearing you beg.

No, now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Fine,” he relented. There was no reason not to. It was for your dad and for you. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “What condition?”

He smirked and motioned for you to follow him outside, your perfume filling his senses as you did so. You stood a foot away while he took a glove off and swiped his finger in the dirt. “If you let me get a little dirt on you,” he began, holding up his finger for you to see as he moved closer. “I’ll pass the info along.”

You went rigid, but didn’t back away. “You are not getting dirt on this blouse.”

“Not your blouse,” he assured you, not wanting to deal with the hassle of paying to have it cleaned or replaced. Part of him though wanted to get your clothes dirty. And you.

“Then what…” Your breath hitched when he stared into your eyes and brushed his finger along the swell of your cheek. Your skin felt so soft under his rough touch. And of course you looked gorgeous with a smudge of dirt on you. You were so fucking beautiful it hurt.

“Dirt looks good on you, Princess,” he said gruffly, backing away before he did something stupid like kissing you. There was undeniable tension though. He couldn’t be the only one who felt it.

Holding your head high, you didn’t make any attempt to wipe the dirt away or smack him. It impressed him. “Yeah. You got me dirty,” you said, a sultry note in your tone. It was good to know he affected you, and he wished he could get you really dirty. “So, you’ll pass the information along?”

“I’ll need your number so you can text me the details. Once you do, I’ll send it,” he said. With your number, maybe he could talk about more than just the party with you and convince you to go to a race.

“What’s your number?” you asked, not passing your phone over when you took it out of the bag. That was fair since he had dirt on his hand.

Once he gave you his number, you quickly typed something out and hit send. His phone vibrated a moment later. “There.”

“I’ll send it,” he promised. He'd have to tell Daisy about it, too. Maybe she could go with Steve. “You bringing anyone to this party?” he asked, though it wasn’t any of his business.

“If you’re asking if I’m bringing a date to a party I’m throwing for my dad, no, I’m not,” you replied. He was glad to hear that. “Do you plan to?” you asked casually.

If he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought you were jealous at the idea of him showing up with a date. He wasn’t interested in anyone else. Not since you showed up. “No,” he answered.

You exhaled. “I should get going,” you said after a moment.

“Hang on.” He blocked your path like he had in the office. “What was the second thing you wanted me to do?”

“Oh. Yeah. Just keep my dad in your thoughts, okay? And please don’t mention anything to any of the guys since we don’t really know what's going on yet,” you said, a bit of shine in your eyes. He wanted to pull you into a hug and assure you that he’d be just fine, but he also didn’t want to give you false hope if something turned out to be wrong.

“That’s three things you’re asking of me, Princess,” he joked, but he did hope your dad was okay. He was a good man. “I won't say a word.”

“Then I guess I owe you one, Rusty. Thank you.” You tried to walk away again and narrowed your eyes when he once again stepped in front of you. “Okay, what the hell? Why won’t you let me leave? Weren’t you the one who said I don't belong here?”

Curtis sighed. He should’ve sensed that you were rightfully still upset. “About that… I was in a bad mood and I shouldn’t have said that.”

You scoffed. “Then let me make your mood better by leaving so you don’t run your mouth again and I don't smack you.”

“No, I just…” Why was he screwing up so badly? “You’re not a stuck-up spoiled brat, okay? And I don’t have a problem with you.”

You were fighting a smile. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” he replied, his shoulders slumping as he admitted it to himself, too. “I’m sorry.”

There was more he wanted to say, but now wasn't the time.

Your gaze softened and a smile tugged at your lips. “You already apologized. It was a mumbled half assed apology, but still an apology.” Your fingers brushed his arm when you went around him, making electricity crackle through his veins. “And I accept it.”

His happiness was short-lived when you walked on. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to say I’m not a judgmental asshole?”

“But you are kind of a judgmental asshole. It’s part of your charm.” You gave him a full-blown smile when you looked over his shoulder and it was enough to take his breath away. Enough to drive him crazy. “See you at the party?”

“Yeah,” he smiled back, his bad mood almost completely gone. “I’ll see you there.”

And if he had his way, he’d see you much sooner than that.

Oh, the sex will be amazing once they get there. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist

#navybrat writes #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x y/n #motocross!curtis everett #rusty and princess #dialed in: motocross au #curtis everett imagine #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett fanfic #curtis everett fic #chris evans characters #chris evans #chris evans x reader #curtis everett au #motocross au #chris evans x female reader

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mscherub · 4 months ago

Note

Hey there ! Hope you have a great day/afternoon/night.

I was wondering if you could write how floyd, rook and jamil would react to a reader that is caring and playful but can be stubborn and impulsive when frustrated or angry, acting on her strong will without always thinking ahead.

You can add things if you feel like it too 😉

Thanks ❤️

Hey, my lovely! I love the idea of this because like this describes my personality so well!!! (Squealing and just happy cause of the request <3)

Anyways, I tried, and I took long because you unfortunately caught me on a bad week that was filled with nothing but stress for me and no motivation to write, BUT I GOT IT OUT NOW, LIKE A WEEK LATER—

If it’s bad, I apologize I was kinda out of it while writing 🥲

(Nothin against u, my lovely, I love everyone who requests something I just…I was busssyyyyy, but it’s ok, I’m getting back into the groove. AHH ENOUGH YAPPING—)

Stubborn then Sweet

Reader is gender neutral, Romantic or Platonic, you pick!

Characters!: Floyd, Rook, and Jamil

Tags!: Headcanons plus short fics <3

Warnings!: Swearing, my writing 😔

Floyd 🫧:

Caring and playful nature:

Finds your caring nature funny and odd, especially when it's targeted towards someone like him out of all people

It's just so cute when little Shrimpy tries to calm him down when he's in one of his moods himself, and he can't help but actually find it helpful to wind down with it

He likes that he can go to you and just blab on about whatever and bug you, and you’ll actually listen. He craves it, so— welp, he’s all over you

And you can be playful too on top of that? You're number 3 on his list for favorite people…Jade and Azul are obviously before you

He likes to play pranks on you, and you do them back, it's mutual with your emotions sometimes and it's nice for Floyd. He rarely ever feels bored with you

You give up so many things for him. Don’t you know that’s a sort of weakness Shrimpy? Fine. I guess he’ll just have to protect you and always be around you

(Rip you)

Ticked off mood:

Finds it funny how impulsive you get. It's really entertaining to watch someone who was just scolding him for being so reckless to then being reckless yourself. It’s like you two share moods swings or something

But now you’re in a mood…so now he’s also in a mood. Domino effect. Shrimpy’s mad, then so is Floyd. Just how it works 🤷‍♀️

He’ll be ticked off with you over whatever it is, unless you’re mad at him, then he’ll just be all snarky back at you.

If you two even attempt to interact in your little moody fits, then they’ll be filled with yelling and bickering galore

You will always have to resolve a situation, but Floyd will eventually give in since you do make him happy

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Mmmm, Shrimpy!” Floyd singsongs as he comes into the lounge of Ramshackle, completely uninvited. You jump and look up from your papers you were working on, giving him a look that conveyed something on the lines of “the hell are you doing here?”

You could tell he was bored already, his demeanor not being too hard to decipher. He walks over to you and flops down on the couch, wrapping his arms around and squeezing.

“I’m bored. Let’s go beat some people up for Azul. It’d be fun!” He murmurs against your shoulder. “You can just watch. But it’s more fun if you’re there.”

“Not now, Floyd. Not ever really. If people owe Azul money you don’t have to beta them up...plus I have…homework.” You sigh out as his arms constrict you even more.

“What? You always have time for me. Cmonnnn, for me? You’ll make me cry, Shrimpy.” He pouts and nuzzles his head against yours.

You’ve had this homework for about a week. You’ve been pushing it off for other tasks you needed to get done and him annoying now was not helping one bit with getting it out of sight and out of mind.

“Not today. Aren’t you supposed to work a shift?” You grumble, your hands going to his arms and trying to pry him off of you.

“Yes. But I don’t feel like it. I came all this way and you’re trying to kick me out? You’re so boooorrriiiinggggg.” He huffs.

You turn your head to look at him. “Look. I don’t have time for this. I need to get my work done. You can go and take your ass somewhere else so I can have peace and quiet to do this!”

He’s stunned for a second, then he smiles. “Aweee, looky, why are you so mad? You can just do it another time—“

“Floyd. Leave. Get out of here. I. Have. Shit. To. Do.” You say sternly, finally managing to wiggle out of his arms.

Bickering and insults are thrown back and forth and he eventually goes quiet. He huffs and glares at you as he walks out, his feet stamping against the ground.

You can’t help but feel bad for what you did, you felt like you went maybe a bit too far, so after you finished your work, you decided to swing by Octavinelle and apologize.

He whines about how unfair it all was, but he accepts your apology. He gets it in a way.

You’re stuck with him for the rest of the time now. Have fun.

“Shrimpy. You’re so silly.”

Rook 🏹:

Caring and playful nature:

Well, he finds it quiet enjoyable to say the least

He loves the attention you give him and how you almost baby him in a way. It’s just adorable and also beautiful in its own ways

That sweet look you give him makes him swoon right on the spot. You’re truly a work of art in his eyes, dare he say that you have just a tad bit of shine to you that Vil has to him. He means it, even if it sounds harsh…

If he pops up out of nowhere, you gently scold him and tell him don’t do that, then you go and look him over before deeming he’s alright

He finds you attentiveness to his well being peculiar but he appreciates it so much. Guess what, he finds that so beautiful, obviously

But what is this? You dare try and be coy right back at him, a hunter? Now he’s even more immersed

You try and get back at him for frightening you sometimes, trying to cross his path and pop out of nowhere like he seamlessly does

He finds it just so cute

Ticked off mood:

Cue the many “Ou la la’s!” He’s surprised by your “outbursts”

But, he does find them quite endearing to watch play out, especially if they’re targeted towards him. The pray appears to be mad…

He likes to see this side of you as well like the creep he is and he thinks it’s just as beautiful, or perhaps even more with that spark in your eye and you acting on your will without even thinking of the consequences

You’re so unrefined in this state, so out of it, the true testament to beauty—

He loves it. Lives for it. Provokes it out of you more so then Floyd would, believe it or not

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You’re just causally walking back to class with Grim, well, Grim is yapping away about certain mundane topics that are particularly bothering him more so today than any other day.

It’s annoying, the unceasing whining spilling from his mouth, but you’re fine! Just ignore him then maybe he’ll shut up…or he’ll talk louder. Guess he’ll do that.

“Grimmy, look, as much as I care for you, I honestly really don’t care for—“

Rook just appears basically from thin air and smiles wide. You lock eyes with him and let out a yelp as you back up and trip over an uneven tile in the pathway.

Rook, being him, catches you, but you smack him away and yell at him, spitting out strings of curses and insults.

“What the fuck?! Why did you do that? Get off of me you stupid— I hate you!” You huff as you manage to finally stand up and glare at him.

His smirk falters ever so slightly as his gaze on you softens. You knew you mate have said some bad things just because of that.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You just…scared the absolute shit out of me. Did I hit you too hard? Please tell me if I did? I didn’t mean it I promise. I just got scared, and I was distracted and in my head—“ your attitude switches up almost instantly.

Rook l lives for this, though, the way your honeyed words just stream out. It’s too beautiful! And the way you apologizes to earnestly! Ahhh, makes him just swoon!

“Hey…are you ok?”

“Why, of course, Trickster.” He smiles even more brightly now. “My apologizes for frightening you so. That was not my intention, though that burst of passionate emotion was absolutely beauté! Magnifique!” He chuckles and keeps strict eye contact with you that’s actually pretty unsettling.

“Sure…thanks? So…you’re ok?”

“Splendid, Prefect.”

You nod your head and give him a small glare before you look back at Grim who’s cowering behind a bench, his ears flattened and his tail swaying as he also glares heavily at Rook.

“Yea…ok then. I’ll see ya later, Rook. Be safe.”

“Such caring ways. Your personality is truly gorgeous.”

Jamil 🐍:

Caring and playful nature:

This is oddly new for him at least, I mean isn’t he supposed to be the one who’s supposed to care. Sure it may be fabricated some most, but this is awkward…

He loves it though, secretly, the way that you check in on him and offer to help with all his duties. He eats it the fuck up

But there’s also this nagging feeling that he shouldn’t have your care or worry, like he’s not deserving of it. But, like mentioned, he enjoys it

He thinks you’re too caring in some ways and it ticks him off sometimes. He can carry himself, he has been, so lay off a bit for the future

But don’t stop…

you like to be playful. What? Does he have another Kalim? Sevens bless him if you try anything

He isn’t quite fond of your playful side in hindsight, but he’ll warm up to it since you do it because it means you’re just acting the way you do when you’re relaxed

He’ll let it slide

Ticked off mood:

He’s actually irked a little by the switch ups and he’s not so fond of them. He mainly tries to be perfect as to not make people mad so he’s kinda confused as to why you’re being like that, especially if that anger is targeted towards him

I mainly think he wouldn’t do anything to make you mad— besides overworking himself…

He’ll basically just try to avoid you

He doesn’t care that much or find your outbursts amusing like the others maybe do, thus why he just tries to avoid you and stay clear of your path if he’s not the one the emotions are directed to

If he is the one you’re mad at…he’ll just try and deescalate the situation, possibly make it worse with snippy comebacks, or just completely up and ignore you. One of those options, if not all three, he’ll do

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Jamil!”

He tenses up, his back muscles going taught as he stops stirring whatever he was cooking in the large pot at the moment. You burst through the kitchen doors, phone held in one hand as you finally take a breath in to calm your nerves.

“Why does Kalim keep spamming me about how you haven’t been doing well? Look I’m just…the calls are annoying. So what’s going on? Mind explaining.” You huff. Your shoes click against the linoleum tiles of the kitchen as you take a spot next to him. You lean against the counter and cross your arms.

Jamil has been overworking…again. But that’s not really anything new. You’ve tried to school his habits before but to no avail, it’s like it’s engraved into him or something. Kalim isn’t really helping all that much. One time he overheard a conversation between you and Jamil and he’s been informing you every time he notices something odd and or off with Jamil.

“Kalim was literally blowing up my phone. Y’know, if you took care of yourself a bit better than maybe I wouldn’t be spammed when Kalim sees you even yawn.” You narrow your eyes at him, your gaze critical.

