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jazzyoranges · 1 year

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Birthdays and Stress

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Tara meets some of your family during your father’s birthday

Words: 3.4k

A/n: i haven’t written fanfiction since 2020 so please proceed with a little caution 🌚

Warnings(?): fluff, mentions of sex, very tiny hurt/comfort

You had a big family

Like a really big family

Tara didn’t have the pleasure of having a family like yours. You were close with your cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and everyone else in between. While Tara on the other hand can barely remember her dad’s face, she tries to forget her mom’s, and her sister left due to personal issues. Granted, her sister did come back

Shaking her head, she had to push these thoughts to the back of her mind. Instead Tara had to focus on her rapidly beating heart and the internal screaming at the fact your entire family was only about 5 minutes away

Tara wanted to make a good impression. An amazing impression, that is. But what if your family knew she was related to the Woodsboro killings? What if they knew her sister was related to the very cause of the Ghostface killings? Would they kick her out? Deem her not good enough for you? What if they called her a liability and then kicked her out? This really was a bad idea, why did she agree to doing this?

“Tara, I love you with all my heart. I promise my family won’t throw you out of the house.” You rested a hand on her thigh, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb just how she liked it

Perhaps her internal screaming hadn’t been so internal

“Oh, but what if they do, babe? What then? They’re gonna hate me.” the shorter girl groaned, throwing her head back and covering her face in annoyance

“Tara I’m literally so madly in love with you. They’re going to love you, baby. There’s not a universe out there where they don’t absolutely adore you like I do.” you say seriously, taking her left hand in yours and bringing it up to your face to give her knuckles a feather-light kiss

Tara pouts. A very childish pout, that is

“When you realize I’m right, I will happily say I told you so tomorrow.”

“…You promise they’ll like me?”

“I pinky promise, baby.”

Tara loved that about you. Only do you swear by your pinky during very serious times, almost as if you were swearing upon the river Styx. Never once have you broken one of your pinky promises, and Tara found it utterly adorable. You turned something kids would do under the playground slide into a life-bound oath that you’d never imagine breaking. The thought was endearing enough to help relax Tara just the tiniest bit. She was still scared as fuck, though

“If you get overwhelmed at any time, we can always go back home or to my room, baby. How about we come up with a safe word?”

“I can last all night, babe. This mama doesn’t need any safe word” she says proudly. Your girlfriend was an absolute dork under all those layers of trauma

“Tara.” you playfully cock an eyebrow at her

“Sorry…” she mumbled “how about black licorice? I hate black licorice.”

“Black licorice, it is!” you beam, starting to pull into the driveway of your childhood house

It was your fathers 55th birthday. You’d been with Tara for about 2 years now, which you heavily insisted was enough to consider her a part of your family. Tara ignored how her heartbeat quickened at the implications of being in your family

Tara had still been in her thoughts when you parked the car and rounded the front to the passenger side. Opening the door, you made sure to make a big display, as if you were ushering the queen of England herself

“My liege.” you say in a faux British accent while holding out your hand as you bow, awaiting her response

“And society dares say chivalry is dead.” she laughs at your antics, intertwining your hands as you help her out of your car. There was cars upon cars parked on the road. Tara would’ve guessed this was a frat party and not a birthday party with how many cars were present. Birthday gift in hand, Tara was now worrying if it was enough

When you rang the doorbell, Tara’s heart quickened again. A week prior, you two went shopping, looking for the perfect casual dress Tara was going to wear. You were persistent that it didn’t matter what she wore. Tara ultimately won that argument when she pulled up an entire slideshow on her laptop and presented it to you sitting 5 inches away from your face. You tell yourself you let her win that time

Before she could say this was a bad idea for the umpteenth time, the door opened with your father behind it

“Well, I’ll be dammed! If it isn’t my favorite child!” he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, a wide grin on his face

“Dad!” you smile “You don’t look a day over 80”

“Oh hush, you.” he laughs, turning to Tara

“And you must be Tara!” he reaches out to shake her hand, Tara reciprocating the action.

“We’re all excited to meet you. Our Y/N likes to brag about you quite a lot! Welcome to the family, Tara. It’s a pleasure to have you here” the older man pats her shoulder, his grin bright enough to be seen by astronauts on the Moon

“Thank you, Mr. (L/N). Please, the pleasure is all mine” Tara smiles, and you interlace your hands once again

“Oh, hush with all that formal crap. You’re making me feel old! Frank or Frankie is perfectly fine, darlin’. Come on in!”

You give Tara’s hand a supportive squeeze, offering a smile. You’re proud she didn’t pass out while talking to your dad. He could definitely be overbearing at times, but the older man only had good intentions

Setting down you and Tara’s gift on a nearby table, she was hit with an immediate sense of home when she entered the living room. Tara felt nostalgia that didn’t exist. Perhaps it was a sense of longing. Tara could definitely imagine a small you running around and tracking mud all over the floors. Maybe she’d be lucky enough to see your baby pictures. The shorter girl felt something brush up against her legs, snapping her out of her thoughts

“Ares!” you say excitedly, reaching down to pick up the orange cat. Part of his left ear was missing, but it added to his charm

“He always takes a while to warm up to people. I wonder why he came up to you?” now you were holding the cat in such a way that invited Tara to pet him — which she happily did. Ares quickly started to purr

“Maybe it’s ‘cause I smell like you?”

“I like to think it’s ‘cause you’re the chosen one” you shrug, noticing how Tara’s cheeks redden the tiniest bit

“Why’s his name Ares? That’s a greek god, isn’t it?” Tara didn’t know much about greek mythology when she first met you, but after long rants (in which she happily listened to), she now knew some surface-level facts

“Mom let me name him when I was 13, and I might’ve been going through a really bad Percy Jackson phase at the time. Ares was a real ass when he was younger. Always messing shit up, and I guess it just fit at the time.” you smiled at him. Tara noticed the look in your eyes. You were recalling all your past memories of Ares, getting ready to talk about the orange cat if she asked. Tara liked observing you

“C’mon, how about we say hi to my Mom? Are you ready for another parent?” You asked, setting down Ares on his cat post as he stretched and let out a big yawn.

“Yeah, definitely ready.”

“You sound uncertain. I know you’ll fuck shit up out there, babe” you press a kiss to the bridge of her nose, making her subconsciously scrunch it up in the way you found sickeningly adorable

“Y’know, you should really be a professional motivational speaker, baby. I feel better already” she says in a sarcastic tone, but she fully means her words

Making your way to the backyard doors, Tara is starting to feel a little better about meeting your family. Your Mom was seated on the patio deck with a few of her sisters — your aunts. Before you could say hello, the three of them were already up

“Mom, Auntie Rosie, Aunt Amelia, meet my girlfriend. This is Tara” you smile at her, and she returns your smile

“Tara! You’re even prettier in real life!” you’re lovingly shoved out of the way as all the attention is now drawn to your girlfriend

A slew of praise bombard her, compliment after compliment meeting her ears. You come up behind her and place your hand on the brunette’s shoulder, offering a little comfort. Instead of being met with her eyes of discomfort, all you can see is happiness behind her smile. She happily engages in conversation. Answering questions about your relationship, her education, and plans for the future. Tears prick at your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You loved seeing Tara happy.

“Well, it was wonderful meeting you, Tara. Don’t be a stranger, sweetheart. How about you two enjoy the party, now?” your mom smiled

“Likewise. It was wonderful meeting you too, Mrs. (L/N)”

Before you can turn around, there’s a sudden weight on your back that makes you topple onto the grass. You can hear the faint giggling of Tara as you’re causally making out with the floor

“Lilith (M/N) (L/N). I swear to god if you don’t get off of me, I’ll make sure to-“ you never finished your sentence as more weight was put on your back. Not as heavy as your sister, but the weight was still there. By the sound of high-pitched giggles, you could only assume your nieces — your older brother’s daughters — were now on top of you as well

“Auntie Y/N! Auntie Y/N! Who’s that over there?” Your nieces say in union. Lily gets off your back, but the other two decide to stay and bombard you with questions

Tara can’t help but laugh at your state

“You’re Tara, right?” your sister was now at your girlfriend’s side as you struggled to bribe your nieces with candy (they were surprisingly resilient)

“Mhm, you’re her sister, aren’t you? Lilith is what Y/N said?”

“Lilith is my real name, but family and friends call me Lily” she winks at Tara with a smirk on her face

“Did you know Y/N had a crush on you in high school? She said she’d kill me if I told anyone, but every single day she’d tell me about her fat crush on you” Lily playfully bumped her and Tara’s shoulders together. “Even more than Elizabeth Olsen is what she’d say to me”

“Oh? Please continue, I insist.” Tara can’t contain her smile as she learns about your crush on her. Now fueled by not getting embarrassed more than you already have, you practically wrestle your nieces to get back up on your feet

“Lily I swear to everything holy, if you don’t shut up, I will make sure you never see another sunrise.” you’d probably be scarier if there weren’t two little girls hanging off your arms with some dirt and grass smudged on you face when you got up. Tara and Lily doubled down laughing, and you could feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment

“C’mon you two troublemakers, don’t give Auntie Y/N back problems just yet” your brother calls out from behind Tara. You two were the absolute splitting images of each other. You’ve already shown pictures and videos of him, but now she’s actually seeing him. Face shape, hair texture, you and him may as well be conjoined twins

“Tara, is it? Y/N hasn’t stopped talking about you since you two have met. I’m Joshua” he gracefully picks up his daughters, finally giving you breathing room to mutter something about “working out” and “bodied by toddlers”

“You don’t know how many times i’ve heard that today” Tara’s teasing grin was so wide, her name may as well be the Cheshire Cat. She looks over Joshua’s shoulder, meeting your flushed cheeks and embarrassed look

“I don’t appreciate this slander, thank you. I’d like to take my girlfriend away, now!” you say in a sing-song tone. Your siblings and nieces wave you two a goodbye before starting a conversation of their own

“Embarrassed, much?”

“Hush, you get embarrassed when Mindy tells me about your ‘longing looks’ as she’d call it”

“All the more reason for me to hear about how much you liked me~” Tara pokes the side of your ribs, and you pinch her cheek in retaliation

Before you know it, you’re inside your house again. This time, way more family and family friends occupy the main area. Tara could handle smaller interactions with your immediate family, but this stressed her out. She never liked admitting it, but crowded places freaked her the fuck out. More chances of Ghostfa-

“Black licorice?”

“Black licorice.” she nods, looking at you. Tara liked how well you knew her.

“How about my room? I have a record player in there” You guided her up the stairs, your hand not leaving Tara’s for a second

Entering your room, she noticed how you it was. Band and movie posters were all across the walls, and she could clearly picture a middle school Y/N in their Hot-Topic phase. Vinyl records and a multitude of books sat on shelves all over your room. Above your bed, under your bed, you name it, there wasn’t a shelf that was empty

“Lana, Arctic Monkeys, Taylor, Slipknot for some reason…” You listed off artists you had records for, and they were all so you. She could practically feel your entire soul in this room, just wafting around

“Lana. Definitely, Lana” Tara makes her way to your bed, feeling the soft sheets on her thighs

“What’s on your mind, baby?” You sit next to her, letting Tara rest her head on your shoulder

“Do you think i’ll ever stop being scared? I don’t like feeling scared around your family. I don’t like how they’re all still affecting me”

“It’ll take time, Tara. Months, Years, you name it. But however long it takes, I promise I’ll be there with you.” Tara fidgets with your hands, and you press a kiss to the side of her head

Before you can fully move away, Tara pulls you into another kiss. She feels soft against your lips, and smells like absolute heaven. She kisses you like you’re her last meal, and you’d happily be devoured. She straddles your waist as your back hits the headboard. You kiss until air is required, and pull away with a small smile on your face. It’s not long until you do it again. And again. And again. Until your lips are cherry red from Tara’s biting, and her dress a little crinkled from your urge to always be close

“We can stay up here if you want? I’ll tell my parents you aren’t feeling well.”

“No, that’d be bad manners. Can we just… stay like this a little longer?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” You shimmy out of her straddle, and opt to lay on your bed

“Lay down with me?”

“Y/N, i don’t want my hair to get all messy”

“So what? You’d look pretty either way”

“Your family is gonna think we had sex, baby”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but they probably already think we’re on our third position right now”

Tara sighs.

“Moments like these are when I question why I said yes to dating you” She groans, laying down on her back next to you

“I’m irresistible” you say with a smug grin on your face

“If it helps you sleep at night, baby”

—

“Where did Tara and Y/N go?” your mother questioned

“Y/N whispered something in Tara’s ear, and they went upstairs. Ten dollars they’re gonna fuck”

“Lily! Language!” your sister laughed as your mom lightly slapped her shoulder

“You should probably wait 10 minutes before calling them down here”

“I’m grounding you.”

—

Ten minutes of laying on your bed and a few kisses later, a knock is heard at your door

“Are you two decent over there?”

“We aren’t fucking, Lily” this time, it’s your turn to groan

“Just make sure to air out your room before our nieces and nephews get up here”

“I hate being related to you” Tara laughs behind you, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d wrestle you if I wasn’t so strong” you open your door

“We both know you’re all talk. I’m the real winner, aren’t I, Tara?”

“As long as it’s not Y/N” Tara shrugs while walking down the stairs, and she can practically feel the betrayed look on your face

“I’m the real winner, aren’t I, Tara?” You say in a higher pitch, mocking Lily. “C’mon, we both know I have more experience.”

“Sex isn’t the same as wrestling, Y/N”

“You’d be agreeing with me if you actually got some, Lily”

“Alright, I think that’s enough about sex. I’m gonna have this on my conscience while we sing happy birthday to your father” Tara just couldn’t stop thinking about how you two bantering was so similar to her family bantering with Mindy and Chad. The shorter girl’s family was maybe definitely more complicated than yours, but you never made her feel bad about it. Tara liked that about you

“Your girlfriend is cool” Lily whispers, but Tara can hear her

“You’re saying that like I don’t already know” You smile, swinging an arm around Tara’s shoulders. Finally making it to the bottom floor, your family is around your father, getting ready to sing happy birthday. He requested two simple five and five candles, but it seems he lost that battle as 55 regular candles sat on his sheet cake

A few of your nieces and nephews of different ages swarm to your side like bees following their queen. Tara has to push away her baby thoughts when she sees you take one of your nieces into your arms and smile all the way up to your eyes. This barbie is having baby fever

Someone dims the lights, and a happy birthday is sung to your father. She joins in the makeshift choir, meeting his eyes and smiling. The man looked a little awkward, but honestly who didn’t while being sung happy birthday. When the crowd was finished singing, the older man closed his eyes in thought of a wish. As quickly as they closed, his wish was made

A spew of cheers and congratulations erupted as he was handed a knife to cut his cake. Kids rushed to grab a slice, and Tara had to actively try and not get her toes stepped on. The shorter girl felt someone lean onto her from behind, and she could tell it was you from how your chin rested on her head

“How’re you feeling?” A slice of cake was now in her hands as of your delivery. “Let’s sit outside and you can talk me through it”

“This is all so new to me, but i’m enjoying it. I’m still scared and nervous, but you’re making it easier” she bumps your shoulders together. “Your siblings are also pretty fun to be around”

“Thanks for coming today, baby” you kiss the side of her head. “I’m really proud of you for agreeing to come with me.”

Tara lays her head on your shoulder, and you two stay like that for a little while, appreciating each others presence to take a small breather.

“Thank you for being patient with me” The shorter girl says softly after a while

“As long as Atlas is holding up the sky, I promise I’ll wait for you”

“Baby, you’re so lucky I love you. I would’ve cringed if you were anyone else, but somehow you make it endearing”

“I always told my siblings I’d get a girlfriend that appreciates my Greek Mythology references”

“You’re a dork.” Tara smiles before leaning in to kiss you. She was looking forward for another day like this.

—

Bonus:

You and Tara are cuddling on her bed when the clock turns to 12am

“Hey, Tar?”

“Mmm?”

“I told you so.”

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #sam carpenter #fem!reader #scream #scream 6 #scream 5 #fanfiction #fanfic #tara carpenter scream #tara carpenter fluff

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chocominnie · 3 years

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One Last Time 02 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01

⇢ Word Count :

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots.

A missed call from your uncle.

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb. She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong.

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

“You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’. As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.”

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “ You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears.

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead. A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door. You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

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xthunderbolt · 3 years

Text

Some romanian myths and legends I grew up with that might be relevant to Servamp somehow

Romania has A LOT of myths and legends, especially about vampires and spirits, and all of them depend on the area you go to. Most myths you might have heard come from Transylvania because of Dracula, but these are all from my grandparents' area and the area I grew up in, which is a little far from Transylvania. Also a little warning: we are weird.

1. VAMPIRES ARE DESCENDANTS OF DEMONS

This is a pretty popular one, and the reason for it is Vlad Tepes. It's said that he made a blood pact with the devil for him to become a vampire, and what do we have in Servamp?

If the text ain't clear enough, it's about how Sensei's reincarnation technique is similar to that of a Servamp's creation and how it includes the vessel drinking the blood of the core. And sure, maybe it's not the blood pact we've read in stories and seen in movies, but... the blood is offered (forcefully or not), so it's like a pact made between the vessel and the core, a pact for immortality.

It's also believed that after death, the demon they made the pact with, takes them with them in the underworld and turns them to demons. And in Servamp we have the Inners who practically turned some humans into vampires by becoming part of them, and I think we could consider the underworld their inner world, since it's also part of the Servamp.

2. STRIGOI (stree-go-ee)

I actually wanted to turn the myths about them into a Servamp theory because there are a lot of similarities between them, but we still have yet to learn a lot about Servamps and their Inners.

Nowadays, they're called evil spirits who come to torment their families and friends who did them wrong during their life (similar to poltergeists). Back in the day, they were called living dead or vampires. It was believed to be the actual dead who got up of their graves and went to torment their families and friends and even to kill them for, you guessed right, blood.

It's also believed that strigoi can change into animals, usually bats or black cats. And what do we have in Servamp?

Plus the other Servamps with their animal forms.

And Hugh is the fucking representation of a traditional vampire c'moooon.

And it's not over.

They only got out of their graves at night because they couldn't maintain their human forms in the sunlight. And what do we have in Servamp?

But here's another super interesting thing. There are many ways to kill one, but one of the methods used in my grandparents' area was to put a wooden or silver stake through them - usually the chest to pierce the heart - so that they wouldn't get out of their graves anymore.

And what do we have in Servamp?

They also used to open up their graves when the sun was the strongest so "they'd burn the strigoi in them", but this is not relevant to Servamp.

But wait, there's more! In some cases, strigoi are born with weird conditions, but in most cases, it was believed that the people most likely to turn into strigoi, were the ones who

Practiced witchcraft (though looking back at the stuff we do/did, we all practice(d) witchcraft dkdksk)

Lived in heavy sin

Died of su!c!de

Died a tragic death

Born the seventh child of the same sex

It's not known yet how Servamps died but I mentioned these because all of us headcanon that they died in tragic ways. Plus there are seven vampires, though I know that this is related to their sins, but the coincidence it's interesting.

3. MOROI (moh-roh-ee)

These are like... a lower class of Strigoi I think I could say. The only difference between them is that these ones aren't as strong and dangerous. And they only come to kill and eat animals.

But what do we have in Servamp?

Subclasses. (I can't add pics anymore so imagine here a pic of Belkia and Hugh and Kuro talking about them.)

4. TO KEEP EVIL SPIRITS OR STRIGOI AWAY FROM YOUR HOME, YOU HAVE TO PUT GARLIC BY ALL YOUR WINDOWS OR CLEAN THE OUTSIDE AREA AROUND YOUR HOUSE WITH A BROOM MADE OF OAK OR PINE BRANCHES AND THEN LEAVE IT BY THE ENTRANCE DOOR (we're weird, ok?)

But here's our traditional whoosh-spirits-away broom and what we have in Servamp.

5. BLACK CATS

Hilariously enough, even if it's believed that Strigoi can take their form, we don't consider them bad luck. Unless they cross your path. And if this happens, you gotta take three steps back and spit three times (WE'RE WEIRD, OK?), one it's to ward off the bad luck, one so the cat won't take a life away and one I forgot.

But the thing related to Servamp here is that we consider it good luck to keep a black cat around your house. Not only it keeps evil spirits away, but it also brings in health because of the myth of their nine lives. And Kuro considers himself a soothing/healing cat.

6. TO LIFT GENERATION CURSES PUT ON YOUR FAMILY YOU GOTTA PUT A VIRGIN ON A HORSE AND HAVE THEM SURROUND YOUR HOUSE FOR EACH CURSED GENERATION. WHEN THE HORSE DIES, THE CURSE IS LIFTED (I'm sorry we're so cruel)

And we have this sexy motherfucker on a skeleton horse AND I'M NOT SAYING HE'S A VIRGIN, BUT WHO KNOWS? 👀

7. IF SOMEONE DIES AT A YOUNG AGE OR BEFORE GETTING MARRIED YOU GOTTA GIVE THEM A SILVER JEWERLY - USUALLY A RING - SO THEY WON'T COME BACK TO LOOK FOR A SPOUSE OR TAKE SOMEONE FROM THE FAMILY THEY WERE CLOSE WITH WITH THEM (example: my aunt lost a 12yo daughter and they forgot to give her the silver necklace. Four months later, her sister died, who she was very close with)

But whatever, here's Lawless with what I think is silver besides the gold.

PLEASE NOTICE HIS PURPLE UNDERWEAR

#servamp #servamp manga

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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years

Text

Ann’s Old Masterlist

UNUSED AS OF JULY 2021 - Current masterlist here

Rules for my page. PSA.

All works are original and legally my own. Do not repost. More works coming soon: each Saturday currently, schedule will change.

Please read the warnings at the top of every post: Items marked 18+ are mature/smut, and I don’t recommend you read if you are under eighteen, but it’s up to you to mediate your media consumption. The warnings you heed are entirely your responsibility.

Disclaimer: I do not know any of the people I write about, nor do I claim to, and I simply write about fictional figments of them. The fictional worlds I write within (the MCU, Harry Potter etc.) I do not own either, I do not own the characters or the settings, but merely write about a further fictional figment.

I currently only write Fem!reader. Works marked Ღ are the most popular. My inbox is open to requests but they may take a while to get a response.

Ann's TS 200 blurb event! (Mini Masterlist)

Regulus Black

Romeo, Juliet & Quidditch

Summary: One very eventful Quidditch final can do more than Regulus and his Juliet ever imagined; strengthening family ties, Y/N's mind, and Reg's feelings all at once.

Charlie Weasley

Secret. (18+)

Summary: You have a secret regarding the dragon taming Weasley. The only issue is that he sees you as the child you were a few years ago. When you become legal, he seems to seek you out wherever you are. Maybe he has a secret too.

Couple Blurbs

Lily & James Potter - First Kiss.

Summary: When Lily sees a new side of James, she thinks maybe falling for him isn’t so bad after all.

Albus & Scorpius - Before You Go.

Summary: At the 5th year prom, Albus and Scorpius find they can’t hold back their feelings anymore. Just one dance, before you go

Bill & Fleur - Our Spot.

Summary: After the final task, Fleur finds herself in despair, and goes to the only spot she can think of to unwind, not expecting to be approached by a handsome stranger.

Dean & Seamus - At Last.

Summary: Years of tiptoeing around one another and hidden feelings come to a head when Seamus finds a stack of art beneath Dean's bed. At last, something might happen.

Doctor Stephen Strange

ᲦBaby Blues & Tattoos (18+)

Summary: After a tiring mission, the last thing you want to do is have to crash at a hotel, especially with the cockiest man alive. Will things change with the fact there's only one bed on such a sleepless night?

Loki Laufeyson

ᲦDress.

Summary: This dance between you and Loki has been going on for far too long. The night of the palace ball gives you the chance to make your next move, wearing the dress you bought only for him to take it off.

Peter Parker, Spider-Man

Everything Happens for a Reason.

Summary: Stark!Reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason.

Steve Rogers, Captain America

Promise? (18+)

Summary: Being an apprentice at the Avengers Tower is never easy, especially not when you make a promise to your favourite person there and fail to keep it, through no fault of your own. In a matter of seconds, your world comes crumbling around, but Steve seems to come around in order to pick up the pieces.

Clint Barton, Hawkeye

Rough. (18+)

Summary: After the snap, you never think you’ll see Clint again. Hanging around the tower alone day in and day out becomes tiring, especially when your hormones are in overdrive and you can’t stop thinking about the one avenger you haven’t yet had in bed, until he walks through the door more attractive than ever. (Seriously read the warnings for this, it’s very kinky).

Tom Hiddleston

Ღ BAFTAs.

Summary: Tom thieves your panties after you rile him up the night of the BAFTAs, and he doesn't anticipate the consequences of keeping underwear in his pocket on the red carpet. (Definitely mature with heavy implications, but no explicit smut)

Ღ Stripped Sunday

Summary: Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...

NSFW Alphabet. (18+)

Summary: An incredibly explicit NSFW alphabet about Tom Hiddleston, detailing his deepest fantasies and darkest truths; or how I imagine them to be, at least.

Tom Holland

Just Friends?

Summary: You and Tom have been best friends for a long time, and inseparable for just as long. The boys welcome you as one of their own, and you’re basically a part of the family. That’s your main issue, because when you begin to harbour feelings for your best friend, you’re not sure if he feels the same.

Harrison Osterfield

Quarantine. (18+)

Summary: Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

A Happy Day (& A Puppy)

Summary: Today is the day you and Haz get a puppy. It's the next big step in your relationship, and despite your anxieties, you know it's a happy day.

Sebastian Stam

The Ballet Teacher.

Summary: Ballet teacher!reader. Sebastian's daughter attends a very prestigious ballet school, but when she's late out one day, the last thing he expects to happen is to meet her wonderful new teacher, who has him head over heels.

Timothée Chalamet

Ღ Concerto. (18+)

Summary: At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

Fair Game.

Summary: Your boyfriend, Tim, has hurt you for the last time. You didn’t realise you could ever feel this broken, especially because of someone you once loved so much, but maybe, just maybe, it’s for the best.

Tom Felton

Risk.

Summary: After your break up, one that pained you to the bone, you try to escape and you find yourself taking that one risk you always thought you should, travelling. A simple day out, and the one person you don’t want to see is the one person who can help you with your car troubles. Could he help with your heart troubles too, over a reminiscent dinner perhaps?

Baby on the Brain.

Summary: Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Elizabeth Debicki

Gorgeous.

Summary: Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

Christmas Morning. (18+)

Summary: Christmas morning in a hidden wintry lodge is everything you could’ve dreamed of. Then again, it’d be perfect even without the setting and the heating, because all you want for Christmas is Elizabeth, and that she gives you. Wholly.

Reunion Revenge. (18+)

Summary: At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

Hailee Steinfeld

Live.

Summary: The first night of Hailee's tour, you're a guest singer... and her girlfriend. Everything will go to plan, surely, even when she looks that good and sings that well...

Sherlock Holmes

Ღ Kiss Me, Mr Detective. (18+)

Summary: After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night…

Chuck Bass

Safe.

