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sunnyville36 · 3 years

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Mamihlapinatapai {part 5}

I am so excited to share the last part of this story with you. It means so much to me to be able to share my work and have people enjoy it, so thank you to everyone who has read this little fic. Huge shout out to the extremely talented @fizzydrink698 for being an inspiration to my writing and an all-around sweet and supportive human. And the biggest thank you of all to my beta reader, @harry-on-broadway, for being the most encouraging and wonderful friend, without whom I never would have had the confidence to write this, let alone put it out into the world. 💜

Hope you enjoy the finale of Mamihlapinatapai.

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1} {part 2} {part 3} {part 4}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: smut, emotionally abusive parents, usage of degrading names

Rating: Mature

Word count: 6k

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As Soft As Petals | Kingdom of Gu, present day

It was late into the evening, maybe even so late it was actually early, and you were standing outside the prince’s door, frantically knocking on it.

“Y/n, what’s happened?! Is everything alright?”

You walked straight into the room, not even bothering to wait for Chan to invite you in.

“It’s my mother. I can’t find her anywhere. I assumed she went with a separate wagon party the way she came when we left Lajor, but everyone in the servants’ quarters says they haven’t seen her in hours and I’ve looked everywhere I can think of and - “

“Shh, shh, Y/n calm down, it’s alright,” Chan said, taking your hands in his. You were full on hyperventilating at this point, your body starting to physically shake with worry.

“I-I just… these past few weeks I almost lost you and then we almost went to war and I can’t handle not knowing where she is. I just can’t imagine what I’d do if she - ” your voice caught in your throat, unable to bring yourself to say your worst fear.

“I know, I know, but it’s going to be alright,” Chan soothed. “I’m sure she’s fine and we’ll find her, but you are in no state now to continue looking for her. Why don’t I ask a few of the guards to keep searching the palace grounds, and I’ll send a rider to Lajor to make sure she would have made it back with us?”

You looked up at him. “You would do that?”

“Of course, Y/n, this is your mother we’re talking about. We’ll do everything we need to until you know she’s safe,” he said, guiding you gently with him towards the door, knowing you wouldn’t want to let go of his hand based on the vice-like grip you currently had on it. He leaned his head out into the hallway, calling for one of the guards stationed at the end and relaying what he wanted done to continue the search for your mother. All the while you were watching him with an expression of awe and gratitude. It still surprised you, how he seemed to know exactly what you needed, and even more so that he was willing to do whatever it took to do it for you. He walked you back into the room, taking the both of you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, still catching your breath from your moment of distress.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently, leaning down, his lips ever so slightly grazing the crown of your head.

You felt a shiver run through you.

“Your Highness,” you lifted your head to say something, hoping to avoid talking about what he had just done, but were stopped in your tracks by the look on his face.

“I was actually hoping to see you tonight. I need to tell you something, Y/n. And you might not like what I have to say, but I can’t keep denying it for the rest of my life. These last few weeks have shown me that I can’t take anything for granted, so I intend to stop right now.” He paused and stood up, giving you room to stop him if you wanted, but when you remained silent he took that as permission to keep going.

“I’m in love with you. I think I always have been. I’m in love with the way you hum that same silly tune to yourself when you’re doing chores. How you can read a map of any terrain, how you’re not afraid to correct me when I make a mistake while drilling our sword fighting techniques. I’m in love with the smile you get on your face when you ride through the woods and the way your hair looks when the light shines on it through the trees.”

You were aware your mouth was slightly open, your eyes staring at Chan like a dumbstruck deer, but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the words he was saying. You’d always known you still had feelings for him, and could only dream he reciprocated those same feelings. But hearing him say all the little things you didn’t even notice about yourself, hearing him say he loved you for those things, your mind was at a loss for what to do.

“I love how you care for our people, how you always have their best interests at heart. How you would be willing to never speak about these feelings I know we both share so as to not jeopardize your ability to serve me, to serve them. But most of all I love that you see me. Not the statesman or the fighter or the ruler, just me.”

You made up your mind then. To hell with the king’s threats, with the questions your mother had asked you about responsibilities and sacrifices. You had been making the greatest sacrifice of all for the last sixteen years, but no more.

You launched yourself at him, his arms wrapping around you immediately and your lips meeting his.

It was somehow exactly like that night five years ago and nothing like it at all. You’d both grown in experience since then, having had other partners over the years. Your lips moved smoother against one another’s, and it was more passionate than it was gentle. But you felt that same feeling of euphoria glowing inside you, knowing that you were here with him and he was here with you and you were both finally admitting to what you’d always felt but never dared to acknowledge. You felt yourself sinking into him, willing to let the tide of his love carry you away if it meant you could stay in this moment forever. Your lips parted from his, Chan titling your head up to look at him.

“I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you love me, too.”

You took his face in your hands, willing your voice to convey how sincere you were.

“I love you Chris. I love the way your hair is always ruffled in the morning and that you sing to yourself when you think no one can hear. I love how you take three cubes of sugar with your tea instead of two. I love your determination to better yourself and your dedication to better your people. I love that you have always treated me as an equal. I love your dimples and your eyes and the way you make me feel safe when my hand is in yours.” You brought your thumb up to wipe away a single tear that was sliding down his cheek, his eyes shining as he listened to your words. “It has always been you, Chris. It will always be you.”

He smiled then, that same blinding smile that had bound you to him from the day you met. He kissed you again, then began moving his lips down the side of your neck, your head tilting back to allow him more skin. His hand reached back and in a few quick motions the laces of your bodice were loose enough for your dress to fall off your shoulders. He kissed downwards over your chest, and your breath hitched as the dress moved lower and lower, eventually dropping to the floor, leaving you almost bare for him.

Your hands came up to thread through his hair as you mocked, “You are entirely too clothed for my liking, Your Highness.”

At that, Chan whipped his shirt over his head, exposing his soft skin and toned abs, then pulled you to him, tone light but face serious. “I never want to have to hear you call me that ever again.”

“Chan,” you laughed, lightly smacking his chest, “what we’re doing right now is staying confined to this room; I’ll still have to call you that in front of everyone else.”

“Fine,” he all but growled, “I will settle for never hearing it in this room. For now.” His lips returned to pressing featherlight kisses to your jaw and found your sweet spot below your ear. A sigh escaped your lips as Chan lifted you up and placed you under him on the bed, your hands roaming over his shoulders and back as he shed the rest of his clothes and removed the final layer separating you from him. You could feel his hardness against your dripping core and you looked down, holding in a moan when you saw how big he was.

“Ah ah ah,” the prince purred, “I don’t want you to hold anything back tonight. I have waited so long to have you like this, and I want to hear every sound that falls from your lips. I want to know how good I make you feel, Y/n.”

Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn't hold back the sinful sound that left you as he brought his mouth to suckle and nip at your breast, his hand reaching down to rub the pads of his first two fingers against your heat. Slowly, he increased the pace and the pressure as he kissed down your body, bringing his head between your thighs. You moaned when you felt his tongue lick a long, languid stripe up your core, then brought your hands to tangle in his hair as he stroked small circles against your sensitive bud. Desperate for him, you pulled his head back up to meet yours, back arching as you whimpered, “Please Chris.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in, the feeling of him against your walls far better than you’d ever imagined. Being this close to him, feeling his cock reach places inside you you hadn’t known could feel this good, the intimacy was almost overwhelming, so you clung to him, reveling in the feeling of being with the man you loved.

“How did I get so lucky?” Chan was whispering, praises falling from his lips. “Fuck Y/n, you’re so beautiful, an angel, my perfect girl. Taking me so well, like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you breathed out, “all of me is yours Chris, only yours.”