“That’s not my fault. If you didn’t bring it up in the first place around him he wouldn’t be doing anything. You’re pointing fingers at the wrong person.” He hisses back, giving you and equal glare back.

You let out a puff of air and let your shoulders slump forwards. “Sorry. Look, I care. A lot. And I may get mad but…just put in a little more effort here to just stay alive a bit better each day.” You murmur.

Jamil’s gaze dies down and softens into a ponderous look as he puts all his attention back to the pot that’s steaming.

“You shouldn’t care.”

“But I do…”

“It’s kinda stupid. I can carry my own just fine. Calm down. You’re just overreacting over something so little.” He shakes his head.

“Everyone needs a little help every now and then. I’m just…kindly reminding you.” You shrug.

“If bursting in here and blaming me for Kalim being a nuisance is a “friendly reminder,” then I’m scared to see what other things you’ve got to say.” He sighs.

“Don’t get all smart with me. You know what I meant. Anyways…seriously. Save both of our asses here. Just go to sleep a bit earlier than usual. It’ll make a difference.” You smile at him fondly, that look he’s grown to have a love hate relationship with.

He rolls his eyes and finally lets his muscles destress. “You’re so stupid it’s sickening.”

“Well, at least I’m stupid enough to care.”

WAHHH, hey, how’s it going. I’m done. Feel like I got off track a bit with Jamil’s, but oh well, THANKS FOR READING AS ALWAYS <333

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst floyd #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst rook #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #twst jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #headcanon #fanfics #can be romantic or platonic #u interpret #<3

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reddesires · 10 months ago

Text

It Was Everything.

Part 3 of Is It Casual?

Previous Part

Logan Howlett x Mutant Reader

Warning: Angst (with happy ending.)

Fandom: Wolverine/X-Men

A/N: ngl I struggled so bad when writing this like omfg, I'm tweaking with how much I had to push myself to write this Ugh. I think this is the longest I've ever written a fic like, bro. I was so stressed. I hope you guys like it, I tried my hardest 😪

You can feel the frustration building in your chest as you stand outside the Professor’s office, the conversation you had just moments ago echoing in your mind as you sharply bite down on your lip as you try to keep your cool, your eyes narrowed as you briskly walk down the hall.

Whatever is going on with your mind, it’s holding you back and it's becoming more burdensome as you try to reach your former potential, the sharp pains radiating deep from within the recesses of your head.

Your hand clenches and unclenches in agitation, everything seems to have a domino effect all around you, and it all starts with your lack of control over your mutation.

The Professor has been more than encouraging as he walks you through your sessions and he’s scoured through your mind countless times looking for the source of your problem but is cut short as it seems like your mind has built up defenses against outside potential threats, blocking out other telepathy users from reaching the vulnerable parts of your mind.

You’ve poked and prodded in an attempt to get past some sort of breach, but the lightning bolt of pain that passes through you is precise, leaving you defeated and with a bloody nose to prove it. You've expressed your desperation to Storm and she tries her hardest to comfort you with the idea that it’ll take more time for you to make a breakthrough but you’ll get there, and though you appreciate her optimism you have been finding it more and more hard to share the same sentiment.

The others have noticed that you have been walking around with that dark cloud over your head and they have made an effort to take away your attention from it but it always creeps back up slowly but surely.

Logan is especially worried about you and how much it’s been weighing down on you and though he doesn’t say a lot of his worries aloud you can see it through his actions and the way he looks at you. The way he lays his hand gently on your back as he sees you deep in thought and the way his gaze catches yours as he intends to bring your attention on him and him only, he’s become possessive of your attention not accepting the weak smile you throw at him in an attempt of appeasing him.

He always manages to make your breath hitch and catch in your throat as brings himself into your personal space, it’s almost like he's relying on some underlying feeling and he’s allowing his body to act on it and it’s gotten to the point where he’s been open enough to display this in front of the others earning some raised eyebrows which is met by his blank stare.

There are times where you stand toe to toe with him and as he looks down at you with that smug smirk you find yourself mirroring back his expression relishing in the self satisfied feeling that builds up from your stomach. Whenever he was around, it was like a switch went off in your body, and there was an instinctive way your body reacted, like it was as easy as breathing, no effort at all.

If only you felt that way all the time, have that confidence dancing on the tip of your tongue instead of that bitterness, the bitterness that lingers as the remnants of your paramnesia lays locked away from your use, your only allowed to use it in small intervals before the pain becomes too unbearable for you. As you walk with your head down, your nails dig into the tender skin of your palms, you hear your name being called from behind you, and you look back, unclenching your tight fists.

“Oh, hey Jean.” You feign your happy tone as she walks up to you with a small smile. “Hey, you doing okay?” Her tone has that worried edge again, and it does make your smile waver before you sigh decidedly against continuing to fake your way through the unsavory conversation coming your way.

“The Professor still hasn't been able to get past the blockages placed in my mind. He thinks I built it in an attempt to protect myself as a last resort.” Jean nods, a contemplative look on her face, her brows furrowed as the gears turned in her head.

“That would make sense, but does that mean there was someone trying to get into your head?” You can only shrug your shoulders falling back down heavily as you felt just how tumultuous this topic actually is. Was it really an outside source?

All these unanswered questions you have and so little to show for it, you are constantly told to have patience and the answers will come to you soon enough but the fact that those answers are blocked off from you along with your mutation makes you irate.

Jean places her hand on your shoulder, her smile sympathetic as she looks you in the eye seeing the frustration bleeding into your expression and the air is filled with a tension you're unsure of as she considers her next words.

“Maybe..I could take a look?” You raise an eyebrows as you fully comprehend her words, it does raise an interest in you but you're apprehensive as you think of the possibility of your defenses hurting Jean if she tries to get through what the Professor can't get pass himself, you open your mouth to voice your worries but she beats you to it.

“I'll back out if things go awry, I just want to see if I can see anything the Professor can't.”

You weakly smile, nodding. “Okay, but please don't push yourself. I don't want you to get hurt.” She nods quickly as she standing in front of you, you lower your head slightly as she places her fingers on your temples and you know that it wasn't necessary for her to do so but she's more than likely using you as an anchor to reality to pull her back from the complexity of your mind if need be, your sure she'll have to pull back since your fortification is aggressive in nature.

“Take a deep breath and relax.” You do exactly that, you try your hardest to keep all distractions at bay and open your mind up to her to the fullest extent but you know there's only so much you could do before she hits that blockade.

You can feel her fingers twitch on your temples and you're aware of where exactly she is in your head as she looks for any sign of frailty or low security but your mind holds up against her, as she looks through the memories available to her trying to decipher where it all went wrong, she gasps in sudden surprise as your defenses grab hold of her, the pain radiating to her own head in bursts.

“Jean! You need to let go.” You hurriedly say, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to will your mind into not retaliating against Jean. “I'm trying..” Her voice strains as she tries pulling back, her chest heaving in panic, with all the strength you can muster, you take hold of the connection between you two forcefully pushing her out of your head, your sudden action causing you to fall to your knees as you breath heavily, the sweat on your brow now noticeable to you as you panically look back up at Jean.

She's already looking down at you, her breathing slowly returning to normal as her hand is gripping the side of her head. “Are you okay?” You asked worriedly, she nods hastily as she nervously smiles in response as she extends her hand to you, you grab it exasperatedly, feeling the adrenaline rushing out of you just quickly as it came in.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, Jeanie.” You laugh breathlessly. She shakes her head, mirroring your laugh. “I nearly had one myself. Your mind is on high alert. I felt the pain when it grabbed hold of me.. But it immediately stopped when you broke the connection..”

You sigh as you wipe your brow “Now you know what it's like being in my mind.” Her smile’s incredulous as she places her hand on your shoulder, and you know for a fact that she's shaken just by how strong the security of your psyche truly is. “That's one hell of a mind then.”

○●○●○●○●○●○

As you walk to your room, you're filled with thoughts of what just happened. Going into your head is not only dangerous for you but others too, so what could you possibly do?

If you don't do anything then your mutation will stay dormant, you’ll be left with little to no access to the full scope of your powers and though you know the others will never think lesser of you if that was the case but it's not how you want to go on, whatever happened to you it’s taken a part of your identity and you refuse to give up on that half of you.

The chatter of the buzzing students pulls you from your identity crisis as you look up, smiling and waving back to the students who happily crowd around you, their voices intermingling as they whine and express their want for your classes again.

“Hey hey, you know what's up, I'll be back and teaching all of you soon again.” The statement only seems to pull unanimous whining as they complain of how they are forced to do textbook work instead of the interactive lessons you've been adamant about doing with your students.

“Who’s your sub?” You smile, crossing your arms. Rogue, who has been standing to the side of you, laughs as she crosses her own arms. “Who do you think?” Rogue is a part of the class you teach for the older kids in the school.

Your class is an extracurricular class that helps the students understand their powers with more in-depth understanding and ways to use their mutation for more than what they think is the only option for them.

Gives them more purpose to life and a safe way to explore their powers in a more logical sense. Your class is a fan favorite since you tend to stray away from all the boring textbook assignments and come up with interactive lessons and projects.

“Hmm, why do I have a feeling, Mr. Howlett has been covering for me?” The groans and laughs uproar from the students, and Rogue shakes her head, her smile only growing as she looks at you.

“History is definitely more in his depth, Ms.Anamnesis.” You try to cover your laugh with your hand as the students complain of how boring it's been, but you hold your hands out, quieting your teenage crowd.

“Hey, cut him some slack! I know I'm more your vibe, but just endure just a little longer. Now get to your last period before you're late!” You place your hand on Rogue’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly as you smile at her.

“Don’t let them bully him too much, okay?” She puffs out air in amusement as she waves her hand. “As if they would do it to his face, that old man scowl intimidates everyone.” She giggles before she turns to her last period. “See ya later!”

You smile widely, waving back to her. You’ve always enjoyed Rogue’s company and your proud of how far along she's come since the first day she arrived to the mansion, you’ve always put yourself in a position to welcome the new children who come to the school, always quick to comfort and get to know the child so they could have some sort of connection while getting adjusted to their new environment.

You also treated Logan the way you would with a new student, allowing him the space he needed but always available when needed, you were not afraid of rejection or the hard exterior that protects the vulnerability that lays below that, he was rugged and harsh but your kind and nonchalant behavior got through to him and soon enough he became comfortable and open to your reasoning, you would never tell him outright that your method was a well used tactic, you’d feel he'd take offense despite it working well with him.

Speaking of the devil, he turns the corner with his all too well favorite brand of cigar hanging out of his mouth, the smoke haloing around his head. “You know how the Professor feels about you smoking inside during school hours.” You smirk, tilting your head, his eyes snap in your direction as he takes the cigar out of his mouth.

“Well, it’s a good thing he's not around then.” He smirks in response as he steps in front of you teasingly, blowing the smoke up above your head. Moments like this makes you question whether Logan puts up the brooding front of the others intentionally because he tends to fall into this laid back and smug air whenever your within his sights, your convinced that if he could he would push every button of yours possible just so he could have an excuse to be in your space.

His moodiness is few and far between the two of you as he much prefers your small glares and witty comebacks. “I shouldn't be surprised when it comes to the likes of you.” You roll your eyes as you flick your wrist, the cigar slipping from his fingers and up into the air far from his reach as you take advantage of your telekinesis to smugly stare back at him, his disgruntled grunt a sound so pleasing to your ears.

“Always one to put me in my place, huh princess?” You shrug, twirling your fingers as the cigar in the air imitates the movement. He looks to you with a raised eyebrow. “Who else will if I don't?” He smacks his lips, tilting his head as he heavily places his hand on top of your head causing you to lose focus and the cigar to fall down right into his palm as he puts it out with his closed hand.

“Wouldn't have it any other way, darlin.” He practically purrs in your direction as he leans closer into your space, you just push your open palm against his cheek pushing him away as if you were annoyed but you wouldn't admit that you enjoyed him most when he acted this way, but it does little to deter him as you can feel his amused expression against your hand.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He pulls back chuckling, as he runs his hand through his hair, the little tufts cause a smile to pull over your lips amusingly. “Anyway, we're training today in the danger room, so get ready.” He's quick to lightly flick your forehead playfully as you groan at the mention of training.

You and Logan aren't paired as often as he would like when it came to hand to hand combat training, it happened very rarely so he's always on top of the schedule for those times and although you did enjoy training with Logan, it could be pretty brutal when it came to the soreness of your bones the day after, it was an upside that Logan looked pretty good in those tight compression shirts you convinced him to start wearing for training.

“Ugh, fine.” Your lackluster response brings a glint to his eye as he ruffles your hair. “Don't be late.” You mockingly mimic him as you sludge your way to your room to get ready, mentally preparing yourself to get thrown around the danger room in the least sexy way possible.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○

You breathe in deeply, stretching your neck side to side loosening you limbs in front of the steel door to the danger room, you know you could do all this inside but you couldn't help but stall knowing that Logan was waiting for you inside, he more than likely knew you were outside anyway due to his enhanced hearing but you really didn't care as you try to calm your beating heart.

This isn't anything new to you but it is without the full scope of your powers at your benefit, it often gives you an upper hand knowing that you have a multitude of options when it came to both of your powers but your basically down to only 1 option with a small interval of time with the other, you'll have to make due.

As you tap the screen opening the door, you see Logan stretching his arm above him, the other hand gripping his right elbow as he tugged in the opposite direction, the movement causing his tight black shirt to ride up giving you an eyeful of his sculpted abdomen and the happy trail leading down into his sweatpants, you quickly look away coughing into your closed fist.

“Glad you finally made it. I thought you were gonna run off again.” His small grin is telling that he knew you were stalling, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes as you threw your towel to the side before cracking your knuckles, relieving the tension in between your fingers.

“Uh-huh, as if that would ever happen.” As you crouch touching your fingers to your toes, he stands cracking his neck, his head flicking to the side, his eyes hooded as he towers over you. “Let's see what you got today, Kid.” You jump up, flicking your finger under his chin as you turn your body away from him as you walk to mats, hyping yourself up.

“Sure thing, ol’ man.” You just know that he's taken slight offense to that as he makes his way to the opposite end to you, the narrow of his eyes and the slight condescending smirk making you feel like your heart may have skipped a beat, he's probably gonna make you eat your words, you don't know if you should be scared or excited.