Summary: A small British village version of Constance & St Jude’s. The aftermath of your drive home from Saturday’s house party becomes haunting and brings out a new side in you. Not that you’re complaining, especially not when you have the well-versed Chuck Bass as your friend and safety.

(Send in any requests to my inbox.)

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sleepysnk · 4 years

Text

hello guys! this wasn't a request, but it is a small gift for @kwnblack ! i decided to make a third and final part for the two previous Zeke scenarios i wrote! i hope you enjoy :).

Zeke x Fem!Reader: I Promise

Warnings: slight manga spoilers and slight angst

Part 1 Part 2

It had been about a month or so since Zeke had his last encounter with (Y/N). After that night, he left the island, and (Y/N) had no idea. She woke up the next morning, and notice he was gone. It confused her that day. Where the hell did he go?

She spent that whole day after searching for him. She went around Marley, but she never found him.

As the weeks went on, (Y/N) began to not feel like herself. She felt sick all the time, and she was very tired. She always blamed it on stress, but a few of her friends were concerned with her behavior. They didn't like the way she was acting. (Y/N) never looked good either.

After some arguments with friends, she decided to just finally go see the doctor. She explained to the doctor about her symptoms, he was concerned with how sick she was, and how she was fatigued most of the time.

"I'm going to run a few tests (Y/N), we should figure out what's going on" he said.

(Y/N) had multiple tests run on her, and what the doctor told her was shocking.

"Congratulations! Your expecting a baby"

Those words made her whole world stop.

She was pregnant? She never imagined in her entire life she would get pregnant, even with how young she was. (Y/N) knew who the dad was, it was Zeke for sure. She was the only man she was intimate with, but where was he?

The doctor explained her options. He explained that if she wanted to terminate it he could, but she insisted that she wanted to keep the baby. (Y/N) didn't want to let the opportunity slide, so she decided to keep it.

Her friends were extremely supportive of her and the baby. Thing was, they weren't exactly happy with who the dad was. They all shamed Zeke for leaving, in a way, her friends made it seem like Zeke only wanted to have sex with her. Nothing more than a one-night stand.

This made (Y/N) extremely emotional.

Many questions ran through her head during that month. Did Zeke only want her for one thing and one thing only? Did he lie about how he felt about her? So many questions with little answers.

Zeke on the other hand, had no idea she was pregnant. The time that they met fell at an unfortunate time, he had to head back to Paradis to obtain Eren. (Y/N) had no idea about these plans, and it sort of slipped Zeke's mind. His intention was to never leave her like that, he didn't have a choice.

She had some support from her best friend Mia (random name). Mia helped a lot with anything that she needed, and (Y/N) was extremely grateful for her. Without Mia, (Y/N) probably would have been so lonely.

"Imagine if it's a girl (Y/N)! A little you running around" Mia said.

Mia had been more excited than (Y/N) was for this baby. She dreamt about her best friend having a baby, and becoming an aunt or a God-parent.

As much as (Y/N) was excited, she couldn't help but feel those dark thoughts sometimes. She always thinks about Zeke, and she feels so much sadness run through her whenever she does.

"Are you thinking about him again?" Mia asked and looked at her.

(Y/N) nodded. "No! I'm fine, I just feel really moody right now. This pregnancy has made my hormones go all over the place" she replied and tried to seem convincing.

Mia had to deal with so much when it came to her best friend being pregnant. The mood swings, cravings, constantly peeing, and constant sleep. (Y/N) was thankful though, without Mia, she would have been stressed out to the max.

"I'll rip his damn head off (Y/N). You know I'm capable of that" she said and looked at her friend.

(Y/N) chuckled. "You won't need to do that. I think I want to nap being honest, so you can go if you'd like" she said and smiled.

Mia stood up. "Alright, well you know where I'm at if you need me" she said and made her way towards the door.

She watched as Mia exited. (Y/N) felt a sad wave hit her all at once, the emotions she felt were the usual. She felt tears fall down her cheeks as she thought about Zeke again. Was she really just a one-night stand to him? A woman who he got in bed just for one night?

(Y/N) went to her bed and began to sob. Her emotions running wild, and coming out once again. She's had countless days where she'd cry about it, who could blame her? The woman was pregnant and all she had was her friends.

All she had was the memory of him.

As the weeks went on, she began to feel a bit better. She actually put on a genuine smile, and she wasn't faking it. Her friends told her to not stress, it wasn't good for the baby. She had to take that in. (Y/N) was feeling better about herself, she went out with Mia and looked at different baby items that would be needed.

She had gotten a few items. (Y/N) was quite prepared for her baby, and she was very careful. Even being only about 2 or 3 months along.

But she was in for quite the situation.

(Y/N) stood looking outside her window. It was a warm and sunny day, she missed the summer breeze. It always reminded her of how beautiful the world was. She noticed some people beginning to run in the same direction.

"They're back!"

"Do you think they got him?"

(Y/N) was confused as to who was being talked about. She began to follow the people, and she noticed a pretty large crowd formed.

She noticed Mia was there. "What's going on?" (Y/N) asked.

She looked back at her. "I'm not sure... I'm just as curious as you are" Mia replied.

That's when she felt time stop.

Zeke was standing there with Reiner badly wounded. What the hell happened? As much as she wanted to run up to him, she knew she couldn't. Reiner and Zeke looked horrible.

"Where is Eren!?"

"Yeah! You promised to bring back the founding titan!"

Zeke just stood there quiet. The mission was a failure. Bertholdt was dead, and Paradis now had his power.

His eyes scanned the area as he noticed a familiar (h/c) haired girl standing there. (Y/N). Zeke noticed how upset she looked, he wasn't sure why, but he wanted to know.

"Let's go (Y/N)" Mia said and grabbed her arm.

She lead her away from the crowd. "Mia, what the hell happened? Who is Eren? What do they want with him?" she asked.

Mia sighed. "Couldn't tell you, all I heard was that they went with each other" she replied. "I guess we know where Zeke went after all this time..." she added.

(Y/N) looked down and stood by her friend. She didn't want to face him right now, it would be too much for her.

Zeke had been taken to the infirmary along with Reiner. Both were injured and needed to be checked on.

"Your injuries are minor, but it'll take you awhile to heal.." the nurse said and looked at Zeke.

He nodded. "May I request a visitor?" he asked.

The nurse furrowed her brows. "Are you sure about that? I can get someone to do that" she asked.

Zeke ran a hand through his hair. "Yes I'm sure, please get me (Y/N) (L/N) please" he replied.

She nodded. "Very well, I'll be right back" she said and exited the room.

Zeke waited as his heart began to race, he wanted to explain everything to her about the mission. She never knew about it, he didn't want her to worry that day, so he kept what he was doing out of it.

"Zeke?" The nurse said and entered the room.

He looked up and noticed she wasn't with the nurse. "Where is she?" he asked.

She sighed. "I'm not sure why but (Y/N) refused to see you. I can't force her, I'm sorry" she replied.

What the hell was up with her? She was avoiding him now? He knew leaving her so fast was kind of not a good idea. Zeke needed to talk to her as soon as possible.

Three days had gone by, and he hadn't seen (Y/N) around Marley. She had been a ghost. He wasn't sure where she could be, but he wanted to know.

(Y/N) did her best to avoid him. She did her shopping at odd hours, or she would make Mia do things for her. Mia completely understood, but she didn't want her to run away forever.

Mia sat in a bar by herself. She wanted (Y/N) to come for some company, but she was having morning sickness, so that was a huge no.

She noticed Pieck enter the bar. She had her crutch with her, since she spent so much time in her titan form, she forgot how to actually walk like a human.

"You look like you've seen better days" Pieck said and sat next to her.

Mia looked over. "Same to you" she replied and took a sip of her drink.

Pieck never knew Mia well. "Well.. when your mission becomes a total failure, you feel like shit so" she said and shrugged.

Mia laughed a little. "Hm... it can't be as bad as your best friend being a pregnant hormonal mess" she said.

The dark haired girl nodded. "Ah pregnancy huh? Why bring a child into this world" she said and leaned against the table.

"Not sure but it happened, (Y/N) deserves better though" Mia said and shrugged.

Pieck stopped. (Y/N)? She had heard Zeke talking about her during the mission, and pretty recently. Was that the girl he was trying to speak to? She heard his constant rant about this woman ignoring him.

"Excuse me.. I need to leave" Pieck said and began to make her way to find Zeke.

Mia found it odd how quickly the girl left. She shrugged and kept drinking. Pieck rushed as quickly as she could to find him.

"Zeke!" she yelled as she saw him talking with Reiner.

He furrowed his brows noticing her quick pace. "Something wrong Pieck?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Do you know (Y/N)?" she asked.

Zeke looked at Reiner and back at Pieck. "Yes... why?" he asked.

She nodded. "Did you know she was pregnant?" she asked.

His mind totally stopped when those words came out of Pieck. She was pregnant!? Maybe that's why she was avoiding him.

"I had no idea... excuse me, I need to go" Zeke said and began to make his way to her house.

(Y/N) sat in her home exhausted. Her morning sickness was horrible, so she spent most of the day in her bed and napping. She heard a knock at her front door. She assumed that it was Mia.

"Mia I-" she opened the door and saw Zeke standing there.

She stood there for a moment in shock. "(Y/N)... can we talk please?" he asked.

She sighed. "Come in.." she replied and moved so he could come in.

Zeke entered her home and watched as she shut the door. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

She furrowed her brows. "About what? What is there to talk about!?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "That you're pregnant!? What else?!" he replied.

Silence flooded the room between the two. "So you do know.." she said and sat down on her couch.

"I don't understand why you never told me. I've been here for days" he said.

She felt anger rushing through her. "Tell you? Why would I? You left me that day. You left me after we had SEX Zeke! You know how that made me feel? You made me feel like I was a one-night stand. I never knew you were going to leave like that" she yelled.

Zeke looked at her. "I'm sorry (Y/N). I should have told you that I had to go, I didn't want to worry you. Everything was at the wrong time" he replied.

She crossed her arms and shook her head. "You worried me 10x more when you left me that day, again" she said.

He felt horrible in the moment. "I know... I wanted to tell you" he said.

(Y/N) ran a hand down to her belly which was slowly getting bigger. "So why are you here?" she asked.

He looked up confused. "What? That's a stupid question. I'm here because I know I got you pregnant, who the fuck do you think I am (Y/N)? Some guy who bangs a girl, gets them pregnant, and then leaves? I care about you that's why I'm here. I want to be here for OUR child. If I didn't give a shit, I wouldn't have bothered showing up here" he replied.

She fell silent as he spoke, she didn't know what to say. "I'm about 3 months.." she said and looked down.

Zeke nodded and stood up. "I'm sorry for leaving you that day. Please forgive me" he said and held her hand.

She bit her lip and looked around. "I can forgive you Zeke, but how do I know you're gonna leave again?" she asked.

"I'll be more honest with you. This mission came fast and there wasn't much I could do to stop it" he replied.

(Y/N) nodded. "I see..." she said and looked at him.

He ran his hand down to her belly. "May I?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Yes" she replied and lifted her shirt a bit.

Zeke looked at how big her belly had gotten, it wasn't huge, but it was noticeable that she was bigger. He lied his head on her belly, and pulled her hips closer to him. The sight alone made her heart flutter. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"I can't wait to meet them, I don't have much time left" he said and looked down.

She nodded. "What do you mean?" she asked and furrowed her brows.

Zeke felt a bit emotional in the moment. "Curse of Ymir remember? I don't have much time left (Y/N).. I want to make it worth it for you and them" he said and stood up.

She noticed the tears in his eyes. "Zeke.. don't worry. I'll make sure it's worth it for you and the baby" she said and smiled a bit.

He wiped his eyes a bit. "I'd love that (Y/N), I promise I won't leave you ever again" he replied and hugged her.

She put her head on his chest. "Promise?" she asked.

He smiled. "I promise" he replied.

#anime #attack on titan #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #zeke jaeger #zeke aot #anime fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

You were all I wanted Part 2

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, kidnapping, human trafficking, non-con, minor character's death.

Words: 2655.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

Part 1

P.S. Peter is an adult!

__________

It had started. You could feel the sudden shift in atmosphere when Peter dropped his hand to your cheek, touching you awkwardly as if he were afraid you would disappear once he got more passionate with you. He caressed you gently like a lover, and you felt miserable. The only boy who had ever set his eyes on you was a young mobster who owned you as of you were some soulless object.

"You're so pretty." His whisper was barely audible, his face so close to yours you wanted to shut your eyes.

You needed to relax. No one - even a boy like him - would want to deal with a mad fury. He'd just shoot you: among other things on the table there were there was an actual gun. You needed to keep this guy happy, and maybe Peter would still be sweet with you once he got rid of his virginity.

But then he suddenly stopped and pulled away from you.

"Oh no, what the hell am I doing?" He laughed awkwardly and scratched his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean jumping at you like that. So you wanna take your shower or maybe eat some more?"

You took your eyes elsewhere and did your best not to wince. Keep it cool, breathe, don't push the boy off.

"Can I have some alcohol?" Your voice sounded pathetic.

"Of course!" Peter jumped again and rushed to the drawer. "I have some whiskey and vo... shit, I'm stupid, who the fuck gives vodka to a lady? I'll bring you a bottle of champagne, just a sec!"

He was at the door in a matter of seconds and you gave him a puzzled look. This Peter boy was unpredictable. He grinned at you and went out of the room, locking the door behind him.

You were still on the bed, watching your feet, afraid to move. Technically, in front of you was a regular door with a simple lock and a door handle - if you could find something heavy, you could break it.

Well, actually, you could just snatch that gun from the table and make a few holes in the wood. The problem with that was that you were inside Stark Tower, that ugly building that looked more like an abandoned factory rather than a graceful skyscraper. How many Stark's guys with guns were there? How far would you make it?

You could also put a gun against your head and pull the trigger...

You shivered and stood up, walking to the bathroom. You refused to look at the table.

Stripping yourself of all those lacy undergarments with shame and dropping them to the white floor, you sneaked into the bath and turned on the water, trying not to look around too much. It felt like there were cameras everywhere to record you, naked, miserable, and frightened, so you finished showering as fast as you could and wrapped a towel around youself. Could you take that towel, actually? Was it for you? Would Peter want to see you naked on the bed when he returned instead?

You wiped away more tears running down your face and slowly removed the towel, putting on the lingerie they gave you before the auction.

"Hey, where are you?" Peter's voice rang loudly behind the door. You could feel he was distressed.

"H-here!" You quickly grasped your palr pink silk robe and put it on too, carefully sneaking back to the room to see the boy with a bottle of Moet & Chandon and two champagne glasses in his hands. Huh, classy.

"Oh, hey." He smiled, a bit embarrassed at his outbirst. "I, uh, found this. I hope you're going to like it."

"Thank you, Peter." You murmured softly and saw him grinning wider when he heard you saying his name for the first time.

Although normally you didn't drink much, you heard about your friend's sexual escapades when she was totally drunk many times and assumed everything could go easier if you had enough champagne. Maybe then you would simply forget you were brought to Stark's Tower and forced to have sex with a guy you had never met before.

Peter had already opened the bottle with a loud noise and poured the sparkly golden liquid into the glass, handing it to you. You brushed your hand against his unintentionally and thought how warm he was.

"I'm not good with these things, but, um, I'm glad I met you today." He had that radiant boyish smile on his face. When he raised his glass, you raised yours too, barely understanding to what you were saluting. "I'm so happy from now on you're gonna be here with me."

What a romantic. It would be almost sweet if he didn't hold you here against your will.

"I'm happy to meet you, too." You made yourself smile, and the two of you clinked your glasses. You drank all the champagne in one big gulp, not afraid to appear unladylike and caring only to get drunk faster. You didn't eat much, so it had to be easy enough.

Peter repeated after you with a little laugh and filled the glasses again and then again until you didn't start feeling funny and your shoulders finally relaxed, the alcohol removing all the tension from your body like some magical elixir. When the boy reached out to touch your shoulder, you didn't flinch, feeling his soft lips pressing against yours in a gentle kiss.

It wasn't that bad, you thought. He was being very tender with you, taking his time to unfasten your robe with his fingers trembling from excitement, and then kissed your temple. He trailed his kisses down to your neck as you let out a loud sigh, biting your lips, then burying your fingers in his soft disheveled hair. Peter's subtle touches felt good.

"I'm sorry for hurrying these things up." He said suddenly with guilt all over his pretty face. "I really am, but I have to show the guys you're my girl. They won't understand otherwise, and we might get in trouble."

"It's ok." You kissed his cheek, watching his eyelashes tremble. "Maybe I'm going to like it. You're nice, Peter."

He looked at you with wide eyes, his lips curling into a wide smile once more at your words as he reached to unfasten your pink bra.

"I don't have much experience, but I'll do my best to make you feel good." His breath tickled your face when the boy cupped your breasts, enjoying the softness of your body. You loved that look of adoration on his face.

"Do you have any?"

"I do."

What, really? That high schooler already had his virginity taken by someone else?

"Kids these days." You mumbled and he suddenly pinched your cheek. "Ouch!"

"You're not allowed to call me a kid!" Peter said with a pout, drawing little circles around your nipple and grasping your plump hip. "Only Mr. Stark can. Besides, I'm like year and a half younger that you, so I'm going to call you a little girl then, y'know?"

"Wha... ahh... Peter." You inched him closer, enjoying the way he played with your breast and kissing him in return. "But you look so young, huh."

"And you look like a schoolgirl without your makeup." He chuckled and gently sucked your lower lip, his left hand caressing your soft belly. You tensed immediately again, but the boy lowered you on the bed and kissed your forehead, staring at you from above with loving eyes. "Please don't be shy. I like you. Every part of you."

You stayed silent, but your eyes were gleaming with tears when you threw your hands around his neck and inched Peter closer, kissing him more. He rested one of his arms close to your pillow, the other one travelled down your body to squeeze your belly gently again, then went closer to your pussy, forcing you to open your legs and caressing your clit covered by the thin pink fabric of your panties.

"I can take care of you." The boy cooed softly at your ear and pushed them to the side to touch your already slick folds. "Do you want me to? Do you want me to take care of you?"

"Yes." You moaned when his fingers rubbed your clit and closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment. "Please, please, Peter, take care of me."

"I knew you'd be a good girl." He licked his lips impatiently and picked up pace rubbing your clit to make you wail under him. "Yes, like that. I'm gonna teach you to cum from my fingers, and then I'll use that tight little pussy of yours, yeah? Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes Peter, plea... ahhh."

____________

The next morning was peaceful - you woke up to the boy's soft snoring behind you, his hand draped over body. Well, you weren't sure you could keep calling him that since he was actually older than you thought and, uh, way more experienced. If you tried to recall all the things he did to you last night, you could die of shame, probably.

The alcohol helped a lot. Firstly, it was so much easier to blame it for all the pleaser Peter gave you - of course, it was all the alcohol's fault, you couldn't possibly enjoy having sex with someone who thought owing a human being was okay. Secondly, the alcohol allowed you to play the role of a sweet little thing to perfection as you never even once pushed Peter away, probably leaving him satisfied with your submission. If he was satisfied, maybe he wouldn't get rid of you first thing in the morning.

You shivered at the thought and realized you didn't hear his snoring anymore.

"Good morning." He yawned, sneaking closer to you and pressing his face into your hair. "Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning, Peter." You found the strength to gently caress the back of his hand laying on your belly. "Yes, thank you. Did you?"

"Are you joking?" The sound of him giggling made you relax a bit. "I think the last time I slept so soundly was when Aunt May was still alive."

You went quiet, staring at the white bathroom's door across the room. So, the woman he told you about yesterday was dead. You could imagine she was the one who raised Peter, but withour her to take care of the boy - who could be very young at that time - he ended up with Stark's crime family. Then it made sense why he didn't behave exactly like those vultures surrounding his boss as he most likely didn't grow up on the streets of New York.

Were you pitying the man who was holding you captive here? Yes, yes you were.

"Does it hurt?" He asked in quiet voice and touched your lower belly tenderly.

"A little. But not as much I thought it would."

He moved his hand up and cuddled you, kissing the top of your head. You hoped it was a good sign and you wouldn't end up in a ditch in the evening. Was Peter going to keep you here as his personal toy? It was humiliating to even think about that, but anything seemed better than dying to you now.

He let you stay. In fact, he had never considered letting you go after Mr. Stark bought you - you were Peter's girl now, right? So he did his best to accommodate you in that room where he lived, providing you with clothes, shoes, cosmetics and all the things you needed, a laptop included. Of course, there was no wi-fi or anything that could help you to connect to the outer world, but Peter recommended you strongly against it. You've already seen enough that made it impossible for you to leave - Mr. Stark would never take it kindly if you tried to run or, God forbids, go to the police. It wasn't just your life at stake, but the life of your family, too. It was embarrassingly easy to find out everything about them, including where they lived and worked, of course. Tony could kill them with a snap of his fingers.

Though you weren't allowed to leave the room, Peter promised he would do everything to give you more freedom a bit later. The guys needed to trust you before they would grant you permission to move freely around the building - not that you really wanted it. Who in the right mind would walk the Stark's Tower full of deranged criminals?

Anyway, the place where you were now was mostly comfortable - you could watch TV and play video games if you were bored; Peter also brought you a pile of books and magazines, and he was always providing you with nice food. Honestly, you expected something way worse than that.

It was the end of the third day when the boy returned with a box of pizza and a few bottles of Starbucks frappuccino, his usually cheerful expression turned all gloomy and tired. Something must had happened, but you were not sure if you were allowed to ask him that - you had never discussed the things he was doing outside of this room.

"Hi, Peter. How was your day?" You stood up from the bed and took a box and bottles from him, placing them on the side table close to the microwave. Before you could turn to him, you felt the boy kissing the back of your head.

"Tired." He mumbled and step back, taking off his bomber and sneakers before moving to bed and sitting down. "I've had a hell of a day."

"I'm so sorry. Do you want me to draw you a bath?"

When he looked at you, you saw him chuckling warmly as he motioned you to come closer. You lowered yourself on the bed, too, and Peter kissed your lips, then grinning and laughing like a kid.

"You don't know how happy I am to have you, Baby. You're sweet and smart and, uh, you don't want to run from me because you know there's no good in that."

Maybe his words were intended as a compliment, but you shivered and quickly placed a fake smile on your face. You had already figured out Peter was not even half as sweet as he seemed. What did you expect from him being Stark's favourite?

"Did something happen, Peter?" You knew you were going to regret asking that, yet you felt like you had to. You needed to pretend your relationship with him were genuine.

"Mr. Stark shot Amanda." The boy shooked his head sadly.

"Who?"

"His new girl. The one he bought at the same auction as you."

That immensely beautiful woman with her eyes deep as ocean and hair dark as night? She could easily be the world's next beauty queen, and he killed her? He killed an innocent woman who, besides that, was stunning, graceful and perfect and walking on air?!

"I mean, of course she brought it on herself when she whored with her guards to make them let her go, but, shit, I don't like it when Mr. Stark kills his girls." Peter covered his face with his rough palms and rubbed his eyes as you stared at him, terrified.

"Does he... does he kill them all?"

"Not all of them... but most."

You heard youself sobbing and clamped a hand against your mouth right away, tears pouring down your face. Your pathetic attempt to hide your fear failed as Peter leaned closer to you, taking your hand away and kissing your eyelids to shush you. He rubbed your back reassuringly and let you put your face against his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Baby." That was how he called you now. "You're not his girl, you're mine. This will never happen to you because I love you a lot and you're smart, right?"

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark peter parker #yandere #tom holland #spiderman

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Photo

Unhallowed Arts

Threesome: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones x Brad Davis Rating: E Word Count: 11,077

This is a submission for Thotumn, organized by @spideysmjs!!! Today’s prompt: Threesome (but this fic also includes previous prompts: Semi-Public, Face-Sitting, and “Don’t Be Gentle”).

Summary: “What’s the compromise between abruptly shutting this down (her sex drive weeps) and getting in bed with a guy who will make the experience too emotionally intense?

'Have you ever had a threesome?’ Michelle blurts.

'…What? No.’

‘Neither have I. But I’ve been, um, wanting to try it.’

Have you? she demands of herself, wiping a damp palm on her jeans.

‘You, me, and someone else?’ Brad’s eyebrows are very high on his forehead. ‘That’s a lot of bodies, uh, coming together.’”

Brad Davis has a Mary Shelley mug. He used to drink from it—coffee he brought to work in a thermos from home, which smelled so delicious that Michelle would go out of her way to inhale it over his shoulder, pretending to let him show her something on his monitor—until the mug cracked and he switched to using it to house typical office junk. She asked him about the mug exactly once, fearing it was bait to intrigue a certain kind of person, to make him seem like a certain kind of person himself. But he surprised her. Turns out he’s not a douche (or at least not a douche who lures women in with female authors of historical significance), just a genuine Shelley fan.

He’s not many things Michelle initially assumed him to be, striking them off a mental list over the months they’ve worked together: not a guy who takes the last free seat at the table during a team meeting, not a guy who checks out his own reflection on his black phone screen, not a guy who wears sturdy hiking boots for show. When they troop out to conduct surveys on behalf of the conservation initiative they work for, Brad scrambles up the side of eroding banks and squelches into marshland until water soaks his socks and surface residue clings to his leg hair.

Brad’s not pushy, though she’s well aware that he’s been watching her as long as she’s been watching him.

Early on into them working together, she fell into his arms. Literally fell. The team encouraged Michelle to wait for the second truck, the one bringing the ladder, but she got stubborn and climbed the tree to check the bat box the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately, some of the branches were dead and hollow inside, but Brad caught her when she dropped eight feet. And then flirted with her before she could catch her breath. She had some less friendly words for him in return. The first time he surprised her was when he immediately respected her clear boundaries and backed off. They’ve learned to work easily with each other and drink together in the same booth when people from the initiative hit the bar—on evenings they don’t smell too much like they spent the day in Mother Nature’s armpit. They’re friendly, could almost be friends, except that she’s incredibly conscious of his persistent attraction to her, even if he doesn’t do anything about it because he’s not a douche. It’s a knowledge Michelle simply lives with.

But there have been an awful lot of evenings lately of smelling like whatever swamp she waded into during the day, of either going straight home to shower the stench away (thank fuck for rent with utilities included), or hunching over her laptop as she tries to get a grant application finished before a midnight submission deadline. Nobody she works with is holding their breath for the day the government decides it should just give them the money to protect local habitats without making them prove themselves over and over and compete against other worthy environmental projects for the funds. So, Michelle works, and she wades, and she loses many of the evenings she could be out getting laid.

On a regular they-better-pay-us-for-the-overtime evening and not a marshy/swampy/boggy one, she’s comfortably stretched out in a booth with Brad across the table. Two of their colleagues were here a minute ago, but they got up to… go to the bathroom? Grab another round? That’s a little hazy, but Michelle can feel something becoming clearer to her. Observing her own hand as she twirls the base of her latest empty across the tabletop, she asks a question.

“You like Mary Shelley, right?”

Brad, glassy-eyed but still trying to look professional with the way he has his hands folded on the surface in front of him, smiles at her. She can feel it.

“Yes. Her creativity was astounding. If I were in the running for the Miss Universe pageant—”

Michelle jerks her chin back and looks up to make a face at him.