His thrusts increased then, both of you teetering on the edge of your highs. You captured his lips in another burning kiss, sealing your love as the ecstasy coursed through you both. You laid there for a few moments, relishing the weight of his body on yours and the quiet sound of his heartbeat. Then Chan rose and fetched a cloth to clean you both, your body already starting to succumb to the pleasant exhaustion.

When he returned to the bed you heard his voice whisper one last I love you before you drifted off in his arms.

Runaway | Kingdom of Miroh, 28 years ago

The girl had been running for two days.

She’d prepared her knights and her attendant, told them the story she’d fabricated for them to repeat, and paid them handsomely for the trouble she was surely causing them. Her parents would be frantic, but eventually they would mourn her and move on. The kingdom would survive without her; in fact, it had to, because she knew nothing would ever make her return, force her to take on a responsibility she never asked for nor wanted.

Only five more miles to the border, she thought. Then I can start over, be whoever I want to be.

By the time she reached the marker for Gu, she could barely stay upright, having taken as little rations with her as she dared. She wandered across, hoping some small border town would be close by where she could eat, maybe get some rest. After another few miles some buildings started to pop up, small cottages and what looked like a market and an inn. The girl squinted at the prices on the inn’s sign, trying to remember the conversion rate of the currency she’d brought with her.

“Hey! I saw you come in to town; you look a little lost. Can I help you find anything?”

The girl realized the voice was talking to her, and turned to see a boy about her age, maybe seventeen, tall with shaggy brown hair, looking at her curiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the boy said. “It’s just… you seem to be having a little trouble reading the sign and I-I’m uhh... pretty good with numbers; I could help you, if you’d like?”

“Oh umm… yes… p-please… thank you.”

The boy walked closer, the girl showing him the money she had so he could count out the equivalent of the price. “So, is your family visiting from Miroh?”

The girl balked at his perceptiveness. Despite all her planning, she hadn’t thought about what she would tell anyone when they asked for her story. She tried to come up with something quickly, stumbling over her words. “Umm no, m-my parents are… they’re uhh… they died.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry to hear that,” the boy said, looking at her sympathetically, and the girl felt like he really meant it.

“Well, umm, here’s what you’ll need for a night’s stay here,” he continued, handing her back the money. “If you want I can show you a good place to eat that’s close by; you look like you could use a hearty meal.”

Despite knowing him for all of two minutes, the boy seemed trustworthy. And he was right, she could definitely use some nourishment.

“That sounds nice,” she answered.

“Great!” the boy said, stepping down from the inn’s doorstep and walking towards the village center, the girl following. “I’m Minhyuk, by the way. What’s your name?”

“My name’s Julietta.”

Revelations | Kingdom of Gu, present day

You awoke, startling for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings until you remembered what had happened the previous night. Smiling to yourself, you turned in the sheets, expecting to see Chan laying beside you, but you were met with emptiness on his side of the bed. You frowned, scooting over and feeling the spot still warm from his body.

He must have only just left, you thought.

You glanced over and noticed a small note sitting on his bedside table, letters written in his artful penmanship. You picked it up, eyes running over the words.

Good morning my love. How I wished to have you wake up in my arms, but I’ll only be gone for a few minutes. I’ve gone to speak with my father about something, and when I return, the whole kingdom will be able to hear my name spoken by your beautiful voice.

A wave of dread washed over your entire body, threatening to pin you to the spot where you sat.

Chan knew his father could be cold, knew he was a callous man who cared for little more than his own self-interest and what he deemed acceptable. But you knew he’d always believed maybe he could change the king, could open his heart to the same degree Chan and his mother had shared. You, however, never saw the man through such rose-colored glasses, having been the recipient of his threats and intimidation too many times to believe he could be redeemed. And your beloved prince was about to find out the true depths of his father’s loathing towards the relationship you shared.

You sprung into action, body moving without thinking as you dressed in last night’s clothes and ran from his chambers, heading to the throne room. Maybe you could reach him in time, spare him the pain of hearing his father’s rejection. You’d have to convince him you didn’t want to bring your relationship public, and he’d be hurt, devastated, but it would be nothing compared to the anguish of what he was about to bring on himself. Or the punishment he was about to unknowingly inflict on you.

Chan was nowhere to be seen in any of the hallways leading to the throne room. Your feet moved faster, desperately trying to prevent what was about to happen. But when you burst through the thick oak doors, you saw Chan kneeling at his father’s feet. Both men looked up to face you, Chan’s expression one of blissful optimism, his father’s one of knowing anticipation.

You were too late.

“Hello, Y/n,” the king said darkly, mouth morphing into a sneer. “You already know what he’s asked me, don’t you?”

“Your Majesty… please...”

You shuddered at the sound of your own voice, tone betraying your agony, your fear.

“You never told him, did you?” he questioned, the trace of pity in his voice making you all the more uneasy.

“How could I?” you sighed.

The king nodded contentedly, then motioned for the guards on either side of you. You felt their hands capture your arms, body going all but slack in their hold. You couldn’t find the strength to fight anymore.

Chan had stood up and was now looking frantically between you and his father. “What is the meaning of this?!” he asked, tone laced with bewilderment and shock.

“I’m sorry Chris,” you murmured, heart breaking at the look on his face.

“Christopher,” King Bang said, standing and approaching his son, “do not fear. I will take care of this disobedient whore and then you will be free of her influence. I should have never let her remain for as long as I did, look what it has done to you, my ingenuous boy.”

You felt it, the moment Chan realized what his father was implying. His whole body shifted, backing away from Geun as he spoke, voice void of emotion.

“What did you just say?”

For once the king seemed genuinely surprised, eyebrows raising and voice the tiniest bit unsteady as he answered, “I-I mean, certainly that’s the only reason you would ever come to me with this request. Clearly this woman has convinced you to denounce what I’ve taught you about tradition, about knowing one’s place, through what means I dare not say; but I don’t blame you Chris, this is my fault.”

Chan stopped moving then, having almost reached your side. His face contorted into an expression of dismay, of grief, as he shouted.

“Are you really so ignorant, so far removed from reality, that you think my actions are a sign of disloyalty?! Of neglecting my responsibilities?! Because they are nothing of the sort. And even if they were, Y/n would not be responsible for convincing me to do anything. Your outdated principles and misguided sense of your own virtuosity could have done that on their own! You were blind to a plot happening in your own palace because of your desire to have me bend to your will, but I won’t let you do it anymore.”

He turned, ordering the guards, “Release her, now!”

“You will do no such thing,” the king’s enraged voice rang out. “Christopher, you will never get my permission for this.”

He turned back to Geun, eyes furious but voice calm.

“I was not asking, father. I will marry her. And I am not betraying you, or our kingdom, or our traditions. And I’m not doing it because she seduced me. I’m doing this because I love her. Because she supports me, and cares for me, and knows our people intimately, probably better than I do. And because, for my whole life, she has been the only person besides Mother who has ever truly loved me for who I am. So you’ll have to throw me in prison too if you intend to stop me, because I refuse to be here without her.”

“No!” you yelled, straining against your captors, energy rushing back to your body at his words. “No, Chris please, you have to let me go! I’m so grateful we had last night; it was the best night of my life and always will be. I knew the consequences I might face, and getting to tell you how much I love you was worth every one, but you were never supposed to suffer because of me. I can’t let you do this.”

Your pleas were interrupted by a herald entering the room.

“Your Majesty - “

‘WHAT?!” King Bang whirled on him, outrage blatantly evident on his face.

While the king was distracted, Chan shoved the guards away from you and took your shaking form into his arms, cradling your head against his chest. “Y/n, you’ve protected me and sacrificed for me my entire life. Let me be the one who takes care of you now.”

His whispers stopped when you heard the announcement of the herald.