“We'll see who's old by the end of this.” The two of you position yourself, the tension of the air shifting entirely as you stare the other down. “We'll see.”

The stare down was intense as you observed the other's stance, it was almost like a game of chicken, challenging the other to make the first move but Logan isn't known for his patience as he rushes forward toward you.

You run forward with your hands clenched and when your just within reach of him, you skid to the side completely springing yourself into the air, your hands pushing downwards using your telekinesis to propel your body up and over him as you shift your body around last second kicking him in the back sending him stumbling foward, he's quick to turn grabbing your wrist and swinging your body in the opposite direction.

You crouch, your fingernails digging into the mat to prevent yourself from slamming into the wall behind you. Logan surges forward grabbing you by the waist and allowing his body to fall forward in a attempt of slamming you into the ground but your open palms allow your mutation to stop the momentum as you knee his shoulder, freeing yourself from his tight grip. you twist yourself, lifting your leg up and over his head and onto his opposite shoulder, his head now between your thighs and completely under your mercy as he tries tossing you off.

You slap your hands over his ears, your mind allowing you to emit a high pitched static in his ears causing him to yell out and a feral growl rips from his chest as he manages to toss you off of him, you skid a foot away and before you know it he's on all fours, using his claws to propel him forward towards you and as you try to create distance between the two of you, it's no use as he manages to pin you down.

Your deep breaths intermingle with his as he has you pinned between his body and the training mat and as he gazes down at you, his eyes shift from your eyes and lips, his mouth slightly agape displaying his sharp canines. His smirk finds its way back on his lips as he pushes your hair from your face, his eyebrow raising teasingly.

“Who's old now?” You huff, suddenly raising both your legs pushing into his stomach and kicking him off of you and jumping up, back into position as you motion a ‘come hither’ to him with your fingers. “We're not finished yet, ol’ man.”

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

There it is, the ache and soreness settling in your bones that you've been dreading the day after. You knew that training with Logan was gonna become a competition of who was gonna tap out first, it only ended on a agreed truce since you two refused to give in for hours and others needed the danger room for their own training sessions, the mat was in dire need of replacement from all the claw marks that shredded through it.

As you lay in your bed trying to stretch out the pains in your body, you hold your hand out in front of you, your big mission is just on the horizon and all you have is your telekinetic power to make up for it. Dragging yourself out of bed for the recap meeting with the Professor was excruciating in all ways to be expected.

The grunt and groans only increasing as you heard multiple knocks on your door, one is fast and is intentionally rhythmic and the other loud and with an all familiar annoying edge to it, your door swings open with swiftly as your met with the faces of your beloved friends who love getting on your nerves.

Logan and Ororo smile at your laid out figure sprawled out on the floor, your whines and groans only egging them on to annoy you even more.

“Get her, Logan.” He salutes Ororo as he’s quick to scoop you up on his shoulder, your yells echoing down the hallways as you kick your feet and hit his back. It doesn't faze him at all. “Quiet down, girl.” His hand smacks down hard on your ass, your indignant scream loud as you smack the back of his head in retaliation. “You asshole! Put me down!”

As he strides down to the lower floors, you all pass by Scott, and he’s not even surprised by the commotion as his head turns slowly following after your movements before sighing, shaking his head.

“Logan, can you stop roughhousing her.” Scott follows after while you yell in agreement, kicking your legs. “yeah, you brute!” He chuckles as the hidden door to the elevator opens only, then he puts you down.

“You like it.” You scoff before turning to Ororo with a scowl. “I can’t believe you let him treat me this way.” She pulls your arm stepping into the elevator, a grin on her lips as she innocently lays her head on your shoulder, fluttering her lashes at you. “There’s only so much I can do, sweetness.”

You roll your eyes as you pull Logan by the front of his shirt into the lift. He stumbles in his arm, stretched out, caging you between him and the wall as he grins slyly at you. “Hey.” You're quick to flick your wrist, causing him to be pushed into the side of the elevator. “Move, you dog. Scott, get in." Scott is lowly laughing into his fist, clearing his throat, but the smirk is obvious as day on his face as Logan scowls at him. “Let's hurry up before we're late.”

○●○●○●○●○●○●

The atmosphere is serious as you go over the details of the mission. You're up against the Acolytes, and you are to retrieve their documents for their next plan to exterminate the human race once again. They have resorted to taking in innocent mutant children, manipulating them into thinking that in order to have a safer life, they'll have to take on humans.

Your task in this mission is to defend against the enemy mutants outside the compound along with Logan, Scott, and Colossus while Jean, Storm, and Rogue make way into the compound to get to the documents and rescue the mutant children.

You are to fight until the government can step in and arrest the enemy mutants, or at least until you have the desired results, then can you retreat.

“We are fighting against those who have turned their back on humanity. Be on look out for Magneto,” You can feel the irritation building in your chest, the twitch in your brow grabbing Logan's attention as he’s leaned against the wall next to you, his hip bumping into yours. You nod in acknowledgment, bumping him back.

“Remember we fight as a team, stick together.” Scott's voice is tense with encouragement. He looks around the room, a way of reassuring you all of your purpose to this team. “Let’s suit up.”

Sharp and short, it’s showtime.

○●○●○●○●○●○

It's times like this that wrings your insides with unmeasurable nerves as you approach the designated spot of operations, the black bird within the cover of Storm’s dense clouds.

You worry for the safety of your team and your ability to protect them from the uncertainties that hover over you all, the air thick with unspoken apprehension, the tangibility of the situation heavy on your shoulders.

You outstretch your hands out as you shroud the teams minds with comforting images taking advantage of the easiness of manipulating deja vu, easing the tension by triggering that sense of familiarity.

You felt like you were choking on the on edge atmosphere, so when there’s a unanimous sigh released, you felt your taut shoulders drop with relief.

“Approaching at approximately 0500.” Storm voices as she switches notches on the panel in front of her, you sigh deeply cracking your knuckles releasing the tension from your hands, Logan mimics you from the side of you and as you look at him, he shoots you a reassuring smile.

“Relax, Princess. I got your back.” You smile back, your hand reaching towards him, he’s quick to envelope your hand with his, the hold anchoring the both of you.

“Right back at ya, Wolvie.”

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Panic struck through you as you watched the chaos ensued around you, the wind blistering your skin from the sudden snow storm Ororo commenced.

You blocked the path that the others took into the compound throwing a huge pine tree in the direction of the enemy mutants, pushing them far back into the battleground where Logan and Scott parlayed their attacks.

Colossus was occupied with Juggernaut as their fight tore down half the forest. As you turned to back up the others, you felt a startling pain take hold of your head gripping your head as you looked at the source, a woman’s hand held out as she attempted to mind control you, her face contorted with strained effort.

Your teeth grinded harshly, you eyes narrowing as you allowed the defenses in your mind to strike her with precise aggression, she screams out in pain, her hands grabbing her head, shaking her head incessantly

You jump up and rush towards her. You towered over her hunched over figure, cupping your hands over her ears and emitting a high-frequency ring into her ears immediately knocking her out. You took off towards Logan and Scott, blocking the flame wall from Pyro with your telekinesis, protecting Scott from getting caged in, you pushed back against him.

“Scott, shoot the headlight!” Scott nods as he laser the headlight over Pyro, causing it to topple over him immediately, ceasing his fire show. You quickly tear off his wrist, contraping tossing it behind you.

“Where’s Logan?” You ask Scott as he looks around in search for the dark haired man, it wasn’t long before the two of you heard his rage filled scream from the crumbling compound, you two ran in that direction.

“You need to look for the others, take them to safety!” You yell to Scott, he quickly nods as he heads in the opposite direction where Jean and Ororo last was, you hoped that they all made it out safely.

Your blood ran cold as you took in the scene before you, Magneto had Logan pinned to the wall, your fingers tingle with the pulse of your power, your breathing heavy as you stalk closer the lights flickering with energy building around you.

Your anger boils over as Magneto sends Logan flying through the walls causing the metal ceiling to pin him down, his lack of movement causing an angry yell to pull from you as you lift all objects around you, the static of your powers sizzling in the air and catching Magneto’s attention.

“Oh Anamnesis, how nice of you to join us,” You toss everything in your path in his direction, your hair standing from the overwhelming power stemming from your body. “I see someone’s been practicing.” He chuckles as he blocks the debris. You clench your teeth as you levitate off the ground, and the compound shakes all around you.

“It’s too bad the same can’t be said for Logan.” All the windows crash in as you throw your hand in his direction. “SHUT UP!” He tries to block but the glass shards slice through his skin, a expression akin to panic crosses his face, you can feel the immense rage building in your body as you continue to power up your mutation and you ignore the growing pain in your head until you feel a snap in your mind.

Everything rushing back to you as the blockades and defenses deteriorate, the memories and the anguish pulling you into the depths blinding you to everything as your scream echos to unbelievable distances, your mind pushing out the deafening sound waves and illusions right before Magneto’s eyes.

He backs away as the walls and roof top of the compound comes crumbling down. He retreats before he can be pulled down with the building.

You hear the Professor’s voice in your mind, pushing past the anger and anguish that you're drowning in. “Come back to us, don't let it control you.”

Your powers slowly falter as you close your eyes allowing the Professor's voice to talk you down, you allow your body to fall to the ground as the tears well up in your eyes before your head snaps up.

“Logan!” You run over to him, lifting the debris off him. He’s still as you try to wake him. “Professor! Logan’s not waking!” You sob, the panic enveloping you as you bring him to your chest.

“Please Lo! Wake up!” You shake him, but it’s no use as you don't even see a flutter of his eyes. “I can't seem to get through to his mind,” the Professor’s voice echoes in your mind, your eyebrows furrow as your teardrops land on Logan's cheek.

“Something seems to be blocking me.” You sob as you bring your forehead down on his, your hand going over his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Logan,” you whimper, undoing all the blockades and delusions from his mind. “It was all my fault. It was me.” You caress his cheek as you cry in silence before the Professor speaks up.

“It's done with, worry, not child,” You squeeze your eyes shut in shame as you hear the acknowledgment in his voice. “He’s gonna be okay.” You can only hope so.

○●○○●○●○●○●○●○

The familiar smell of the antiseptic smell in the infirmary fills your senses as you sit by the table that Logan's laying on, you have refused to move an inch in fear of not being there when he wakes.

The steady beep on the heart monitor doing little to settle your nerves, he's gotten so many head injuries that you worry he may never wake up, you've checked him over a hundred times already, every cut and bruise long since healed by his impressive regeneration.

Jean has been constantly reassuring you that he'll pull through, worriedly looking over to you each time she steps into the lab but she knows better than to try and pull you away from him during a time like this, you and Logan are two of the most hard headed people there ever was to walk this earth when it comes to each other.

You gently caress your fingers over his knuckles, your eyes red and hazy as you think back on everything that you blocked out of your memory, the long nights spent in each other's arms, the warmth of his body on yours, the way he tasted right on the tip of your tongue.

You sigh deeply, you truly are way out of your depth, it was dumb decision after dumb decision, you could've killed yourself and possibly mess with Logan’s mind irreparably, the pain of not being his truly was a big pill to swallow, the love you have for him may have been the death of you otherwise.

Your head snaps up when you hear the groans escaping Logan, his body twitching and his face scrunched with an indiscernible expression. “Logan? Can you hear me, love?” Your only met with a groan before he springs up, the all too familiar ‘snikt’ of his claws reverberating off the infirmary walls, his head turns in a panic before his hazel eyes land on you, his voice breathy and with a relieved edge when he says your name as he jumps off the table enveloping you into his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his face is buried into the crook of your neck as he lifts you off the floor. “Oh God, Logan. I was so scared.” His grip tightens as he refuses to release you from his hold. “You're all alright?” His voice is muffled as he asks the question, you nod feeling the tears already welling up in your eyes. “Yes, everyone's safe.” He sighs deeply as pulls back to look you in the face, past the relief that everyone is okay, there's the anguish you've been dreading, everything is intact in his mind and you're confronted with the aftermath of your actions.

“Why?” The question comes out choked as he tries to understand your actions, his eyes glassy but stubbornly refuses to shed any tears. “I'm so sorry, I never intended to hurt you.” He pulls away from you as he looks to the door, his body desperate to escape the pain taking hold of him, he feels all the emotions gripping his subconscious as all the memories of you return to their rightful place. “I trusted you, you promised..”

Your hand reaches out, but you drop your hand out of defeat. There is no way of excusing your actions, and you hurt him while trying to protect what was left of your aching heart. “It hurt too much, I just wanted it to stop..” he turns to you, the furrow of his brow making your heart hurt wildly at the thought of him being angry at you, but you deserved his anger, his resentment.

His chest heaves as he looks you over, his mind trying to conjure anything up to help him fully access the situation, to somehow alienate his emotions from you. His hand reaches out towards your face as if he was gonna brush back the strand of hair in front of your eyes before he snaps his hand back and storms out the door, your tears trailing down your face in silent resignation.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○

That night, you laid in your bed as sleep evaded you. You stared up at the ceiling of your room. It was like everything was coming back to you with vengeance, biting at every surface on your body as punishment.

The empty feeling that consumes you is painful and dull at the same time, you try to hold back the tears but they slip out of your eyes with no effort, sticky and hot against your skin as your eyes stare with an empty gaze into the darkness. You would be haunted by this feeling. You would never forgive yourself for the harm that you caused.

You wouldn't forgive yourself for breaking your promise to Logan. Your thoughts stall as you hear a knock at your door. You groggily pull yourself from your bed as you wipe your eyes harshly, the puffiness of your eyes causing you to sigh. You pull your oversized flannel that you stole from Logan down to cover the top of your thighs as you open your bedroom door.

Logan lurches forward, kissing you roughly as he pushes his way into your room. You yelp in surprise, but your eyes flutter close as he pulls your body into his before he pulls back “You fucked up bad but God, I love you.”

He kicks the door closed with his foot as he lifts you up and you immediately wrap your legs around his waist. “I'm so sorry, Logan.” You whisper into his lips as he trails down your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Apologize by being mine and only mine, doll.” His tone is aggressive with want as your hands run through his dark hair, his dog tags clinking in the otherwise quiet room. “I love you, Logan.” He's quick to kiss you again as he sits on the edge of your bed, his hand gripping the back of your neck.