“—and they asked me what historical figure I would most like to have dinner with, I would say Mary Shelley. Hands down.”

“Cool story, bro. Hey, Brad?”

“Mhmm.”

She can tell by his drifting gaze and expression of introspection that he’s planning out his pageant answers.

“Do you still want to sleep with me?”

That focuses his attention. He laughs uncomfortably.

“Why… why would you think that?”

“Oh, so, what’s your limit?” Michelle presses, slightly snide with the alcohol in her bloodstream. “You’re not interested in going past holding hands? Making out for no more than five minutes? Because you obviously want something,” she rambles on. “You look at me, I know you do.”

“This isn’t just an idle question, is it?” Brad asks.

He leans forward to look at her as carefully as his tipsiness will allow. As if he already knows the answer. Their thought patterns are very similar, she’s found. It’s why they’re effective at work and why it’s possible to fall into a discussion on books during their overlapping lunch hours. She likes him—not a lot, but enough to have started this conversation. She stares back at him.

“I wouldn’t say no to it,” he offers quietly, though the bar is crowded tonight and Michelle doubts their words are traveling beyond the booth.

Now, Brad’s looking at her in a way that makes her realize, all this time, he’s barely been looking at her. With the permission to think of her in this way, there’s a clear desire there, a gaze that slips again and again to her mouth. Huh. Ok. Maybe she didn’t completely think this whim through before sharing it with him. She can’t fuck that Brad. She’s been imagining the drinking companion, the nice forearms he reveals when he literally rolls up his sleeves in the field, the man who will always be a little on her nerves for flirting with her as he cradled her against him. Someone whose world she could casually rock with the assurance that they both have enough self-confidence to carry on afterwards without getting clingy or feeling disposed of.

What’s the compromise between abruptly shutting this down (her sex drive weeps) and getting in bed with a guy who will make the experience too emotionally intense?

“Have you ever had a threesome?” Michelle blurts.

“…What? No.”

“Neither have I. But I’ve been, um, wanting to try it.”

Have you? she demands of herself, wiping a damp palm on her jeans.

“You, me, and someone else?” Brad’s eyebrows are very high on his forehead. “That’s a lot of bodies, uh, coming together.”

“Come on, Brad—”

“‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’” he guesses.

“I was going to say, I thought you loved Frankenstein.”

She rounds her impulsive invitation off with a smile.

—

Michelle doesn’t volunteer to select the third person. When she considers which of her friends and acquaintances she’d be comfortable having sex with, well, there’s Brad. That already hasn’t gone the way she predicted. Everyone else she’s close to either feels like family, is in a monogamous relationship, or just isn’t attractive to her in that way. She consoles herself over putting the choice of their third into Brad’s hands with the thought that he seems like he’d be the most suspect person in a friend group (yes, they get along, but there’s something sleazy about the way he tries too hard), so whoever he asks can only be more tolerable than him.

“So, a buddy of mine said he’d be into it,” Brad says as she’s passing his desk one day. Michelle stops dead and he swivels in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“You’re talking about…”

“Yeah.” He darts a look around, then hits her with a conspiratorial smile.

“Oh. Ok. Good. Turtles,” she says more loudly to cover for them. Her gaze darts to the nearest desk, but Jocelyn’s wearing headphones and bobbing her head as she populates a spreadsheet. Reassured, Michelle takes a step towards Brad and lowers her voice again. “What’s his name? How do you know him?”

“His name’s Peter. We play soccer together.”

“How the hell do you have time to participate in organized sports?”

“That’s what I do while you’re working your way through the New York Times Best Seller list,” Brad jokes.

“Fair. But who is this guy?”

“You want his résumé?”

“No, I want to know he’s not going to give me an STI or try anything freaky.”

“Freaky,” he echoes. “As opposed to threesomes, which are an incredibly common thing to do with your boyfriend.”

“Or your friend from work,” Michelle retorts, to keep things very clear. Brad appears fleetingly wounded. Too bad. He can say no any time, but it’s obvious that he’d rather see her naked in a threesome than the alternative. Which is never.

“Yeah, of course. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about Peter. He’s responsible, he’s single, he was raised by his aunt and they’re still really close. She comes to all our games.” He lets out a derisive sort of laugh and Michelle narrows her eyes at him.

“That’s sweet.”

“I guess,” he concedes.

“Why’s he single?” she asks, rapid-fire.

“I don’t know, because he wants to be?”

“‘Wants to be’ like he’s emotionally stable and waiting for the right person to come along or ‘wants to be’ like he’s a flake with commitment issues?”

Brad gives her a look like she’s overthinking this; it betrays an utter lack of comprehension of a woman’s perspective on relationships. The validity of her questions goes over his head.

“Why does it matter if he has commitment issues?”

“Relax,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not trying to date him, it just says something about his personality. I don’t want to do this with somebody selfish, because if he’s selfish in other areas, he’s probably selfish in bed.”

“He’s a good passer,” Brad says. “On the field. He always ends the season with more assists than goals.”

“That’s… not a totally useless testimonial.”

“I appreciate your approval.”

Michelle would laugh if his tone weren’t a little too earnest. The way he really wants to impress her can be grating. Well, he’ll soon have his chance to impress her in a situation where she actually wants to be impressed.

“Get back to work, slacker,” she tells him, returning to her own desk.

Fifteen minutes later, Brad texts her with three different dates to choose from. Michelle pulls up her calendar, colour-coded with deadlines and days she’ll be working out in the woods. Taking late nights and the need for long showers into account, she picks a date, then leaves her thumb hovering over ‘Send’. She puts her phone down.

This is where she could still back out. Brad’s mentioned it to his friend, but she’s under no obligation to either of them. Would it be awkward to change her mind and see Brad at work every day? Yes, though she could always say she just wasn’t that serious about it to begin with. Which she wasn’t! For someone who’s soothed by referring to her colour-coded calendar and progressing through life with each forward step carefully considered, tossing out a suggestion to have a threesome was rash.

Michelle eyes her phone.

On the other hand, Brad likes her too much to be a dick post-ménage à trois, which, as far as she can see, is sort of an ideal trait in a threesome companion. If she were going to do this. She wheels her chair back and cranes to peer across the room at him. Focused on his screen, he brushes his black hair out of his face with a quick swipe of his hand. Damn, he is nice-looking. The kind of guy Michelle would definitely approach at a bar for a one-night stand if he flashed a smile her way. If picturing him naked intrigues her, then the idea of lying down between him and another muscled body (Brad said soccer, so she’s assuming this friend has an athletic build) while the three of them wind over and under each other like a braid definitely ticks a big ‘YES’ box in her brain. Her hand shoots out for her phone. She hits ‘Send’.

Three bodies which will, in Brad’s words, be coming together. Maybe not what Mary Shelley had in mind, but anticipating this threesome does more for Michelle’s libido than an electrified jigsaw of corpses ever could.

—

It’s a different bar, and she’s in different clothes, but otherwise, it’s not a totally foreign way for Michelle and Brad to spend their Friday evening. Provided he shows up. She darted home after work and a loaded glance at Brad, showered, and starred deep into her neglected makeup bag like it was some sort of prophetic tool. Michelle, it said to her, you don’t want lipstick smeared all over your face and eyeshadow fallout stinging your eyes. Leave it at mascara and a whole whack of waterproof eyeliner. She obeyed these wise words with trembling hands, nearly prodding herself in the eye with her mascara wand because, even with a doable task to concentrate on, she was nervous.

She adjusts her short, black skirt, rocking side-to-side on the stool. For a regular date, it’s the kind of item she would borrow from a friend, but it struck Michelle as incredibly gross to wear a friend’s skirt to a threesome and then return it to them afterwards, so she bought this one online. During work hours. Feeling incredibly furtive, though everybody dabbles in online shopping during lulls in their workload. The skirt was never a normal purchase; she knew it was going to end up right here, right now, between her ass and a barstool. She gulps the end of her whiskey and goes back to cradling the beer that’s been her emotional support as she waits for the guys.

Arriving ten minutes early has felt like an age—time stretching wretchedly like those clocks in ‘The Scream’—but she finally hears a familiar voice calling her name. Flipping her hair out of the neck of her leather jacket and grabbing her support system, Michelle turns to spot Brad’s face. He smiles and waves, stepping through the crowd that’s building steadily as the after-work drinkers are exchanged for the cutting-loose-for-the-weekend drinkers. When she slips down from the stool, her skirt rides up, and the man who is usually just a co-worker allows himself to notice. His gaze on her bare legs feels good.

“Sorry we’re late,” he says, though they both know she’s early. But Michelle will take this pleasantry over an implication that she’s overeager.

Since they were at work together only a few hours ago, she skips small talk.

“Where’s your…” Friend, she’s going to say. She doesn’t need to.

Brad—tidy in a partially unbuttoned blue shirt—angles himself towards her side, making room for the woman taking the barstool she vacated, and Michelle sees a man approaching with the two of them as his clear destination. Her first sense of him is filtered through Brad. Once, through Brad’s description, twice, through Brad’s cologne. It may be coming off her friend’s skin, but the scent clings to Peter in her brain. What she’s smelling is the woods, only more expensive somehow, like a perfume company bottled the idea of glamping. Doesn’t matter that the scent doesn’t suit him at all. He walks with his head up, eyes openly excited, and it makes her think of a schoolkid progressing through a museum’s dinosaur exhibit. All he’s missing is a backpack with straps for him to clutch. Letting her gaze skim down from his face, Michelle actually can’t picture him trying to haul on a backpack; his shoulders look broad and strong, even under the incongruous red hoodie he’s wearing.

“Oh,” he says when he sees her standing next to Brad. Under any other circumstances, she’d be taken aback by his eyes scanning the full length of her body, but she’s going to fuck this stranger tonight and when he looks back up to her face, he’s grinning. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, more guarded, less forward, until Brad suggests trying to find someplace to sit and Michelle’s able to check Peter out from behind as he leads them away from the bar. Nice butt.

They snag a coveted corner spot as a small group in business attire is leaving it, settling with Brad between them. Peter makes himself useful by dashing back to the bar and returning with the fingers of one hand twined between the necks of a trio of beers and the fingers of the other slightly dipping into the liquid in a pair of tumblers.

“I didn’t know what you’d like beyond what you’re already drinking,” he says, jerking his chin towards the beer Michelle finished while he was gone.

“That’s fine,” she assures him. “I don’t want to be too… I want to be aware of…”

God, trying to discuss the imminent threesome directly is making her flustered. She has a swig from the new bottle he placed in front of her. Peter leans across Brad and offers his to clink with. Where Brad’s face is aggressively handsome in the heavy line of his eyebrows and the sharp perfection of his teeth, up close, Peter’s is cute and unintimidating.

“Here’s to being a consenting participant tonight and remembering it tomorrow,” he says.

Unintimidating, but not uncompelling, especially when he tilts his head back to drink and she can watch the line of his jaw.

Michelle blushes, but knocks her bottle against his.

Two rounds deeper for them and one for her, the heat of the bar and the alcohol in her system are getting to her. She winds her way back from the washroom and shrugs out of her jacket before sitting down. Peter manages to get the end of his sentence out, but Brad doesn’t even try to respond as he takes in the low sides of her silky top. Michelle slides closer to him than she was sitting before and puts a hand on his knee as he finally turns his head and stutters out a reply to Peter. Peter looks past him and catches her eye. Her heart’s springing up and down in her chest because she realized, staring at her reflection as she washed her hands, that, if they’re going to do this, somebody’s gotta make a move. Peter, sleeves shoved up, is staring back at her like he’s been thinking the same thing. His hand smooths over Brad’s thigh.

Under the table, Brad keeps his legs still, his feet flat on the ground. His comfort in his own skin is something Michelle’s always respected. He even succeeds in raising his glass steadily to his lips and taking another drink while Peter runs his hand higher. With a little throat-clearing, Brad parts his thighs further. She doesn’t mean to be, but Michelle’s waiting for Peter to go first. They were talking about something innocuous when he said just enough to imply that he’s never been in a threesome either. Regardless, there’s a confidence in the way he touches Brad. She trails her fingers up Brad’s thigh and Peter locks eyes with her as their gazes cross watching their friend swallow.

Suddenly, the man between them is a little less present, even with the sharp breath he takes at the moment Peter tucks his hand against his crotch. Michelle rests her hand over his. She feels his skin, lets her fingers slip through his, as Brad gasps and swells beneath Peter’s palm; she can tell—they have to change the curve of their grip to accommodate the erection. Brad’s arm curls around her waist and presses her into his side as her and Peter’s hands move together, stroking through Brad’s pants, rubbing him. He glances at her, heat in his eyes, but she’s looking at Peter again by the time she leans in and kisses Brad’s throat. She draws it out into a lick at the slack way Peter’s mouth is hanging open. Hopefully, the fall of her hair is blocking the necking from the view of other patrons, but that hope is tough to keep in mind when Peter’s tongue appears to wet his lower lip. Like she’s kissing him.

There’s a squeeze between Michelle’s thighs that has her gripping Peter’s hand more firmly, urging him to jerk Brad off faster. She glances towards Peter’s lap and he lifts his hoodie with his free hand to expose the bulge in the front of his jeans. The scent of her perfume rises as sweat trickles between her breasts. They knead Brad rapidly until he chokes out a plea for them to stop, begging to take this someplace private. She grabs her jacket in one hand and links the fingers of her other through Brad’s. Tugging him to the exit, she trusts Peter to bring up the rear.

—

Making out in the back of a rideshare is bad behaviour, so Michelle takes the passenger’s seat when the car pulls up. Because she is feeling the need to go back a step from risky under-the-table handjobs and just kiss someone. And that someone is not the friend she arranged this with. She glances at the sidemirror as they’re passing under a streetlight and Peter’s staring at her. He winks. Slowly, like she’s just looking idly around as they drive, she turns to glance into the backseat. Brad has his arm stretched out along the top the seats and his fingers have dipped into the neck of Peter’s hoodie. Michelle’s pulse accelerates just imagining the warmth of that throat. Scrambling for her phone, she sends Brad a text.

Put your fingers in his mouth.

She faces forward again for about a block, prolonging her outward nonchalance even as she hears a vibration, followed by Brad’s soft snort of acknowledgement as he reads her text. She glances around the edge of her seat and sees him act. His hand comes out of the sweatshirt to take Peter by the chin and turn his face towards him. Briefly, he inclines his head towards his friend, speaking too quietly for her to distinguish the words, but Michelle guesses it’s something about her watching because Peter’s gaze jumps to her as he opens his mouth and accepts two of Brad’s fingers. She can see him sucking as Brad withdraws, cheeks flushed. He looks to her—for approval, she thinks, until he holds his wet fingers up and curls them in the air in a highly suggestive motion. Oh shit. Michelle feels herself pressing down on the floor of the car like she’s in the driver’s seat with the accelerator under her foot.

They’re going to her place where: she’s on home turf, she knows it’s clean, she can go right to sleep after kicking them out. Also, the one luxury of her second-story apartment is the king-size bed her friends seriously, outrageously got on ladders to help her push through the sliding door of her balcony because that was easier than carrying it up the narrow staircase. Tonight, she plans to get some good use out of all those acres of mattress.

As with the hijinks in the car, she knows both men are watching her as she lets them into the building and then through her front door.

“Kitchen,” Michelle says, with a loose wave of her hand. “Living room, bathroom. And the bedroom’s at the end of the hall.”

Brad excuses himself to empty his bladder and/or psych himself up in the mirror above the bathroom sink and she’s wondering how to entertain his friend during these uncertain moments of transition when Peter basically lunges forward and kisses her. She moans into his mouth because it’s sudden but it’s good. His hands go right to her ass and her arms wrap around the back of his neck, holding him against her. With her heels, she has a handful of inches on him, but that doesn’t appear to make him pouty or daunted. It’s less than a minute, probably fewer than thirty seconds (understanding the flow of time is temporarily lost on Michelle), but they separate panting.

“You can tell Brad to stick his fingers in my mouth all you want,” Peter murmurs, still staring at her lips, “but I’ve got something I wanna to stick places too.”

“Understood.” She nudges her thigh into his groin.

“So, you guys aren’t waiting for me, huh?” Brad asks with a tight smile as he walks out of the bathroom to see Peter’s hands on her ass and her pressing back against him.

This is kind of the idea, all three of them experimenting with each other, but she can tell he’s annoyed that anything went on while he was out of the room. That he’s possibly jealous. Though it doesn’t feel right to move away from Peter, Michelle knows how to rectify this. She strides to Brad and puts her hands lightly on his chest before kissing him, more coyly than Peter kissed her. She lets Brad come down to her as he hunts out what he wants from the kiss. This feels nice too, though it has more of the familiarity of kissing a friend—even though they haven’t touched in this way before—than the bubbling lust that went with kissing Peter. As she continues, tracing her fingers to the center of his chest to stroke his skin and begin undoing his buttons, Peter comes up behind her and helps her out of her jacket. She hears her keys jingle in the pocket and tap against her phone. When his hands sneak through the sides of her shirt to run across the underside of her breasts, Michelle pushes Brad back, back, back, and the three of them stagger to her bedroom.

She and Brad make out in the dark for a while, and without light, the kissing get rougher, their breathing ragged. Once she has all the buttons of Brad’s shirt undone, she reaches back for Peter and he grips her hand tightly as he grinds his erection against her ass. They’re pressing snugly into her front and back when she thinks of things like being able to locate condoms and ogle muscles—both activities require some light. Michelle squeezes out from between them and turns her bedside lamp on, angling the shade so the light stays low. Turning to check on them, she sees one man standing there with his shirt open and dishevelled and the other rigid in the front of his jeans. Brad’s hard too—she felt it when she stood against him, but his erection’s not visible from where she’s standing now. It’s odd, seeing the space between their bodies and knowing she was just in it. But with Peter rubbing Brad’s dick at the bar and Brad clearly turned on by having Peter suck his fingers on the way here, they’ve been messing around too. Why should they pause to get her back in the middle? Stubborn and curious, Michelle crosses her arms where she stands and gives them an expectant look.

Peter reacts first; he grabs the back of Brad’s neck and stretches up to kiss him. The instant their mouths meet, Michelle understands the three of them have a problem. Trading off sexual favours, these guys are ok, but being on two sides of the same kiss makes them competitive. Fucking weekend athletes. Countering the dominant neck-grab, Brad bats Peter’s arm away and takes his face in his hands. It’s not sweet, it’s controlling. Peter’s next move is yanking Brad’s body against his by crumpling the open front of his shirt in his fists. Oops, well, alright, Michelle decides. Maybe it’s better to put herself back in the equation.

Because she has no intention of babying Brad through this experience, when she slips between them, she puts her back to him. Picturing his disappointed face, she raises her arms.

“Take her shirt off,” Peter interprets, tearing his hoodie over his head in a flurry that peels the t-shirt beneath halfway up his torso.

It’s evident in his method that Brad isn’t interested in being told what to do with her. He makes sure to drag his hands over her as he takes his time. Maybe he’s being a dick about it—that’s what the narrowing of Peter’s eyes tells her as he stares at Brad around Michelle’s head—but she’s enjoying this. There’s something about having spent so much time with Brad and those hands that has her pressing back against his erection. She’s witnessed him performing countless practical tasks, like driving the stakes for ‘Trail Closed’ signs deep into semi-frozen ground with a sledgehammer to protect new plant growth in the spring, knotting a rope leash around the waist of one of their colleagues as overkill when they wade into a pond to collect a sample, or just his impressive typing speed. (Not as many words per minute as she logs, but still.) He’s only quick when he pushes the material above her breasts and shifts his hands down quickly to cover, then massage them. She can almost hear him internally screaming at Peter that he beat him to this, only she doesn’t care. He’s tugging her nipples now and she shuts her eyes with a sigh.

“You like that?” he asks into her ear, which is when Peter loses patience for this display and removes her shirt the rest of the way himself.

Michelle retaliates by dropping her arms and edging his shirt up his stomach while Brad continues to caress her chest, now also kissing her shoulder. Though Peter lets her remove his t-shirt herself, she can add a willingness to get naked quick to the few things she knows about him; he seems like he’d be just as happy to whip all his clothes off at once as go through the foreplay of undressing each other. She remembers what he said to her in the kitchen. He has his own aspirations for tonight and the grin he gives her when she gets his t-shirt off makes her wonder what he wants and how soon she’ll be giving it to him. Michelle can’t feel any part of her resisting. It’s… surprisingly freeing.

Brad shuffles behind her, slipping out of his shirt, and her heart leaps as his chest presses to her back, skin to skin. Peter makes a grab for her crotch, but she lifts her eyebrows wryly and spins to face Brad instead.

“This fucking skirt,” she hears Peter mumble behind her as he slides his hands up her thighs to play with the hem.

It’s not exactly a sexual fantasy she’s fulfilling when she digs her fingers into Brad’s hair and combs it back, but it’s definitely a fantasy. He just has great hair. Sometimes, when she’s bored in a meeting, she’ll look over at him and feel this compulsion to run her fingers through it. She discovers that the strands feel soft and wonderful, so there’s one dream realized.

As she’s moving the palm of her hand down to cup his cheek, she shifts her head to the side, catching Brad’s eye and nodding back towards Peter.

“Kiss him nicely,” Michelle instructs.

Brad’s dark eyes bore into hers for a moment, then he breaks the stare and looks to Peter.

“Let’s go, Parker.”

Satisfied, she gets out of the way, circling behind Peter. While he’s partly distracted by the kiss (tamer than last time, by the looks of it), she rests her hands on his waist. Then, Michelle thinks, Screw it, and feels him up all over his chest, shoulders, and stomach, before wending her way down to his hips. His jeans are probably really putting pressure on his erection right now. She’ll help. After flicking the button open, she means to move away, but… plans change. She’s barely dipping the tips of her fingers below the waist of his jeans when Peter pulls away from Brad’s insistent mouth to mutter, “Well, that’s not fair.”

Instead of continuing, Michelle delights in retreating. Peter’s protesting noise is absorbed by his friend’s lips and she pats his ass before going to tease Brad. First, she guides the hand Peter has on Brad’s shoulder up into his hair so he can share her joy at how touchable it is. Then, she grazes her palms down his back. His friend’s body is dense with muscles, like somebody who goes to the gym a lot, where Brad’s is lean. Their work is a decent split between time indoors and outside, fairly physical, so she knows he has strong legs, good lungs, all the endurance he needs for the days they have to park far from a trailhead or navigate gullies. She forgot to ask what position they each play on their soccer team, but she’ll be concerned with another type of position for the foreseeable future.

To keep things even, Michelle unbuttons Brad’s pants. He makes a needful sound and goes momentarily loose between her body and Peter’s. This is not the reaction she expected from a man so socially comfortable, who apparently maintains a far better work/life balance (and, presumably, a steadier sex life) than she has lately. These noises, which continue as she works his zipper down against the push of his erection, expose him. He makes himself vulnerable. Something zinging through Michelle’s body compels her to take advantage.

She and Peter propel Brad’s co-operative body towards the bed. The guys land with a thump and continue kissing; Peter’s fingers form a gun as he angles Brad’s jaw, driving his tongue into his friend’s mouth. Michelle stares at them, breathing hard for having done nothing. Not breaking the kiss, Brad raises a hand to reach for her, but she’s quicker than that, dropping to her knees. She and the band of his underwear get along immediately—it’s easy to uncover his dick and the elastic cradles him instead of trying to snap back into place against his abdomen. Though the access with his pants still on isn’t amazing, she kisses his stomach, then the head of his cock. Up above, Brad moans.

With a smirk, Michelle repositions a little on her knees and grasps her friend’s thighs. He’s whimpering. He’s full-on whimpering. She leans in and licks slowly up his length. Her heels are already starting to bother her, so she reaches back and tugs them off one at a time. The next thing she means to do is gather her hair out of the way as she shallowly sucks Brad’s erection and strands swing forward, trying to tangle in his open zipper and stick to the saliva she’s coating him in, but Peter’s hand is there first. Still making out with Brad (she can hear it if she can’t see it), he encircles her hair in his grip and rests his fist lightly on her shoulder. Dammit. She’s a soft touch for his soft touch, closing her eyes to the sensation of his knuckles brushing her skin. This stranger is ruining the nice underwear she put on tonight.

“Please, Michelle, please,” Brad breaks free of Peter’s mouth to say.

He reaches out to hold her ribs, cup her breasts, but while he and his friend might share the field on Saturdays or whenever, they don’t seem to be on the same team tonight.

“Nope,” Peter informs him. “I get her next.”

“None of that possessive shit,” she warns.

“Can I please have you next?”

“You must be a real pain for your friends,” Michelle guesses sarcastically, letting him guide her over to his lap instead of Brad’s. (Who’s probably looking sour. She doesn’t know. Her eyes are glued to Peter’s.)

“No pain, I promise. I’ll be gentle.”

She rolls her eyes and settles in, straddling him.

“Oh my—” There is no ‘god’ because he kisses her before she can finish.

That’s his second annoying offense in seconds and she’s going to let him know. Really, she is. But he’s reminding her that he never let go of her hair by lifting it and slipping his hand against the nape of her neck to caress her skin. Michelle angles her hips and grinds up and down the swell in his jeans. Peter doesn’t mess around stroking her legs and hips, he just darts both hands beneath her skirt and traces the edges of her underwear where they curve around her thighs and narrow between them. She can feel him draw the fabric aside and gasps into his mouth, anticipating his fingers, when Brad tips the both of them over.

It’s disorienting, but they twist onto their sides and her friend scoots close behind her, so she decides she doesn’t mind.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Peter speaks quietly against her mouth when she thinks he’s about to kiss her again.

Michelle finds herself smiling, almost laughing, as he flips her skirt up and elects to take her underwear off. There’s only so much he can do like this, so she takes over, kicking them to the floor. That’s annoying offense number three; those underwear are sexy and she thought she’d be showing them off some before they hit the hardwood. Weirdly, Peter’s disregard only makes her smile broaden.

“Like I was trying,” she quips.

“Are we bantering,” Brad checks, “or are we fucking?”

“Dude, I am so sorry for the people you sleep with. Banter is an important part of the process,” Peter instructs.

“Fuck you, Parker.”

“And when you do, I guess I can’t expect any banter. I’ll adjust my expectations.”

“I’ll adjust your nose with my fist,” Brad responds in a playful tone. Michelle isn’t completely sold and she wavers, sandwiched between the two of them.

“Cool,” she says, “but actually, I am here to get laid.”

Two sets of male hands collide where her thighs are pressed together. She takes a deep breath at their enthusiasm, unable to tell whose fingers are skating along the skin just above her pubic hair and whose are subtly attempting to wedge between her legs.

“After you,” Brad says smoothly.

“Thanks, man.”

Her friend’s hands retreat a short distance and Peter insinuates one of his thighs between hers to create some space.

“This ok?” he checks, sweet face even sweeter horizontal.

“Be my guest,” Michelle says, copying Brad’s formality and reaching up and back to squeeze his shoulder so he realizes. She gets a kiss on her neck in response.

Peter’s fingers run slickly through her arousal. It’s a methodical mapping, feeling as though it’s meant to arouse her rather than him, but their eyes meet and he’s wearing an expression like he’s the one being fondled, though his erection cleaves to his abdomen, twitching under his clothes as he fingers her.