“His Majesty King Peter Soleil of Miroh is here with his wife, Queen Margaery, as well as one of our palace servants, Julietta, Your Majesty. They are insisting on an audience with you.”

“Your mother?” Chan questioned, meeting your equally confused face with his own.

The king glanced to where the pair of you stood, rolling his eyes obnoxiously. “Fine, bring them in. Let these two have their last embrace before I rid us of her presence.”

The herald opened the doors, and there stood your mother, dressed in a beautiful gown you could tell was made for royalty. She entered, followed closely by the king and queen of Miroh. You’d seen them a few times over the years at various palace functions. They seemed like steadfast and benevolent leaders, reflected in their small kingdom’s reputation for nonviolence and generosity. In fact, the only turmoil you could remember them being involved in was the disappearance of the crown princess, several years before you were even born. Not much was known about the circumstances of the disappearance, but it was said the king and queen had never given up hope of finding her.

They came to a stop in the middle of the room, the sovereigns flanking your mother. Looking at the three of them, you couldn’t deny the resemblance of your mother to the elder two people, and a memory stirred in the back of your mind.

“King Peter, Queen Margaery,” King Bang addressed them tersely, “I would say I am pleased to see you but I am at this moment engaged in a personal matter and would like very much to return to it. If you could please explain why you have one of my palace servants here with you playing dress up, I would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Certainly,” came King Soleil’s placid reply. “We are here on a personal matter as well, one that Julietta, and indeed Y/n, are involved in.”

Chan’s arms tensed around you, preparing to defend you against any allegation, any harm or threat or danger to your wellbeing. But, as had happened once before in that very room, no one was prepared for what the Mirohan king said.

“You see, Julietta is our daughter. Almost thirty years ago, she left our kingdom, because she felt trapped in a life we had not prepared her for. Her mother and I should have supported her, should have taught her to confide in us, but we were very different people then, and different rulers too. We would have done what you are attempting to do to your son, forced her to betray her own self to mold to our will. However, when she left, we saw how wrong we were, and vowed to do better. Now, Julietta has come back into our lives for the sake of her daughter, our granddaughter, Y/n.”

Every set of eyes in the room was trained on you, your own frozen wide in disbelief at what was happening. King Bang seemed to be at a loss for words, having fallen back into his seat on the throne. Your mother left her parents’ side and walked to you, smiling tentatively. Chan reluctantly released his hold on you as she took your hand and brought you to stand with her away from the others.

“My dear, I know how much of a shock this must be to you, and I am sorry, so very truly sorry for never telling you,” she said quietly. “But I was ashamed… When I ran away, I did what I thought I needed to do at the time. Looking back it may have been reckless, irresponsible and selfish even. But most importantly, it had been my choice. And I took that from you, the ability to choose what path you wanted in life. I thought we would be better off away from the life I grew up in, and for a while we were, with your father. But when he died, I was adrift and had no idea what to do and somehow we ended up back in a palace and at the whim of an arrogant king, but this time without even an inkling of the power I once held. I thought about returning with you to my parents then, but how could I be sure you wouldn’t resent me for forcing you into the life I had tried so desperately to escape? I struggled with my choice for years, until eventually I saw that you were happy with your training with the prince, getting to do all the things you used to do with your father that would have been scorned had you been the one in the boy’s position. But then I saw the signs of your feelings for him, your realization of the insurmountable barriers that would prevent you from being together, the way you resigned yourself to unhappiness. I knew I could do something about it, but I had to be sure you were ready to accept the responsibilities that would come with having the ability to be with the man you loved.”

You looked up at her, recalling your conversation at the coronation, and she nodded. “I am sure now. Which is why I went back to Miroh, back to my parents and the position I despised a lifetime ago. Because if I can give you the ability to make this one choice, maybe I can make up for all the other mistakes in my life.”

“Mother... “ you started, wanting to tell her you understood her choices, that you didn’t think they were all a mistake, but were quieted by her hand on your cheek.

“I know you are quick to forgive, just like your father, but let me take responsibility for this.”

You looked back at your grandparents.

“They won’t force you to accept,” Julietta said. “That was my one condition.”

Your head was spinning with the onslaught of new information. Searching the room, your gaze locked with Chan’s, reading the utter adoration in his eyes that you knew mirrored your own. You knew his father would never accept your relationship at your current status. And despite feeling confident you wanted a chance to make an impact as a ruler, you didn’t know everything about what it would mean to take on this responsibility. But there was one thing you were absolutely certain of.

You turned back to your mother, squeezing her hand. “Thank you.”

She led you back to the group, your hand linking with Chan’s as you came to stand beside him and your grandparents.

“We are aware of the young people’s affection for each other…” King Soleil began, but King Bang seemed to have recovered himself enough to realize what the other was about to say.

“That girl will NOT marry my son!”

“Geun,” your grandfather warned, “that girl is my granddaughter, a Mirohan princess. I strongly suggest you watch your tone when you speak about her in front of me, or anywhere for that matter. Now, it was already quite unreasonable to want to prevent your son from marrying a woman he loves, but it would be wholly irrational of you to deny a match for the prince to the heir apparent to the throne of Miroh, wouldn’t you say?”

You stood up straighter, feeling Chan’s hand tighten around yours.

The king was silent for a while, but finally gave an acquiescent sigh. “Very well.”

The two of you smiled but kept your composure, bowing to the king and turning to your grandparents. They pulled you both in for a hug as you thanked them, saying they were eager to get to know their new grandchildren, and your heart skipped a beat at those words. You didn’t hear anything else after that, your focus entirely mesmerized by Chan who was pulling you towards the door, your pace quickening before breaking into a run as you left the castle, heading for the stables. You rounded the building first, then felt him reach around your waist as he gathered you in his arms and spun you around, laughing his brilliant laugh and pulling you close to him as he placed you back on the ground by the pond.

“Does this mean I have to call you “Your Highness” now?” he asked, giggling at your stunned face from the use of the term.

You playfully put your hands up to shove him, but he captured them in his own, kissing your knuckles and bringing your palms to rest on his chest. You could feel his heart beating as you knelt your head to meet his and heard his soft voice ask.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

You had never been happier to say yes.

Epilogue | Kingdom of Gu, 1 year later

You were standing in front of the mirror, your mother behind you pinning your hair into an extravagant twist when a joking voice came from the door.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” You turned to see the smiling face of the queen of Lajor.

“Korenna!” you exclaimed, dancing happily in place, too afraid to move while your mother continued her styling as your friend came to sit next to you.

“You look stunning, Y/n, truly. Chris is going to lose it when he sees you.”

Chris, your mind echoed lovingly. You’re marrying Chris today.

“And how come I don’t get a hello from my favorite little princess?” you teased.

“Paige is a bit preoccupied practicing her petal tossing abilities with her Uncle Felix,” her sister responded. “She definitely has the upper hand in technique, but I’m not sure who looked cuter in the flower crown.”

“Speaking of flower crowns,” your mother said, turning you to face her, “Chris left this for you.”

You looked down at her hands where she held a sealed letter, on top of which rested a single wildflower.

Your mother saw the tears prick in your eyes and started to gather up her things, motioning to Korenna. “Let’s give Y/n a moment before the ceremony while we - Oh! Your Majesty, my apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

You turned to see King Bang milling awkwardly at the entrance of the room. Putting the gift from Chan down, you ushered your mother and Korenna out then came to sit in front of his father.

The two of you had avoided each other as much as possible over the last year, which hadn’t exactly been hard since you had moved with your mother to Miroh to catch up on all the instruction you’d missed these past twenty-three years. You’d seen him at the Four Kingdom Competition and at various dinners and balls, but Chan always made it a point to keep you as far away from him as possible. You weren’t going to complain about it to your fiance, but you’d almost wished he’d let the two of you talk, tension clearly still lingering between you. And though this visit was unexpected, considering you were going to be family after today, now seemed just as good a time as any.