“I love you too, this whole damn time.” His voice is genuine, and his eyes tell you everything you need to know. This whole time, it wasn't just casual. It was everything.

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perkqularkreashions · 1 year ago

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Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader

Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.

It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle.

It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.

You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”

You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?”

You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”

You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.

You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.

Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood.

“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.

“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view.

“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent.

“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said.

“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion.

“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke.

Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again.

“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you.

“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of.

“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”

Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike.

Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont. The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.

“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”

Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him.

Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him. Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door.

Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.

“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed.

“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?”

“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him.

“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.

Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled.

The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.

“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.

“Yes?”

Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.

Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control.

He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice.

“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.

“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”

“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”

“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence.

“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor.

“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples.

“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib.

As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.

A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”

She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son.

Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you.

“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her.

“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically.

“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her.

“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”

“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed.

“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!”

“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat.

“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso.

Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under. She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption.

He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own.

Goodbye Peach Sallinger.

#imagines #imagine #request #requested #joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg #peach salinger #you imagine

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shanklin · 4 months ago

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Okay but the au of an au where Stanley has to raise Shermie is tragic, because what if he accidentally passes down tragedy cycle of selfishness or what if he does the opposite and has Shermie overindulge of not feeling selfless.

Because Stan deep down what he is feeling is awful he can’t shake guilt when he is just trying to survive, he doesn’t want Shermie to feel the same way, he can’t have Shermie feel the same way.

If he has to teach Shermie to be selfish to survive then he will. Because in a dog eat dog world, Stan will make sure his baby brother won’t be eaten.

Stan is a selfish monster for murdering his father, not just his but Shermie’s as well. But he couldn’t just stand by. He’s a selfish monster for stealing, but everything he’s buying is going towards Shermie.

He will do what takes to not only survive, but to have Shermie stay with him. Stan no longer has anyone in his life but Shermie and he’s be damned if he lets any other adult come near his baby brother.

He holds Shermie with one arm and a knife in the other, prepared to face the cruel world set out to harm them.

The domino effect I feel like if Stan raised Shermie is that maybe Shermie ends up seeing Stan as a parental figure and grows up not being able to trust adults. Stan and Shermie end up having a very very codependent bond, Shermie has to grow up worrying about Stan sacrificing too much of himself.

Because he notices how his big brother always feeds Shermie first.

Maybe if Soos comes along in this au, he has to work twice as hard to get the boys to trust him.

Also Ford feels a strange sense of feeling left out observing Stan and Shermie because Shermie has no clue who Ford even is. And Stan and Shermie share a closer bond currently than what He and Stan have now.

And it’s heartbreaking because Ford doesn’t know how to communicate that he wants to help, that he misses his twin and wants to get to know his little brother but Stan is keeping that distance because Stan is unable to trust as easily anymore.

And Shermie follows in Stan’s example.

Stan: Step away from Shermie, take ten paces back

Mabel: Pumpkin, —

Stan: I SAID TEN PACES BACK

Mabel: Stan, I just want to help. You can’t raise a child on your own.

Stan: *his hands shaking but he fires right next to Mabel’s feet, she finally takes a few steps back*

Shermie: *is behind Stanley, Stanley acts as a wall, as Shermie is grasping onto Stan’s shirt*

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Singsong voice

Oh Aaanon~

That’s not an ask, Anon. That’s a short outline for a nice long fiiiiic

Drop the fic and your ao3 Aaaanon. You know you want to~

No pressure of course. Looks at the next ask hmmm

Anyways I love it! It would be so horrible and codependent, as you said.

Letting Stan, who is still a kid himself, raise another kid. A baby. [I imagine Shermie to be a baby when Caryn left or very young toddler.]

Stan gets to be stressed 24/7, it’s great!

He’s got not time to think about his own needs so at least he can’t do anything wrong in that regard…though wait!

Now I’m thinking of Stan just wanting a little moment to himself. Maybe go outside to the beach for just a couple of minutes. Just to breathe. Maybe even play a little bit by himself, if he dares to take that long. He loves Shermie but all those baby games are terribly boring.

He leaves Shermie alone with their dad. It should be fine, right? Filbrick hasn’t shown any interest in Shermie whatsoever or any sort indication that he would hurt him. That type of stuff is reserved for Stan alone.

And hey, Stan is right! Filbrick doesn’t do anything to Shermie, but he also doesn’t pay attention...taking care of children is a woman's job. Or well now it's Stanley’s.

In the 15 minutes Stan is gone, Shermie almost chokes on a big coin he found on the floor and Filbrick ends up having to call an ambulance.

It’s all Stan's fault. Shermie is his responsibility and he just left him there to die.

Now Stan has panic attacks every time Shermie leaves his line of vision 👍

And since no one bothers to help Stan deal with his trauma the panic just gets worse and worse over the next couple of years.

If Stan had his way he'd never let go of Shermie's hand ever again. The contact is the only thinh able to calm Stan's heart.

As for Shermie? He’s a toddler. They’re wired to be selfish little creatures by nature. Empathy only comes with age.

He doesn’t know anything other than Stan being always there, so I guess the little guy would end up being just as scared without Stan around to hold his hand. He’s never gonna learn any independance at this rate 🥲

Hmm something something, about Stan running away with Shermie, but they get caught and separated, so Stan is having just one quiet panic attack after another.

Stan gets shipped off the Gravity Falls, but it takes another two weeks or so until Shermie is allowed into their custody.

During that time Stan is completely on edge, irritable, rude, throws insults at them etc. He's a caged animal with no where to run, because he has to wait for Shermie :')

And everyone is like 😨

My brother/nephew is gone. There is nothing left of the boy we remember.

And then Shermie arrives and

That’s where their Stan went. He stayed with Shermie.

#Selfish Shellfish AU #ask #gravity falls #relativity falls #stanley pines #shermie pines #tw child abuse #im doing all the grabby hands towards you thing #i love ford being oh so jealous and feeling left out!!#heheh amd the thing is mabel is EXACTLY WHAT I NEED #its very delightful too me. overly protective stan #hes gonna bite everyone who gets too close to shermie #poor shermie only knows stan and not many others #hes gonna be so scared of everyone else #especially the adults :'(#poor baby

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101maverick · 1 year ago

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how would dick grayson react to his gf acting possessive towards him out of jealousy in front of a super villain flirting with him. sort of like the reader telling the villain “cut to the chase or I’ll cut your throat” while they’re interrogating the villain

A/n: Okkk we're going strong with the Dick asks! This one is very original :)) lemme see what I can do for u >:)

word count: 911

You, Me, and the Moonlight

Your eye twitches compulsively. You don't know if the sound that's itching to escape from your throat is an exasperated sigh or something suspiciously akin to a growl.

What was supposed to be a relatively normal patrol, with the usual shtick of stopping muggers and the occasional gang dispute, had quickly turned into you and Dick dealing with a Poison Ivy.

Thanks to one of Wayne Enterprises' new unreleased gadgets, a.k.a. one of Batman's new toys, the plant-maniac is currently tied up inside of the warehouse she had been planning on transforming into a home-base for her infesting plants.

Nightwing is currently interrogating her while you watch from the shadows of the rafters. Operating in the dark is always best in these kinds of situations, while dealing with this kind of people. Poison Ivy is notorious for her ability to hypnotise, so it's optimal that she find out of your presence only if need be.

Plus, her mind-control perfume has no hope of working on Nightwing while he's got his air-filtering mask on, and he strategically put the chair she's tied to in front of a mirror conveniently already present on the scene, to make sure to react readily to any attempts of escape.

Nightwing stands in front of her, still and stoic. Despite the lack of cape and the electric blue of his costume, years of being the Batman's sidekick are evident in how effective he is in the intimidation department. His voice is cold and authoritative as he questions the woman in front of him.

“Ivy. Who helped you get out of Arkham?”

Poison Ivy just giggles, responding to his looming stance by slightly tilting her head downwards to better bat her eyelashes at him, her voice sultry as she responds. “Can’t a woman do things by herself, Nightwing?”

From where you are perched, you can see the line of his back tense with well-concealed frustration. “I know you had help, Ivy, there’s no use denying that. Now I’ll ask again,” he leans forward, coming face to face with her, “Who helped you?”

You stalk your way over to a more advantageous view point, steps muffled and careful as you manoeuvre on the support beams. From your new position, you're able to make out the mischievous way her lips curl as she responds. "Let me out of these restraints and I'll tell you without a problem."

Another deflection. Dick's face is obscured by both the domino and the mask, but you can still read his mounting annoyance in the way his hand twitches at his side, a tell-tale sign he's refraining from clenching it into a fist.

Before he can respond, though, Poison Ivy speaks again.

"You've grown up to be such a handsome man, Nightwing, why don't you take that mask off so I can see you better? After all, we have quite the long history don't we?" And wow if you didn't want to bash her face in at the looks she was giving him before you sure as hell want to do so now.

You know it's a tactic meant to make Nightwing uncomfortable in the hopes of making him loose his footing, but you can't just stand aside and let this downright witch play her mind games however long she pleases.

Your boyfriend is quick to move his face away from your prisoner, taking a step back, and you choose that moment to drop down from the shadows of the warehouse roof right in front of her.

You land almost upright, and unsheathe a dagger from your side in one smooth motion as you turn to stare Ivy right in the face.

"Cut to the chase, Ivy. And don't even think of saying something like that again or I'll cut your throat, and you know I'm not bluffing." 634

Ivy's expression turns downright sour, and as she grumbles under her breath before reluctantly spouting off the needed information you feel vindictiveness making a home in your chest, and damn if that doesn't feel pleasant.

————————————

Being able to finally rest after a night of chasing, interrogating and arresting villains feels like heaven on earth, and as you flop down face-first on your bed you're extremely grateful for the fact you and Dick decided to splurge on your mattress.

A smile upturns the corners of your lips as you feel your boyfriend lay beside you, and you stay pliant sa you let him snake an arm around your waist and roll you over to face him.

His breath fans over your face as he whispers in the moonlit silence of your shared bedroom. "Thanks for earlier, with Ivy."

At that, you open your eyes and find him staring right into yours.

"Can't let a creep talk to my man like that, can I?" You let out a low chuckle.

In the low light, it takes a while for your eyesight to adjust, and his features slowly come into focus.

As you keep holding each others' gaze, you drop the humour.

"I'll always protect you, Dick," You whisper while bringing your hand up to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. His eyes sparkle in the almost-dark of the Blüdhaven night. "Just like you protect me."

You wonder how many vulnerable moments just you, Dick and the moonlight are witness to.

Laying there, each of you in the other's gentle embrace, you hope there'll be many more.

————————————

A/n: This was fun! I can't decide if it feels a bit rushed, but I'm still happy with the result :) Fun fact! While I was working on this ask I got another ask that's basically the reverse of this lol, where it's Dick getting jealous because a villain is flirting with reader😂 If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing fanfiction #dc #dc dick grayson #dc nightwing #maverick’s prompt fill

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oval3000 · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 2

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, (force) smut. Abduction, violence, rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- ish idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

-------------------------------------------------------

All you can hear is the sound of smooth chalk, taping, and noises against the blackboard. Students type their notes on their computers, some on their notebooks, and a few more on their phones watching videos or going through the latest gossip of celebrities. Nanami talked through while scribbling down the formula of the financial topic they were learning. A few listened, so little didn't. You on the other hand, you were focused, more focused than all the other students. It felt like Nanami was only talking to you as if you were the only one in the classroom. Obviously, to you, it didn't feel that way, but to Nanami, it was. You were the one to actually raise their hand when Nanami asked a question wanting an answer from his students to see if they were even paying attention. Of course, you were paying attention, you answered his question and to his surprise, you got it right.

That is how it was for weeks. You would always show up to class on time. You will always pay attention to him. You would always answer his questions. If he wanted to, you would be the only one in the room. He wanted your attention. He would always stare at you when he was teaching as if you were his only student. You never noticed since your gaze would always be on the board. Call it a domino effect or a chain reaction, either way, your enthusiasm was a huge wave to some of his students. First, it was you now it was three more students who would raise their hands. Nanami should be happy about this. This is something that he complained about, hoping to change. Why is he disappointed? He should be thankful that his troublesome class is changing. So, why is he so...annoyed that other people are getting his attention? It should just be you. Right? Just you.

He would go home, grading their work, and not shocking yours would always be 100%. You were his perfect student.

The joy that he thought he would get for being a teacher finally sparked. He finally realized that this was his award for being the best intellect civilian. Working hard to get good grades. Working hard to be the best teacher he could be. He works hard to care for his students when they don't even care for themselves. This was his award for being good, he thought. You were never trouble for him. You never had him scold you for being on your phone. You were just perfect. For him, of course.

He always wondered if it was just the two of you. How would things go? Would he enjoy it? or would he be annoyed? Would he enjoy it if you leaned over his desk, showing your cleavage? or would he roll his eyes and treat you the same as the others? So many questions lead to one thing and then to the other. Different topics jumping and leaving left and right all about you. Just you. Would you freak out if he told all his curious questions that make him seem like a pervert? Would you like his cock inside your pussy? Would you like it if he covered your eyes with his tie just for him to do all kinds of things to you? He would teach you to love it. After all, you are his perfect little student.

Weeks with all his thoughts that are consuming him. Weeks of seeing you, sitting there, so perfectly, listening. Weeks of him falling so deep in love with you. Weeks of wanting more and more, not just you being a sweet student. More of you and him. He wants you to be him alone. How can he do that? How can he solve this question of his? How can he get you to see him alone so that he can get close to you and get a glimpse of your aura up close? He is the teacher. He does have some sort of power to make this happen. So why not take advantage of it? Is it not like he's doing something wrong? He's the teacher. His job is to lead these students to success. So can you blame him when the testing day arrives and he makes completely new test questions just for you. Questions that are advanced to what he had taught you. Questions that you would get 100% wrong. No, he didn't do anything wrong, in fact, he was challenging you, he realized that you would understand the subject easily so you can't blame him, he was making you better.

When you received the test, you were completely puzzled. You were confused and you didn't really understand all the questions that were in the test. You honestly thought that he gave you the wrong one. but who are you question a teacher. Nanami saw how you were not getting things. He saw the face you made while trying to answer each little question he gave you. He knew how to keep a composed face, but watching you struggle a bit made him smile. You didn't have high hopes for the results so when he handed you the test back with a big fat 0 on it, you weren't shocked. You flipped through the test and saw the bottom of the last page with the words "See me after class" in big red ink.