“You’re teasing me,” she points out, pulse jumping at her inner thigh.

“Am I not supposed to?”

Michelle tries to rock harder against the pass of his fingers and he moves them away with a grin and a chiding, “Ah!”

“Just give her what she wants,” is Brad’s disgruntled input.

She turns to watch as he sits up and undresses from the waist down. He gives her a smile like they’re on the same side, demonstrated by him advocating for her pleasure—something Michelle’s quite comfortable doing on her own. And yet, alright, her friend’s heart is in the right place, and it is difficult to monitor and decipher the fluctuating moods and responses of two other people, and his directive is obeyed. Peter’s fingers return and push through the wetness he helped generate, touching her entrance and gliding inside her, one finger, then two. Michelle groans deep in her throat because finally.

Brad lies down at her back again and, with Peter working her up, she fumbles behind her and grabs her friend’s ass to encourage him closer. She can feel him hard and hot against her, partly touching her rumpled skirt, partly her skin. He rubs against her and reaches an arm around, greedily squeezing her hip, then sweeping down to feel for her clit.

She’s sweating between their bodies, breathing hard and shuddering involuntarily when Brad gets his fingers positioned to trap her clit and begin gradually cracking her mind like peanut brittle. Where he’s painstaking, Peter’s exultant. He increases the pace of his fingers until they’re shuttling in and out of her. Michelle grips Brad’s wrist with one hand, Peter’s neck with the other, then switches, then moves both hands, grappling for some constancy that the part of her brain currently squashed beneath her need for satisfaction knows she’s not gonna get. Her hips are writhing in their hands as a clear goal fights its way through the fog of lust: unzip Peter’s jeans. It’s tricky, with the over- and underpass of arms, but she does it and he thanks her with a sloppy kiss that only seems to land on her mouth by miracle.

“Close,” she gasps.

Behind her, Brad groans and nips at the base of her neck, making her shake. He’s humping her quickly, pushing with his hips as he pulls back with his fingers on her clit. Good thing Peter hooks his fingers firmly inside her so he doesn’t get jostled off this ride. Good thing too that his curling motion strikes her so, so right. Michelle cries out and comes, his fingers still pumping ruthlessly inside her, Brad pinching her clit, and then coming himself; she feels the jet spurt up her back, probably some on her skirt too.

Which is why she did not borrow clothes for this threesome.

Peter’s expression is impish as he tries to keep coaxing her through the pleasure, but she pushes at his chest and he finally takes his hand away.

“Oh my god,” Michelle sighs, flopping back and half onto Brad.

“Go team,” her friend pants from beneath her.

“Yeah. You guys have some kinda cheer you do at your games?”

“Sometimes we bump chests,” Peter offers, hands suddenly on her boobs.

She twists, trying to see Brad’s face without lifting up. Her temple makes contact with his chin.

“Does your friend have an off switch?”

“If he did, I’d skip that and just pull the plug,” Brad says. He wraps an arm around her and she wiggles until he relaxes the hold, forcing him to make it less territorial.

“Aww,” Peter says, managing to cup her breasts in a perfunctory way, like he’s pushing them up to prevent under-boob sweat while she cools off post-orgasm, “you guys are bantering. I knew you could do it. Also,” he adds, “I don’t know if anyone happens to be keeping track, but I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten off.”

“That sucks, man.”

With effort, Michelle sits up and glares at Brad’s unconcerned face.

“Don’t be a dick,” she says.

“Yeah, Brad,” Peter joins in.

Shaking her head, she puts her back to her friend and checks Peter’s face for her go-ahead. He nods in rapid approval, so she grips the waist of his open jeans and pulls down while he lifts his ass from her bed. Fuck, the three of them never even got under the sheet. Then again, it’s easier to be mobile above it. Plus, it’s an extra layer between her expensive mattress and the fluid drying on her spine.

Because Peter doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who cares to be undressed layer by layer, Michelle doesn’t striptease herself with taking off his clothes slowly. At some point, he kicked his shoes away, meaning it’s straightforward to yank the boxers and jeans down his legs. Her intention is to remove them completely. He doesn’t seem to have a hell of a lot of regard for her intentions.

“That’s far enough, I swear,” he says, when she has his jeans around his shins. “I’m good. Nike time. Just do it.”

“Just do what exactly?” Michelle asks indulgently. She rests a hand on his naked thigh and tries not to stare openly at his dick, red as a slap.

“Anything. Whatever you want. Brad says you’re multitalented.”

Brad rolls over lazily to glare at Peter.

“What the hell, Parker? Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I talk about Michelle like that!”

“I get it,” she says, cutting him off. Please shut up, Peter, she thinks. “You talk to him about work. You appreciate me as a co-worker.”

“That’s definitely why I’ve heard so much about you,” Peter agrees provokingly. “Because he appreciates you as a co-worker.”

“You know what?” Brad bites out.

“What?”

Michelle rolls her eyes and opts to terminate this snippy little back and forth by grasping Peter’s cock and bending over to wrap her lips around the head. That shuts both of them up. Thank god, some fucking peace.

He emits a deep groan of approval and weaves his fingers into her hair, slightly bucking his hips. As she sinks to take him deeper, she hears another groan—hoarse with an entirely different emotion—coming from Brad. She doesn’t stop. If he has something to say, he can damn well use his words. Michelle clutches the inside of Peter’s muscular thigh and sucks as she starts to withdraw only to plunge him farther into her mouth. Peter’s hand finds hers and tangles their fingers together next to his hip, catching some of the sheet in his grip too. The gesture dizzies her heart.

While he’s seeing god, Brad’s apparently seeing red, because he taps, then tugs, at her shoulder, until she pulls off of Peter and shoots her friend an impatient look.

“What?”

“I’ll do that,” he says, nodding towards Peter’s straining, saliva-slicked erection.

“Somebody better fucking do it,” Peter says in the tragic tone of an established sufferer. They ignore him for the moment.

“You want to?” Michelle asks skeptically.

When Brad averts his eyes from hers, she realizes that, no, he doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t enjoy watching her blow Peter. She wavers, wondering if she should cancel tonight halfway through. Maybe that would be sacrificing what she wants for the self-esteem of these two men, but they’re just so goddamn annoying. They’re supposed to be friends and they’re acting like rivals. Michelle doesn’t owe loyalty to either of them, she’s nobody’s girlfriend, and yet she’s getting the feeling that she needs to pick a side. Even a novice like her can tell this isn’t the way a threesome’s meant to go. If they were worse at this, she might be able to walk away.

Abruptly, Brad kisses her, then nudges her gently aside as he drops to his elbows to pick up where she left off. Peter draws a fraying breath. Well, either these two aren’t combative enough to present her with an ultimatum, or they just want to get laid as badly as she does. If Brad bites Peter or some shit though, she’s throwing them both out and leaving the necessary medical care in their hands. Michelle will not be responsible for these men and their egos.

Peter tweaks her fingers, their hands still clasped. She leans in close to observe his heavy breathing and the way his hair’s sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“I still want you,” he whispers. The words are like static shock, like a finger tracing unexpectedly down her neck. “And you better be quick because I think Brad thinks he’ll get extra points for speed.”

He gasps, eyes rolling back, and Michelle instinctively cups his neck, running the pad of her thumb along his throat. She doesn’t glance over at Brad; hearing the frantic wet noises paints a sufficiently informative picture.

“You think you can concentrate while he’s doing that?”

“Totally.” Immediately, a desperate, guttural croak leaves Peter’s lips.

“You sure?”

“No, but I still want to put my tongue inside you and that should count for—uhhh!—something.”

“Such as?” she asks with a wry smile, straightening her legs out so she can remove her unspeakably defiled skirt.

“Hell if I know, my concentration was pretty shitty to begin with.”

“Center yourself,” Michelle says in the calm, instructive tone of a yoga tutorial as she levers herself over his chest and rests her ass lightly on the hard planes of his pecs.

“Brad,” Peter begs, “cut me some slack for one fucking minute, dude.”

“One minute, huh?” she teases.

“Are you doubting me?”

“Peter Parker, I don’t even know you.”

But, somehow, she’s beaming down at him as her hair falls around her shoulders. For an instant, he looks completely focused on her and not the sound of Brad switching from giving him head to pumping him in a fist (his version of slack-cutting, evidently). Peter eyes her from her face down to where her legs are spread above his body. Then back to her face.

“I’d like for you to.”

Her teasing expression softens. She parts her lips to respond and he wrenches her forward, onto a mouth that opens at once. He licks up into her, then keep his tongue tensed and prods her clit back and forth. Michelle curls into herself, thighs suddenly snug against the sides of his head, fingers locked in his hair.

This is, perhaps, the single event within the larger experience that sells her on threesomes. Peter’s mouth feels incredible on its own (like he’s fusing the peanut brittle shards of her mind back together again and going too far, melting them into goo), but the intermittent moaning that leaves it due to Brad’s contribution down below means Michelle’s riding something that licks, sucks, and vibrates. She’s a mess. Tilted forward, she’s nearly crying out to plant her hands on the bed and just grind across Peter’s tongue, but the hand not hold hers has her hip in a formidable hold and she can’t reach far enough to be comfortable. Each time she thinks to force her eyes open and check his face to make sure he’s enjoying this as much as she is (and still breathing), Peter’s eyelids are flickering as he absorbs the combined pleasure of taking from Brad and giving to Michelle. She’s shaking and trying not to get too rough with him, smoothing a hand over the hair she’s been practically pulling out at the roots. Peter counters with a quick smack to her ass before seizing her hip again. Fine, she won’t be nice.

Michelle shifts and rolls her clit against the tip of his nose. It positions her entrance above his wide-open mouth and he slides his tongue thickly back inside her. The sound of him tongue-fucking her is graphic. He loses his rhythm and gets even more aggressive with his mouth—she figures he’s close to release. Peter groans and arches his neck and chin up when he finishes, so she lifts swiftly away, hating to do it, aching and slippery.

She throws herself off of him, collapsing back onto her elbows with her thighs quivering. Dazedly, she observes Brad hurrying from the room with his lips clamped together (not a swallower then—the things she’s learning about her friend tonight). Peter’s lying there, spent. With her emotions high, their tableau causes her to despair. It’s over. It’s all over. One of them’s too wiped to carry on, the other’s just finished giving oral and won’t want to return just to bring her to orgasm. Michelle lets her head hang back and swipes two fingers over her clit, catching it and adding pressure on the upstroke.

Peter rolls over like he’s risen from the dead.

“You don’t—” she begins, but then he’s there, between her quaking knees, suctioning his mouth to her and using his tongue to fiddle around with her clit. His arms are limp and heavy as they hold her thighs down and open. Any energy he has is converted into strokes and twirls, from there into her overwhelmed sobs. Brad walks back in to Michelle yelling, “Peter, fuck!” as she climaxes with her head thrown back and his pressed insistently into her groin by her stiff hand. When Brad comes to sit on the bed, Peter’s leg kicks out and catches him right in the stomach. The kick drives him off the mattress and onto the floor with a thud.

Michelle scrambles away from Peter, to the edge of the bed, as Brad stands and starts putting his clothes on, his back to her.

“Are you going?”

She sees Brad’s shoulders rise and fall as he sighs, but he doesn’t answer her. Once he’s dressed from the waist down, he lifts his shirt from the floor with a swish and slips his arms in as he walks back out of the room. Uh oh. Michelle glances to Peter who appears maddeningly unsurprised. She yanks at the bedsheet until he moves off of it, but touches her wrist as she wraps it hastily around herself to chase after their friend.

“I’m sorry if I wrecked this for you,” he says.

“No.” She shakes her head. “He wanted tonight to be something it was never going to be and I thought, when he invited you, that he could handle it, but… I gotta go talk to him.”

“I think I’m already lucky he didn’t jump up and break my nose, so I better stay here.”

“Alright.”

Michelle almost stumbles trying to keep the end of the sheet off the floor, but she gets to Brad while he’s still buttoning his shirt, patting his pockets to check for wallet, phone, keys, maybe the little Swiss Army knife he carries because it always comes in handy eventually.

“Brad,” she says, cautious in cotton and bare feet.

He cuts a look at her with his dark eyes.

“Better not,” he suggests.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Do you need me to stay?”

She hesitates, leaning away from him slightly at the question.

“Well, it was supposed to be—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Do you need me to stay?”

His eyebrow twitches with everything he’s suppressing: hurt, hope, jealousy. Brad’s smart, he knows the answer, but he still ventures forward with grave determination, the way he’d lead a group of their colleagues down a forest deer path that may or may not be crossed with poison ivy. But Michelle is not something for him to sweep clear and overcome.

“We can only be friends, Brad,” she tells him, straight and honest. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy doing this with you…”

He grins ironically, giving her a glimpse of his bright, perfect teeth.

“Please. You two were shutting me out before Parker booted me in the stomach.”

She doesn’t really have a defense for that. They might have touched Brad, grabbed him, licked and kissed him, but none of that compared to how she felt whenever Peter took her hand. She’s actually a little scared to walk back into her bedroom and face that.

“He didn’t mean to,” Michelle asserts awkwardly. Brad lifts his eyebrows. “Probably,” she qualifies. He nods tiredly.

“If he tells you I was a dick to him after our next game…”

“What makes you think I’ll still be in contact with him then?” Brad gives her a look and she frowns, chastened. “I’ll believe him,” she says instead, “and I won’t blame you.”

“This sucks,” he admits, smiling tightly at the floor.

“Can I get you a glass of water for the road? Transit fare?”

“I’d actually rather get out of here and begin the process of trying to forget what Peter’s dick looks like close up as soon as possible.”

She says nothing to champion the dick in question. That would be cruel.

“This was… something I hope we can laugh about someday,” Brad says, and quickly kisses her cheek.

“I’ll—” they say together.

“—text you tomorrow.”

“—see you on Monday,” Michelle says. “Oh. Uh…”

“Space,” he says, understanding.

“Probably good for right now.”

“Yeah.”

When he leaves, she locks the door and bangs her forehead against it. Fuck. She’s going to have to get a new job, isn’t she? Walking in to spot his heartbroken face every day is more than she wants to deal with. Their initiative has a bigger office downtown, not the outpost-like space they work out of. She can apply there. Probably should’ve ages ago, when she started outgrowing the place she’s at. She’ll miss traipsing around outside the city, having to check her legs for ticks, her hair for spiders, and her arms for dead-branch-inflicted scratches deep enough to require infection-preventative measures, but she can buy some fucking plants. Start a garden in her windowsill. Hike on the weekends. Regain some of that thankless grant application time by devoting it to projects more clout will actually allow her to push forward. Be the chooser instead of the beggar.

Michelle laughs at herself, faintly tipsy and two orgasms deep, standing alone in her entryway in a poor man’s frat party toga.

She gets herself the glass of water she offered Brad. She pees with her goddamn adult white sheet scrunched up in her lap like a bride’s dress on her wedding day. She strides back to the bedroom and drops the sheet at the door.

“Hello,” Peter says, perking up.

“Hello yourself.” The man is stark naked and unashamed. “You’ve been, what, chilling?”

“I also eavesdropped.”

“You’re a loser.”

“I’m the loser you haven’t kicked out of your apartment,” he points out. His gaze slips naturally to her chest as she climbs onto the bed on her knees and takes a seat beside his prone body.

“Why is that?”

She asks rhetorically, but Peter either doesn’t pick up on that or ignores it. She kinda likes that about him. Where Brad tries so hard with her, Peter leaves her room to try a little too.

“You like me.”

“Unfortunately, that is possible.”

“Unfortunately? Give me back those orgasms I gave you then,” he demands.

“Orgasm,” Michelle corrects, emphasizing the singular. “The first one was assisted. You can’t take full credit.”

“Bullshit.”

She shakes her head but Peter grabs the back of her knee, pulling her forward, stretching her out, until she’s on her back, laughing, and he’s hovering over her, inches from a kiss that she really, really wants to receive. Strange.

“Is not,” she tells him flatly.

“Then I’m earning that plural.”

“Oh yeah?”

Instead of kissing her or lowering himself down onto her or otherwise touching her in any way at all, Peter leaves. Michelle sits up and looks after him, baffled.

“Where are your washcloths?” he shouts from the bathroom 30 seconds later. A laugh bursts out of her.

“Tall cabinet next to the shower!”

She listens to him running water in the sink. Laughs again when he returns at a run.

“Flip over!” Peter says wildly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Come on, while it’s still hot. It’ll feel nicer.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and maneuvers onto her stomach. He washes her back with the warm cloth. He washes her back. She folds her arms under her head and pillows her cheek on them, candidly observing him. In a practical sense, Peter’s wiping away what Brad left behind, and buying himself time to get hard again, she’s certain. But it doesn’t all feel like practicality. Not when every pass of the cloth is so careful, or when Peter makes another sprinted trip to the bathroom to heat it up for her, or when he’s lying down alongside her by the end, beginning to lightly kiss her clean skin.

“I don’t understand you,” she hears herself confess.

“I’m an enigma,” he agrees. Michelle snorts.

“I do like you though.”

“Called it.”

He chucks the damp, cooling washcloth over the side of her bed and she glares at him.

“This room has wood floors. Which I pay for. As a feature of this apartment.”

“It’s not on the floor, it’s on my jeans.”

“So, it’s soaking into your jeans right now? That’s convenient for you.”

“Is it?” Peter asks vaguely. His hand is rubbing back and forth very low on her back.

“I’m assuming you’re not planning to get back into wet jeans tonight and make your way home.”

“I would if you asked me to,” he swears, giving her puppy-dog eyes.

“Are you forcing me to say this out loud?”

A winning smile. She sighs in exasperation and turns onto her side, propping her head up with her hand.

“Peter, would you like to stay over?”

“Do you want that?”

“You’re a pain,” she says for the second time. Peter continues smiling, waiting. Michelle takes a deep breath and keeps her eyes on his, not letting her gaze drift around the apartment that is nice but lonely, tranquil but lifeless. It has life with this surprising person in it. “I want that.”

He shuffles close to her with a grin.

“I want that,” he says, brushing his lips across hers.

“Mmm,” Michelle agrees. Her eyelids fall. She parts her lips for his tongue. His hand fits into the curve of her waist and slips over to touch her back. His thickening erection nudges her mons, then her abdomen as he swells against her. Her moan skips and drags and Peter clutches at her more purposefully, tipping her onto her back.

“Condom,” she remembers, and points him to the box tucked out of sight. Discrete for the fact that she bought it for use in a threesome with a work friend and a total stranger.

Peter holds up her copy of Frankenstein, resting beneath the box.

“You a fan?” he asks, returning it to its place and tearing open the wrapper on the condom.

“I’ve read it twice, but I think I prefer Dracula.”

“Aw, I’m a wolfman guy,” Peter offers. He puts the condom on like it’s a sock or a baseball cap; there’s definite familiarity there. And Michelle doesn’t care. “Dracula and Frankenstein’s monster are creepy, sure, but the wolfman is two different people: the regular guy and then this creature in the shadows during the full moon. I don’t know, I think there’s something really cool about that. You ever watch the old Lon Chaney movies?”

Ok, she more than likes him. She likes him quite a lot. Smiling, Michelle shakes her head.

“Well,” he says, but he stops talking then. There’s a depth to the look in his eyes as he gazes at her. She lets him in and stands as horizontal witness to his existence in blinks and breaths and the pound of his heart she can almost feel from here.

“Why don’t you get the light?”

Click.

In the dark, it’s less of a performance, not that Peter doesn’t clearly intend to perform. Michelle’s eyes rest without the light and she breathes deeply as Peter comes over her and kisses her neck. Her eyes are still adjusting while he takes a meandering route down her chest, pressing his mouth harder against her breasts. He licks across her nipple; she scratches her nails up the back of his neck and into his hair. When she lets out the smallest huffing sound of enjoyment, he cups his hand between her thighs, skates a finger along her entrance. As if she wouldn’t be wet. As if the foreplay didn’t start the minute he walked back in with that warm cloth and draped it across her back.

“Any specific requests?” he asks, lifting his head from her chest. She can see his face now. Enough light gets in around the edges of her blinds. She runs her fingers through his loosely curling hair, then arches her body up against his.

“Don’t be gentle.”

Michelle feels the eager tremor of his hand against her inner thigh as he lines himself up and eases inside her. His breathing catches. She tilts her hips and raises her knees from the bed, urging him in, farther, all the way. Peter withdraws and she’s assuming he’ll build up to what she asked for, but he slams back in. Though she clenches her teeth around the sensation of him filling her so hard and so well, a whine escapes.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” she acknowledges, accuses, admires.

He pauses, hands planted to either side of her on the bed.

“Like I said, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve been waiting for this since I convinced Brad to tell me your name.”

She wants to think and hide and hold him close, but she can reflect later. He seems to agree. Peter’s thrusts are rough and rhythmic. Pounding into her like a machine one minute, he’ll be playfully grabbing her wrists and licking her neck the next. When she tightens her legs around him, he lets her change their positions, only to haul her beneath him again—on her stomach this time—as he rocks in and out and wedges his hand under her to rub her clit. They chase each other across her mattress and Michelle comes clawing at her pillow, invigorated by the certainty that this is the best time she’s ever had in bed. Peter bites her earlobe as he snatches one of her scrabbling hands and spills into the condom.

He doesn’t help her remake her bed with clean sheets because he claims to be “bad at it.” She’s debating the potential truth of that when he returns with a bowl of popcorn after leaving her alone to do it herself, joins in, and somehow puts a lavender pillowcase on inside out. Michelle sets it right with a laugh and they get back in bed together, popcorn and her laptop playing Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man between them.

She slips away to shower after Peter falls asleep with his head on her lap. When she gets back, she quietly removes the bowl and the laptop. The bed’s a king—she’s used to her space and she doesn’t need to sleep close to him—but Michelle squirms into the warmth his body radiates. He stirs enough to breathe in the scent of her hair, kiss her forehead, and thrust his hand into hers. Confused by the gesture, she frowns at his face, with its softly closed eyes.

“By the way,” Peter mumbles, shaking her hand, “nice to meet you.”

Michelle smiles and pats his arm as he drops it over her, instinctively pulling her close.

#my writing #thotumn #peter parker is a thot #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #brad davis #been sitting with this done for almost a month lol

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ninjakitty15 · 3 years

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Chapter 7: Ain’t Nothing But A Horned God (Loki x OFC Pairing)

"You know, super strength and natural parkour aside, that kid is really living up to his second identity," I mused as Peter popped in right after Loki and I got dressed in our daywear clothes and were about to binge watch the Orville.

"Why do you say that?" Loki asked, eyeing Peter as well.

"If you get rid spiders the humane way and just release them into the wild again, they will still find their way back in. Hand me that newspaper over here, I can fix that."

"I thought you said he was cute, isn't that a term of endearment?" he teased.

"He lost that effect when he killed the mood I was about to build up here. The fuck you want, kid?" I barked at the energetic idiot Tony loved so much.

"Mr. Stark's not here?" Peter squeaked.

"Hell if I know, ask Friday or better yet, beat it."

My trying to get rid of the kid seemed to somehow have the exact opposite effect I had hoped for, not unlike when a person that can't deal with cats walks into a room with one in it, that cat will instantly greet the hapless person and never leave them alone. Peter apparently grew a pair and turned his attention on me specifically, seeing as he apparently had met Loki while I was in captivity.

"So you're one the team now, huh? Where you from?"

I blinked at his sudden confidence. "Lynn, Lynn, the city of sin," I sang the old tune of my town.

"Where's that?"

"Near Salem," murmured Loki beside me. "No wonder you wanted to go there yesterday, you were homesick."

"You've been in my position before I'm told so I'm guessing you know how I felt."

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"That would mean admitting I actually feel things and I'm not one to catch feels here, gross."

"Have you got a superhero name yet?" asked Peter eagerly.

"I'd have to be a hero first for that to work and I'd rather not."

"Why not, its the funnest! Get to meet all kinds of people and everything!"

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "That's supposed to convince me? Really? Tony told me you were clever too, Loki you're the god of lies, how could you let that slide? I hate people, if anything that'd push me toward antihero or even villain. Kill em all and then add em to the undead army, who's with me?!"

"You said so yourself that would take a lot of energy and convincing to make your victims part of your army," mused Loki.

"Sshh, he doesn't know that. Why are you still here if Tony's gone?" I asked Peter.

"He told me I'm welcome to hang out with the team in his absence," Peter replied confidently. "What were you two doing before I got here?"

"Having passionate s/m sex in every room we can get into, you look a bit too young to join but you're welcome to watch," I teased.

"No one gets to watch that," Loki stated stiffly. "That's for our eyes only. Don't you have homework that needs doing about this time?"

"All finished, Aunt May says I can't go out and be Spiderman till its done. Hey, Mr. Loki, Tony says you're not actually from Asgard but a planet of frost giants, is that true?"

"How astute of him to bring that up," grumbled Loki. "Yes, what of it?"

"What do Frost Giants look like?"

"Pete, hun, you don't go asking gods questions like that," I warned the kid, seeing Loki get all tense and serious. "Didn't your aunt ever tell you to stop sticking your nose in places it's likely to get broken in?"

Loki however had other thoughts though didn't look too pleased in acting on them as his once fair skin started to turn blue, green eyes became red and curious markings formed on his head and face. Peter looked absolutely excited being the obnoxiously curious kid he was but made no move nor questions and just tried to his best not to piss off the god while studying him at the same time. I however couldn't help but reach over to touch his face though he caught my wrist.

"You'll burn with frost bite if you touch a frost giant or one touches you."

"Sweety you are touching me," I noted. "My flesh is dead, hydra already tried extreme temps on me, no sweat."

He quickly let go despite my reassurance in fear he was freezing me with his touch, a blackened handprint remained where he held me for a moment before my necro-magic healed it and I was back to simply being a reanimated walking dead girl. I gently touched his face, my thumb brushing over the markings.

"People seem to think red eyes always means evil here," I mused. "Yet theres a fuckton of superheroes wearing red elsewhere, Tony, this little arachnid that needs to be swatted with a newspaper, Thor's cape. Red doesn't mean evil, it means power, anyone wearing red is displaying a power move."

"You don't wear it," Loki told me.

"Weren't you listening during my many rants? I don't make a habit of displaying what I'm capable of, that totally gives me away before I can even attack. It's all about subtlety, something spiderling here needs to work on before asking gods sensitive questions." I glared at the kid who had the grace to look a little ashamed, it was almost cute. At that point, just for funsies, I snatched the newspaper on the coffee table, quickly rolled it up and started smacking the poor boy with it. "Bad spider!" Peter made little move to defend himself though didn't seem too bothered by being whacked by a dead woman either.

"Don't break him or Tony will kick you out," Loki warned though I could tell he was just as amused by my antics as I was smacking around Peter.

"Dude can catch a bus with his bare hands while some people can barely catch them on their feet, he's fine. Ain'tcha kiddo."

"Stop calling me kid, I'm a teenager," mumbled Peter.

"Which is just another term for a kid that thinks they're an adult so really you're not helping your case here. It's adorable how easy it is for you to dig your own grave, even if it with a beach shovel."

"Maybe he's more likely to break you if you keep teasing him," Loki noted.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

At the reference, Peter seemed to perk up again. "You've seen those movies?"