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

“Actually, Y/n, I-I came here to apologize,” the king said, his voice sounding almost as taken aback as you felt. “I have spent my whole life avoiding saying that phrase, but I realize now you are one of the few people I feel I really must say it to.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “I’m sorry for the death of your father, I’m sorry for my insults and threats over the years, and I’m sorry for trying to keep you and Christopher from being together. I had no right to try to do that, whether you were noble-born or not.” He paused, and you could tell it was getting harder for him to keep his voice steady. “After my wife died… I had this blind rage I felt towards everyone, but especially towards you, and when I finally took the time to analyze it, I realized I had been jealous. Jealous of your skill and your talent, but mostly jealous of my son’s devotion to you. This year has shown me that I was wrong to think his love for you would turn him away from me or his responsibilities; in fact, his happiness at being with you has only strengthened our relationship and made him a more present, more thoughtful ruler. So I came to apologize, and to thank you for bringing the light back to my son’s eyes.”

You were stunned, but grateful, and the king seemed to read that in the expression on your face. “You don’t need to say anything,” he said, standing up and heading for the door, “I just wanted you to know.”

You stopped him before he could leave, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

He nodded and shut the door, leaving you alone. You turned your attention back to the envelope on the desk and gently opened it, unfolding the paper in one hand and holding the blossom in the other.

Y/n,

Since the beginning, my love for you has grown like the roots of a flower. Even on this day, we are but tiny buds, only just beginning to sprout. I look forward to every day we’ll spend in the garden, tending to our love until we reach full bloom. And just as flowers slowly fade, may we grow old together, enjoying the memories of those sunny days when we used to ride through the meadows we planted. Know that my love for you will remain long after our petals are reclaimed by the earth, my beautiful wildflower.

Yours forever,

Chris

You held back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, placed the flower in your hair behind your ear with trembling hands, and walked out to meet your mother standing at the entrance to the courtyard.

She took your arm in hers as you made your way to the aisle. You saw Minho and Felix on the right, both grinning from ear to ear, and Korenna and Paige on the left, the younger’s sparkling dress and tiny braid matching the elder’s. And in the center you saw Chan, looking to be on the verge of tears, but his blinding smile on full display. Your mother walked you to him, your gown glinting in the light of the setting sun. He took your hand in his and held it while the priest recited the hymns and blessed your marriage, pronouncing you husband and wife.

Later, while the celebration was in full swing inside the ballroom, the two of you made your way out to the balcony. He took you into his arms, both of you swaying to the music floating out on the breeze.

“You look breathtaking tonight,” Chan whispered.

“You told me that earlier, Your Highness,” you responded, wiggling your eyebrows at the term he used to hate, recalling the conversation you’d had the first time you shared a dance on the balcony.

“I know,” he said smiling, catching on to your words. “I wanted to tell you again.”

You pulled his lips to yours, kissing him before whispering, “We’re married.”

“I know that too,” he responded, the two of you giggling and bringing your foreheads together. He reached up to tuck your hair that had come loose behind your ear, revealing the flower, and you let the feeling of peace wash over you, knowing you had a lifetime together.

“I love you, Chris.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

{end}

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saturatedboy · 3 years

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How about a fluff Donna oneshot with a gn!reader who’s sicker than a dog

If you’re ok with that ofc

Donna Beneviento x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sickness and throwing up

Words: 2.6k

You couldn't believe it. You're mind just couldn't process it. Your nose was stuffy with slight snot dripping from it and your eyes were swollen red from earlier crying. Somehow you had gotten yourself so sick to the point it hurt to even talk as your throat was dryer than the Sahara Desert. You had tried earlier to get up from your bed with little effort because of the quick wash of nausea had influenced all your senses to stop. You could feel your stomach turning every now again and decided that it was probably better to lay down in your bed then go rushing to the bathroom in hopes the cartwheels that passed through your digestive system would soon come to a halt.

A sudden cough popped out of your dry mouth as you raised your hand to cover your mouth, the heat of your skin feeling far more hot and sticky than when you were at the Lord's Heisenberg's factory to gather some materials for your lover, Donna Beneviento. After your coughing fit, you had closed your eyes in hopes of rest, but the sudden noise of the door creaking open had made you whine out. "Still in bed?" The voice had teased followed by a chant of laughter. Without moving, you groaned and sighed at the doll who had now floated into your confined room and made her way to hover over your laying down form.

"Angie...please." You croaked out, waving a hand in a 'dismissive' tone for the doll to go away. Once again, the doll had strummed up more laughter from her unknown vocal cords at your terrible state.

"You should hear yourself, it sounds like you're stuffed with saw dust haha!" Angie crackled away, floating down to sit on the other pillow that was at the side of you as she still stared down at your figure. Trying to not laugh at her remark, you had hauled yourself up to cough up a storm into your arm, tears springing to your eyes from the piecing strike of pain that stuck your head. The laughter from the doll came to a stop, now a worried Angie was staring at you.

"I-I'll go get Donna!" She stammered, backing away from you and flying as swift as she could to go find her owner who was most likely brewing tea like she did in the early morning hours. You wanted to call out to her, tell that you didn't need Donna but the warm feeling of something bubbling up in your stomach came back.

Flinging the covers off your body, you had scurried to find the closest bathroom to your room that happened to be next to Donna's anyway. As you were running through the hallways, you had rounded the corner and almost bumped into the jogging figure of Donna. Seeing your face flushed red and the hurried speed of your run, Donna was quick to turn and follow your trail to the bathroom where she was met with your kneeling body leaning over the toilet seat hurling your stomach contents out. She was quick however to attend to your side after rolling her long sleeves up past her elbows. Her hair was already tied back in her usual bun with two strands falling in front of her uncovered face after four months of getting to know you better.

With your vision slightly blurred from your sweaty tears, you leaned back up and tried to grab the toilet paper from beside you to wipe your mouth with, only for the soft clasp of Donna's hand around your wrist to stop you from proceeding. "Don't wipe your mouth with that, I'll go fetch a cloth for you my love." She spoke softly being aware that your senses were higher then usual because of your sickness. You pulled your hand gently out of her grasp to clutch hold of the seat once again as you spilled more sick from your mouth.

"This couldn't get any worse," You said out-loud as you pulled yourself back away from your now mess and leaned against the wall, pulling your legs up to your chest. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"Cold? COLD? Are you mad meat on feet?" Angie screamed out, going crazy over the fact you claimed to be cold when your skin was a tinted red from the world's hottest coal. You pushed your head between your knees, trying to drown out the loud squeals of Angie going off on a rant about you being cold. It was not pleasant to hear as much as you loved to here Angie talk.

Luckily for yourself however, Donna had rushed back into the room holding a bucket by its handle. Seeing you curled up and Angie speaking in a head-splitting tone, she turned to her partner in crime and gently hushed her. Angie at first had crossed her arms till she watched as Donna went to attend your needs. "Ohhhh right, they are sick." She stated plainly as she shrugged her shoulders and went to also aid your needs.

Donna gently took hold of the side of your head and gently pulled you up to face her. Tiny stands of your hair had stuck to your forehead, making her frown slightly. Seeing you in this state wasn't good. How she ever let you get so sick in the first place was a mystery to her. You had been perfectly fine the other day, playing in the snow with Angie and the other puppets but why had you gotten so sick...- "I told you to not go back out there in the storm." Donna disciplined you as she laid your head back to rest against the wall and went to grab the cloth in the bucket. You sighed and nodded weakly, humming in agreement. You couldn't help it though, last night the snow was so fun to play in with your snow boots and cloak made by yours truly, Donna and Angie. You had to go out though last night in the storm, You just had to go make more snow angels and wanted to build the best snow fort. Not to mention you swore you saw a deer running about and had gone to chase it in the forest for a little while before making your way back home in the late hours.