When the bell rang and all the students left, it was just you and him. You're shy, there is no doubt about that, and is not like you were intimidated by Mr. Nanami. Is just that he was a bit hard for you to read. Very strict with his job. Never made small talk or light jokes in class. Always right to business. You were quite nervous about what he was going to say. Were you the worst in his class? Did everybody else pass the hard test he gave out? You are so in the dark that you are tearing yourself down. He placed the copy of the test in his leather briefcase. You saw the way his muscles moved with small actions. The way his veins would pop a bit on his hands when he shoved papers in the case. The way his blond hair, slowly moved a bit of hair stands to his face. His glasses made it a bit hard for you to read his eyes, but you could tell that they were stoic like they always were. " Mr. Nanami." Man, he loved your voice, he could never get enough of it. He wanted to hear you more.

He moved his glasses closer to his eyes, moving them a bit up from the bridge of his nose, " You failed your test. How are you going to correct it miss (Y/N)?" He was always intrigued with philosophy, always having the usual Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates as the norm.

He walked closer to you, his broad chest getting near your face. His blue, dress, and shirt, barely hid his peck muscles. For a college teacher, he sure knows how to keep his body fit. "To correct my mistakes and learn from them, so that I can retake it and pass."

"Good girl. Lucky for you, I have afternoons free from 4:00pm to 5:00pm. Come by my office so I can show you what you miss. We'll do this until you understand." He gave you a small smirk, which caught you off guard, you had never seen him smile or show any other emotions. He gently caressed your right arm, pulling you a bit closer to him, you were nervous he might hear how loud your heart was beating. "Don't worry, I'll teach you until you get it right." Your smell alone was enough to turn him on. He could feel the hotness going down to his crotch feeling it a bit heavy. "That's all I need to say."

"Okay, I'll see you later. Bye, Mr. Nanami." You waved to him and left his class. Nanami went and shut the door. He sat down on his chair, unbuckling his pants. He dropped them to the floor, hearing the metal cling to the floors. He tugged his briefs to feel his cock harden even more. He slid his hands in and gave it a few light strokes, feeling the precum leaking out. He quickly pulled down his white briefs and felt his cock sprang out, slapping his lower stomach. When he had sexual relations with women, he never doubted himself when it came to performances. He didn't have to make so make movements to please a woman, just his cock itself can make a woman moan like crazy. He never heard any complaints from the women he would sleep with. They would always compliment on how big his cock was and how thick and girthy it is. He would see how women would struggle just to take him in their mouths. The tip of his cock was enough to make them climax.

He can't imagine how you might react. Would you freak out? Would you love it? Would you struggle to take him? Either way, he'll teach you to love it. His hands pumped harder with images of you floating in his mind. His grip kept getting tighter, feeling his precum coating his entire cock, some dripping down his balls. He felt his balls getting heavier, feeling them bounce from how hard and fast he pumped himself. A man like Nanami was never the type to be so perverted. To touch himself, he would just let it pass by taking a cold shower. When he would go to a bar and see a woman staring at him, seductively, he would take them to a hotel room. When he finished, he would put on his close and walk out, leaving the women there, naked. Whenever he would have these one-night stands, which don't happen often, he would never kiss them or talk to them. He would go in and get out when he finished. He never wants to complicate things whenever he does and it annoys him. Which is why he hardly has one-night stands. Nanami is just a simple man who does what he needs to live a normal life with no complications. However, things change.

You changed that for him. He never thought he would be the type of person who would jerk off to one of his students. Yet, he's there, jerking off. He felt his cum ready to squirt out. He knew he would make a mess, but he was so high of you that he didn't care, he wanted to cum and he did. He felt his thick, white, sperm coming out of the top of his penis. With big balls and a thick cock comes with a lot of thick, white, cum. He bit his lips to make him quiet. He felt his cheeks so hot that he was determined that they were flushed with red. His hair moved down almost covering his eyes. He quickly cleaned himself up knowing that he had class in a couple of minutes. He sighed at how things got a bit complicated for him. He knows that he will never get enough of you. He knows that you are on his mind all the time and nothing would change that. He knows that he will never get enough of you. You are driving him crazy. You are corrupting his mind and are starting to piss him off, but it's okay because he will always have a solution to solve his problems. A teacher is always prepared to teach and give lectures, so obviously he has this covered. It's child's play to not think things through. It's also child's play to just 'go with the flow'. If he does, then it will be chaos. He can't have chaos in his life. He just wants you, how hard can that be.

So is not actually crazy if he does a little planning. He's being responsible and solving all of his problems. He's doing the right thing, so it's not crazy that he bought a new house. He's not crazy to make a few 'renovations'. He's not crazy to smell you when he's close to you, pressing his body up against you while he's teaching you all the questions you got wrong. Don't get him started how hard you make him, so don't call him crazy when he has a boner while you're solving the question correctly. How hard he felt when you smiled at how proud you were for getting it correct. How he felt his hard boner almost ripping through his pants. Don't worry though, he makes sure that you don't see it yet. Is it crazy that when you leave, he felt his cum leaking out of his pants? For him, it's not. He's just solving his problems. He's being a good teacher to his good, perfect, student.

You are just so perfect.

For him.

You are perfect for him.

He finally found his light at the end of the tunnel.

He finally found his perfect wife. The perfect mother for his kids. He finally has it all that man dreams of.

Well, he needs to have you first, right?

He needs to make you his. Don't worry, you'll accept. You kinda don't have any other choice. Nanami already solved it for you, that's what a good man does. Solving the problems for his girl, is what they do, right?

eh, who cares he solved it so don't worry he'll teach you all about it soon enough.

@black-swan-blog27

@my-names-angel-but-im-not-one

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maudie-duan · 5 months ago

Text

A/N: This will be a six-part series told from the POV of Harry and Marlowe—Yes, this story is based on two High School lovers, but all the characters are of age. I always think it’s a fine line writing this kind of story, but I think they can also bring nostalgia for a time when the world as you know it was contained inside the walls of a building, where everything you felt was greater than the sum of our parts. Take it or leave it. I think we can all learn something from our younger selves. It’s a reminder that we always have more to learn, even when we think we have it all figured out.

Changes Masterlist<-

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, Language, Some Spicy Stuff, Teen Angst, Emotions, Body Shaming. (If I miss anything, let me know.)

I held a torch for a girl that I was too cowardly to keep. Hopelessly failing at every opportunity, knowingly letting her down, becoming too concerned about what everyone would think of me, and that was the problem

Me.

There were only five months left of school, and somehow, the teachers were still handing out detentions, trying to teach life lessons that no senior cared about or would take with them; at least for me, it was just another teacher wasting my time.

That’s what it was, I thought, until I walked into my biology class after school to serve my time.

When you think of pivotal moments in your life, how did they start? It’s usually some sort of happenstance, right? A domino effect—a changing, an undoing, a beginning to an end, or an end to a beginning. However you slice it, whether big or small, the moment always finds a way to reveal itself to you in time. It becomes this inevitable change. Change is always guaranteed because there will always be something in our lives that we can’t control—This was one of those moments—the moment I walked into that classroom, and there was Marlowe.

Trust me, I don’t want to be dramatic, but if there was any moment in my life where it just felt like the gods were on my side, it was this day, at this moment, and I knew it the second we locked eyes. I knew without a doubt that this would be my chance, the only opportunity I had left to shoot my shot because I’m telling you, at that moment, that torch for her never burned brighter.

I knew I couldn’t walk away from my high school career, knowing I had experienced everything I wanted, but somewhere in my mind, I knew I had never taken my chance with her, and I didn’t think I could live with that.

“Okay—” Mr. Bryant says, the biology teacher, who was already bulldozing right into his lecture, jumping in like Marlowe or I cared, considering we were the only ones serving time for something as petty as having our cellphones out in class, but now, I’m thinking it’s the best decision I’ve made in a while.

When Marlowe peeks at me from the corner of her eye, my heart skips a beat, knowing she’s aware of my presence in the room, and that alone makes it worth it.

“So starting now—you two fortunate souls will get to spend some quality time with me while I grade the many half-assed biology reports you students insist on turning in—” He blabs, and I’m barely paying attention.

Marlowe runs a hand through her long, dark hair, and I watch it cascade in shiny layers as she shifts it all to one side, giving me the perfect view of her profile. She straightens then, rolling her eyes at his words while he continues, “Just because this is your last few months as seniors doesn’t mean the rules and your work go out the window. This is still school, and in my class, you will abide by my rules—”.

“I just think at some point you need to make some kind of exception…” Marlowe interrupts.

“And why is that, Miss. Asher? What makes you the exception?

Marlowe shrugs and leans back, “I don’t think I’m an exception…” She tells him, enunciating that last word just enough that Bryant is crossing his arms, waiting for the bullshit because no matter what we say, he doesn’t care; for all we know, he’s getting off on this, and we are merely his entertainment for the day.

“The only reason I had my phone out was because I was trying to secure my ride for after school…that was literally it—and if you would have just read the text, you would have seen that—”

“A rule is a rule, Miss Asher—and when you get into the real world, you’ll understand—”

“Well, in the “real world”—” she says, bringing her hands up to make air quotations, “There are exceptions to the rules…and now I don’t even know how I’m getting home—”

Marlowe is crossing her arms now, matching his stance, and I’m honestly surprised to see this side of her; then again, I’ve never really gotten an opportunity because we haven’t had a class together since eighth grade—when my fascination with her began, but that’s another story for another day.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling inconvenienced, Miss Asher; now you know how I feel when I have to stop my lesson to take your phone away…”

She scoffs. “Oh my god, dude, it was the last three minutes of class…please just get the cell phone. You have my permission—let’s compare notes…”

“Miss Asher, unless you want to serve another day—which I can tell you don’t—let’s cut the pity party and just get to work…surely you have things to work on—and as for you, Mr. Styles, I would shift your focus elsewhere. It seems Miss Asher has enough going on here without your eyes beating down her neck…”

Marlowe’s head whips in my direction like she had forgotten I was here, and when her eyes roam over my face. It’s like she’s searching, like I’m a distant memory she’s locked away, and I hold my breath, waiting for her eyes to meet mine, then they do, and Marlowe doesn’t look away as fast as I thought she would. Instead, her gaze lingers for a second too long, and I don’t move a muscle. It takes Mr Bryant clearing his throat to snap me out of the trance Marlowe had me in, my whole body burning.

I watch the realization dawn on her face as she turns away, her brows knitting together in confusion, and then she’s running a hand through her hair again, blocking her face from view, a veil of hair creating a wall, and she doesn’t look at me again.

Those two hours consumed me, longing for her attention, a girl I knew I could never have. It was by far the most excruciating two hours I’ve spent in a long time. I’ve never been more aware of myself and another person at the same time.

There have been so many girls, and I don’t say that to brag, just to say that I could have my pick, but Marlowe is the one I’ve wanted—She was unattainable—and whether she knew it or not, I couldn’t say, she was the girl that most guys were tripping over themselves for, but she was taken, so it made my pining even more tragic.

Here I was, a tragic, hopeless mess, trying to scheme up a plan to get her alone, but lucky enough for me, I had two major factors on my side:

One was that she was possibly stranded; for some reason, she didn’t have her car, which meant she was relying on someone else. Two, when it was time to leave this classroom, we were likely the last few people in the building, and it was a long walk from here to the parking lot, so I would have to start plotting my plan of attack.

I would have to hope that the gods were on my side, and if they were, it would have to stay that way. She would need a ride, and I would be that guy.

So when Mr. Bryant handed me my phone and dismissed me, I was out the door, making my slow descent to the parking lot. Morphing into the noisy creep I was becoming. I took my time, and what would have been a fast pace became the tortoise and the hair: slow and steady wins the race. I found myself eavesdropping on her conversation as I formed and reformed my plan, taking in little bits of information at a time.

Marlowe was on the phone the second she stepped through the classroom door. I kept pace with her, staggering a reasonable distance behind, watching her frantic gestures, hoping that each frustrated wave of her hand meant that I was one step closer to getting my chance. She was clearly getting upset with the person on the other end, and if I had to guess, it was probably her boyfriend. I only caught fragments of her conversation, a few “Are you serious?” a very clear, “No, you never told me that,” and the hopeful line of “Just forget it.”

But then my plan goes south when she ducks into the girl’s restroom right before the parking lot, and I knew right then that I was at my fork in the road: I could either look like more of a creep and wait for her outside, but that would give me away, or I could get in my car and wait it out.

She would have to come through those doors, and I could wait in my car and take my chance if I saw her waiting.

Except that wasn’t the case, of course, because as soon as she stepped outside, she started walking toward—I couldn’t say—My only guess would be home, even though I had no clue where that was or how far of a walk that would be. I knew what I had to do. Now, I would look like a total creep when I drove up next to her; my only saving grace was that it was growing dark outside and getting really cold, too cold to be walking in the thin sweater she had on.

So, in my mind, I did what I had to do, and when I drove up next to her, she didn’t even notice, “Hey, do you need a ride?” I asked while rolling my window down.

I don’t think it registered at first; she barely glanced my way but soon did a double take when she realized it was me asking, “It’s kind of cold out,” I add, putting my car in park.

She stops, hesitant at first, her body shifting away like maybe she should keep walking, her brows furrowed in confusion like why are you talking to me, and for a split second, I, too, am second-guessing myself because maybe this is weird since we’ve not shared a single word since Jr. High.

“Are you asking me if I need a ride?” she questioned, puzzled, shaking her head curiously. Then, as the wind picked up, she wrapped her sweater around her body. For some reason, I got out of the car, leaving it running; this seemed more personable in my brain. In my head, I thought a dude with an arm hanging out of the window looked more suspicious, but maybe I was wrong.

Marlowe stiffens at the gesture, taking a reluctant step back just enough that I stop in my tracks, leaving a comfortable distance between us. It feels like I’m coaxing a cat; everything about her posture feels protective, which makes me sad. I could take a million guesses as to why, and I think I know—I thought whatever happened between us that day in middle school would have passed, but I can see that it hasn’t because she’s giving me that same look, waiting for the blow of rejection she never deserved, not then, and not now.

“I heard you tell Mr. Bryant you didn’t have a ride…I don’t know. I just figured I would ask…” I tell her.