"Sweety, I might have been locked up for 5 years but even I know that everyone's seen at least one of them that's still alive."

"Why were you locked up, are you a criminal?"

"What did I tell you about asking sensitive questions, Loki, give me back my spider smasher."

"She was kept by Hydra, no you will not be beating on Tony's favorite project, especially not when there's surveilance everywhere in the tower."

I rolled my eyes at Loki and glared at him. "Meaniepants."

"Do all necromancers look like you?" Peter piped up.

My glare shifted to him then. "Look like me? You really wanna go there? I might be dead but I can still kick your ass, Spiderboy."

"It's spiderman," he grumbled.

"Not with that attitude it ain't."

He shot a web at me angrily and while I knew he never actually meant any harm and I wasn't quick enough to dodge it, I really hated spiderwebs since the first time I walked into one face first, unable to see it. Death magic rushed to the spot he hit me and essentially dissolved/rotted away whatever the hell the webs were made of so they fell apart and off me. Loki looked at me curiously while Peter looked just a little bit horrified. "Try that again, Pete, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker." My eyes went white while blackened veins popped up around them. That got Peter more than horrified and he backed away with repetitive squeaky apologies. Seeing as he got the message, my face relaxed back to its normalness. "I fucking hate spiderwebs."

"I'm curious, if that was an enemy in front of you and not Peter, what would you have done?" asked Loki.

I turned over to the god and smirked maniacally. "Point me in the direction of one and you might find out."

"You didn't do this when we raided the Hydra base the second time."

"They weren't enemies, they're minions of them. Peter you're really cute but your curiosity is harshing my buzz here, lay off on the sugar and either buzz off or calmly wait for Tony to return. You're like ice cream to me right now, so good but so not worth the brain-freeze it comes with."

"If you're always getting a brain-freeze then you're eating it wrong," countered Peter smugly.

"There's hardly a wrong way to eat ice cream, kiddo."

"Um yeah there is, any way that's not right from a cone. Surely you jest."

"Prefer it with a spoon so I don't make a bigger mess of myself than I already do...and don't call me Shirely."

"Call me biased but I believe the spoon is the better option if we're talking the same food she was wolfing down right after she moved here," Loki noted. "I can't imagine a better way to eat it out of its original tub."

"Plus you can fend off intruders and late night food thieves with a spoon, kinda defenseless since you'd eat the cone after and then you got nothing but a sticky mess to contend with," I added.

"Hold up, that was you that ate my moosetracks ice cream?" Peter squeaked.

"Tony said he bought it and therefore it was his ice cream but he also said his helado es mi helado so not yours at all. Also Thor was the one that finished it because unlike some other Asgardians, he asked nicely."

Loki scoffed and playfully glared at me with crossed arms. "I do and take what I want, there's no need for formalities." His response was a well aimed throw pillow to the face because why else would you call them throw pillows if not for their intended purpose? "Are you sure you want to do that, love?"

"Am I sure? Kinda late to be asking that after the fact, init? But seeing as it already happened, I'm gonna go with yes I am, whatcha gonna do about it?"

"I have to ask if you're sure you wanna challenge the God of Mischief like that?" Peter asked me worriedly.

"Firstly, what's with people asking me if I'm sure, of the three of us which one here is still a virgin and learning the ropes of kicking ass and taking names? Secondly, if you're calling him that based solely on Norse Mythology he's also the goddess of eight legged foals and father of a world ending snake and thus far the only thing close to those myths is the bigass snake in his pants but that's none of my business."

Loki looked beyond amused at me both calling him out on his mythology and representation of it and that not so subtle compliment that may or may not have boosted his ego to the size of Yggdrasil and all the nine realms combined. "While I'm pleased with the last statement about me, I can very much assure I'm the master of mischief, that much of the myth is 100 percent true, Thor can attest to that and any surviving Asgardians besides him that know of me."

"Just because you are known for something specific does not make you the master of it. By that logic, I'm the Goddess of Zombies."

"Hela beat you to that by at least a thousand years," Loki argued.

I glared at my lover and eyed the nearest throw pillow in contemplation, maybe I should hold it against his face gently and then apply pressure. "Sure, if there really was just one realm of gods to go with that might work in your favor."

"What do you believe in then? Where does your faith lie if not in yourself?" he challenged.

"In my life, in my experience and in my line of work there is only kind of gods I follow in faith and those are the gods of death."

Whether he caught onto it or knew my line of thought somehow or not, I couldnt tell but his next response was damn near perfect. "And what do you pray to the gods of death."

I grinned wickedly. "Not today, bitch."

"I'm hurt you wouldn't consider praying for me on your knees," purred Loki.

"The only way to get me on my knees is by taking away what keeps me standing and at the moment you've become my reason to stand these days," I replied smoothly, catching him off guard with the claim of more mortal devotion. "Would think that's obvious considering I come alive at your touch."

We stared at each other for a long silent moment, Loki looking somewhere between admiration and something else I couldn't quite place, his eyes shining like freshly cut and polished emeralds. He also looked torn between wanting to shove me against the nearest wall and makeout or reply with a smoother, wittier comeback because this dude was as desperate to have me as he was to have the last word and prove he was the master of mischief. Men in a nutshell, doesn't matter where they're from or how hard they are to kill. Speaking of things hard to kill, the arachnaboy was still present in the room, watching the two of us verbally spar/flirt before something apparently clicked in his head and he frowned, turning toward me.

"H-how exactly would you know if I was a virgin or not?"

I cackled at his attempt to call me out and act at least a little more confident. "Elementary my dear Parker. Besides the fact you both look and act a day before you're legally of age in this country? It might have something to do with your reaction to Loki's pants snake- there it is! You look different shades of uncomfortable hearing about just the size of someone's dong. Guys usually are either confident with what they got or pretend they are long enough to snag someone to use it on and hope for the best...There's also the fact regardless of age and powers you're radiating with life unsullied, I can sense it on you. Lemme know when you are legal and I might be able to help you with that though." I winked at him, causing yet another priceless reaction from Peter and a scowl from Loki.

"I'm not overly fond of sharing."

"Don't knock til you tried it, besides, I could be six fix under by the time he's open for business, right Pete?" I nudged the poor kid with an elbow for good measure, it was too much fun messing with him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just getting so many mixed signals from you right now I gotta sit down and um wait for Mr. Stark."

I watched the kid scoot away to another room, leaving us alone for once and I grinned and relaxed, turning my attention back to Loki. "And that is how you get rid of a spider properly, if you can't kill it, make it wish it never came in."

"That whole charade was to scare him off?" asked Loki incredulously.

"He's just so precious and innocent, his ears must be burning from the naughty stuff by now. I mean yeah, if he was legal I still wouldn't mind corrupting him physically but I doubt he's got the stones to take me up on that should I be around then. Besides, there's more than one way to sacrificing a virgin these days, isn't that what you gods demand all the time?"

"I'd rather just take you on the sacrificial altar several times over till I'm the only god that can give you what you pray for," he growled.

I blinked in surprised, he was usually a little more clever and subtle in his suggestions and I somehow activated the animal in him with my incessant sexual teasing between him and Peter. "Would the couch do? I don't think the coffee table would survive despite it being solid mahogany." An uncharacteristic squeal of surprise escaped me as his response was a low growl followed closely by a master of mischief pouncing on me.

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #lokixofc #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #nell the necromancer #necromancy #loki x nell #avengers #necromancer

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nikkzwrites · 4 years

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Yesterday Once More | Dark Fix-It Fic Series | Chapter 10

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah.

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence, Suicide Mentions, Cutting, Violence.

Word Count: 6.6k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Back on the day of Mikkel’s disappearance, Peter walked down into his father’s bunker to compose himself. He was once again thinking of cheating on Charlotte. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t at all. He slapped himself as he just sat there trying to compose himself. Slowly a bright light over came the bunker. It seemed as if the fabric of reality was ripping itself apart. Then a dead Mads dropped to the ground. After trying to give the boy CPR, Peter grabbed the ID off the boy’s chest. When he saw it was Mads, he called Tronte immediately.

Tronte drove down to the bunker to find that Peter was indeed telling the truth. There on the ground lay a perfect angel-like boy dead. Tronte couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was no way his son could be here after 33 years of having gone missing exactly as he once was. He started to cry over the small boy knowing in his heart that it was true.

The older Claudia walked down into the bunker and said, “Tronte. Peter. There’s a lot I have to explain. But first we need to take Mads to the place where he is to be found. We don’t have much time left.”

November 12, 2019, Jonas lay in his bed asleep. A small hand reached over his shoulder to make him turn to look at him. Instead of Annalise, there staring at him was Mikkel with a knowing smile.

A dream, Jonas shot up panicked. He turned his head to the side where Mikkel was to see Annalise’s back towards him. She was fully asleep. Her soft breaths mimicked almost like a sleeping cat’s content noise. He slowly uncovered himself and tucked Annalise back in. The sleeping girl turned in her sleep now to face him. She was curled up as if wanting to find comfort with anyone. She pulled the blankets up to her face in her sleep as if trying to cling to the boy that had just gotten out of bed. He brushed some stray hair out of her face then turned to grab his pill bottle. He sat there debating it before putting the pill he had taken out back in and tossing it into the trash. He panted as he looked at the supplies on his desk. He walked over to his desk and scribbled a quick note to Annalise about where he went, placed it on the nightstand for her to see right when she woke up, and left.

Martha paced around chewing on her nails not knowing really how her boyfriend was reacting to the news. She was crying. She didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry,” the girl told Bartosz, “I really fucked up. Since Mikkel disappeared… I don’t recognize myself anymore.” She sobbed. She knew she was only going to him because Jonas and Annalise rejected her, but what else was she supposed to do in this situation. Her best friend was gone with the boy that held both of their hearts in his hands. It was so fucked up.

Bartosz stoically walked over to Martha and held her. He could feel her pain. He knew she didn’t love him, this was just all to try and have someone love her back and to go back to things before Jonas came back. The boy held her close knowing exactly how it felt to love someone who would never love him back. He pitied Martha. He too wished for everything she was, yet he could never let her know why his heart yearned for that simpler time. That it was also him that was suffering in all of this madness of teenaged love and feelings. “It doesn’t matter, okay,” he comforted her. He rubbed her back, “Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He questioned to himself if he was actually comforting Martha or really more himself about this fucked up situation they all had landed in.

The nurse showed Charlotte into Helge’s room explaining that he’s never been gone this long and how normally he was back in just a couple of hours. They chatted about if Ulrich was there and the nurse explained that he was there on that Saturday, but no time since that she knew of.

Helge slept in the deer scare in 1986. He slowly woke up knowing exactly what he had to do.

In 2019, Jonas stared at his grandmother as he asked, “Did you know?”

“Did I know what,” Ines asked the boy.

Jonas replied, “The boy from the future.” When Ines sighed, he knew. He then told her, “you knew.” He nodded a bit to himself then looked back at her.

Ines walked to a small box on her selves and sat back down. She opened it and handed Jonas back the letter that he had burned. This letter looked more pristine. She commented, “This is for you.”

Jonas grabbed it and scanned through it. It was indeed the same exact letter. Just cleaner, more preserved. “That’s impossible,” the boy commented.

“What,” his grandmother asked him.

Jonas looked up at her and explained, “I burned it.” He stared down at it, then looked back up at his grandmother, “How long have you known?”

Ines looked down and shook her head, “I’ve always known, really.” Seeing Jonas just stare blankly at him, she explained, “When your father came to me, he was a disturbed little boy. I just thought he had an overactive imagination. That something bad must have happened to him, something that he couldn’t bear. He told me… he came from the future.” She started to weep, “I didn’t believe him.”

Jonas’s anger started to burn inside of him, “If you knew… Why didn’t you stop it?”

Ines shook her head at him, “I didn’t know he was going to take his own life.”

“But you could have saved Mikkel,” Jonas screamed as tears filled his eyes. He was so angry. He was angry at Ines, the world, but most of all himself for allowing all of this to continue to happen as well. “Now I have another grandma and she’s the principal of my school,” he started to angrily process through his emotions that he was hiding from himself, “Her husband, who’s fucking my mom, is looking for his son, who’s my father!” He huffed and finally growled out, “A few days ago, I kissed my aunt.” Jonas shook his head, “And the crazy thing is… there’s nothing wrong with any of them. They’re okay. I’m what’s wrong.” His tears finally started to fall.

Ines tried to comfort him, “I think things… no matter how abnormal or strange they seem to us, happen for a reason. Who are we to play God? What’s past is past. But you… live in the here and now. Who knows what the future will bring?”

Jonas looked at her and said, “I just want everything back to normal.”

This reminded Ines of Jonas’s father in 1986. Mikkel was sitting there explaining, “As a kid, all that Houdini dreamed of was becoming a magician.” He did his magic trick of moving an object from one cup to the other.

Nurse Ines, at the time, asked, “Do you have the same dream?”

“Yes,” Mikkel admitted, “But the magic I want to do is impossible.”

Ines asked, “Which is what?”

Mikkel sighed, “I just want to finally wake up.” He missed his home, his family, his Annalise. He missed Jonas. He missed everyone and his normal life. He just wanted to wake up from this living nightmare to find him cuddled up to the American girl he had come to love. With Martha snoring just a few feet from them. Annalise touching her lips and sneaking downstairs with him to go get him some candy that Katharina had stashed away from him so that he wouldn’t eat it all or eat it at inappropriate times. Magnus’s loud music abetting them in their heist of candy in the wee morning hours. Only to get caught by Ulrich… Who would then chuckle with a finger to his lips handing them both what they had sought. Mikkel just wanted that life back.

“Have you heard of Master Zhuang’s paradox,” Ines asked the boy. When Mikkel shook his head, Ines explained, “I dreamt I was a butterfly. Now I’ve woken up and no longer know if I’m a person who dreamed he’s a butterfly, or if I’m a butterfly who’s dreaming it’s a person.” Ines smiled and asked, “What are you? A person or a butterfly?”

Mikkel thought for a second then said, “Maybe I’m both.”

In 1953, they were taking Ulrich’s lineup photos. Egon introduced himself to the stange killer before him, “My name is Egon Tiedemann. Maybe we can just start with you telling me your name.”

Ulrich stared up at the man, “Tiedemann? Egon, yes… Of course.” Ulrich started to laugh. He shook his head and said in English, “My only aim is to take many lives. The more, the better I feel.”

“Are you a Satanist,” Egon asked, not breaking.

“A Satanist,” Ulrich asked. He shook his head, “No, I’m a cop.”

Egon’s eyebrow raised then lowered in humor, “a cop?”

Ulrich smiled, “It’s a song from the 80s. I can tell you now, you won’t like it.”

Egon instructed him, “Look into the camera.” When Ulrich did so, Egon asked, “Why did you kill the children?”

Ulrich shook his head, “I didn’t kill them. I tried to save them.”

“What did you do to Helge,” Egon asked.

Ulrich’s breath became uneven, “He’s still alive. He must be. Or the children wouldn’t be dead.”

“Where is Helge now,” Egon pressed Ulrich for answers, “Where is he?”

Ulrich shook his head, “I can change it all. I can change everything that’s going to happen, but you have to let me go.”

Egon commanded once more, “look into the camera.” When Ulrich tried to plead with him, Egon just repeated himself. Then asked, “You know what we do to child murdered here?”

“You stupid asshole,” Ulrich growled, “You’re just as small-minded as everyone else in this shitty town. Are you already drinking or will you start after your wife leaves you and you realize how pathetic and pitiful you are?”

Back in 2019, Jonas and Annalise finally made their way through the rain to school. Annalise removed her hand from his as they got closer and spotted Bartosz standing outside. She slowed down seeing Bartosz was upset. Her heart started to race. Oh no, Annalise thought as she saw Jonas just walking to go inside with no care.

Bartosz intersected Jonas’s route and said, “I waited for you. On Thursday.” He nodded towards Annalise letting the girl know he knew she was there.

“Yeah, fuck…” Jonas tried to cover for himself.

Bartosz shook his head, “What do you mean ‘fuck’? I didn’t tell anyone you were in the nuthouse. I lied for you. France, baguettes…Blah, blah, blah… Turns out you lie pretty well for yourself. You don’t even need me.” He motioned to Annalise then focused his attention back to Jonas, “Martha told me everything.”

Jonas shook his head, “It just happened. I really didn’t…”

“What didn’t you want,” Bartosz yelled, getting angry and shoving Jonas back. Was Jonas really going to just focus on kissing Martha? He wasn’t going to even at all think about the poor girl behind him that was now starting to try to get between them? Bartosz’s heart shattered on the pavement seeing Annalise trying to get into the middle of them to protect Jonas. He yelled, “To blow me off? To lie to me? To make out with my girlfriend? To lie to her best friend?” He shoved Jonas completely down this time, “You’re a sick piece of shit!”

Annalise, at this point, stood between him and Jonas. “Bartosz,” she yelled at him, “He fucked up, but leave him alone.”

Bartosz just pushed her out of the way into a wall to make sure she was safe from the two of them fighting, “He’s just like his dad Anna.”

Jonas couldn’t let the boy just insult his father like that. He stood and tried to tackle Bartosz only causing Bartosz to toss him back to the ground and start to wrestle him trying to make Jonas stop fighting back.

Annalise kept trying to yell at them to stop causing enough noise for Martha to come out of the school and yell at them as well, “What are you doing?!”

Jonas got up and pushed Bartosz down. He backed up closer to Annalise trying to keep himself out of this as much as possible now.

“Have you lost it,” Martha yelled.

Annalise yelled at Martha, “Tell your damned guard dog to back the fuck down.”

Martha looked at her shocked that Annalise suddenly had a fight in her and the first thing she had said to her ex best friend was a slew of curses and insults. Bartosz turned to Annalise, “Oh yeah! Of course! He lied to you too! Don’t you see that?!” He started to go up to the girl again. His heart pounding from trying to fight Jonas, “You know who really fucking found you drunk off your ass?!”

Annalise started to cry. She could smell his familiar cologne. He didn’t need to tell her, She knew he was going to yell it at her anyway though. She backed up towards the wall. Annalise shook her head. She whispered, “Bartosz, please.”

“Yeah! Me,” He yelled at her, “When will you get it through your thick head that he doesn’t give a shit about you?!” He poked at her head hard.

Jonas and Martha’s eyes widened. They started to slowly realize there was more to this that the two of them had kept as well. Everyone had secrets in this town. Martha started to slowly try to intervene. She gently walked up to Annalise and asked, “You got drunk?” Martha’s eyes started to release tears as well.

Annalise nodded, turned to Bartosz, and yelled, “But he kissed me! I was just trying to go home. I hated Winden and everyone in this shithole!” She tried to push the taller boy away from her.

Bartosz sneered and pushed her towards Jonas, “Well you didn’t try to fucking stop me. You made out with me!” He pushed her away from the wall knowing she wanted to be free. Even while angry and fighting, he was still looking out for the girl’s wants.

Jonas looked at Annalise. Suddenly this made a lot more sense. She must have not remembered who it was just some of the general events that happened. Annalise must have thought that he had kissed her that night and that’s why she had forgiven him so quickly. She thought… Jonas snapped himself away from his thoughts. He started to get in between Martha and Annalise trying to keep the other girl away from the one looking terrified.

“You kissed my boyfriend,” Martha roared, trying to rage at the girl only to get intervened by Jonas.

Annalise sobbed, “I was drunk. I forgot who it was.” She looked down. She started to let her anger take back over, “But you cheated on him first anyway! Why do you give a shit?! You are just like your bastard murderous father!” Bartosz started to get in between the two girls as well, but he kept Annalise from getting closer towards Martha and Jonas. Bartosz actually lifted the girl up and placed her down a bit farther away again to put distance between them.

She tried to fight against Jonas to get to Annalise. “At least, I’m not the reason my father’s fucking dead,” Martha yelled at the girl.

Everything stopped. Everyone froze and looked at Annalise. It even seemed like for a moment that the rain itself had stopped. Martha clasped her hands over her mouth knowing she had gone too far. Her hands shook in front of her mouth. Annalise started to tremble. Her face contorted more into agony. The former track star turned and bolted into the forest again. The rain wasn’t helping her stay out of her thoughts. Her mind just kept flashing to the memories and she just wanted everything to stop.

“Annalise,” the three yelled after her. Everyone suddenly unfrozen at the same time. Bartosz tried to grab her, but she was too quick for his reflexes. Everything was also too wet so even if he could grab on, she could have slipped away from him anyway.

Bartosz watched her go. His breathing unsteady. He turned to Jonas and roared, “This is all your fucking fault!” He punched Jonas this time, “Don’t ever come back here. Get the hell out of here!”

Jonas stood there for a second looking at Martha who was sobbing. He touched his lip to feel the warm blood drip onto his fingertips and down his chin. He turned and started to walk away hoping that Annalise was just going to run home or just hide out in the woods again until she was ready. He knew he wasn’t going to catch up and if anything all he could do was to go back. He needed to go back, get Mikkel, and bring him back. Bartosz was right, this was all his fault so now he needed to fix it.

Bartosz watched Jonas walk away calmly and growled. Bartosz turned and took off after Annalise trying hard to try and get to her before anyone else did. Somewhere in his heart, he knew this was his fault too. If he were just honest himself, she wouldn’t have had to have her heart dropped on the cement and crushed like that in front of all of them. She could have just been in his arms, safe and sound. “Annalise,” He screamed trying to have her hear him. He panted and called, “Annalise, please! Come back! Martha didn’t mean it!” Annalise could have just been in his arms, huddled up in his jacket, with her giant radiate smile on her face instead of running through the trees and woods, alone, scared, and crying.

The door to the 1986 Tannhaus shop opened and closed. There stood the older Jonas. He knew he didn’t have that much time left to try to get to the girl before any of the other options did. He knew that if she were with him, she would be safe and maybe actually prevent her fate that he accidentally had caused again. He kicked himself for being so weak to her doe eye charms and buying her alcohol that night. The Stranger Jonas had tried to keep a hold of her, but she slipped away from him and disappeared before he could catch her again. He shook his head at that memory and walked over to the man. He looked at the machine and commented, “You repaired it.”

Tannhaus looked up at the man and pointed to one of them, “That one’s yours.” He pointed at the one in front of himself and said, “And this one’s mine. I built it many years ago. It’s the same device, but in different condition. You see. It’s as if one could look at the beginning and end of something at the same time. Wait a moment.” Tannhaus squeezed past him to go grab the cellphone he had been holding onto. “This thing here,” Tannhaus explained, “it sends a kind of signal. An electromagnetic impulse. As if it were trying to communicate with something. And look at this.” Tannhaus turned on his machine to demonstrate, “this part has never moved. It was included in the blueprint, but I never knew what it was for. This thing communicates with the device. It’s not just the past that influences the future. The future also influences the past. You see. If you hadn’t shown me what the device looks like in the future, I wouldn’t have been able to build it. A paradox. These openings… didn’t exist either. I have no idea what their purpose is.”

Jonas opened up a small vial and put in a small tube into the machine, “It’s Cs-137. A radioactive isotope of Cesium.” Then started to pack it up so that way he could then use it to get back to try and get her. He knew where she was hiding so that gave him a bit of edge, but that also gave someone else the edge as well. He needed to protect her from her fate. All would be for nothing if he couldn’t stop this at least.

Tannhaus looked up, “The device generates a Higgs field. It increases the mass of the Cesium. An electromagnetic impulse causes it to implode into a black hole. The same thing must have happened during the nuclear power plant incident.”

Jonas looked up and asked, “Why did you decide to help me after all?”

“Why,” Tannhaus repeated back at Jonas, “That’s a big word.” The man sat back down in his chair to continue his work, “Why do we decide for one thing and against another?” Tannhaus continued not seeing Jonas nearly crying over that set of words, “But does it matter whether the decision is based upon the consequence of a series of casual links? Or whether it stems from an undefined feeling deep inside me? That perhaps everything in my life boils down to this one moment. That I’m part of a puzzle. One that I can neither understand nor influence. Will you tell me… what the future’s like?”

Jonas stared at the man and explained, “I’m hoping that by tomorrow, it’ll already be different from today.” He turned and walked out the door leaving Tannhaus there.

In 2019, Charlotte called Peter. When he answered, she asked, “Your father was kidnapped as a kid, right? Do you remember when exactly?”

Peter blanked. He wondered if he even knew that information to begin with. He asked her, “Can we talk? I…I have to tell you something.”

Charlotte then asked, “When exactly? ‘53? ‘54?”

Peter shook his head, “Fall of ‘53.”

Charlotte nodded to herself, “1953, exactly 66 years ago. Two times 33. It’s all connected.”

Peter tried to interrupt, “Listen, Charlotte, I… I have to talk to you.”

Charlotte put on her seatbelt, “Later, okay? I’ve got to go.” Charlotte then hung up.

In 1986, the middle aged Helge drove up to his cabin. When he walked up, he saw an old man sitting there. “Can I help you,” he asked, “Were you looking for me?”

The older Helge looked at his younger self. “You have to stop,” he said.

“What do I have to stop,” asked Helge.

The older and wiser Helge replied, “He’s using you. All of his promises are lies. You will never meet David again.”

The younger Helge shook his head, “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

The older one repeated the phrase back at him while taking off his beanie to reveal his scar, “I’ve said that before.” He laughed and shook his head, “Everything Noah says is a lie. He’s not the chosen one. You’re not the chosen one. He doesn’t want to save the world from evil. He is evil. He probably killed David when David didn’t want to go through with this.” The older Helge held his younger self, “Today is the day. The beginning and the end. Don’t make the same mistakes I made. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

The younger Helge pulled away and ran while the older one called after him begging for him to stop. He then realized what he had to do. The old Helge walked away.

2019, Jonas walked into his dad’s studio. He looked around first for Annalise. She was still not home yet. Jonas looked up at the support beam contemplating for a moment before walking downstairs one more.

Hannah looked up at her son and saw his wound. Worried she asked, “What happened to you?” She was surprised that Annalise wasn’t with him. Normally if they skipped school, the two would be together as if held by glue. Hannah stood up and rushed to Jonas.

“I got into a fight,” Jonas explained.

Hannah’s face scrunched, “what?” Her son had never done this before in his life. This was so unlike her Jonas. “With whom,” She asked, caressing his face. Part of her wandered if that’s why Annalise wasn’t with him.

Jonas stared at her, “It doesn’t matter.”

Hannah took her hand away and asked, “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”

Jonas walked over to her and held his mother. He closed his eyes as his arms wrapped around her. He tried to imagine him hugging all of the people he cared about in his arms at that moment. Bartosz, Martha, Mikkel, Annalise… They all deserved to hear this. He whispered to his mother, “Everything will be fine.” He soon pulled away and said, “I left something at school and I still need to find Annalise. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine, Mom.” He forced a small smile before leaving Hannah standing there confused and worried.

Down in the bunker, Peter and Tronte talked. They spoke of Claudia and if they believed her. They could feel everything was going to start happening very soon. Peter was worried because half of the book's pages were missing. He wondered if Claudia was hiding this from them.