Rinsing the excess water out from the cloth, Donna gently pattered your forehead with the cold water making you sigh in pleasure. The coldness of the cloth against your hot skin had calmed the banging headache that was bashing against your brain. You closed your eyes in content as you felt a small hand brush against yours. "I apologise for shouting earlier," The sudden contact made you unknowingly brush your larger fingers against the doll's hand.

"Its alright, its okay." You spoke out feeling a little more better with some cold on you. Donna had left the cloth sit on your forehead folded as she moved the bucket to the shower and went to flush the toilet. After you had laid there for just a short while, Donna had spoken up again.

"It's time we get you back to bed my little voodoo," She said, clasping her hands in front of her as she picked Angie off the floor next to you. You groaned and lifted your hand back up, wanting to clutch onto Angie. Angie jumped out of Donna's arms and rushed to your side, holding onto your hand and stroking the back of it with her small structured fingers. Donna cooed at the sight, loving the way how Angie acted with you. It did take a while for Donna to convince Angie in the first place to not play her deadly game of 'Hide and Seek' with you but just like Donna did, Angie soon fell in love with everything about you. From your sneezes that you hated to your slightly taller height than Donna- what wasn't there to love about you?

Noticing she was getting of task, as much as she loved seeing you and Angie bond, Donna crouched down to gently, with a tiny bit of a struggle, lift your body off the bathroom floor and hold you in her arms. You were slightly heavy in her arms since Donna always had a frail body but she was persistent to get you back into the bed so she could care for you till and after your sickness left. She was determined to get you back up to full health.

As she walked down the corridors with you in her arms, Angie had placed herself to rest on your chest hearing your heartbeat pump blood around your body. The doll was on the verge of falling asleep, finding safety and comfort being near you. Dona had started to hum a song to fill the silence of the air, enjoying the task of getting to look after you. You normally had always helped her, ever since the first day she had gotten the choice to keep you from Mother Miranda. Now she could finally repay those days back and look after you- she would've either way looked after you but she tended to forget that you knew she loved you. It was a reason why she mostly made you small teddies on a Friday to give to you. Each of them had a name tag that was tied around their necks always held a note from either saying ,'I love you' to 'Forever my voodoo'. It was a sweet gesture to your heart and to show your appreciation for the gifts, you had placed them all on the shelves that were set up around your room.

Donna was relieved to see the sight of your door in sight, she could finally place you down and be at your side until your sickness goes away. Walking through the opened door, she slightly gushed at the sight of her creations up on your shelves. She pulled you closer to her chest as she slowly walked around your bed and leaned down to place up upon the cotton sheets. Pulling her arms out from under your body, she quickly walked towards your wardrobe and swung the door open to take out a folded white sheet of silk to place over your now sleeping body. When she walked back over to you, she unfolded the sheet and placed it over you, tucking the sides under and folding the top of it so it sat just over your chest. Readjusting the also sleeping Angie in your arms, Donna had leaned down and placed a kiss on both of your foreheads, moving more stray hair from your face. She was glad your skin was less hot, it seemed you throwing up had gotten rid of the bad things in your stomach and should make you better for when you wake up. However for now, Donna swiftly left the room to go search for some medicine, hot tea and easy to swallow food for your awakening. She would stick to her word of making you feel better.

You came to your conscience when you felt a hand shake your shoulder. Moaning in annoyance, you opened your heavy eye lids and faced the culprit of waking you from your amazing dream of Donna, Angie an you sitting in a field having a picnic. On other terms however, when your vision was less translucent, you were blushing like you had spotted your crush- or in other words you did spot your lover. "Having a good dream?" She asked, holding a cup with something steaming out from it. You were loss for words, had you been sleep talking the whole time?

"No...no dreams just darkness." You were fast to reply, wanting to get out of the embarrassing situation quickly.

"Surrreee~" Angie sang out, teasing you as she was once again on the pillow at the side of you. You felt her shift about and felt her climb over you, only for her to nestle herself between your arms that folded under your head. You groaned playfully and kissed her head, laughing as she ducked further under the sheet that was placed over you.

"Now now Angie, I'm sure they need to have something to drink before anyone else sleeps." Donna placed the cup down on the night stand that you were facing and helped you sit up so your back was resting against the headboard of your bed and Angie was sat on your lap, singing softly to herself. Donna, once placing her had upon your forehead and checking to see how hot you were, took her hand away and grabbed hold of the cup that she originally had. Blowing on it herself, she took a little sip to make sure that the solution wasn't too hot or too cold for you to drink and then raised the cup to your lips. You tried to take the cup out of her hands but she wasn't having it. "Let me help you, please." She pleaded, raising the cup back again to rest against your lips. You nodded, knowing full well that you couldn't say no to her and parted your lips open. Feeling her pour the solution down your throat had made you blush deeply. Oh how beautiful she was in your eyes, such a Goddess- she was no Lady only a Goddess in your eyes...But she could be your Lady if she would say 'yes' to a future question you had intended to ask her in the further future.

Drinking what you could taste, which was Earl Grey tea, you sighed as you finished drinking it feeling the warmth in your now settled stomach. You felt grateful to have these people and doll in your life. These two were your home, this was your home and you loved every second of it. Watching Donna place the cup back onto the nightstand, she leaned over and kissed your cheek. You whined in annoyance. "I'm not kissing you on the lips until you are fully better," She accused as she smiled softly at your reactions.

"Then at least stay right next to me until I'm better," You claimed back, adjusting the veil on top of Angie's head getting a sudden yelp from her by your sudden actions. Sighing, Donna had nodded and tried to make her way towards a small rocking chair in the corner of the room that sat by the windowsill but was refused by your hand wrapping around her dress quickly. "Stay right next to me...on the bed." You stated, tugging at her dress with a pout. Nodding, Donna had crawled from the your side of the bed to the other, laying down next to you. You picked Angie's sleeping body up and placed her between bot you and Donna. Stretching your arm out after, you managed to reach over to wrap your arm around Donna who watched you with shining eyes.

"You still need to eat," She whispered, using her hand to place your out stretched hand onto her face so she could feel your soft touch.

"I will after our nap. I think your touch is making me feel better." You spoke, stroking her cheek and blowing a kiss at her to get the best reaction of her closing her eyes tightly and blushing. "So adorable," You whispered back to her, enjoying the moment you had with her.

"Sleep," She said back, keeping her eyes closed and keeping a tight grip of your hand on her cheek, not wanting to ever let go. You nodded and moved yourself slightly to get more comfortable. Although your sickness still lingered, you knew you were in good hands and vowed to never ever go out in a snow storm even if you thought you spotted a deer.

"Both of you sleep," Angie groaned as she yawed loudly and moved her hands to grab hold of both yours and Donna's clothing. Both you and Donna laughed in return- laughter was the best medicine after all.

#donna beneviento #angie beneviento #angie the doll #gn!reader #residentevil #resident evil donna #resident evil 8 #house beneviento #x reader #oneshot #resident evil x reader #donna x reader #donna beneviento x reader

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter eight rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“He’s such a dick!” Peter exclaimed, flopping on his bed with a huff. You laid down next to him and ran your fingers through his soft hair, feeling him relax immediately under your touch.

“What did Flash do today?” You sighed. This was a pretty common point of conversation between you and Peter. Flash always found a way under Peters skin and you were always the one to dig him out.

“He said I photoshopped our pictures together on Instagram. And he said you’d never even look at me, even if I was, and I quote, “waiting your table on your date with him”. He’s such a dick! You do look at me.” Peter protested. You sighed let out another sigh as you thought of an answer. You and Peter had been together for three glorious weeks and each of those weeks, Peter had Flash on his back about your relationship.