She gives me a silent nod, eyes surveying my face, then looks around like she’s looking for anyone else—anyone else that could help her, anyone but me, at least that’s what it feels like, and I sense the slow, steep of rejection, mounting up my spine. It would be fair, but I don’t want it, not from her, not when it seems like she’s a million miles away from the person she was before; so many changes she’s endured, and maybe I’ve changed just enough to bridge the galaxy that has been stretching out between us for years.

And again, I’m not saying there hasn’t been opportunity after opportunity—whether it was us sharing a passing glance in the hallway or me shooting her a brave smile at a party we both happened to be at, there have been many chances—but it never changed anything—I was never the random person she would make conversation with, even in a small circle of mutual friends; it was always her eyes darting around to everyone else but me.

I guess that’s its own rejection within itself.

“Umm—” she says, “Are you sure?”

“Positive—” I quip, a little too excited, and this catches her off-guard.

And when she murmurs, “Okay…” still skeptical, I shove my hands in my pocket, trying to relax my face and wait for her move.

When she takes the first step, I casually stroll to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her—yes, I know this may come off as strange, but I did it anyway, and when she gave me another questioning look, bending to get in the car. I gave her my best smile and caught the corner of her mouth turn up, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she settled in. I shut the door and walked around to my side of the car, holding my breath, willing myself not to make a single facial expression because I couldn’t believe I had her in my fucking car.

I had to grip the wheel to keep my hands from shaking; I had Marlowe in the car, and I had no clue what to do. I thought getting her in the car would be the most challenging part—That was my only plan; there wasn’t anything else, and now I felt like an idiot.

Before she can even give me a sense of direction, her phone rings, and I slow down, barely out of the parking lot, “Hey, what’s up?” she asks flatly.

“Don’t worry about it. I found a ride—” Marlowe places a hand over the speaker and asks if I can pull over for a second, mouthing the word “Sorry” as she continues her conversation.

“Listen, Trent—” she says, and my stomach drops; it was, in fact, her boyfriend, and in that second, I was praying that she wouldn’t say a word about me. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal; this car ride could easily be explained, but it wasn’t something I had factored in, and I didn’t have a plan or even an idea of what my end game would be.

Was all of this to say I had a single moment alone, one time with Marlowe Asher? Take her home and live in that daydream, in that small window of time we had, because now I want more of her time; a daydream isn’t enough anymore, and I have no idea how to make that happen.

“Trent—you already said that you were busy tonight. I don’t care, and I wasn’t trying to make it an argument—it just felt random—”

I’m looking out the window, attempting to give her space, and then I reach for the heater to turn it up because it’s so cold in here; the chill adding to the current tremors building in my chest, and I’m trying not to draw any more attention to myself.

“I hate when you do that, Tren—no, that—I wasn’t accusing you of anything…all I said was the plans seemed random—especially since you didn’t say anything about them anytime I saw you today…”

She huffs out a loud breath, shaking her head, and I glimpse her turn toward the window, watching her reflection in the glass as she rubs her glossed lips together, frustration seizing her ridged posture.

“Look, Trent—I don’t want to argue…you do you, and I’ll just figure out my own plans tonight—it’s Friday—I’ll just hit up Skylar—”

The second she said Skylar’s name, I thought back to earlier that day, to the blow-off art class I shared with Skylar and Trent. How they had been assigned to be partners a few weeks ago, and although I knew they were friends, there was a palpable shift recently. Maybe a random onlooker wouldn’t be able to spot it, but I did, and it made my blood boil because I knew Trent was dating Marlow, and Skylar was supposedly her best friend.

Lately, I’ve questioned their friendship, especially when I saw them at parties. The way they interacted—the snide remarks Skylar made toward Marlowe, disguising them as clever jokes when it was evident by Marlowe’s reaction that it wasn’t.

When she tells Trent she loves him and ends the call, a vision of Trent pulling Skylar’s chair toward him in class plays out in my head—the playful gesture warranting a flirty giggle from Skylar. I watched as he leaned down and whispered something in her ear, watching as she bit her lower lip and mouthed the word “Yes,” then he nudged her, standing slightly to adjust his jeans.

I knew that look all too well; I had seen it a hundred times before.

I knew this guy like the back of my hand, at least I used to, but that look—the look I had seen him give so many girls in the past, he was into her; just last weekend, I had seen him and Marlowe at a concert. I had gone alone; they hadn’t seen me, so I stayed toward the back, not wanting to make any awkward interactions because that’s what it’s been with him since we stopped hanging out our sophomore year.

Today, you wouldn’t have even known that we had been best buddies since we were kids, playing soccer together like it was life, and back then, it was. It was everything, and you wouldn’t have seen better mates if you tried—We did everything together. It wasn’t that things ended badly; it was more like we grew apart. He chose art and new friends, and I stuck with soccer. I knew everything was chill between us when he caught wind of me becoming soccer captain and congratulated me one day in the hall.

I remember that was the first time I realized he and Marlowe were a thing; he had caught sight of Marlowe from afar, cutting our conversation short. He said a quick “goodbye” and jogged after her, wrapping his tall stature around, all smiles. I choked on my breath, coughing in air, shock taking over me that Trent Smith, one of the most popular guys in school, was kissing Marlowe Asher in front of everyone, the “chubby girl” he made fun of so many times—well they said she was chubby, but what was chubby then was not chubby now, she just had more curves than the average middle schooler; he even went as far as to say the only thing great about her was her face card.

And it’s funny because it took him until sophomore year to even acknowledge her existence past that remark—it took her changing everything about herself for anyone to see her worth. I’m one of them because even now, I know she’s worthy of so much more, except she’ll never know I’ve always wanted her.

What they saw as flaws, I saw as potential, and even if she was carrying a “little extra weight,” who fucking cares, I shouldn’t have cared, but I did care; I cared about what everyone thought because I was shallow and I wanted friends, and maybe that hasn’t changed, because I can still find ways to justify it.

“So where, too?” I say, cutting through the silence; it’s like the conversation took her out of the moment as she stares out the window. She glances over at me then, a vacant look in her eyes, somewhere lost in her thoughts, and she sends me a nervous smile

At least that’s better than the alternative.

Marlowe gave me her address, and I realize we don’t live far from each other. It would be about a 15-minute drive, and as soon as I hit the gas, the countdown began to form another plan, one where we hang out—anything; just anything to get this one night, this one chance because I don’t think I’ll be lucky enough to get another nor do I deserve it.

The drive is silent at first. There’s nothing but the sound of my engine and the humming of the heater, which is working overtime because it is so hot, and I want so badly to reach and turn it off, but I’m too afraid to move. She’s texting on her phone, her fingers firing away, “Do you mind if I turn on some music?” I speak up.

“Not at all…” she says quickly, almost dropping her phone, and I see she is still on edge.

I reach for the dial and turn it up. “Do you like Fleet Foxes?” I ask, taking the opportunity to turn down the heat.

She looks over, a smile ghosting her lips, “Yeah—actually…like a lot. It’s crazy because I just went to their concert recently…”

“Oh, no way—I was there too—” I lie like this is new information, like I couldn’t keep my eyes off her the whole concert, glancing over every time the song changed to see her reaction, wishing it was me wrapping my body around her when the band slowed down, and the music went soft.

Marlowe perks up at this bit of news, “No fucking way, dude—”

“Yeah, no lie…they’re so good!” I gush because it was an excellent concert, and as her eyes wander my face, a slow smile spreads, a single dimple dipping into her left cheek.

She relaxes back into her seat, her eyes still on me when I stop at a red light, “I can’t believe you were there. I didn’t see you…you should have said hi…” She says, this time her smile reaches her eyes, but something about it is shy, something starry-eyed about her gaze, and I recognize this look because this is exactly how she used to look at me in Jr. High.

Before I found out she had a massive crush on me, and I ruined everything. I remember thinking she had the most beautiful smile and big brown eyes that matched.

Marlowe’s smile now was like glimpsing the past, as strange as it sounds. I started longing for that girl—For a time before everything changed—before we all had to change, and life was less complicated. When it took less to please everyone, a time when people expected less, and there was more to give.

“I don’t think I saw you there…” I say, telling her another lie, “But I definitely would have said hi…maybe next time—”

My last line has a bashful grin peeking out from the corner of her mouth, and she looks down at her hand then, rubbing her palms flat over her jeans. “Yeah, for sure…” she says and turns toward the window, trying to hide her smile. Little does she know, I can see it in the reflection every time we pass under a streetlight.

‘Jesus, Etc.’ by Wilco plays next, and her head whips to the dial, then to me, and I’m already smiling.

“They’re coming next month—” she announces, grinning from ear to ear.

I laugh, “I know—I’ve already gotten my ticket…” I tell her

She’s completely taken with this news because when she says, “No way!” Joy rushes through her features, her big brown eyes widen, and I feel giddy to keep this excitement going for her. It’s like the music has opened a door, and we both step through it without any uncertainties.

“Oh my gosh—I’m so jealous. Have you heard Wilco’s new album? It’s so good.”

I shake my head. “No,” I voice, focusing on the road and bite my lower lip, trying not to smile. “I can’t say I have. Is it good? I know I need to listen to it soon, catch up before the concert…”

“Yes, you do—I actually have it…” she declares as she leans forward and reaches into her purse; Marlowe digs around for a couple of seconds, then materializes the CD like she’s pulling a rabbit from a hat.

“No way, Marlowe…you have it?” I ask, surprised and now extremely excited because so far, she’s turning out to be way cooler than I thought, but I figured this much if Trent likes her.

“Yes—actually, it was between this and Bon Ivers album…”

“Really? Which Bon Iver album? The first or the second?” I ask.

“The first because my friend Skylar scratch my CD to fucking hell….” She answers, shaking her head, annoyed, I can tell. I would be, too, and I realize this is my opportunity, and when I drop my following line, I make sure to sound as casual as possible.

“I have the first one at home…maybe we can trade for a bit?” And I shoot her a quick glance to see if she’s interested.

She looks down at her CD like she’s contemplating this new negotiation. “Hmm…and when would we trade back?” She questions.

“Anytime you’d want…you just say the word, and it will be right back in your hands…”

Marlowe looks up from the CD, a smile spreading on her face, “Okay—but please just make sure you don’t scratch it—like seriously…I’m kind of a weirdo about my CDs. They’re just like—my lifeline, you know?” Then she laughs.

“God…I sound like such a fucking stoner…sorry, like I’m down to trade for a little bit,” That nervous smile is back, a searching look on her face like maybe she just said too much.

“You seem fine to me…not a weirdo…promise,” I tell her, surveying her before my eyes are back on the road—and now I have to take my chance because this is the last light before I either turn left and take her home or turn right, and we go to my place.

“Would you mind if we stopped by mine to grab that CD?” I ask, keeping my voice even and calm, like my heart isn’t pounding in my chest, like the ringing in my ears isn’t echoing out the same rhythm of my heartbeat, nearly drowning out the sound of Marlowe’s voice when she says, “Sure—?” more like a question, and her reluctance is back but understandable.

“Would that be weird?” she tests.

“I don’t think so…” I reply, hoping she answers before the light turns green. “I’m chill with it if you are,” I add, my face burning, and I wonder if she can see.

She examines me, then, “Sure…” she replies, and swallows, probably just as nervous as me because her smile is gone, and when I move my eyes back to the road, I can see her run her palms down the tops of her jeans again.

The light turns green, and the sound of the blinker reverberates through the car as the silence settles in.

Marlowe didn’t say a word the rest of the ride, and when I peeked over at her from the corner of my eye, she just looked out the window, fidgeting with a silver ring on her finger. I could only imagine the thoughts running through her head because mine were a swirling mess, sifting through feelings I’d locked away for years. I had never imagined this as a concrete thing, and I wondered how long I could stretch this moment in time, taking in her tiny details.

The walk from my car was literal crickets, their chirping pinging around us, seeming louder than usual. Now that it was dark, the night sky was clear and chalked full of stars. I kept straining my ears, trying to pick up any sound coming from Marlowe, but she was quiet and perfectly composed. When I offered to carry her backpack, she handed it over, eyes never leaving the bag, and then she let go, running a hand through her hair, surveying her surroundings.

“I never realized you lived this close,” she said, clearing her throat as I turned the key in the door, my hands visibly shaking. I know she sees it because when my eyes dart to hers, she staring at my hands, and I hold my breath, pushing the door open, gesturing for her to go in.

“Yeah, me neither…” I pipe up. My answer is delayed when I breathe her in just as a gust of wind picks up and the scent of vanilla invades my nose, and she through the doorway, and I’m closing us in, and now I’m freaking out because what next? I think as I move around, flicking on lights.

I’ve only ever brought girls over to hook up, except they’ve never come through the front door—the expectations were always clear; she would know exactly why she was coming over. I would meet her at the back door; it was a calculated plan, no question about it, and she was in and out, that’s it; the fewer feelings involved, the better.

“My room is this way,” I say, jerking my head toward the stairs, but she doesn’t look at me then; she’s peering around, taking in the room, scanning pictures along the wall as her eyes float to the stairs, then to me, nodding her head, and her eyes stray back to a picture of Trent and me when we were kids. I had honestly forgotten it was there; my mom tended to hang on to old memories, and I watched as Marlowe’s gaze lingered, and then she glimpsed up and took a step toward me.

I took the stairs slower than normal, not wanting to wind her before we reached my room. At the top of the stairs, I flipped the light switch so she wasn’t clouded in darkness, walking to my room at the end of the hall, “You good?” I asked over my shoulder because she was so quiet, making me even more nervous.

“Yeah…all good…” she mumbles, barely loud enough to hear, “Where is your family?” She questions, and her voice picks up then.

“My parents are visiting my sister in England…some kind of award thing—like meet the parents or something…” I answer, casually hoping this doesn’t make her uncomfortable, and open the door to my bedroom and walk in, listening to her footsteps as she follows behind me, and I set her backpack by the door.

I go straight to my desk, open my CD case, and when I turn around, Marlowe is paused by the door, hand wrapped around the knob, and we lock eyes. “Do you want this open or closed?” she asks.

“Up to you. I don’t mind either way,” I tell her, gathering the binder of CDs. I’m trying to keep myself calm, pretending I’m occupied, when really, the second I hear the door click shut, panic plummets through me, and I strategically place the open case on the floor, crouching down until my butt hits the floor and I start kicking off my shoes.