In 1986, Helge confronted Noah about what happened. Noah calmly told Helge a story, “Years ago, I was still a little boy. A stranger came to us. He looked as if he’s been in a war. Didn’t talk much. There was this sadness in his eyes. The kind you see sometimes in those who want to die, but life wouldn’t let him.” At this same time, Jonas crossed the police line to go to the cavern that would lead to 1986. Noah continued, “He took a room in our house. The bedroom right next to mine. And… Sometimes I heard him talk in his sleep. Confused words. But one night, he was suddenly very clear. He stood in the hallway, his eyes wide open and said, ‘Nothing is in vain. Not a single breath. Not a single step, not a single word. Not pain. An eternal miracle of the One.’ I didn’t understand any of his words. Only years later, when I felt the pain, did I understand what he meant. That none of the horrible things that befall us should be in vain. That they make us what we are. That they give us our strength. Your pain made you who you are, Helge. But it no longer has power over you.”

Helge nodded in understanding then asked, “Who is next?”

Noah opened his book and instructed Helge on to where to find their next target, Jonas Kahnwald.

Jonas walked out the tunnel and started to walk to the hospital. His plan was simple. Grab Mikkel, set time on the correct path, done.

The social worker turned to Ines and comforted her, “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry. You can always come and visit him.” She turned to Mikkel and said, “I’m taking you to your new home. There are lots of other children there.”

Mikkel didn’t respond and Ines walked her out. Ines looked at the social worker and said, “You know, I’ve made the decision. I want to adopt him and to take provisional custody of him during the adoption procedure... ”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” the worker tried to argue.

Ines shook her head, “I have references. I own a home. I know it may seem rash, but it’s not. The boy likes me. He trusts me. I’m the only person he lets close to him, and… And I like him too.”

Charlotte sat in the forest with her dead bird investigating it. A strange boy in a yellow coat approached and asked what day it was. “The 12th,” She shook her head. When he asked for the year, Charlotte looked at him more confused, “1986.” He then just paced forward as if on a mission. She turned and asked, “Are you from here?” The boy turned and shook his head. Charlotte then asked, “What are you doing here?”

Jonas answered, “Bringing someone back from the dead.”

“How does that work,” she asked him curious.

Jonas sighed, “It’s hard to explain.” He smiled.

Charlotte looked down at the birds, “Can you bring these back?”

Jonas shook his head, “No, you have to find them when they're younger.”

Charlotte looked up at him and said, “But then they’re not dead yet.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they will die,” he explained.

She looked down at the birds then back at him, “You’re crazy.”

Jonas slightly smiled before turning away to get back to his original plan, “Maybe.”

In 2019, Charlotte was investigating Helge. There on page five in the records, she saw Ulrich staring straight at her.

Ulrich, still stuck in 1953, was having a rough time while in prison. They kept asking him about Helge and beating him when he wouldn’t tell them.

Our yellow coat wearing Jonas, in 1986, roamed through the halls of the hospital trying to get to Mikkel’s room.

Annalise, in 2019, curled up in the church. Something she had learned from her grandfather that was a pretty safe place not to be found. She tried to think back to how he told her to get to a special hiding place. She slowly followed his instructions to find a burnt to a crisp office. The girl could feel it’s raw energy and safety. She curled up in the corner and kept herself there. Annalise shivered from the cold. She spotted a fireplace. She looked around trying to find something to light it.

When Jonas finally got to Mikkel’s room, there sat Noah reading to the boy. Mikkel was fast asleep. Noah looked up at him. “Who are you,” Jonas asked. Noah held a finger up to his mouth and shushed him before Helge popped out from behind the door and started to smother him with a cloth covered in chloroform.

Jonas slowly woke up in a blue room with foxes and hedgehogs. There was a large chair in the middle of the room. He heard a noise from outside the door and the slot opened. A familiar face looked through and tried to comfort him, “There’s no need to be afraid.”

“Hey,” Jonas cried at him. He slammed himself against the door, “What’s this supposed to be? What is this? Why did you lock me in here?”

The older Jonas looked at his younger self, “It wasn’t me. It was Noah.”

“Who’s Noah,” our Jonas asked, “Where am I? What is this?”

The older Jonas explained, “This is a kind of prototype of a time machine. You’re the guinea pig. The passage in the cave lies directly under this bunker. If opened, the energy flows through this room. But it needs to be increased. No DeLorean. No hissing or steam. The first time machine is a bunker with four walls. But it still doesn’t quite work.”

“Let me out,” Jonas plead.

The Stranger Jonas shook his head, “I can’t. It’s the only way for things to be normal again.”

Jonas asked, “Who are you?”

“You don’t know,” he asked. He started at him, “The letter, you burned it. Yet it still exists. You’ll carry that letter for almost 33 years before you pass it on. To yourself.”

The younger Jonas started to cry realizing that he was indeed bigger in this than he could have ever imagined at first. He started to understand that there was no easy fix for his life.

“I am you,” The Stranger Jonas told his younger self, “My name is Jonas Kahnwald. I sent the letter to you. Or should I say, to me. Everything you’re experiencing, I’ve already experienced.” He backed away from the door and from his younger self starting to break down, “I burned the letter, just like you. I got it back from our grandmother. I’ve already had this conversation. But I was on the other side then. We think we’re free, but we’re not. We follow the same old path. Again and Again.”

The younger Jonas slammed against the door, “That’s crazy! It doesn’t make any sense! You can decide to let me go now. Come on, let me out!”

The older self stared at him. His heart broke again watching himself throw himself against the wall, “I thought it was crazy for a long time. That I’m crazy. But I can’t let you out because then you won’t become what I am today. If I now change my past, I will change who I am right now. And I won’t be able to destroy the hole once and for all.” He stared at his younger self, “Why did you kiss Martha? Why didn’t you run after Annalise? We are not free in what we do, because we are not free in what we want. We can’t overcome what’s deep within us.”

Our Jonas sobbed, “Stop it.” He hated being faced with this. He knew in his heart that it was true. That all of what the older him was saying had to be true, “Stop.” He thought of the two girls in agony. “Please stop,” he begged, “I have to bring Mikkel back.” The older Jonas sighed at his younger self’s ignorance. But the younger continued, “I want everything to go back to normal. I want all this sick shit to stop!”

“You still do,” The Stranger Jonas tried to comfort himself, “33 years later. I still want that. But Mikkel… Our father is just a small part of the sprawling sickness. I’ve seen things that n one should ever see. I’m sorry.” He closed the slot and left.

The younger Jonas started to panic again.

Helge drove through the dark and rainy night back home only to be hit by a car. The younger Helge exited his vehicle having magically survived. He limped to the other car to see the dead limp body of his older self sitting there.

Charlotte was in her office in 2019 right on the cusp of everything. She looked down at the phone to see that her husband had texted her talking about meeting him in the bunker.

Noah sat in his car. “Everything is about to begin,” He told Bartosz, “The older Jonas will destroy the hole, but… he doesn’t realize that he will be the one to trigger its existence. A paradox. The cesium in his useless machine won’t destroy the hole forever. It’s what creates it in the first place. He thinks he’s the savior.” He turned to the boy once more, “But Claudia lied to him. Most people are nothing but pawns on a chessboard. Led by an unknown hand. Their lives exist only to be sacrificed for a higher goal. Jonas, Mikkel, the children, they’re nothing but unfortunate yet necessary chess moves in an eternal war between good and evil. There are two groups out there fighting over control of time travel. Light and Shadow. We belong to the light. Don’t forget that.” Bartosz shrunk in his seat as Noah explained, “Even though some of what we do is of a dark nature. But no victory is ever won without sacrifice. As long as we’re in this time loop we who know have to make sure that every step is repeated exactly as it was before. No matter how inhumane it seems to us. No matter what sacrifices it demands of us. But believe me, the others are the ones who are truly inhumane. They have lost all humanity. They belong to the shadow. Your grandmother, Claudia, belongs to the shadow. Never trust her. No matter what she says. Jonas trusted her before and he will trust her again. Jonas thinks he will change everything… but he’s just her puppet. He doesn’t deserve any better.” Noah chuckled looking down at his book and handing it to Bartosz. “Time is an infinite field. Millions and millions of interlocking wheels. We have to be patient to be victorious. But our time will come. We will free humanity from its immaturity. From its pain. But you must be strong. Can you do that?”

Bartosz looked out the window knowing exactly what he wanted, “Yes.”

Noah checked his watch. “It’s time.”

The older Jonas crawled through the tunnels with his time machine under his arm. He sat inside and activated the machine. He looked next to him to see his father covered in the black goop next to him.

Mikkel smiled at his new home and Ines lifted him up to bring her new son inside of his house. The boy clinged onto his new mother. Charlotte walked down into the bunker to be greeted by her husband. While Katharina stared at her phone and tried to call her husband not knowing it was all in vain because he was getting beat up in a prison 66 years away from home. The middle aged Tannhaus and Claudia just starting to work on their new knowledge of time travel. Both sets of the Doppler families held onto each other as they felt Winden start to shake. Hannah stared at the gun on her table as Doris and Agnes shared a glass of whiskey. Tronte and Janna held onto each other. Magnus and Franziska sat up from the movie they were watching while cuddled on the couch together seeing an old 1986 candy commercial. Aleksander and Regina hopped out of their car to look at the giant black dome starting to encase the forest. Hannah lifted the gun and pointed it towards the wall as the older Nielsen couple held onto each other. The older Claudia held out her hands and felt the snow start to fall once more.

Helge and Jonas both felt the shaking. Then a bright light over took both of them. There in the middle of the room, almost like a mirror looking in to see the other one in a different place in time. Slowly they approached and touched fingers suddenly changing positions. Now Helge was in the blue room and Jonas was in the dark bunker. But something seemed off. This didn’t look to be the same from where Helge left. He stared at the pictures on the wall all linked together. He then ran out of the bunker to investigate.

It was snowing. He looked around and saw all the destruction. There before him was the aftermath of the Apocalypse. It wasn’t long before he ran into a band of people on a military styled truck. They called to him to put his hands up, which Jonas quickly complied scared of what was going to happen. He then was forced onto the ground. He started to ask questions wondering what was going on. Then a drone flew overhead. When he looked back to the girl with a scar, she simply told him, “Welcome to the future.” Then hit him with the butt of her rifle.

Annalise felt the ground shake. She curled up in her corner until she heard a strange noise. She looked up as a shining light illuminated her and the old room. She started to shake, “Jonas?” Whenever she asked she seemed to calm. Then slowly her face changed from one of confusion and terror to one of overwhelming joy and fondness. As if she was seeing a long lost friend, she started to cry happily, “Oh, Adam. You’re finally here.” She reached towards the light only to be sucked in.

#yesterday once more fanfic #dark fanfic #dark netflix #dark netflix fanfic #dark (netflix)#dark (netflix) fanfiction

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xstick-noodlesx · 4 years

Text

My sister and I talked about weird things in the wizarding world (1/?)

@akira-vargas

-the castle is way too big

-the stairs keep moving and I bet every student was late because of that at least once

-candles everywhere are a fire hazard, especially floating ones

-all the dangerous things that Dumbledore keeps should NOT be kept in a school for children or the surrounding woods (eg. trolls, three-headed dogs, giant fuck-off snakes, giant spiders, the stone, …)

-Dumbledore is an irresponsible principal

-he just hires teachers that he likes without any background checks

-he hires Remus and doesn’t check whether or not he goes somewhere safe or takes his potion during full moons

-kids can participate in deadly tournaments

-the “treasures” are literally other children that were basically taken and put on the bottom of a lake

-one of the teachers bullies children to the point that one child’s biggest fear is literally that teacher

-instead of sending kids to normal detention, he has them walk around the dangerous, beast filled forest in the middle of the night

-someone is petrifying students and Dumbledore doesn’t think of sending the students home

-kids could literally fall from the moving staircases if they move while the kids are on them

-talking pictures are creepy and you can’t convince me not at least one of the pictures creeps on the kids

-when Hogwarts presumes Sirius is looking for Harry, they just go along with their day and don’t try to give him extra protection at all

-no phones, sending important messages through owls would take way too long

-the whole Sirius situation proves how incompetent the ministry is and no one – not even Dumbledore – thought twice of locking someone up without proper trial

-they have literal house elve slaves

-the Black family is literally abusing their kids and no one thinks twice about it and why? because they're an old wizard family

-travelling through toilets

-Dumbledore's first instinct after finding little Harry with his parents dead is to give him to his aunt and uncle who he knows hate wizards

-why can’t Harry just bring a gun or a knife or smth to a fight

-why do they have to use feathers and not pens – just the thought of writing my A-Levels with a feather instead of a pen physically pains me

-they don’t use ANY muggle technology like lamps, telephones, etc.

-the only muggle technology they use are like toilets and before that, they literally shat on the floor

-the only prison we ever hear of is Azkaban but imagine going to Azkaban and being in the cell next door to a murderer for stealing an owl

-also, the fact that Azkaban is supposed to be high security and literally every other person breaks out

-are there any people working at Azkaban or do the Dementors cook the meals for the prisoners??

-the only thing the Dementors really do is inconvenience and nearly kill children

-why isn’t time travel used more like if you’re careful it should be fine

-care for magical creatures is way too dangerous for children, it’s like us interacting with wild bears

-the fact that Dobby could block the entrance to the platform 9 ¾ without any problems so that two students couldn’t get to school is “dumb as shit” (quote, my sister); it’s like some random dude coming up to your school, locking the door and keeping you out and no one does anything about it

-why send first years across a lake at night in little boats with only the groundskeeper to supervise them; safety hazard

-they have not enough teachers I feel

-are there only like ten beds for each year for each house? what if there’s one student more?

-the fact that they have to use a password to get into their house

-the fact that the Ravenclaws have to solve a riddle to get into their house so what if someone else just happens to solve the riddle???

-they use the same old hat to sort every student and what if one of the students have lice then every first year after that student will have lice

-how much food gets thrown away every day at Hogwarts???

-are there more wizarding schools than the four we know of? like is there one in Germany? Or Poland? Or Iceland? Or South America? Imagine being an eleven-year-old German child and being sent to Hogwarts and knowing little to no English because, well, you’re an eleven-year-old child

-is there sex ed in Hogwarts??

-Gryffindor wins everything; you can tell they are Dumbledore’s favourites

-the wizarding world basically has the death penalty or the soul-sucking penalty which is just as bad

-prisoners are basically abused and/or neglected when in Azkaban

-they had one detention where a student has to sign autographs late at night with his teacher

-the only competent defence against dark arts teacher gets fired because he transformed into a werewolf on school grounds which is something that Dumbledore should have been able to prevent

-Snape isn’t only bullying children, he also bullies his colleagues and NO ONE gives a frick

-the fact that a little girl died on the school grounds and another student was framed and convicted; none of the teachers faced repercussions because of the negligence

-the fact that that little girl is now a ghost and peeping on other students on the toilets

-the fact that there are no safety measures taken during quidditch?? what if a student falls from their broom??? What if someone gets a bludger to the face???

-why is there a restricted section in the school library??? If the books are dangerous why are they in a school library???

-why does harry get to keep the invisibility cloak??

-don’t they have PE for like the students that don’t want to play a dangerous broom flying sport??

-why is there a literal roller coaster with a dragon down in the bank basement??? Why is it such an inconvenience to get some money from the bank???

-the houses themselves make no sense?? Like personalities can change??

-some student died during the tournament and there are no repercussions?? No one is sued??? No one is angry at Dumbledore or the other headmasters???

-what if you need to talk to Dumbledore but don’t know his stupid office password??

-why do they have one book that just screams at you when you open it???

-or a book that tries to eat you as soon as you open it??? And you need to like pet it to open it

-why is everyone angry that one of the teachers is a werewolf but no one cares about giant squids, murderous mermaids in the lake, giant spiders, giant snakes, etc??

-if I was a parent and my child would be bullied by Snape you can bet your butt that I’d have him fired

-Dumbledore is constantly encouraging Harry’s reckless behaviour

-the fact that you have to get parental permission to go to Hogsmeade

-how is a cat or a toad supposed to bring you your mail??

-why can every student bring a pet?? That seems like such a mess to me. What if I’m allergic to cat hair and my roommate has a cat?? What if his cat murders my owl??

-why are the Weasleys allowed to bring a rat?

-why is no one talking about how Peter Pettigrew was literally sleeping in the same bed as an eleven-year-old boy as a rat??

-the owls are in little cages??

-the fact that students get to turn their animals into objects should count as animal abuse

-why are there so many cats but not a single litter box?

-did the other cats try to get with McGonaggal??

-why did the school allow the Ministry to literally slaughter Buckbeak on school property?

-there was a cell at the ready for Sirius at Hogwarts and they talk about dungeons under the school? Why? it’s a school for children

-has a student ever walked in on McGonaggal while she was licking her own butthole?

-did she take part in the cats movie? And was she part of the butthole cut??

-am I allowed to bring Mr Mistoffelees, a magical cat, to school with me?

-the fact that Madame Hooch left all the kids alone with their brooms to take care of Neville

-how can a giant squid survive in a literal lake?

-were they planning on basically executing Sirius on school grounds?

-do they have a police force that takes care of minor crimes like shoplifting?

-do they have wheelchair ramps at Hogwarts? Do people get to bring their seeing-eye dog

-the long staircases to the towers

-why is the Slytherin house literally underground? Like no sunlight?

-Having houses only encourages bullying

-can I get a normal job or university place with my Hogwarts degree?

#i know some of therse may be explained on pottermore but i don't care #long post #original post #rant #harry potter #harry potter and the philosophers stone #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #harry potter and the order of the phoenix #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #Albus Dumbledore #ron weasley #sirius black #remus lupin

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rogerina-yee-haw · 6 years

Text

“at least I’m one”

chapter 3: “- the broken rules and true affection”

sd!gwilym lee x reader

[the goodbye] [the sadness & tenderness]

summary: you and gwil met ten months ago; and he offered you to be his sugar baby almost immediately. you agreed at that exact moment, not knowing where it would get you.

warnings: badly written smut (again) sorry y’all; angst, fluff, cursing, cringy behavior, author’s spelling and grammar errors, typos

a/n: hey y’all ily!!! thanks for waiting!! i love you all!! I’m sorry it took me so long!! I’m dying at uni!!

also, I wanted to thank you for 350+ followers like??? how did it happen?? I don’t deserve all of your pretty souls?? but seriously, you all are amazing and wonderful, and I hope you have a beautiful day <3

I :) hope :) this :) chapter :) isn’t :) a :) complete :) piece :) of :) garbage :) (it is imao sorry)

P.S.

there are three chapters left.

As you follow your parents through the long and silent corridors of the hospital, you can surely say that you feel much better.

Becca gave birth to a beautiful baby boy; and you have never seen her happier. She and Jackson looked so felicitous with their newborn in Becca’s arms, that you couldn’t but shed a tear. For the first time during this day it wasn’t a sad cry; you were really happy.

Your sister needed rest after the tough night of labor; so you and your parents decided it would be better for you to leave. And now you are going home, back to your apartment, April and sorrows.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” your mum lightly touches your hand; you give her a fake smile in response. You can’t tell her the truth; and was there ever even a slight bit of truth about you and Gwil? Everything your parents know about this relationship is built on lies. You can’t tell her that you fell in love with your sugar daddy but he proposed to another sugar baby, and that’s why you’re heartbroken. You simply can’t.

“Just tired”, you smile weakly. “Can’t even imagine how Becca’s still able to talk and, y’know; behave as a normal human being after having such an experience”. Your mum lets out a laugh.

“Becca is strong. And she likes being the center of attention, so her desire to talk is quite understandable”.

“Put it this way, love”, your father joins the conversation, “Becca just wants everyone to praise her. That’s her character”.

“She deserves that praise”, you say.

Your father smiles. “Of course she does. She’s a hero”.

When your parents offer to give you a ride, you refuse, saying Janet is supposed to pick you up; you lie, once again. You’re not ashamed of yourself – you wouldn’t survive if you never lied. That’s just another deception. Just another delusion for your parents and you to believe in.

No one’s here to pick you up. Janet is probably having fun at that party, Billy’s sleeping, and Gwil… You sigh deeply. You just can’t continue doing it to yourself anymore. One more thought about Gwilym, one more memory – and you’re sure you’ll jump off of some building. You won’t make it through the night if you continue thinking about him.

He’s gone. He’s engaged to Alice. He’s not yours. He has never been yours. That’s all that you have to know for moving on. But you simply don’t know how; Gwil has been a part of your life for ten months, you can’t just move on. That’s not possible.

When you get into the cab, you’re on the verge of crying again; all the bliss, given by Becca’s baby boy, is gone. You look through the car window – the streets of London are full of people on this Friday night. All of them are having fun, laughing and just enjoying themselves; and even if they have some troubles in their life, they simply forget about them while drinking tons of alcohol. If you do the same thing, you’d end up on Gwilym’s doorstep. You know that for sure.

Almost twenty minutes later you come back home; it’s silent there, as usual. You don’t even turn the lights on – you don’t want to see what kind of mess your flat is now. “Probably as messy as I am”, you think when you sit down on the couch.

On the floor, right in front of you, there is a bag. The bag. You take a deep breath before reaching your hand to it; you have to look through the stuff you took from Gwil’s apartment. You had to do that to cope with your feelings, to try to move on. You can’t let yourself drown in your sorrows, not being able to throw away everything related to him. You need to get rid of the memories. You have to do that just in case. Just to realize if the pain is still that strong.

The red flannel shirt is the first thing that you put out of the bag.

And you can’t even comprehend how much pain it causes you. It makes your chest ache, and you feel like your heart is going to explode.

And there you have enough of your weak attempts in moving on.

You burst into tears, squeezing the shirt in your hands; it still smells like him. Because it’s his, it’s his shirt. The one he says he hates so much, that he didn’t even protest when you borrowed it. The memories of this day are still fresh, and you let yourself drown in them, you give in. You can’t fight, you’re not that powerful. You can’t move on, you’re not that strong to do this. You want to drown in your sorrows, because it’s the only way to be with him now.

Still crying, you put the shirt over your shoulders. “Looks good on you”, Gwil used to say when you wore it. “It was a lie”, you whisper while curling up on the couch; you keep sobbing and wrapping the shirt around yourself. “Another lie to play with me”, you say under your breath, tears still streaming down your cheeks when you doze off. Your sleep isn’t peaceful; you dream about Gwilym, again and again.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

September.

“So you agree?”

You looked into the contract one more time; you furrowed your brows just to seem focused. To be honest, you’ve lost the ability to concentrate the moment you saw Gwil inside of the restaurant. He looked like the fucking Adonis in his dark-grey three-piece suit, and you couldn’t get the image of him roughly lifting you up from your seat and fucking you right on this table till you see the stars. You kept reminding yourself that it wasn’t right, that you just met him seven hours ago. You had no idea who he was until he approached you in that posh shop.

At one point you started doubting whether you needed that or not; but then you realized one simple thing. This beautiful, heavenly looking man was offering you the life you could never afford. Alright, maybe if you worked yourself to death – maybe then you could afford buying expensive clothes and jewelry. Also being alone for a year and a half had its own influence – and by that you certainly meant a badly hidden desire to have sex with Gwilym right there and then.

You sighed deeply, as you looked through the rules. They weren’t bad; as they weren’t, by no means, crossing any lines in any way. They were normal. They were adequate. You couldn’t ask for more. That was your chance to get free cash and hook up with a pretty dude. You couldn’t miss such an opportunity.

“I do”.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №7. no contact with each other’s families and friends.

March.

“Someone get this goddamn door!”

Your mother’s scream was able to bring dead back to life; but now it only made you realize that you might lose your hearing, if she shouted like that one more time.

“Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?” Billy seemed to notice the way you winced when you heard your mother’s loud voice; and that’s why he decided to proclaim the song’s lyrics right into your ear. It made you growl, and you turned around to hit him on the shoulder.

“Idiot!” you said. “Go get the door”.

“I’m too busy to do that”.

You raised your eyebrows at him in disbelief; Billy was just messing around while his mother and you were helping your mum with preparing food and guests. Your dad and Becca with Jackson were of great help, too; everyone was doing something except for this dumbass. He grinned widely, seeing your frustration. “Besides, t’s not my house. I’m not allowed to open doors and, y’know, behave wildly”.

“Swift, for fuck’s sake, you’ve spent more time in this house than anywhere else”, you sighed. “And you certainly opened the doors for, like, million times”.

“But-“

“Billy!” his mother stormed into the kitchen “Stop wandering around and go get the door!” she took the bowl with fruits into her hands. “Or I’ll make you chat with Zelda!” she added before heading to the dining room. Billy’s eyes widened and he seemed to start trembling the second he heard your aunt’s name; so he left the kitchen immediately. You chuckled; this day was already a piece of work. Every time such a big family gathering happened, you knew that something would eventually be fucked up. Today was no exception, as it was your mother’s fiftieth birthday.

She wanted to have both her sisters, three best friends with their children and, of course, her own family present at such an important event. Three best friends included Mrs. Swift with her dumbass of a son Billy, Mrs. Johnson, and Mrs. Raymonds with her daughter Alexis and son James.

James had been a pain in your ass today since the moment he entered the house. You expected to successfully avoid talking to him, but it seemed as if he wanted to speak to you more than anything. You couldn’t really understand why. You hadn’t communicated properly for four years, right since your breakup, and you didn’t really want to; firstly, because before you were too invested in your relationship and split with Luke, and now because of Gwilym.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. How you wished to have Gwil here now; you knew that with him everything would be so much better. And, moreover, if Gwil was here, James wouldn’t be bothering you. You couldn’t tell him to fuck off; you were too nice for that. Besides, you didn’t want to ruin the “normal” relationship that you two had – if it was possible to call it like that.

He was not only your childhood friend, but your ex, your first kiss, your first sex and your first heartbreak. Every “first” that happened to you was connected to James; and no matter how much thankful you were to him for giving you a necessary experience, you couldn’t but regret your decision to date your mum’s best friend’s son at the age of fourteen. If you never saw him again, everything would be so much easier. All just because he was awfully clingy and tedious; it seemed as if he had never grown up and was still stuck in high school. And he was an idiot in high school.

“You need help?” As your back was facing the kitchen’s entrance, you couldn’t miss the opportunity to roll your eyes when you heard James’s voice. It took you everything not to tell him to fuck off, as you put a fake smile on your face and turned around to see him standing near the fridge. A couple of steps more – and he would be right in front of you. Disgusting.”No; but thank you for the offer, James”.

“Oh, Y/N”, he smiled and moved a bit forward; your fists tightened and you clenched your jaw, still smiling. “You’re always welcome”.

Please, dear God. Save me from this monstrosity.

Billy was humming the song about the poor groom and his whore-bride as he approached the door; he was happy enough to avoid talking to aunt Zelda for a while. She was the most annoying person he had ever met, and she also hated him to death; so opening the door was quite a good opportunity.

A tall dude in a suit with bouquet of flowers on Y/L/N’s house’s doorstep surprised Billy; as he was 5’6” himself, everyone taller than that seemed like a giant to him. And this really handsome pal was certainly intimidating. “You alright, mate?” Billy examined him from heat to foot; the suit was totally expensive and the man himself looked like a fucking duke.

“Is Y/N here?” his voice was deep and a bit husky; Billy furrowed his brows – he had no idea you were aquianted with someone from the Royal Family.