“Yes I do. And I love what I see.” You assured him. Peter smiled slightly, too angry to fully appreciate the compliment.

“He tells everyone I’m lying about us being together. I didn’t even tell people, Ned did. And when I said I was gonna take the day off of school to spend our one month anniversary together, he said it was probably just gonna be me alone in my room reading your articles and crying because you’d never give me the time of day.” Peter scoffed. “I wish he would believe me. I hate constantly having to defend our relationship.”

Not knowing what to tell him, you kissed his cheeks and rolled onto his chest. Your one month anniversary was just a week away and two planned on spending every second together to commemorate the event.

“Take my mind off of him, please.” He pouted as he dragged his pinkie down your nose. “What’s new in my beautiful girlfriends life?”

You two absentmindedly compared hand sizes before locking your fingers together.

“I have my final interview with Cletus next week. Then I really gotta finish my story.” You told him.

“You’ll get it done.” He said confidently. “You’re so efficient. When’s it due?”

“Three weeks.” You answered.

“You know what that means.” Peter said. You nodded.

“Balls to the walls.” You said at the same time he said “Pedal to the metal.”

You giggled and he laughed loudly.

“I like how I made a crude reference and you made one about flowers. It really highlights our personalities.” You pointed out. Peter cocked his head.

“Flowers?” He questioned.

“Yea. Petals. Petal to the medal.” You said. Peter burst out laughing, making the whole bed shake. He flipped you over so you were in your back now with him on top.

“Aw baby no.” He laughed. “It’s pedal to the metal, not petal to the metal. Why would you push petals against metal?”

“I don’t know. Why would you put your balls to the wall?” You shot back.

“I personally wouldn’t put my balls against any wall.” Peter said matter of factly. Him saying something so out of character made you snort with laughter. You immediately covered your mouth and burned red.

“That was the grossest sound. I’m so sorry.” You said with hands still covering your face.

“Don’t be sorry. I love all your sounds.” Peter said as he moved your hands to plant kisses on your face. He started with kisses on your cheeks and slowly moved down to your neck. This was new territory for the both of you so let out a soft giggle to show it was okay.

“I like that sound too.” Peter said as he perked his head up. You smiled fondly and it gave him the confidence to keep going. He placed more hot kisses down your neck and you let out another soft sound.

“I like that sound as well.” He laughed into your neck. His lips found their way under your ear in just the right place.

“Peter.” You breathed. He stopped and looked at you. His eyes were full of something you’d never seen before. Pure love and adoration for you. But it wasn’t the puppy love you were used to seeing with him. It was adult love. Committed love. You looked him deep in the eyes and nodded. Without saying a word, you both agreed to take the next step and solidify your love for each other.

That night, you and Peter laid awake and just stared each other. Neither of you said a word. Everything had already been said that night in his bed. You absentmindedly ran your fingers over his lips as he twirled your hair around his finger. You loved him. You wanted so badly to tell him. But Peter was a teenage boy. He just experienced his first time and you don’t want to overwhelm him with his first “I love you” as well. But from the way Peter was looking at you, you knew he knew how you felt.

“I want you to meet my boss.” Peter spoke suddenly with a dreamy smile on his face. “He’s my mentor and basically my father. He’s very important to me and so are you. I want us all to have dinner together. Let’s do it tomorrow night. He’s gonna love you.”

“I’d love to meet him.” You smiled. And you meant it. Peter barely gave any details about his internship. You didn’t even know his bosses name. You cuddled in closer to Peter and felt absolute happiness all throughout your body. He felt it too. Peter Parker was over the moon with joy. He had never been happier.

The next day after school, Peter practically ran down the steps to greet you. He was still on a high from the night before. You were running slightly late and Peter stood in your usually spot and waited for you.

“Whats wrong, Penis Parker? Did Iron Man forget to pick you up today?” Flash teased. Peter turned his back to him.

“No. If you must know, Y/n is picking me up. She’s just a little late.” Peter grumbled. Flash laughed tauntingly.

“Right, Y/n. Is she gonna pick you up on her unicorn and take you on a date at Avengers Tower?” Flash mocked. Peter just ignored him.

“I can’t blame you for pretending to date her though. She’s so hot. I’d like to take her out and show her a good time. Better than you ever could, Penis Parker.” He continued.

“She’s not hot Flash, she’s beautiful. She’s a girl, not a cup of tea.” Peter retorted. Flash’s cheeks heated up at Peters comeback.

“Whatever. I’d still bang her. Even if she was a cup of tea.” Flash scoffed Peters blood began to boil. He wanted to kill Flash for even thinking about you.

“Me too. That girl is straight up glorious. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me, I swear.” One on Flash’s idiot friends chimed in. Peter shot him the death glare. It was getting increasingly harder to stand there and listen to those idiots degrade you.

“You’re disgusting. Show some respect.” Peter said lowly. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Little did Peter know, your super hearing allowed you to hear the whole conversation as you approached his school. An idea formed in your head.

A nice size crowd had gathered around Peter and Flash’s goons. Peter tapped his foot and waited for your arrival.

“Aw. Penis Parker wants us to show his imaginary girlfriend some respect.” Flash laughed. At that moment, you pulled up on your bike and swiftly took off your helmet. Shocked murmurs swept throughout the crowd. Most stunned of all was Flash, who looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. All eyes were on you. Peter noticed Flash’s reaction and smirked.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m having trouble getting around after last night.” You said apologetically and shot Peter a wink. You had practiced it in your head. Peters face broke out in an embarrassed smile as boys began to pat him on the back. A few even applauded.

“It’s alright, darling.” Peter said, stepping towards you. You smirked and gave him a big sloppy kiss. It was way more PDA than you were used to but you knew it’d give Peter enough street credit for the rest of college.

“Let’s go babe. Bye Flush.” You called and gave Flash a flirty little wave. If he was gonna call your boyfriend Penis, he was gonna get called Flush. Peter climbed on the back of your bike and you two sped away.

“Thanks for what you did back there. I hate how disgusting those guys are. I’m sorry they were objectifying you.” Peter apologized once you were back in his room.

“It’s alright. It happens.” You shrugged.

“But it shouldn’t. And did you see how they all acted when you kissed me? Like all the sudden I was cool because you were my girlfriend? Don’t get me wrong, you’re incredibly hot and I’m incredibly lucky to have you. But what they don’t understand is, there’s a million reasons why I’m lucky to have you.” Peter sighed angrily. “Your beauty doesn’t even crack the top ten. There’s so much to you. So much grandeur and depth and they just reduced you to a pretty face. It pisses me off.”

You smiled at his kind words and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck

“Peter, I don’t care what a single one of those bonehead boys had to say.” You shrugged. “I only care about you. Those boys at your school are just jealous that you actually have a brain in your head and a heart in your chest when they don’t. Don’t let them get to you. And thank you for all that you said. I really care about you, Peter.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you chickened out. You had only ever said it to Andy.

“I really care about you too.” Peter smiled before kissing you. “Now come on, let’s work on your story.”

That night, you prepared to eat dinner at Peters bosses house. You wore a casual dress and did your hair in loose curls. You wanted to make a good impression on Peters mentor but you didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard. You took a cab, not wanting to ride your motorcycle and risk the helmet messing up either of your hair, to a wooden cabin near a lake. Peter knocked on the door and rubbed his hands together in excitement.

“Here we go.” He beamed at you.

The door opened and your body froze as your eyes landed on Tony Stark. The very Tony Stark who made you your suit. The very Tony Stark who knew you were Venom.

And apparently, the very Tony Stark who was your boyfriends boss.