I look up as she quietly drops her purse by the door, watching me as I nudge my last shoe off. She follows suit, eyes still on me, strides over and gracefully lowers herself to the ground.

“This is my lifeline—” I joke, scooting the binder toward her. She smiles then, another bashful smile as before, the one that sends a flutter to my stomach—my nerves are getting the best of me because there’s a certain level of vulnerability when you allow someone to search through your music, but I figured this was the only way to break the ice.

“Wow—” she starts, “I’ve never pictured you liking this much music…”

I study Marlowe as she traces a finger around a Radiohead disc and slides it from the pouch, “Can we listen to this while I look through the rest?” she asks.

I smile, then reach for the CD, and she flashes me a toothy grin because we both know this album is good. “In Rainbows is one of my favorite albums by them…” I say, standing to put the CD in my player.

“I would say it’s like neck and neck with OK Computer for me—”

“But we can’t forget Pablo Honey—” I say, cutting in.

“Oh, fuck—” she blurts, pressing her palm to her forehead, “Yes—I don’t know how I could forget that one…Creep is like a classic by now, right? Same with Fake Plastic Trees…but that’s on The Bends, which is also good…shit they’re just fucking amazing?”

“They really are…I watch so many covers on YouTube…” I add, sitting back down.

“I love watching covers…” she says fondly as if recalling a pleasant memory. I laugh because I thought I was the only one into covers, and then she has me smiling, taking in the dreamy look on her face.

“What…?” She asks shyly, and I shake my head, grinning down at the hole in my jeans, pulling at the threads.

“Nothing…” I breathe, too shy to look back up, and she reaches over and playfully nudges my knee.

“Tell me…” she laughs this time.

I fall against the side of my bed and peek up, “I guess I never knew you liked music this much…” I tell her, still smiling, my cheeks starting to ache.

“I mean…I’m sure there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” she answers, her voice low, and she shoots me a sly grin, eyes flicking to me from the case for a brief second, and then they’re back as she flips the page smiling to herself.

She looks so beautiful, sitting there, rubbing her full lips together to hide the constant smile that hasn’t left her face since I laid my binder on the ground. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be this close—just the two of us—so many details to take in, like the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose or the way the light picks up on the soft, high lights in her hair; The carved stone elephant necklace she has worn forever, but I forgot about.

She peeks at me then, her eyes moving to my mouth, and I’m holding my breath again because I know she caught me looking at her, but I don’t look away, even though my cheeks are burning, and as her eyes explore my face again, I exhale slowly, swallowing hard.

She smirked then, her gaze gradually lowering down my chest, stealing my focus when she drew in her bottom lip, softly biting down, and it had my head racing with every thought that I should be steering clear of; she’s dangerous.

Is she flirting with me, or is it all in my head?

All I know is if she keeps looking at me that way, I may have to readjust my jeans, and that would be too obvious because all I can think about is kissing those luscious-looking lips.

Her phone buzzes next to her on the ground, and she rips her gaze away just as her eyes hit the top of my jeans. Marlowe pulls in a loud breath through her nose, exhaling slowly, her chest decompressing as she reaches for the phone, the light casting a soft glow on her face. Then her shoulders slump, and I can only guess who it is.

“You can answer that if you’d like…” I offer.

“Nah—It’s just Trent…he’s being fucking weird today. He’s like checking in a lot, and he doesn’t normally do that…or I guess he doesn’t really have a reason to check in. He’s with his mom, so—why would I care,” She confides, her tone unbothered, like maybe the whole situation bores her, or maybe she wants it to seem that way because when he sends a text, she immediately picks up her phone and responds.

Then, out of nowhere, she says, “Do you smoke?” and tosses her phone to the ground. I think she means weed, but I’m not sure, and when I raise a brow, she’s quick to follow up.

“like weed…do you smoke weed?”

I laugh, “I don’t normally smoke weed, but soccer just ended. I’m not sure if the school still tests anymore since it was my last season.”

“Oh, that’s right…you guys had a good season. That’s a hell of a way to go out…” She says.

“I know…it made my family really proud—”

“and yourself…” she adds fast, smirking at me, then looks over at the soccer trophies lining my wall.

“Yeah…I guess,” I answer, feeling a bit embarrassed because I hate this kind of attention, “I would smoke, but I don’t have any.”

“I have a joint that I rolled this morning before school if you want to smoke,” she tells me, and she grins again, watching my face. I know that I looked surprised because I could feel my eyebrows stretching upward, and then I tried to relax my face.

“You’ve been carrying it around school?” I ask, curious as to how she’s able to get away with that when there are random drug searches all the time, drug dogs in and out of the school, every other day.

She shrugs, “I thought I was hanging out with Trent tonight…so I had it…I wasn’t sure if I was going back home…” she says, coming off a little timid.

Maybe she thinks I’m judging her, but I’m more surprised to know that she stays the night at his house, or at least that’s what I’m assuming, and this opens another door I haven’t thought about in a while—the two of them having sex.

This piques my curiosity even more, and maybe I’m a weirdo for wondering, but what is their sex even like?

“Is that weird for you? She says, and I have to force myself from my thoughts, confused as to what she’s even asking.

“Is what weird…?”

“Trent?” she answers.

“Don’t know—” I lie, “Haven’t really thought about it.”

“You guys used to be like best friends, right?”

“Something like that…” I say, “But he’s kind of changed…”

There’s a beat of silence, and she drags her knees to her chest, circling her arms around them, “Well—if it means anything…I’ve never heard him talk shit about you,” she tells me, peering down at her feet.

“Honestly…there’s no bad blood or anything. Trent just chose a different path…that’s all.” I confess.

“Yeah…” is all she says, still gazing down at her feet, and I wonder what she’s thinking, what he’s told her about me, if what she said was true.

We both sat there for a minute, letting the murmur of the music feed the silence. Then Marlowe said, “He’s kind of changed since we started dating…” Her eyes flashed to mine abruptly, making my heart race, her expression unreadable.

“I guess we’ve all changed,” she finishes.

I nod in agreement, watching a glimmer of sadness streak her face, but she is good at staying neutral, and I wonder where she’s learned this, “So, should we smoke?” I ask

“Fuck yeah—” she says, shooting me a smile, and she stands to her feet swiftly, her excitement taking way as she walks over to her purse.

She pulls out a perfume bottle, untwists the lid, and out comes a rolled joint, “It might taste a little vanilla-ish…the bottle has been empty for months, but it’s the only way I’ve been able to disguise the scent.”

“And does it work?”

“For sure…last week, a drug dog walked right past me in class, and I swear I almost shit myself,” she laughs out.

I pull the throw blanket from my bed, laughing, “Fuck…I bet—” I express “Mind if we smoke outside?”

“Not at all, “ she answers, following me to my window. It’s honestly the best place to smoke. It has the best view of the neighborhood lake, lined by a walking trail. No one can ever see me, and it’s become the perfect spot to people-watch. I climb out first so that I can help if needed.

Marlowe’s cardigan snags on the ledge of the window, and she breathes out the word “fuck,” as she steps out onto the landing, turning to gather the material in her hand, “Damn…I just got this—”

“I’m sorry—you can have one of my jump—I mean sweaters if you’d like…” I offered, unsure of how to fix the situation, but it seemed right.

She smiles, “Were you going to say jumper?” her voice teasing.

“Maybe…what’s it to you?” I joke.

She shrugs her shoulders, her smile wide, “That’s so British—”

I poke my finger into her dimple, then, “Watch it, or I’ll change my mind…” I tell her, my voice lowering.

“You mean I’d be lucky enough to own a sweater from “The Harry Styles”—” she taunts, placing a hand over her heart. “I’m sure every girl at school has them cataloged…”

“Whatever—” I laugh, trying to brush off her comment, and though there might be a little truth to her statement, I would rather see her wearing one.

She sits before me, bringing her knees to her chest, and I wrap the blanket around her and sit down next to her, “Aren’t you going to be cold?” she asks.

“Here—do you want my cardigain?” She offers.

“No—No…I’m good. Soccer just ended. It definitely toughens you up during the winter season.”

She eyes me suspiciously as she wraps the blanket around her. “Do you want me to start it…or do you?” she asks.

“You go for it,” I answer.

She brings the joint to her mouth, fidgeting with the lighter until it clicks and ignites, the paper crackling the second the flame comes into contact with it. I watch Marlowe inhale slowly, the tip of the joint blazing orange, until she stops, dragging in a breath through her mouth, and then her pretty lips seal shut as she holds in the smoke and passes me the joint.

As soon as I bring it to my lips, her head drifts back, and she wraps the blanket around her body as she gradually exhales a large cloud of smoke, her eyes closing as the smoke billows in the wind, and I watch as the last puff leaves her body—and she’s so fucking sexy.

Then her tongue darts out to lick her lips, leaving a soft sheen of shine in the moonlight, and she smooths them together before she takes the joint from me again, eyes meeting mine, and she smirks over at me, her gaze shifting to my mouth as I exhale the smoke burning my lungs.

By the last hit of the joint, I was already high. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smoked or if I’d ever felt this high, but suddenly, I was so cold, and when I heard Marlowe’s voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts, my eyes flitted over to her face, taking in her smile and then I was smiling, laughing, when I heard her laughter.

“You’re high…” She says, reaching over to nudge my shoulder.

“You’re high…” I copy because her eyes are so fucking glossy, and I wonder how she would ever get away with being high at school because they’re a dead giveaway.

She laughs. “You’re cold, aren’t you?” she says, jerking her chin toward me as her eyes dart down my body. I hadn’t realized my arms were wrapped around my torso; god, it was so cold.

“Come—I’ll share the blanket with you…” she suggests, without hesitation, so I scoot closer, and she lifts her arm, opening up space next to her.

The warmth is instantaneous, and the only way I can seal in the heat on my side is to slide my arm around her waist, huddling closer to her body, and somehow, the blanket isn’t as big as I thought.

“Sorry—is that—Shit, I’m sorry…is that weird—” I ask, adjusting my arm.

“Oh—no—umm…no—you’re fine—”

“It’s just that—” I say, fidgeting some more.

“Yeah…your arm—here—is that better?” She asks, pulling my arm around her, and she enfolds my hand around the small of her ribs, resting her hand against mine when I flatten it against her body.

“I never realized how small this blanket was…” I joke, trying to ease any tension, but maybe there isn’t any, and I’m just too fucking high to tell.

Marlowe eyes me then, a sheepish smile stretching across her face, “Harry…It’s fine.” she whispers, and her face is so close now, closer than it’s ever been, so close that all we would have to do was move our heads a few inches and our lips could touch.

“Okay…” I tell her, matching her tone, “But you’ll tell me if it wasn’t?”

Her thumb brushes over my hand, which is snug against her body now, and I focus on the rise and fall of her breath, feeling too high to keep my eyes open, “Do you feel good,” she asks.

“Perfect,” I smile as a comfortable silence drifts between us. Eventually, Marlowe rests her head on my shoulder, and I let my head fall against hers, smelling that familiar scent of vanilla. Then, like an idiot, I bury my nose into her hair, breathing her in. She laughs, snapping me out of my daze.

“Sorry…” I apologize, “Your hair smells so good…”

“Does it?”

“So good…” I confirm, and I wrap my arm around her tighter, then grips my wrist and nestles into my body more.

“I can’t believe you practically have a lake in your backyard…” she blurts.

I laugh because it is actually really random, “ I know…it’s man-made…”

She chuckles, shaking her head, “I would assume so—”

“I mean…like this is a retirement community…”

Marlowe looks up at me, then, “I know… my grandma lives across your lake…”

I smile down at Marlowe, the moon catching the shine in her eyes, and I graze the pad of my thumb down the fabric of her sweater. She smiles then, her white teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“You’re really pretty…” I breathe, letting the words tumble out without any thought. She glimpses up at me, her smile faltering for a second, and then she huffs a laugh.

“You’re really pretty,” she repeats jokingly.

“I mean it…” I tell her.

“Harry…”

“What?” I ask.

“You’re just high…”

“I’m high…but it doesn’t change the way I feel…”

“Yeah?” she asks faintly.

“Yes—I promise…”

She drops her head, nudging into my shoulder again, and I don’t say another word. Eventually, I notice her thumb moving back and forth on my arm, and I give her waist a light squeeze, “Marlowe…”

“Yeah?” She asks, continuing to caress my arm.

And I lift my head, “What are you thinking right now?” I ask, dying to know every thought running through her head, and she nuzzles her head against me, then lifts her face to meet mine.

“I’m thinking about you…” She says, her words are soft, floating out into the air, and it’s everything I’ve wanted to hear.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“You…” I divulge

“What about me?” she pries, a mischievous grin playing at her features.

“I don’t know…” I say, feeling self-conscious, like every tactic I would typically use to get the girl won’t work on her, and I know deep down that I just need to be honest.

“Like what would it be like to kiss you…” I spill, letting the words hang between us. Then her smile drops, and I think I’ve ruined it, and she sits up, eyes searching my face.

When they land on my mouth, I feel it in my bones, like maybe she feels it too, and when she says, “I’ve been dying to kiss you for a long time,” I know that’s my green light and I drop the blanket, taking her face in my hand. When her eyes flit shut, I press my lips to her mouth. She lets out a long exhale, pushing warm air through her nose, and I breathe it in, savoring every second.

And when her mouth begins to move against mine, it’s slow and steady at first, but then a small whimper fills my mouth, and I’m hurrying the kiss as I slowly lean her back, bringing the blanket with me, creating our own little cocoon. I’m lying on my side, trying not to crush her, when I slide my arm under her neck, and she wraps her arms around me then, drawing me closer.

The kiss is better than I imagined, her lips perfectly soft, like every passing daydream I’ve ever had of her, and when I deepen the kiss, slowing us down, she tugs at my shirt, trying to pull me on top of her as my free hand moves under her sweater tracing the contour of her body, traveling down her waist, until my hand reaches her hip, trying to squeeze her flesh through her jeans.

The grip on my shirt tightens, this time pulling with need, and her hand slides under my shirt, gliding along the top of my jeans. She grabs a handful of the muscle along my side and gently pulls me toward her again. I mumble a throaty “Mmmmm” into her mouth, and I feel the vibration of my voice hum across her lips, adding to the sensation, and it feels so good.