“Y/N!” he screamed. “That’s for you!”

When James was almost standing near you, Billy’s voice saved your day. “Thank God!” you shouted in response and flew out of the kitchen; no matter who was there, you were happy enough it happened. You saw Billy standing in front of the open door; leaning to the doorway, that was leading from the hall to the living room, you let out a sigh of relief. You didn’t even see who was at the door; and at the moment you didn’t care, as you stood there, panting, with your eyes closed.

“Fucking James”, you breathed. “I hate this fucking wanker so much, you don’t even know, Billy”.

“Oh no, I do, trust me, Y/L/N. ‘Cause I hate him more”.

“If I hear his fucking voice one more time, I swear-“

“Who’s James?”

You couldn’t believe it; did the voice that you heard belong to Gwilym? Your eyes went round; and when you finally saw him, standing on your parents’ house’s doorstep, your eyes lit up and your mouth curved into a smile. He was there.

“Gwil”, you mouthed. He beamed, and his whole face lit up when he saw you. Or maybe it just seemed to you that it did.

“Y/N”, he said, “hey”.

“I’m Billy!” he chimed in, resting his chin on your shoulder; your smile faded as your rolled your eyes at him.

“Swift, go to the kitchen and help our mums”, you said quickly. He huffed.

“And talk to Raymonds? No, thank you.”

As you kept maintaining eye contact with Gwil, you couldn’t but close your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Billy”, you said through gritted teeth, “go and help our mums”.

“Y/L/N-“

“Billy!” you turned around; if it was possible to burn someone down with just one simple gaze, Billy would have been dead already. “Go and do it, while I’m asking you nicely!” you pinched his shoulder so strongly, that he jumped and let out a squeak.

“Alright!” he raised his hands. “I’ll do anything if you stop hitting and pinching me. Bloody woman”, he mumbled, while leaving.

“Sorry about him”, you looked back at Gwil; he was still smiling at you. “He’s just twelve, really”.

“Is that your best friend you told me about?”

“Yeah”. Only then you noticed he was holding a bouquet of lilies.

“That’s my mum’s favourite flowers”, you said quietly. “How’d you know?”

His gaze was fixed on your face; and you couldn’t but look away because you felt extremely flustered.

“You said it once. I remembered”.

You melted like an ice-cream under the scorching sun. He remembered that? It took your father twenty-seven years of marriage to memorize his wife’s favorite flowers, and here was Gwil – remembering about it for some time. You didn’t even know how to react.

But then you realized one thing. He was not supposed to be here. He was your sugar daddy; and one of the rules was not to have any contact with each other’s families of friends. What exactly was he doing here?

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “You said you gonna have a business trip”.

He smiled. “I deferred it to the next weekend. Couldn’t leave my girl alone with her, as she says that, crazy family”.

My girl. Of course, you heard him say that million times; but something was different now, you could feel it in your bones.

You smiled like an idiot, while he was taking off his coat; he beamed at you back, and there you were – two grinning idiots, who stood in your parents’ house’s hallway. That was so much you wanted to tell him; how thankful you were that he came, but mostly you wanted to kiss him softly and whisper “I love you” in between kisses.

“You’re gonna regret it”, you say instead. “They’re embarrassing”.

He chuckled and took your hand; Gwil pressed a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “I will never regret a minute spent with you. Even if your family is embarrassing”. He pulled you closer, and you were perfectly safe and sound in his arms. The flowers, lying on the little sofa in the hallway, were long forgotten, as well as guests, food and the world. Gwil was warm and lovely, and you closed your eyes, resting your head in the crook of his neck. You would stay like this forever. You didn’t need anything, anyone else, but him, just him, only him. You had no idea why he was there, when he could be somewhere else, with another sugar baby, having sex and buying jewelry. But he was there, with you.

“You are stunning”, he whispered in your ear. “Red looks good on you”. You let out a chuckle against his neck. God, that was so silly.

“You bought me this dress, after all”, you answered quietly. Gwil hummed in response and kissed your hair; you pulled away from his neck, catching him staring at you in awe. You lost yourself in his blue eyes, lost yourself forever in his mesmeric gaze. Was this love? For you, yeah. For you, it was everything you ever wanted – it seemed that Gwilym walked into your life in that dark-blue suit at the end of the September right from your dreams. You didn’t even know when exactly you fell in love with him – but you knew it was more than just a simple arrangement now. At least for you.

“It’s not the point, baby”, his fingers traced different shapes on your back and Gwil could certainly feel you shivering under the dress. “You look good in everything”. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled. It was perfect.

“You must be the mysterious guy Y/N always talks about!” You let out a squeak and jumped back from Gwilym in an instant; your sister was leaning onto the doorframe and grinning impishly. You pressed a hand to your chest and cursed under your breath. “I’m Becca, her elder sister”, her and Gwil shook hands and you couldn’t but roll your eyes; Becca was up to something. You didn’t like the thought of it; any idea of your sister always turned out to be a disaster.

You all walked in the dining-room; and the whole place went from a loud chat to complete silence. Aunt Zelda, as you noticed, was examining Gwil thoroughly. You furrowed your brows and rolled your eyes; your aunt was evidently interested in a good-looking man who just walked in with you. You let out an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes once again, this time thinking that they may just stay inside of your head if you do that one more time. You saw Billy barely holding back his hysterical laugh, when you sat down at the table; you stopped yourself from slapping your forehead and throwing something at Swift. Your attention was drawn to Becca and Jackson as they were having whispered conversation, while looking at you and Gwil. James looked confused, when you gave him a brief look; his opinion was the last one you were interested in. You were so invested in observing everyone’s reaction that you missed the main one – your mum’s.

“….boyfriend?”

You frowned hearing the scraps of the conversation; you turned your head and caught your mum and dad talking to Gwilym. You looked at them, being disoriented, as you heard him saying that. “Yes, I am. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend”.

You tilted your head, still furrowing your brows. Boyfriend?

“I’m Y/N’s boyfriend”, for fuck’s sake, what?

“Holy shit”, you almost mumbled, still staying bewildered; he didn’t just say what he said, did he?

Boyfriend? No. He was not your boyfriend. He was the exact opposite. He bought you expensive shit and fucked you into oblivion. He was your sugar daddy. He was providing you with money and taking you to luxurious resorts to spend the weekend there. He made an arrangement, came up with rules for both of you to follow. He had other women as his sugar babies, whom he fucked too. He was a boss in the huge ass company. He was a literal Disney Prince. He was this, and not your boyfriend.

But he took care of you when you were terribly sick after your romantic getaway in Aspen. He held you tightly when you were crying. He cuddled you until you fell asleep in his arms, both of you beaming. He praised every part of your body. He wrote you cute letters every day, saying how much he adored you. He told you he was proud of you when you got a promotion. He made you a bubble bath with candles lit around and sweet music playing on the background. He did facemasks with you while watching your favorite shows. He told you he didn’t want to let you go. He made you feel valued and protected, for the first time after two failed relationships. He made you feel as if it wasn’t just an arrangement. He made you feel like he loved you.

Your heart skipped a beat at this thought. Loved you? No, that was ridiculous. Gwilym couldn’t love you; he could love Alice, a small pretty thing with her piercing gaze and gracious movements; or his other sugar baby, Zoe, with her husky voice and plump lips. He could love someone much more skinnier than you, someone not that tall, and someone not that awkward. He was way out of your league; and still, somehow, he was there, at your family’s gathering, talking to your relatives and resting his hand on your thigh. He was there, with you, not anywhere else. He was there.

You exchanged glances, smiled at each other; throughout the whole evening he never stopped whispering into your ear about how beautifully you looked. He held your hand and kissed it, when there was an opportunity. Gwil was talking to your dad about science and business, like your father had a clue about any of those things; he even chatted with Billy for a moment, which made you smile lightly. It seemed to you that every time he looked at you, his eyes lit up. And for a moment you knew - he was yours. Only yours.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №2. accept every gift that is given.

February.

It was so good.

The sound of Gwil’s skin clapping against yours, the way he gripped your hips and sucked on the skin in the crook of your neck made you arch your back, your breasts pressing into his chest. He growled, and it sent shivers down your spine. His thrusts were now faster, as he was as close as you.

“You like it like that, right, baby?”

You were clinging onto him as if it was the matter of life and death; and it was, indeed. He was giving you what you needed. Finally. “Yes, daddy”, you mouthed. “I’m so close”, you were breathing hard and saying these words wasn’t very easy as well; but it was what he wanted – you spoke. Gwil thrusted into you harshly, burying himself inside of you so deeply that you could only scream his name in pleasure. It seemed that you both had forgotten about the little game you played. You were more than happy to realize that; even though you were terribly wrong about Gwilym.

He started moving slower in you and then pulled out; your eyes were wide open the second he did that. What the actual fuck?

You rose on your elbows; your brows drew together as you watched this asshole slyly grin. “You said…” you were panting. “You said…you…”

“That I’ll let you cum in the bedroom?” he replied. “That’s true”, he shrugged his shoulders. “But you didn’t catch one little thing, love”, Gwil was hovering over you again. “By that I meant master bedroom. And this”, he pressed a kiss on your lips, “This is certainly not the master bedroom”.

You looked at him with wide eyes and sighed loudly. In a master bedroom? “There are seven bedrooms in this house”, you mumbled, when you head fell back onto the pillows. He was kidding, right? He didn’t let you cum neither in the kitchen nor in the living room, and promised you’d come in the bedroom – but now, turned out that he was just messing with you? You covered your eyes with your hand and sighed deeply. This was going to be a long ride; and with Gwil’s desire to edge you until you were begging and telling him exactly what he wanted – you knew you would be exhausted as fuck.

“This can end very quickly, y’know it, love”, he hovered over you, you could feel it; your eyes were still closed and jaw clenched tightly. You didn’t want to give in. You didn’t start playing this game just to let him win in the end.

It wasn’t exactly a game, though. You were just rejecting his gift, and that’s all. The only thing was that not accepting the present was another violation of rules. And, also, that his gift was a fucking three-storied house. A freaking mansion with a huge garage, a back garden, and, like, fifty rooms. He just said, “It’s a simple gift, love”, and you jaw fell open at his words. Simple fucking gift; the one you never asked for. That was too much. Money, Cartier bracelets, diamond necklaces and designer clothes were great and amazing, but the house? You knew Gwil couldn’t get enough of spoiling, but he crossed the line here, even for a sugar daddy. Even for this type of relationship buying a house was too much.

But he, apparently, didn’t think so. He kept on insisting it didn’t mean anything, that he didn’t even spend that much money on it. Your blood was boiling, and you could feel your ass burning with anger.

Now your ass was burning too, but because of how much Gwil was spanking you. You were ready to come undone just cause of it, but this asshole didn’t let you. He wouldn’t let you come until you accepted the gift. And even though you really liked the house, you couldn’t just agree on his terms and take it. No. It was too much. Even for such a rich dude like Gwil.

“I just have to accept your gift and shut up, right?” you said through gritted teeth. Gwil furrowed his brows, and took your hand from your face. Your eyes were open as you were looking at him irritably.

“I never told you to shut up”, his tone was serious as he was staring you in the eyes. “And it’s not what I meant. You know that”. He sounded offended; you suddenly felt guilty about your behavior. You were acting like a bitch the second you saw the house, and said some stupid shit, like “I hate this fucking house". He shouldn’t have bought it, but you shouldn’t be a brat about it either. He did it not 'cause he wanted to buy you, no; he did it because that’s how he showed his affection. And it was part of your arrangement, part of then rules after all; he always sticked to them, unlike you.

“I do”, you cupped his face in your hands, looking at him softly. “I know that you don’t mean anything like that”, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. He kissed you back eagerly, putting his hands on your waist and pulling himself lower, closer to you. You both were naked, aroused and hungry for each other. You pulled away trying to catch your breath. “But I still can’t accept this gift, Gwil”.

Gwilym let out a loud groan as he rolled over to another side of the bed. “Why’s that, Y/N?” he tried to sound neutrally but you could feel irritation coming out of his whole body.

“Baby, I told you already”, you sighed tiredly. “The house’s too big, too expensive. I can’t accept it”.

“It’s a gift, love”, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to think about its price”.

You rolled over to face him, but he wasn’t looking at you; he lied on his back, breathing heavily with eyes closed. Too annoyed to even speak to you. And even though he wouldn’t speak to you through his mouth, you knew through what he would certainly answer you. If he said “no” to it, you would never insist on keep going. You were both keeping each other comfortable, always.

He was still rock hard and you had to restrain yourself from moaning. He might have been a huge ass with the whole edging thing today, but you wanted him like crazy, always and constantly.

He let out a groan when you straddled him. You tried your best to keep a straight face, but you were so fucking wet that no facial expression could save you.Gwil felt that; thinking that you were insisting on continuation of the sex, he put his hands on your hips, trying to make you move; but you had other plans for him. You took his hands off of you and put them on his sides. “What will people say when they learn I’m living in such a big house?” you traced circles on his chest with your fingers; he drew in a long breath, gripping the sheets. “No one would believe I’m able to even rent it. I’m not really rich, baby”, you kept maintaining eye-contact; him inside of you and neither of you moving.

“Fuck them”, he whispered. He made you feel like a goddess just by looking at you that lovingly and hungrily. You moaned at the thought, and Gwil took this chance to putting his hands on your hips again. You raised an eyebrow and brushed his hands off. He didn’t let you cum. Now you were going to torture him for a little bit as well.

“No touching, Gwil. You can’t do that unless I say so”.

He licked his lips and grinned, surprised by your sudden dominance. He liked seeing you like this: confident and naked. Gwil’s favorite moods of yours.

“Shit, Y/N”, he grunted. “You feel amazing. So tight and beautiful”.

You gasped; Gwil was well aware of the effect his words had upon you, and he smiled, no, he fucking grinned, looking at you, almost twirling in ecstasy already.

The smug look on his face vanished when you started rocking your hips against him. Moving up and down his cock, you moaned and clung on his chest with your nails. He hissed, gripped the sheets tightly but never touched you. You rode him fast and needy, trying to reach your climax sooner than he noticed. “Feels so good”, you whined. Sweaty, greedy, whimpering, with head tilted back and nails digging in his chest – just the sight of you like this could make Gwil lose control. He wanted to thrust into you harshly, touch you everywhere, run his fingers through your hear and caress your face as you rode you both to orgasm – but he followed your rules. Not only 'cause he liked that, but also because he wanted to show you that obedience wasn’t too bad. Although he would certainly disagree with it right now, when he couldn’t even kiss you. “Touch me”, you breathed, needing his hands on you. God, you needed him in so many ways.

“Finally”.

He squeezed your breasts immediately; you moaning echoed in the room, making him even more turned on than he already was. Your walls clenched against him, and no matter how much he wanted to continue your little game, he wanted to fuck you properly more. He wanted to hear you screaming, wanted to see your face when you cum. God, he wanted all of you just to him.

You felt your orgasm coming in any moment, and you bit your lip to hold back moans, so that Gwil wouldn’t stop. But he didn’t even intend to. Not this time. “Come on, baby”, he whispered, caressing your sides, “come for me”.

Gwilym’s words made you lose it, lose all the power you thought you had. You fell onto him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, as he was fucking you now, hitting that exact spot inside you that drove you crazy. “Gwil”, you panted against his neck; and your hot breath sending shivers down his spine and making him thrust into you harder. “I’m gonna cum”, you said in an unsteady voice, while gripping his shoulders and digging your nails in there.

“Let go, baby”.

He let out a pure animalistic growl and suddenly flipped you over, so you were underneath him. He attacked your lips with his, giving you the most heated and loving kiss in your life. You wrapped your legs around his waist so that he could have a batter access to hit your g-spot; with your hands on his neck, you didn’t let him to break the kiss, deepening it, trying to fight for dominance. But dominance was his thing in bedroom.

He buried himself so deep inside of you that you two could only moan into each other’s mouths; you both reached your highs together, skin to skin, in unison, screaming one another’s names and grabbing the sheets. You both needed that.

Some minutes later, when you came down from your high Gwil left a delicate kiss on your forehead and got up; throwing the used condom into the trash, he turned around and saw you lying down with your hand covering your face. The blissful smile on your face and steady breathing told him that you were ready to nod off.

“Falling asleep on me, aren’t ya?” he lied down next to you; Gwil took your hand and pressed a kiss to it.

You took a deep breath. “Just give me a couple of minutes”, your reply was weak; Gwilym chuckled and smacked your ass playfully. You giggled and turned your face to him; you struggled to even open your eyes.

“Let’s get some sleep, love”, Gwil said quietly. He adjusted your pillows and put a blanket over the two of you; after he pulled your closer, your back on his chest, and his arms wrapped around you. He kissed you hair and you smiled sleepily.

“I still can’t accept your gift”, you continued your almost long-forgotten argument. Gwilym took in a deep breath and buried his face in your hair.

“I can’t argue with you anymore”, he mumbled, “I’ll accept any decision you make, Y/N”.

“Thank you”, you whispered. “But I love this house”, he chuckled at your words.

“I know. I did everything here like you love it. Just for you”.

You smiled lightly and hummed in response. “Wake me up in ten minutes”, you said leaning in closer to him. “I’ll be ready to continue till we get to the master bedroom”. Gwilym pressed a warm kiss to your shoulder.

“This is the master bedroom now”.

As you nodded off, feeling warm and safe in Gwil’s arms, you were beaming; when your mind was drowning in drowsiness, you felt a warm breath on your neck and heard Gwilym’s voice saying softly, “I love you so much, Y/N”. But you knew it was just a dream. Reality couldn’t give you something like this. Never.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №6. no contact with other sugar babies.

December.

“When you’re gonna be home?”

You locked your phone after texting Gwil; you didn’t want to bother him, but it was Christmas Eve and you weren’t amused by spending it alone in his empty penthouse. He was called for work, and promised you to come back in three hours. The clock struck five in the evening. Gwil left at ten A.M.

You sighed deeply as you looked at the served table. You wanted to surprise him by cooking a festive dinner; it wasn’t like you were a chef, on the contrary – you couldn’t cook for shit. But, as you planned this thing, you googled some recipes and tried to cook something simple, but yet delicious. You had strange desire to be domestic with Gwilym – to cook food, do laundry, clean the house, and take kids from school… You didn’t even know when you first started imagining you two living a happy, suburban life in a pretty house with three children. Before Gwil you didn’t want kids. Now you were questioning all of your life choices. You were never able to have hook ups and not catch feelings. And this was certainly just a “hook up”, as you thought in the beggining. Only now it was much more.

“Soon, baby. I promise”.

His text gave you hope; his “soon” could be in ten minutes. You looked over the table in panic, quickly lighting candles. You ran to the nearest room; looking yourself up and down in the mirror, you twisted a ring on your index finger nervously. This green dress was exactly what Gwilym liked: it was tight, giving a perfect opportunity to observe all of your curves, and also very short. The color wasn’t exactly in the style of Christmas, but red lace lingerie underneath the dress was quite in the mood of the holiday. You knew Gwil would have gone crazy the second he came back home. He gave you so much during those months and you just wanted to get him a pleasant reward; and you were also head over heels for him. That was pretty simple.

Suddenly you heard heels clattering on the marble floor of the living room; you frowned, trying to understand who was there. Was Gwil wearing heels? You wouldn’t be surprised at that. Or was it Gwil’s sister again? Not that you didn’t like her, you just wanted him all to yourself tonight; even though you weren’t against spending time with his family.

“Heather?” you called while heading back to the living-room.

It wasn’t Heather.

It was a girl in a coat and high-heeled ankle boots; her eyes were gleaming in the dark as she was reading the note she took from Gwil’s plate.

“Unwrap your gift”, she said; she raised her head and looked at you haughtily. “Who are you?”

“And you?” you asked in confusion. “How did you come in?”

“The door’s was open”.

“No, it was not”.

You stared at each other, trying to burn yourselves with your glares; you had a strong feeling that it was one of Gwilym’s other two sugar babies.

“I assume you’re Y/N”, she sat down at the table, at Gwil’s place. “You got a nice dinner here”.

“Thanks”, you squeaked. You already felt helpless and hopeless in front of her; she was this black-haired goddess with a sly grin on her face. She was confident. You weren’t like that. “That’s actually…” you were speaking quietly. “That’s for Gwil”.

She huffed. “Of course, it is. I’m Alice, if you don’t know that”, it felt like you were supposed to know her name and whom she was. It seemed like she was the one who was supposed to be there. You suddenly felt really uncomfortable in her presence; her whole behavior was telling you to get out.

And here you were again. Feeling unnecessary, needless, unwanted.

“I’ve been with Gwil since I was twenty-three, like you are now”, she took a sip from the glass with champagne. “We’re having three-year anniversary this year”, she said with a smug smile.

“You sound like you’re dating”.

“We do”.

“No”.

The sound of his voice was something you craved for. It was like oxygen in the room with no windows and doors. It was like a light in the darkness.

“Daddy!” Alice jumped from her seat and beamed. Oh god, you already wanted to leave. She was looking at him so hungrily that you didn’t even know what you were doing there. You were an extra one. Unwanted. “You’re back! Y/N was just leaving”, she glared at you and raised her eyebrows, giving you a silent order. And you, with your zero self-esteem and very high level of shyness, obeyed.

“I’ve gotta go”, you muttered, heading to the door. Gwil, who stood not so far from you, immediately reached out and grabbed you by the wrist.

“Y/N, no. Please. Don’t go. Please”. He begged you to stay. Gwilym wanted you there, with him. You. Not Alice. The realization of it hit you suddenly, as you looked in his eyes.

You nodded, and he let go of your wrist, now intertwining his fingers with yours. “Alice is leaving”.

“Now, I’m not!” she tried to object, but Gwilym had none of her bullshit.

“You’re leaving. D’you remember what rule number five is about?”

Alice lowered her head and mumbled, “Never visit each other without calling beforehand”.

“Exactly. You broke it. Now you’re staying without your monthly supply. And getting the fuck out of my house”.

You could have sworn she muttered “Bitch” under her breath as she was passing by you. When she slammed the door, Gwil went to close it quickly; then he approached you and pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry it happened”, he whispered.

“T’s alright”. You were silent for a moment. “I made you dinner; was afraid she’s gonna eat it”.

Gwil laughed and pulled away, his gaze fixed on you; “Did ya, really?” he sounded surprised. You smiled and nodded; then you took his hand and leaded him to the table. “Wow”, he gasped. “You didn’t have to, Y/N”, your gazes met and you smiled at him one more time, your eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“I wanted to, Gwil”.

He pulled you in a desperate kiss; it seemed as if he tried to show his whole affection and gratitude through it. “Thank you, baby”, he whispered against your lips. “I don’t deserve you”.

You rolled your eyes, ruining the moment and walked to your seat at the other side of the table. “Don’t start this”, you said, sitting down. Gwil chuckled as he took his seat; some seconds later you caught him staring at you.

“What’s for dessert?”

You looked at him with raised eyebrow and a smirk on your face. “You will find out later”, you winked at him.

***

May.

“Y/N, stop apologizing. I’ve already told you everything’s alright”.

You couldn’t stop saying “Sorry” and nervously play with your hair the entire time you were sitting in your flat with Zoe; it was the first time you met each other and you were extremely anxious. She looked dazzling, like a star; she was smoking already a third cigarette in the last fifteen minutes.

“Alice’s the one who has to apologize, if to be honest”, she looked at you. “This bitch fed me with ugly lies about the sweetest person I’ve ever met”.

“Are you talking ‘bout me?”

“Absolutely”.

A small smile settled on your lips; Zoe was really sweet and nice, despite what you had been thinking about her. There was something charming, mysterious about her. You could certainly say why Gwil liked her, even if it broke your heart completely. “So, where were we?” Zoe asked.

“You were telling me about what Alice told you”.

“Oh right”, she nodded. “Alice has like a friend, a source in the company, where Gwil works. This “source” finds out everything about him, dunno how. This person told Alice about Gwil’s ex, Stefanie. I was fucking heartbroken after I heard that story”, she lit another cigarette.

“What’s about it?”

“Oh, Y/N, there’s so much. They were engaged, been together since school. Apparently, he loved her too much to notice that she started getting expensive jewelry and clothes. He believed every word she said, when she lied, telling she bought it herself. It turned out that she had three sugar daddies. And if he could forgive her just getting the money from them, he certainly couldn’t forgive her sleeping with all of them. It’s been like seven years since it happened and he’s still too eager to spoil us so much so that we wouldn’t even think about having someone else”.

You sat down on your couch, looking at Zoe in a state of complete shock. But she continued her story. “Gwil talks too much when he’s drunk; that’s how this source knows all of it”.

“You are his first sugar baby, right?”

Your question hung in the silence of the room. “Yeah. Been for four years”.

“And he never told you this?”

Zoe furrowed her brows and she took another drag. “No. We don’t talk about stuff like that. We usually just have some kind of small talk. He just gives me money-“

“In exchange for sex”, you interrupted her, voice thick with jealousy. Zoe chuckled.

“No. Not anymore at least”.

Your eyes widened at her words. “Why?”

Zoe shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. He called it off several months ago, actually, with both me and Alice. He still gives us money, yeah, but nothing more than that. And if for the reason why – I think it’s ‘cause he’s just as in love with you as you’re with him”.

You gasped; you didn’t expect her to say something like that. You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t-“, you stuttered. “I’m not-“

“Yes, you are”, Zoe huffed. “Come on, Y/N, you know it’s true. He wouldn’t call off two opportunities to fuck whenever he wants just ‘cause he’s bored. No. There’s something more. He loves you, you dumb bitch”.

“He doesn’t, Zoe. He doesn’t and he never will”.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

You are awoken by a loud, non-stopping knocking on your door. You take in a sharp breath, struggling with getting up; your head is throbbing violently, as you stand up from the couch. It’s already dark outside; and you wonder how much time you have spent sleeping. Twelve hours? Fourteen? No matter how many of them – you are still sore, sad and hurt. Everything hurts so badly.

But you’re still wearing Gwil’s shirt. The feeling of its fabric on your skin makes you somehow feel better. Warmer. Makes feel a little bit alive.

The loud knocking proceeds as you walk towards the door. You think that it’s probably your mum coming to see you; you don’t answer your phone as you’ve been sleeping for so long.

When you open the door you expect to see a middle-aged woman with brown hair and angry voice, who’ll start lecturing you immediately as she always does. But your expectations are nothing compared to reality.

With red swollen eyes (like he’s been crying), messy hair and a backpack, which is slowly falling from his shoulder – that’s what he looks like standing at your doorstep. You don’t understand why he’s here, what he needs from you. You look at him as if he was a ghost, a phantom, a shadow, that will disappear at any moment. You can’t believe he’s here.

“Gwil?”

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wtf just happend am I right haha

“alio” taglist: @majesticdiscodeaky @heartsarecompatible @all-my-friends-are-german @magicwithaknife @longing-hiraeth @thelondondreamer5 @roger-taylors-drumsticks @runningoutofwordstosay @chlobo6 @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @queenficarchive @murydedeus03 @alis-volat-propriiis @deacycomics @hollandspcter @gwils-bitch @crazylittlethingcalleddub-step @painthatiusedto @kaylaylaylayla @rogerinastolemyheart @broken-pieces

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fabfemmeboy · 5 years

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Things about the Season 3 Finale of Handmaid's Tale that Don't Make Sense

I will say first that I preferred this episode to much of the season, even if there were parts I thought were unrealistic to the point of absurdity while I was watching it. But after a day and a half, the list of nonsense keeps growing.