Tony’s face fell when he looked at you and you felt sick to your stomach. Tony felt it to. He glanced from you, to Peter, to your interlocked hands, then back at you. Your eyes whispered an apology and looked equally as apologetic. He was sorry for how badly this would end when all the secrets were out.

“Come on in, kids. Dinners almost ready.” Tony said suddenly. Peter grinned at you and lead you inside. You faked a smile before giving Tony one last look.

Dinner went as awkwardly as you could imagine. You and Tony couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other. Peter was too excited about his two favorite people meeting to notice the tension in the air.

“Y/n is an investigative reporter.” Peter gushed in between bites.

“Is she?” Tony said, never looking away from you. You felt terrified by his stare.

“She took down Carlton Drake and soon she’s gonna take down Cletus Kasady.” Peter continued with a proud smile. He put his hand on your knee under the table and squeezed.

“Oh really?” Tony’s expression was unreadable. “How did you do it?”

You gulped. He knew exactly how you did it. You had told him the story the day you met.

“I just followed my instincts and didn’t let up until the truth was out.” You stammered. Tony nodded stiffly.

“Right. Y/n, will you join me in the lab? I got something that might help your story.” Tony announced. You felt fear run through your body, all the way to your scalp. You nodded and got up. Your legs were shaking and you prayed Peter didn’t notice.

“I’ll come.” Peter said, moving to stand up. Tony immediately turned around and held up a hand.

“You stay here, kid.” He kept a calm tone. “I just want a quick word with your girlfriend.” Peter sat back down with a smile on his face at the sound of someone referring to you as his girlfriend.

Once in the safety of the lab, you let out the breath you had been holding in all night. You looked anxiously at Tony, waiting for him to speak. He had his back to you, and was still deciding what to say.

“Does he know?” Tony asked suddenly. You shook your head even though Tony couldn’t see you.

“No, sir.” Your voice shook. “I haven’t told him.”

“Do you know about him?” Tony asked, turning to face you. Your face contorted in confusion.

“Do I know what about him?” You questioned. That’s when Tony’s face fell. He realized the extent of the situation. You and Peter were in love and Spider-Man and Venom were enemies. And neither of you knew the other’s secret identity. Tony’s heart broke for the young couple. He knew how much Peter loved you. He also knew how fragile Peter was. Tony wondered if the shock would hurt less if he made the teenagers confront each other sooner rather than later.

“Nothing.” He said quickly. “Here’s what I need from you, tell him the truth.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he held up his hand.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hannah Montana. You need to tell Peter about Venom, or I will. End of discussion.” Tony said sternly.

“But-“

“What did I say? End of discussion.” He repeated.

“But he’ll hate me.” You said sadly. Tony looked at you empathically, knowing you didn’t even know how bad it was.

“He’ll hate you more if you wait to tell him. You have to rip the bandaid off. And who knows, maybe he has secrets of his own.” Tony tried to hint to you. You stared at the floor, not wanting to go back to the dinning room to Peter. You wanted to avoid him, and the conversation, as long as you could.

“You don’t understand, Mr. Stark.” Your voice wavered. “The second I tell him, he’ll leave me. I’m not ready to lose him, I just got him.”

You didn’t want to cry in front of a man you idealized but your heart was breaking.

“You don’t know for sure that you’ll lose him. You need to tell him. Now. You know where he is.” Tony ordered. You could feel yourself beginning to cry no matter how hard you tried to fight it. It was that terrible feeling of needing to cry but feeling too embarrassed to.

“Don’t do that. I don’t want a crying teenage girl on my hands.” Tony said in response to your watering eyes.

“But I love him.” You whimpered. “I love him and I don’t want to lose him.”

Tony’s attention snapped to you. You had never seen Tony Stark at a loss for words before.

“You love him?” He asked. You nodded.

“With all my heart.” You said weakly.

“Have you ever told him that?” Tony asked.

“No.” You said shyly. It was an awkward thing to talk about with a man you barely knew.

Tony looked angry for a moment, then disheartened.

“This is going to crush him.” He muttered.

“I never wanted to hurt him, Mr. Stark. Please believe that. But no matter how much I wish for things to be different, they can’t be. This is who I am. I am…we are Venom. That won’t change.”

“You’ve already hurt him and you don’t even know it.” Tony sighed. You didn’t really understand what he meant.

“I know lying to him is bad.” You admitted. “But would it really be better if he knew? He’d just be afraid of me. I can’t have that.”

“You can’t have a relationship with someone who doesn’t really know you, either.” Tony reasoned

“I know. And I’ll tell him.” You promised. “Just, not yet. I can’t lose him just yet.”

Tony looked at you for a long time and sighed.

“Fine. I’ll give you one week. If you don’t tell him by then, I will.” Tony said firmly. You nodded sadly.

“Okay.” You wiped a tear that had managed to fall. “I’ll tell him.”

“You better. Now let’s go back in there and give him the best night of his life. He deserves that much.” Tony said and you agreed.

You two went back out and ate dessert with Peter. You did your best to enjoy and decide of it, knowing your time with Peter was almost up.

Peter enjoyed his evening to the fullest extent and never suspected a thing. You’d sneak glances at Tony every now and then and he was always staring back.

“I had the best time. Thank you Mr. Stark.” Peter said as you two got ready to leave.

“Yes, thank you Mr. Stark. It was a pleasure to meet you.” You shook Tony’s hand. He shook yours back firmly, both of you knowing you had already met.

“Anytime. And Y/n, good luck. I’m rooting for you.” Tony said honestly. You gave him a thankful nod.

“Good luck with what?” Peter asked.

“My story.” You answered quickly. “On Cleatus.”

You ushered Peter out the door and gave Tony one last look. He nodded at you and held up one finger. You gulped.

This was going to be the worst week of your life.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

WE LOVED WITH A LOVE THAT WAS MORE THAN LOVE || STEVE ROGERS

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!reader ; minor pairings: peter parker x michelle “mj” jones, andy barber x black!reader, sam wilson x black!reader, ransom drysdale x black!reader, bucky barnes x black!reader || word count: 19,080 || warnings: smut, sex, gang bang/multiple sex partners m/m/m/m/m/f, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), biting, marking, anal sex, hand job, nipple play, cult-like gathering, mentions of voodoo, voodoo lore, cult rituals

authors note: it’s here! took me forever. i wanted to post this much earlier, but the election week threw me off my schedule so this got pushed because i had another deadline to meet for another challenge. this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor once upon a midnight dreary challenge! i chose “believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see”, an invitation to a stranger’s party, and a cultish gathering for my prompts. again, i got a little help from my girl @tropicalcap in helping me piece together a few plot points.

just a quick note :: steve never goes into the ice and the government doesn’t give him the serum... his transformation is achieved in a different manner. therefore, bucky’s transformation is also a little different than canon.

manip of peter & mj by sidewalk manips (i think they’re on instagram... not sure, i found it on google) // divider by @whimsicalrogers

MONDAY

The ornate envelope in your hand is heavy. It’s decorated with thin, gold leaf, hand drawn designs, almost resembling the intricate henna leaves. Your name is scrolled across the front in big, black Old English calligraphy— hand written as well; you can just tell. You flip it over in your hand, the weight of it making a soft thud when it rests against the heel of your palm. A red wax seal is pressed against the flap and the back of the envelope, two initials carved deep— S.G.R.

Flipping the envelope back over in your hand, you press your lips together in a hard line. Junk mail is getting really fancy now-a-days. You blink at the front, reading and then rereading your name. A tinge of something— you’re not sure what, pulls at your stomach, making it constrict as your breath deepens harder than before. You even stop walking. You just stare at the envelope, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth as you blink down at it.