She must like it too, becuase he hand is moving up my body now, her warm palm moving across my chest, and it feels like everything—Everyting I could have every wanted and we could stay like this, but now I want more.

“Harry…” she sighs the whisper of my name so soft and sweet, jumbling my thoughts even further.

Then I must be losing my mind because the next thing I know, I’m climbing on top of her, gently nudging a leg between her thighs, creating space for me to press my body to hers, then Marlowe’s legs are opening, inviting me in, and she’s lifting her hips ever so slightly, grinding against my leg, and I softly press into warmth, her hand moving down my body until she grabs a handful of my ass and pulls me closer, lining us up, and I groan the second she rubs against the bulge in my jeans.

I broke the kiss then because here I was at another crossroads.

I want to do whatever Marlowe wanted, but if it’s more, I don’t want to do it here. I want her to have every opportunity to call whatever this is off. I don’t want to be another regret, the disappointment I’ve been to her in the past.

There are a million emotions coursing through me, and when I ask, “Do you want to go inside?” she grips my ass tighter, pulling me into her again, smirking up at me.

“I thought you would never ask….” She says, relaxing underneath me, and I kiss her one more time as she releases me, a soft laugh leaving her mouth. Call me young and dumb, but I genuinely don’t think I’ll ever feel this way for anyone else because when I look into those big brown eyes, it’s like I’ve looked into them a million times before, a reminiscent memory of a past we might have shared because her name alone, echos through me like she’s been there all along, and whatever this may be; has to mean something.

A/N: First Series of the New Year! Hope you like it. The tag list is open if you're interested! So thankful for all the love and support you guys give!!

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littlejuicebox · 1 year ago

Text

Camping for beginners.

Written to sort of kill two birds with one stone. @coyote-mint this isn't Astarion soothing a baby, but it is Astarion giving Tav a break as she goes on a little, well-deserved vacation! @davenswitcher I also worked your storybook prompt in! Hope you two both like it; thanks for prompts! Special thanks to @chickywickers for helping me name the twins. :)

Summary: Tav/You are out of town and Astarion is full-time daddy duty without the nanny. In an effort to keep three children entertained, he decides upon camping in the backyard.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, parenthood, children, dadstarion, the mildest reference to sexual encounters, mildest reference to bg3 events and trauma

Word Count: 2.5K

Astarion is pitching a tent in the ground, cursing to himself every few moments as he goes about the task. Once upon a time, he’d had Tav or Karlach… or perhaps even an unenthusiastic Lae’zel or an overenthusiastic Wyll to assist him.

But now, it’s him and three little boys in the midsummer heat. Tav won’t be back until tomorrow morning, after a week away visiting Shadowheart and Lae’zel in the Dalelands. It’s a sunny Sunday, and Winifred, the nanny, has weekends off.

So it’s all up to papa for a day longer. He’s sweaty, tired, and pulling from deeply hidden reserves of patience he didn’t know he had until now.

Astarion thinks he has never missed his wife more in all their time together. One more day. He can do it, right?

“Gale, hold this for me,” The frustrated father directs, guiding his ever-obedient and sometimes now shockingly stoic six year old to one of the tent poles.

Gale nods and follows his father’s instructions as his little brothers scream and run around the orchard with toy swords, wreaking havoc as usual. The younger Ancunins are a tornado of scraped knees and sticky fingers at any given time. Their parents consider it a win if the twins make it an entire day without breaking something.

Evander and Finnick are naturally more wild and unruly than their older brother ever was. Astarion is painfully aware that the streak of disobedience in the duo comes entirely from him. The twins test his patience far more than Gale ever had, and in the absence of their mother, the two have become almost completely unhinged.

Tav is the twin wrangler; they are softer with her – but then, she’s always had a way with the more surly, roguish types. Her unique charm somehow soothes them into compliance. Astarion lacks the same skills and is, unfortunately, paying for it this weekend.

The younger boys are straying too far away for Astarion’s liking, and as he hammers a stake into the orchard’s fertile earth, he shouts at the twins, “Evan and Finn, you two had better get your little behinds back—“

He stops and sighs; the twins are too interested in their make-believe and paying absolutely no mind to their father and his chastisement. Astarion resumes his task and without even looking back up at his eldest asks, “Gale, will you please contain them for a moment until we finish this?”

A lazy wave of Gale’s hand, reminiscent of Astarion’s own flippant movements when he speaks, and vines spring from the earth. The tendrils wrap around Evander and Finnick, holding each of them by the torso. A second tendril springs to life from the soil and wraps around the brothers, pulling them into its embrace just as the first tendril recedes. This process continues in a domino effect until the twins are but a few feet from their father, struggling against the vines and expressing their displeasure with grunts and screams.

Astarion lifts his head from the stake and watches the scene in a mixture of amusement and amazement, and when the boys are sufficiently contained he turns to smile at his eldest, “You really are exceptionally talented, you know that, don’t you?”

Gale smiles and nods before he looks down at the ground, unable to meet his father’s proud gaze as he says, “I know, Papa.”

The eldest Ancunin boy struggled in school all last year. His fragile confidence took a huge tumble, which his parents were working to restore to the best of their ability. Gale always required softer hands in comparison to his brothers; Astarion was still learning how to navigate this difference.

“Let go!” The twins shout in unison, short limbs flailing against the vines gently containing their three year old bodies.

They look like mirror images of one another, down to the dark wavy hair parted in opposite directions and vitiligo patches splattered across opposing green eyes. Evander’s is on his left eye, Finnick’s is on his right. Together, they look like a Rorschach Test.

Astarion’s patience is gone; part of him considers leaving the duo trapped in the vines until Tav returns. He narrows his eyes at the youngest Ancunins, pointing accusingly at them with the hammer, “You two asked to camp outside, and after very insistent pleas, I agreed. So if you don’t want daddy to pack up this entire thing and take you both back into the house, you are to stand there. Quietly.”

Finnick, the younger of the twins by a few minutes, wrinkles his nose in displeasure at his father, “Mean, daddy.”

A slow, long exhale escapes Astarion as he stares at the surly three year old with furrowed brows.

“My child, you have no idea how mean I can be, now hush so that your brother and I can finish this,” Astarion instructs, and then returns to work pitching the tent, ignoring the frustrated whines and protests from the twins all the while.

Around the small campfire, the Ancunin boys roast marshmallows on sticks as Astarion reads a tale from one of their story books. Apple is, as almost always, curled up next to Gale. The eldest Ancunin boy sneaks the dog marshmallows and his father pretends not to notice.

If that’s the most rebellious Gale ever is, so be it. The twins are a different challenge, entirely.

The story is all about slaying dragons, knights in shining armor, damsels in distress… the usual. The topic is exceptionally boring to the father of three, given all he’s experienced, but he’s gotten used to pretending this ridiculous droll is highly entertaining and throwing his voice for his kids amusement.

And, plus, if the twins are entertained, they aren’t causing mayhem, which is all Astarion can ask for tonight. Tav will be back in less than twelve hours, he reminds himself.

All hail his wife, Lady Ancunin, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, and the hero of this household.

This weekend has Astarion regretting any moment he might have taken her for granted or not shown enough appreciation for her.

While the father of three continues to read, a sudden rustling at the edge of the orchard catches everyone’s attention. The three-year-old twins instantly cling to one another in fear and Apple’s head snaps up to peer towards the possible threat.

“Werewolf!” Evander shouts.

“Vampire!” Finnick continues.

Gale giggles and shakes his head, “No… it’s a raccoon. I can hear her. She smells the food.”

Astarion’s nose wrinkles in distaste as his silver-haired son takes his plate of leftovers and meanders toward the edge of the property, but he chooses to remain silent and let his son feed the vile creature. With Gale around, it’s a wonder they aren’t overrun with vermin and rodents galore. Though, the feral cat colony the little boy single-handedly created is likely keeping the other animal population at bay.

Gale places the plate down, whispers something to the raccoon, and returns back to the campfire, nestling his head into Apple’s side as he settles back into the dirt.

“Papa… there aren’t really vampires and werewolves out in the woods… right?” Gale questions, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead in concern as he thinks.

“Perhaps not in the woods right here…” Astarion responds, trying to figure out how to be honest with his children without frightening them entirely, “But they do exist… I’ve killed a vampire before.”

At this the two younger Ancunins gasp and Gale shoots back up to sitting, his green eyes widened in shock as he asks, “You’ve killed a vampire before?”

Astarion chuckles. Sometimes he forgets how little his children truly know of his past. He shuts the storybook in his lap closed and nods, a small smile crossing his face, “I have. Your mother helped me. Would you three like to hear about it?”

“Yes!” The boys all shout in unison, all coming as close to their father as they possibly can.

“Very well,” Astarion agrees with a grin, and then he launches into the tale of fighting Cazador, mindful to keep everything as child-friendly as a gorey battle can possibly be and leaving his enslavement entirely out of the picture. The children will learn about that later, he thinks, but now is not the time.

The boys are wholly captivated by their father’s tale until the twins begin to drift off, slumped against one another. Gale is the only one still awake when his father finishes the story. There is a moment of quiet at the end as his eldest reflects upon all that was revealed to him.

“Were you scared, Papa?” He finally asks, his fingers threading into the curled fur on Apple’s back.

Astarion nods in response, “Of course, Gale. But… I think you cannot be brave if you don’t feel a bit scared, first.”

The eldest Ancunin boy sighs. He has feelings about this that he has not yet been able to put into words. Gale’s general kindness and gentleness is such a stark contrast to many of the kids at school; he’d gotten himself into more than one scuffle. He was perceived as an easy target, because he knew better than to use his powers on the other children. As a result, Gale often simply let the other children attack him, not ever wanting to hurt anyone, even if it was in his defense.

Astarion had, more than once this year, gone to the school and threatened to retract their donations if the issue was not resolved. One of the child’s parents had been hit with a lawsuit after Gale returned home with a black eye. But come the start of next term, there was a strong chance this behavior would continue.

He and Tav had both lost countless hours of sleep over this very topic.

“How do you know…” Gale starts, and then stops with another sigh, staring up at the stars as he tries to find his words, “How do you know when it’s time to fight back?”

There is a moment of silence as the older elf considers this question. How do you know?

“If someone doesn’t listen when you ask them to stop, that is how you know, Gale,” Astarion responds, finally, his hand coming to ruffle the curls upon his eldest’s head, “And if someone is hurting you or someone you care about, and they refuse to stop when you ask them the first time, that is all the permission you need. Your mother and I will always agree with you if you are protecting yourself or your brothers in defense, little prince.”

The silver-haired six year old nods with a yawn, his fingers still curled in Apple’s fur.

“Now come on, let’s get you and your brothers inside the tent for the night,” Astarion directs, picking up one of the twins and holding the flap open for Gale. He gets the two boys settled before returning to retrieve the remaining one and calling for Apple to join all four Ancunins.

The fire is left glowing its final embers as the men all drift off to sleep.

You find the tent in the orchard after returning to a house filled with only your regular employees. Winifred, the nanny, and Pascal, the steward, are both clueless as to where your children and husband are this morning. When you enter the backyard, a snuffed fire and Apple keeping guard outside the tent not more than ten feet from the manor signal you’ve found your family.

You crouch and open the tent flap, only to be greeted by an adorable image. Astarion is on his back, one twin clinging to each leg and Gale nestled into the crook of his arm. All four of the Ancunins are still sleeping, seemingly exhausted from the night before.

“Good morning, my little loves,” You greet in a soft murmur.

Astarion is the first to open his eyes and smile at you as he sits up, expertly maneuvering himself around three sets of other limbs.

“Welcome back home, Tav. We missed you. I think that perhaps I missed you the most.” Astarion greets, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss upon your cheek and grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze.

“No, me!” Evander protests through a yawn as he scrambles to wrap his arm around your arm.

“No, me!” Finnick echos, sitting up and pushing a cluster of curls from his face to grin at you.

“I think it was me, mama.” Gale calls softly, his head still resting upon the pillow, eyes still shut.

You chuckle in response to this ridiculous argument before standing and lifting the tent flap entirely, “I missed you all, too. Alright everyone, let’s get inside for breakfast. I’m making pancakes.”

A clamor of excitement from the Ancunin boys fills the orchard as your children exit the tent and begin the short journey back toward the house. Apple is running after them, her tail wagging excitedly because she knows she will get whatever leftovers the boys cannot finish.

As the children disappear into the house, Astarion grabs your hand with a mischievous grin, insistently pulling you into the tent with him.

“My love, the boys–” You begin to protest, but your husband cuts you off with a kiss pressed against your lips as his nimble fingers quickly shut the tent behind you.

“It’s Monday, surely Winifred is already in, hm?” Astarion questions, his mouth already trailing kisses along your neck, “She can handle the trio for… oh, twenty minutes?”

You gasp as the elf’s fingers slowly trail under your dress and up your thighs to grip at the flesh around your hips. And then you turn to meet your husband’s face as he pulls you into a kiss. Being in the tent reminds you of old times out on the road, all those years ago, and you quickly fall under the Astarion’s spell, just as you had back then.

Your husband breaks away from the kiss and begins to pull your dress over your head. He grins and roams his eyes over your body when you’re left in nothing but your underclothes, “And… not that it’s a competition, little love. But I maintain I missed you the most.”

He doesn’t leave room for response as he pounces upon you, eager to show you just how much he missed you this past week.

Less than twenty minutes later, the twins are back outside the tent, screaming impatiently for pancakes as an apologetic Winifred calls after them from the porch. Astarion groans and is forced to throw his trousers back on with a whispered, “We’ll finish this later tonight, hm?”

And then he’s climbing out of the tent, corralling the two younger Ancunin’s back into the house and buying you a moment to throw your dress back on before exiting yourself.

When you enter the kitchen, Astarion has thrown his crumpled shirt back on and is already starting the pancake batter among a chatter of excited storytelling from the boys. Winifred is forcing the twins to wash their hands as they speak about the raccoon they thought was a monster and Gale asks you to confirm the two of you really killed a vampire.

At this last part you shoot Astarion a questioning look and he shrugs while flashing you an apologetic smile. He looks like the twins when they’ve been caught breaking something. You know you’ll have to follow up later, but for now, all you want to do is focus on your little loves.

They all missed you, and you missed them just as much. Perhaps more.

But it’s not a competition.

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