June was walking with an armed escort since her walking partner is dead. While some of the girls were sneaky about their soap, it was a lot of them - and some were downright Not.Subtle. I'm not just talking about Janine, either, but let's start with her. Why didn't the guardian - whose whole job is to make sure the handmaid in his charge can't get up to something - not even notice? it wasn't like she just grinned, either, she was giddy and spoke and talked about how she couldn't wait. If my job is to make sure the person I'm guarding doesn't get up to something, in particular if I'm used to seeing myself as above the person I'm guarding, then I'm asking questions. I'm demanding answers. I'm checking the bag. This guy stands next to her and stares into space. Did she just get the guy who's really bad at his job? (How convenient!) Is he so used to assuming that "those silly women chattering on about nonsense" can't be plotting anything serious? (Really bad outlook for a guard to have) Given some of the other guardians we've seen and how they handle far less communication between handmaids, why doesn't this guy seem to give a shit? Is he secretly in the resistance, too? Is literally everyone except Fred, Serena, and Aunt Lydia?

For reference, Rebecca and her martha traveled about 12 miles by modern roads, likely much more than that when you factor darting through woods and back yards. How the hell big is the martha network that one in Lexington knew about this plot? How does a martha from central Boston, whose duties generally aren't going to let her go too much outside the city, get information all the way out there?

Oh, and how the hell did the martha get rohypnol? You can make it impossible to get antidepressants, but date-rape drugs are still floating around? Was the use of that particular substance deliberate, given the assault in Gilead, rather than simply making it sleeping pills or whatever Mrs. Lawrence took?

Speaking of whom - so Lawrence is just going to let it go that June either let his wife die or actively killed her? The look at the end of the funeral last week seemed to indicate he knew or at least suspected. But this guy, who clearly adored his wife and tried to protect her for *years*...doesn't even take his anger out on June? She's mouthing off to him and he just shrugs and lets her do it?

Rebecca looks to be about 8-10 and doesn't really remember before. She's one of the oldest kids in the bunch. The younger ones have literally never known a pre-Gilead time. Why are none of them upset at being taken somewhere? Why is not one of them crying for mommy and daddy? Why aren't any of them whining that they want to go home? Hell, it's been several hours and a lot of walking - none of them are complaining that they're bored or tired or itchy or hungry or bored. Has Gilead managed to break children of complaining? Because *that* is quite a feat! But seriously, if at age 6 my neighbor (whom I knew and trusted) had told me "we have to go now, be very quiet" and made me leave my home without my parents, I would have tried to be quiet for awhile but would have had a LOT of questions. Like why aren't Mom and Dad here? Where are they? Are they ok? What's happening? Why do we have to be quiet? Why are we going through the woods and not on the street? To avoid being seen - but why? Why can't the guards see us? They see us all the time. And if the answer came that she was taking me out of the country, I would have a lot more questions about why and why couldn't mom and dad come and what would it be like there.

And by the way, "you can be anything you want to be" doesn't really work in a world where there don't seem to be professions other than "martha" or "commander" or "lady of leisure" or "sex slave." Getting to wear whatever you want doesn't really make sense if everyone wears the same thing, either. It's not like the kid is going to think "oh, good, I can wear red because I like that colour but here only those women wear it." Like...that's not helpful. And I get that nothing she could say would be helpful to these kids because how do you explain a completely different world to someone who has no concept of what that world includes? But these are not helpful answers. So let's go with what the kids might have a concept of - what refugee children talk about when they leave: violence. Guys with guns on every corner (yay canada!). People who disappear without warning. Though maybe the kids won't have any concept of that, either, because the commanders' families are kept so isolated and protected.

Were all the kids from commanders' families? They made it sound like Rebecca was an anomaly in that regard, but technically all the guys in suits with wives and handmaids are commanders. And those are also the only homes that have marthas. Everyone else has econowives, and everyone dresses in grey - even the kids. So these children, in their pale pink and blue, they all have to be the children of commanders/wives/handmaids, right? Why were only Rebecca's parents looking for her? Sure, she'd been gone longer, but if it's getting dark and my child isn't home, I'm going to be pretty freaked out and calling the guys with guns to find her, especially given the community turmoil lately - Nicole was "kidnapped," Serena and Fred and the guy from DC were all "taken" by Canada...considering how protective everyone is of their children, particularly in this world, they don't seem to pay very close attention to the kids' whereabouts.

This has bothered me since Emily at the beginning of the season but came up again: When you're trying to avoid being seen by helicopters overhead, TAKE OFF YOUR WHITE HAT! It's bad enough you're in red...though I suppose given how few handmaids were on this adventure at least a few of them could have changed into spare martha dresses so they blend into the woods a little better. (June has several dresses, you can't tell me marthas - who cook and clean - only have one. You're telling me that the woman who thought to soap the back gate so it wouldn't squeak, who has gone undercover before, couldn't think to change into less visible clothing?) But at the very least, the white thing on top of your head is going to be incredibly visible at night, even without flashlights. Take it off ffs!

Was Janine always going to be going? Why are no other handmaids trying to get out? We have a handful of marthas who see this opportunity and are getting on a plane, but only Janine - crazy, traumatized, batshit-screwy Janine - has the wherewithall to think "...if a plane's leaving, it could take me with it too"? Has she finally stopped trying to get back to baby Angela? And if so, can she give June lessons in that because this whole "I'm staying behind to find my daughter" thing is getting to be a really old plot device.

Were we supposed to be surprised that June was wiling to forego her seat on the plane? Because from the reactions of the other characters, I think we were supposed to be, but I was never under the impression she was leaving with the kids, I assumed she was going to stay and try to do another of these hair-brained schemes in a way that got more people of colour killed because that's what she does at this point.

Why the hell did you think there wouldn't be guardians at the tarmac? Even if Rebecca weren't in the group, even if no one were looking for these kids (and they should be, btw), but just in general: it's a plane that brings things into Gilead. They're not checking for contraband? Because if they're not, then the guardian are a) stupid and b) missing out on fantastic bribery/extortion opportunities.

Did June tell Lawrence about giving away his art collection? Because poor Billy is in enough trouble already, but he thought at least he's be able to go raid that house. But now that Lawrence stayed behind, I'm just picturing the bartender showing up in a truck to take out paintings and being greeted by a very angry commander.

Not one child pops up or down from the group at the wrong time. Clearly these writers/directors have never seen an elementary school concert.

Back to the tarmac. They made a big deal about June bringing her gun. Why the fuck is she throwing rocks? Is it because she's worried she's not a good enough shot? If so, why bring it? And even then, since your goal clearly isn't to kill him - just distract him - given that you're throwing rocks which aren't going to hit him unless he's a blind moron...why not shoot his car? Shoot, as long as you hit *something* he's going to turn to look for the source, you duck, repeat, same as the rocks only at least that way poor Janine gets the fuck out of Gilead. And all the other marthas.

BTW, when June takes off running to draw the gun away from the tarmac...did everyone else go board the plane? They could have, but somehow Janine was still in Gilead. Were the rest of the rock-throwers? Because most of them are going to end up dead otherwise. But the plane only seemed to have a small handful of adults, and the only one we saw enough of to recognize was Rita.

Ok, so we get to Canada, and I have to ask: Do they just have a hanger ready for refugee planes at all times? Because this operation was very well-stocked for a plane that just departed 40 minutes ago, and given that they had no idea kids were on-board, I suspect there wasn't a whole lot of communication beforehand about the plane coming, so how did the refugee assistance people even know to go wait at a hanger? That's also a really nice hanger for a random cargo plane. Was all of that arranged in advance? Because otherwise I imagine a sudden flurry of calls to Moira and co from the head of the RAFC going "holy shit, a plane full of refugees just arrived at the airfield where the fedex planes leave from, get people down here to help!" But they've clearly been there awhile setting up and knew to expect people...but not to expect kids.

Unlike Hannah, who kind of remembers June but doesn't really feel connected to her anymore, Rebecca not only recognizes her dad but runs to him and throws her arms around him, as happy to see him as he is to see her. So she doesn't remember before, but remembers her dad clearly enough to have actively missed him. That...doesn't make a ton of sense given what we've seen so far. Like, she's happier to see her dad than Oliver was to see Emily, and Oliver has had his memories of his mom actively reinforced by Syl this whole time.

(On a separate note, the most wrenching moment of the whole episode was Luke hoping for Hannah. I love when shows use "the audience knows something the characters don't" to heighten emotions like that.)

Why, when Fred picked things to tell Tuello, did he go with pimping June out and NOT with the fact that they raped her to induce labor? Is it because Fred still thinks that was totally fine, but June/Nick was a betrayal somehow? Because given the fight they had at the house, it was clear Serena had decided after the fact that it was wrong and tried to throw it in his face when he was adamant he did it because she told him to and because he was trying to "fix [her] mess."

(Also was I the only one who thought it was going to be that she had done something way worse? Been the one left holding the bag on the terrorist act that started the civil war? Had secretly poisoned some prominent people? Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if she were the one who came up with the Ceremony in the first place, and architects of war crimes are still war criminals - hence Lawrence, remember?)

The morning after 52 children and a handful of adults escape Gilead, 6 women in bright red robes can walk through the woods near the tarmac from which the kids went missing to search for, rescue, and carry back another woman all in red...without anyone noticing. Sure, that sounds like the guardians we all know and love for convenient plot purposes.

#handmaidsonhulu #Handmaids Tale #spoilers #handmaidstaleseason3

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withyouandthemoon · 6 years

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Daddy Issues

Author’s Note: This was, to my utter embarrassment, inspired by a line from what I believe was the second episode of TO S5. Something along the lines of “there are certain damages that only a father can do”, which I find completely nonsense. Many moons later that disdain along with @garglyswoof‘s kind prompting finally pushed me to write this down. Set sometime in the future where KC are in an established relationship; probably a few decades after TVD 4x23 and anything Canon after that is not acknowledged here. It started off like a ton of lemons (I love this obsolete term that I recently just learned) but is actually so filled with fluff it’s more like lemon meringue. My teeth hurt in the end.

When Caroline was young she was terrified of flying. Granted she didn’t flew that much to start with – just a couple of times to visit her dad and that one single time when her mom took her to see her aunt in Florida.

Each and every one of those times she was scared out of her mind. Her imaginations ran the wildest when they were backed up by data, and she had always been a thorough researcher. She’d clamp her little hands so hard on the armrests to crush the images of falling and explosion in her head as the giant plane sped up, hard steel digging into her back like some unnameable dark force with an evil mind of its own.

And then she’d be hovering midair. Her heart floating in her already floating body, all trapped up in a floating still iron box.

Caroline thought she’d loathe that feeling all her life and avoid it at all cost.

Little did she know how drastically feelings changed over time, especially when you hold a few decades, or even centuries of it in your palm to squander about.

Then flying became soaring. Floating, freeing. Looking down on the ground from miles above felt like a metaphor for the immortality of which she was still just beginning to get a grasp.

And that was probably why Caroline found herself fantasizing about what she used to fear the most when Klaus’ controlled warm breaths scorched her inner thighs. He was taking his sweet time tonight, lips hovering near her soaked core, the tip of his tongue ghosting her sensitive skin now and then, but never fully landing. A frustrated half-sigh-half-moan slipped out of her throat and he merely hummed, the sound buzzing through her suddenly arched spine like the engines of a plane, lulling, but exhilarating all the same.

“Easy, there.” His thumb gently rubbed under her knee while a light kiss grazed her abdomen, “we haven’t even started yet.”

And how she yearned for that. Speeding. Gaining traction. Pulling up and up and up until she was blinded by the sun blasting over the hazy clouds.

His low chuckle traveled along her midsection to the valley between her breasts, and he licked her there as if tasting her wandering thoughts, “what lovely images are you conjuring up this time, sweetheart?”

She knew what he was asking about. After decades of roaming the earth it was no news to Caroline that people saw or heard the strangest things during sex. But surprisingly she had quite the artistic mind when it came to sex with Klaus (sometimes she suspected she was channeling him but she would never feed that to his egotistical ass). The first time he coaxed the imaginative painting of undulating hills swirling with colors out of her, he stared at her with such awe and fervor in his eyes like she’d just single-handedly invented the freaking impressionism. Ever since then he became quite obsessed with her little “sex visions”, and it was not like Caroline didn’t enjoy it.

But not now. He was wordy when he got artistic, and wordy meant slow.

So she dragged him up by his dangling necklaces, stealing a bruising kiss for her own before replying, “I’m not telling you if you keep this game up.”

“What game?” He feigned innocence, like those fingers so skillfully fiddling with her nipples weren’t even his.

She couldn’t quite swallow her gasps, her eyes half-closed from the charges spreading from her chest, but not enough to shut out the smug grin on his face.

Well if this was the road he wanted to go down, then she might as well spice things up a bit more.

Silently she began to nibble at the side of his neck, Klaus’ head immediately falling back exposing his throat where tiny sounds of satisfaction were rumbling. To this day it amazed Caroline a little when he acted this open around her, and she felt herself growing wetter at the thought.

Sucking on his pulse point, she reached over to the glass jar on their nightstand and sank her hand into the sea of notes inside.

The jar was Caroline’s two-year anniversary gift to Klaus, filled with both of their fantasies and dirty thoughts. Klaus was, of course, most obliged to try it out as often as possible, but now over one year later they’d still not run out of ideas – not completely unbelievable considering they’d both been caught on more than one occasion sneaking new notes into the “kink jar”, as dubbed by one very disturbed and disgusted Rebekah Mikaelson.

Caroline laughed inwardly at Rebekah’s scrunched-up face as she fished around the little pieces of paper. But before she could draw one out, her hand was enclosed in his, the heat of his palm almost burning her.

She looked up into Klaus’ teasing eyes, “I’m feeling adventurous tonight.”

“When are you not?” He was idly rubbing circles on the back of her hand through the thin notes, and she almost moaned out at the feeling of the rough edges of paper scraping against her skin. When did the back of her hand become an erogenous zone anyway? Damn it, focus.

She raised an eyebrow challengingly, “can’t keep up?”

His grin grew wider at that, “I’m not complaining.”

Snatching a piece of note from between her fingers, Klaus withdrew his hand and lay back against the headboard, his other arm instinctively circling around Caroline as she snuggled close to take a peek. She was startled by Klaus’ sudden growl of anger, and she hurried to grab the note before he crushed it in his iron grip.

Apprehension clouded her mind as she read the now slightly smudged words: Call Me Daddy.

That definitely hit a sore subject if there ever was one. And judging by Klaus’ murderous expression she doubted he threw that one in just to test his own limits. So that left…

“Kol.” Klaus bit through his clenched teeth, confirming her suspicion.

“But how…?”

Their bedroom was spelled so that only the two of them could enter, and anyone who dared to break the barrier would leave marks wherever they touched inside the room. Not to mention that with Klaus’ hybrid senses, he could probably detect any past intruders from a mile away. To wipe all the traces Kol would have to have some assistance in the form of witchcraft, but Caroline still vividly remembered the disastrous fight Klaus had with him just days ago about Kol “childishly antagonizing all the covens in the city”.

“Kol has always had a way with witches,” Klaus huffed, “if he’s not acting like a raging imbecile.”

“So you’re telling me that he somehow made up with the witches, which I believe was what you expected in the first place, and he got them to help him get inside our bedroom to mess with our sex life, just so he could get back at you because you yelled at him for making an enemy of the witches that ended up helping him?” Caroline rolled her eyes, “I know I’ve said this a million times but you all are a twisted bunch.”

Klaus’ lips lifted smugly, “he’s my brother after all.” In the blink of an eye the smirk turned into a scowl, “but if he thought he could get away with this he was sorely mistaken. I do not care if he’s restored some sort of rapport with the witches. This crossed a line.”

“It can’t really be that bad.” She sighed, sitting up straight, nudging Klaus’ head to settle on her chest before he could protest. She could feel the little puff of air he let out warm on her skin, his long dark blonde eyelashes casting shadows on those high cheekbones that felt way too petulant for a thousand year old monster.

“I will be the judge of that.”

The moonlight was shining favorably on all his good features, and from Caroline’s vantage point he almost looked like one of those ancient statues she saw during their never ending world tours, the perfect human specimen perpetuated by hands that were long dead. But those masterpieces of marble were truly strong, ageless, fearless.

He wasn’t.

He was a thousand years of weaknesses and struggles, sleepless nights and blood-soaked frenzies sedimented into one.

And he was resting so petulantly, yet so contently on her very chest.

Without lifting his eyes Klaus seemed to have sensed the little smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “what? No name-calling? Not a word of ‘get over it?’” His arm idly went around her waist, bringing their bodies even closer, “that’s a first.”

She didn’t answer him for a while, just silently playing with the soft curls on his nape. And for once Klaus didn’t rush her, his artistic fingers drawing sketch after sketch on her side. Neither of them was particularly good at the patience thing, but somehow they found the rhythm as the years passed, finding each other more fascinating than the heavy stress of silence.

“I was just thinking…none of us seemed to have won the lottery in the father department. I mean, mine left when I was ten; Bonnie’s father was practically absentee when we were growing up, and from what I heard the Salvatores nearly got killed by theirs. Elena’s father was probably the only nice one, but it turned out he was a heartless psycho who tortured vampires for science.” She couldn’t help a small shudder when she mentioned that piece of information, and Klaus’ arm instantly tightened around her.

“Among the lot of us, we could run an awards for the shittiest dad.” She continued with a light shake of her head, “on a scale of one to ten your dad can get, like a nine or something.”

This time Klaus looked up at her, his face more incredulous than angered, which Caroline took as a good sign.

“What? There must be something even worse than wanting your own kids dead.”

“Caroline, are you seriously trying to rank this medley crew according to paternal ‘shittiness’?” She could hear the air quote loud and clear in his words.

Shrugging, Caroline reached for his hand, now stilled on her ribcage because of her ever-so-whimsical idea, and guided it to resume its drawing patterns, “I’m tempted. This sounds like there could be a nice colored histogram involved. I’ll even let you pick your own color – I call dibs on hot pink though.”

Klaus snorted, clearly knowing her enthusiasm was only half-faked, “I promise I won’t fight you over it, love.”

“Good. Because you don’t stand a chance anyway.” She retorted smugly, bending down to press a kiss at the crown of his head.

She knew very well that vampires didn’t have a heartbeat. It took her a long time to get used to not feeling it in herself, and even longer to stop looking for it in others. But after that, she started to notice the tells. More importantly, she started to notice his tells.

How his lips hung open, how his eyelashes shook infinitesimally, how that tiny pause in his even breaths segued so smoothly into the next as if nothing happened…all the little signs screaming in silence the skip of a nonexistent heartbeat.

So she snuggled her face into his hair further, curling around him to ease the tightening of her own dead heart, their bodies molding into each other like a gender-reversed version of that famous painting of Gustav Klimt’s.

Sometimes she couldn’t fathom if she was looking at the world through his eyes, or he hers.

“How come you speak so lightly about such things?” Klaus’ voice was barely above a whisper, contorted emotions hidden well in the creases of hushed breaths.

“And how can you give them so much power?” She pushed back the question softly, the knuckle of her finger grazing his jaw line, “I thought it was human nature to forget.”

And she’d experienced that nature more and more now that she was almost in her fifties in human years. They were, in the end, selfish and cowardly creatures who shed memories like they shed hair. Because hair ate at your body, and memories ate at your soul.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine clinging to the past for a century, let alone a millennium.

His quiet sigh weighed heavy on her heart, “maybe so. But may I remind you that we are no longer human, and common senses don’t necessarily apply to our cases.”

“Yet you’re the one who keeps letting him get to you.”

She knew she was treading on thin ice, but she never could hold her tongue in front of him. Feeling him tensing she leaned in to press another kiss on his temple, his body now almost completely wrapped in hers. They felt like one bizarre creature with tangled limbs and ragged breaths, his lashes shuttering against her chin its disproportionally-tiny, erratic heart.

“Caroline…”

He spoke her name in a way that nobody else would. Like a whole new language that consisted of only one word, and every part of speech was just her, her, her.

But somehow she always understood him perfectly.

“It was the summer when I was twelve that it really sank in – that I couldn’t count on my dad.” She started talking without prompt, her other arm reaching over to circle him in a full embrace, “sure he was gone before that, but we talked on the phone, he’d send me gifts and sometimes visit, so it didn’t feel that bad.”

She felt him settle further into her. There were subjects that Klaus would never go into details. But from time to time he’d listen quietly as Caroline talked about them, without a word of response. It’d become yet another one of their things – those feelings that he didn’t dare utter, that he hadn’t quite figured out even after a thousand tumultuous years flowing through her like a dark stream, brought into the freeing daylight by her soft voice. In those moments he’d just hold her tighter, as he did now.

“That summer I went to stay with him and Stephen. We had so much fun together. I’d never seen my father so happy and carefree, always laughing, joking, trying out new things. Stephen brought that out in him. He was not bad himself either. I almost forgave him. But then it was the end of the summer and of course, I didn’t want to leave.”

She’d used up all her tricks but her dad still wouldn’t budge, looking at her apologetically, his eyes full of things that she didn’t understand then.

“My dad said I had to. Period. I was upset, but more than that the whole thing just felt so unfair. My dad chose to leave, he chose to start a new life without me, and he chose to send me back. But why didn’t I get to choose?” She sighed into the side of his neck, “but it turns out life just doesn’t give you that many choices, no matter who you are.”

She trailed her fingers down his vertebrae, one bone at a time. She’d watched him turn several times over the years, her hand helplessly trying to soothe the pain bursting out from the seams. Yet now they rested so cluelessly under her finger tips, little fossils of suffering with invisible secrets and puzzles carved into them, but no answers.

“I was mad for a month or two. About my dad, of course; but also because Kimberly Fell told everyone I kissed her douchebag of a brother and got dumped, which was the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Hello? Alex Fell was so not my type!” Klaus was chuckling softly into the crook of her shoulder. She slapped him on the back without much force, her own laugh bubbling in her chest, “anyway, I’m just saying that it was…ordinary, you know. He was not father of the year, but he was hardly the cause of everything gone wrong in my life.”

Klaus’ voice startled her a little, hoarse from the long silence on his part, “as I’ve told you a long time ago, the issue with my father was slightly more complicated than that.” But unlike the first time, instead of harsh he just sounded pensive, his hand still caressing her side in its own accord.

“Well I suppose so,” her voice took on a teasing tone, “but I doubt you are a special scattered spot outside the normal distribution curve.”

“I see that statics course of yours has proven useful.” Klaus huffed a laugh, fingers traveling to the dips of her lower waist, making her shiver involuntarily.

“I told you college education had its perks.”

She never finished her first undergrad, opting for traveling the world on her own instead. When she mentioned getting back to it one more time a few months ago, Klaus was more than supportive – at least about everything aside from her class schedule.

“It still doesn’t make up for those mornings when you leave me in bed alone.” He sucked at the sensitive spot between her clavicles, his full lips forming a perfect pout to prove his point.

Caroline shoved him away and flipped them over, straddling him with a triumphant smirk, “don’t be a baby.”

His hand instantly landed on her hips, squeezing her so deliciously she let out a gasp, “fine, then be a good student and tell me where I fall on your normal distribution curves.”

She ground her ass into him, eliciting a low moan, “normal is never the word to use when it comes to my curves, and you know it.”

“My apologies, love.” He looked up at her, all flashy dimples and shiny curls, “I hereby declare that from this day forward your curves will only be referred to as ‘sensational’ and ‘out of this world’.”

“You better.” She leaned over to kiss him, only to feel the discarded piece of paper under her palm. Frowning, she threw it aside, “and for this once I’m not against you straightening Kol up a little. He has no business in The Jar. And ‘daddy’? Seriously? You are at least a grandpa.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, “if we absolutely have to play this game I prefer the vampire term ‘sire’.”

“Huh.” Caroline inclined her head teasingly, “If you want to get into the technicalities, I believe you are my great-great-great-grand-sire. You are practically my ancestor in vamp terms.”

“You make me feel so old, sweetheart.”

“Hate to break it to you, but as a vampire you have to change your perception of time.” Caroline wiggled her brows as she repeated his words to him, “apparently saying you are old is like, the highest compliment.”

“Apparently.” Klaus hummed as he palmed her breasts leisurely, thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples and Caroline’s head fell back in the surge of pleasure.

Still she never was one to back down from a banter, even if her voice was husky from the lust and anticipation, “so suck it up, sweetheart.”

The next second he was shifting their position so he was sitting up with her still in his lap, his hot lips grazing her left breast while his hand kept kneading the other, “I promise to start sucking if you keep up the compliments.”

But before she could utter a word his mouth was on her, soft lips enveloping her nipple with his tongue skillfully brushing the tip. Caroline sighed loudly, her fingers once more sinking into his curls in abandon.

“Oh yes sire!” She arched her back, pushing her breasts into his head-reeling ministrations, her moans half from arousal and half her playful streak, “you are so old, I just love how old you are…” she ground her burning core into his already rock hard cock, “yes, ravish me, punish me, hit me with your long hard cane!”

Klaus suddenly let go of her nipple, pulling her down for a wet kiss, the sound of laughter shook from their chasing tongues all the way down to their joint hips.

He was still laughing when he pulled back, his hand brushing the fallen hair out of her face gently, “this reminds me of…never mind.”

“What?”

Caroline studied him suspiciously. He looked…embarrassed, with his eyes downcast and the annoyed little lines forming at the corners of his eyes. And then something clicked.

“You were thinking of When Harry Met Sally weren’t you? Admit it!”

She’d all but forced him to watch with her all the chick flicks that’d ever been made, some more than once, or try five times. It was not her fault that the hybrid had an impressive memory.

“I most certainly did not!” He narrowed his eyes, pulling her closer into his lock of iron-hard arms, “how dare you sully my name like this, young lady.”

“Whatever you say, great-great-great-grand-sire.”

Caroline batted her eyelashes at him, curling the last word around her tongue like he so often did. She gasped when his cock grew even larger underneath her, vibrating against her soaking slit with a mind of its own.

“Are you actually turned on by that?” She faked incredulity while furtively rubbing her core over him, earning a growl deep in his throat.

He looked at her long and hard, sweet and tender, his face still lit up by a playful smile yet his eyes burned into hers as if fusing them together, even if they were already so close she tasted him at the back of her tongue with each breath she took, “Caroline, you make me want to kiss you, spank you, fuck you senseless and have a good laugh with you, all at the same time.”

He slowly leaned into her, their cheeks touching inch by inch and he was whispering into her ear like the whole world had silenced to a halt, “there is no bigger turn-on than that.”

She laughed softly, her hands raising to cup his cheeks, murmuring an indiscernible “good” before she dove into him, and felt like flying.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline drabbles #my fic #i have no idea how to write fluff so this was probably a mess #also i haven't written in so long so even if this is indeed a mess i'm putting it out there #a belated happy birthday to me and an early happy valentine's to everyone #i'm so glad school's canceled due to the storm or i'd never finish this #z writes

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