It’s just unsettling. The weight of it, the attention to the little details of the writing and the designs. It’s anything but junk mail, but the tiny shards of anxiety that are prickling up against your skin don’t want you to think too much into it.

You shove it to the back of the pile of mail in your hand and continue flipping through it as you walk down the hallway towards your apartment, your purse bouncing against your hip as you move. Once inside, you throw the mail down first, then your keys, before you turn on your heel and move towards your bedroom, already tugging out of your blouse.

The TV is nothing more than background noise at this point. You’re curled up on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in your lap and a glass of red wine in your left hand as your eyes flit across the screen of your iPad. You scroll slowly with your right index finger, gobbling up a Stucky fic on ao3. Your eyes widen at the written words before you, your mouth dropping open as your heart starts to beat just a little harder— you’d die if anyone at work ever found out that you spend your free time reading about Bucky Barnes getting his back blown out by Captain America— but nobody told them to be so attractive. It’s their fault, really.

There’s a heavy knock at the door, but you don’t budge. You just push back against the pillows and keep your eyes on the illuminated screen as the door opens, “Take your shoes off.” A heavy sigh greets your ears seconds later, drawing a smile onto your lips as you throw your eyes quickly towards your little sister, “House rule.”

She rolls her eyes hard and toes at her sneakers— making sure to kick them up against the wall so the thuds rumble through the apartment— you know, for added drama. She pulls her bag over her head and drops it to the floor before padding across the carpet and plopping down next to you.

“You readin’ the one I sent you?” she asks, grabbing the popcorn out of your lap, “Can we order a pizza?”

“Yes and yes.” You answer absentmindedly as your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at the smut on your screen, “MJ!”

She laughs, scrunching up her nose as she pops some popcorn into her mouth and nods slowly as she focuses on the tv, “I told you it was nasty.”

“You didn’t say it was this nasty, good God.”

The younger woman scoffs as she throws her loose, wavy hair over her shoulder, “But you steady readin’ it though.”

You cut your eyes towards her, “I didn’t say that I don’t like nasty, just that it’s nasty. I think I have a coupon up on the counter for Tony’s if you wanna order now.” MJ is up on her feet as soon as the words leave your mouth, “Get some bread sticks too.”

The rummaging MJ does in the kitchen blurs with the screams from the television as you start to read again, losing yourself quickly back in the BDSM world the author has so vividly painted. You leave a kudos and a quick comment before tossing your iPad to the side and lift your eyes to your sister again, blinking as you find her leaning up against the counter, the weird envelope in her hand.

“The fuck is this?” she asks, her lip snarled, eyes squinted as she turns it over in her hand, “Why’s it so heavy?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh a little, “I got it in the mail today. It gives me the creeps.”

MJ moves around the coffee table and falls next to you again, tossing the coupon at you before sliding her finger underneath the flap. You grab her wrist before she goes to open it, tutting softly, “Don’t. Just leave it.”

“Why?”

“Because! I’m gonna throw it out.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening it.”

“Come on MJ—”

She slides her finger underneath the flap before you can stop her again, breaking the wax seal in two. You huff as she pulls out the 5x7 piece of heavy cardstock, then tips the envelope to lodge whatever was weighing it down free. A brooch falls into her palm, both of you leaning up to inspect the intricate piece of jewelry. It’s floral in design— pearls, or what look like pearls, placed strategically between the little, diamond encrusted, platinum leaves. Three pearls are bunched in the middle— the center of the flower, with three larger diamonds outlining them.

“Holy shit, is this real?” MJ asks, lifting it up and turning it over, “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

You shake your head, “It can’t be. There’s no way.”

“It looks real.”

“No,” you scoff, waving her off, “It’s costume.”

She shoves it into your palm, “Feel that thing! It’s heavy as fuck, that ain’t costume jewelry.”

You furrow your brow as you let it sit in your palm, feeling it. It looks old— really old, like something that would have been worn back in the 1800s. You flip it over, bringing it up to your face as you spot another set of the S.G.R. initials engraved in the back of one of the small leaves.

“Fuck.”

The word slips out of your mouth effortlessly as you eye the jewelry and lick your bottom lip. You glance over at MJ who stares back at you with wide, hazel eyes, her lips parted, “See? That shit is real.”

You point at the card in her hand, swallowing quickly before you clear your throat, “What does that say?”

She takes a breath as you push your side into hers, your eyes scanning the writing, “We request the honor of your presence this Friday, October 31st, 2020 at 1543 Asher Ln. 8pm. No extra guests. S.G.R.” she slides her eyes towards you, “You know somebody with those initials?”

You blink, racking your brain, “No. I don’t— I don’t think so, at least.”

“Well, he or she obviously knows you.”

You grab the invitation from her, reading it again before you turn it over, hoping to find something else scribbled on the back. You drop your hand to your lap when you don’t and zero your gaze in on the television as it starts to tunnel.

“Bro,” MJ laughs quickly, “This is some freaky deaky shit.”

You eye the white invitation once more, reading it over again and again— as if you’re missing something, “What, um,” you start absentmindedly, “What do you mean?”

“This is some Eyes Wide Shut shit, sis!”

You scoff again, rolling your eyes as your shoulders slump, “Stop it MJ.”

“Girl,” she laughs harder, clapping her hands and letting her head fall back against the couch, “You gonna go?”

“No!” you squeal at her audacity, tossing the invitation and brooch on the coffee table, “It’s obviously some kind of joke or something.”

“That is no joke! The brooch has got to be at least ten g’s, easy.”

“It’s not real. That shit’s not worth ten dollars.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, prude.”

You feel anger flushing through your veins, your face heating up as you stand quickly and walk into the kitchen, “I’m not a prude, Mary Jane.”

“Oooh, my full name,” she mocks, “What are you gettin’ mad for?”

“I’m not mad, I told you that thing gave me the creeps. Everything is a joke to you.”

“I’m not jokin’! Somebody obviously went through a lot of trouble to send you that, I’m just callin’ it as I see it.”

You down the rest of the wine in your glass and quickly pour another, bringing it to your lips as you rub the back of your neck with your free hand, “It’s some kind of prank.” you exhale, taking another sip, “I’m throwing it away.”

MJ rolls her eyes again, grabbing your iPad before she props her feet up on the small, square table in front of her, “Sure, sure. Yeah, somebody sends a diamond encrusted brooch and a handwritten invitation just for funsies. Got’cha.”

You close your eyes and take another gulp of wine, using it to stop yourself from saying something that will more than likely dissolve your evening into a fight. You swallow slowly, pushing the smooth alcohol down your throat and letting it settle and warm in your belly.

“1543 Asher Ln. is a real house, just so you know. Pops right up on Zillow.”

You sigh loudly.

“And,” she starts, dragging out the end of the word, “It’s only fifteen minutes from here.”

“Are you gonna order the pizza or what?”

“You should go, I’m just sayin’.”

“I’m not gonna,” you stop yourself as you glare over at her, her eyes and posture taking that MJ tone as your voice gets sharp, “I’m not going to a strangers house. Okay? Drop it.”

“There’s no reason not to go.” You stare at her for a few seconds. You squint your eyes and let your mouth fall open as you scrunch your face, honestly in disbelief, “What?” she shrugs, “I literally met Peter last year at a party of someone who, to this day, I still don’t know. I can’t even remember how I ended up there.”

“MJ—”

“Don’t MJ me. It could be fun!” She smiles big as you sit next to her again, “You need to live a little. Get some dick, man.” You cut your eyes back over at her and lift your middle finger, “I mean it!” she laughs again, “There is nothing more fun than a Halloween party.”

You lean forward, reaching for the brooch. You roll it around in your palm, keeping your eyes on it as MJ babbles on. You eye the invitation as it lays on the table. The anxiety is back— constricting your stomach, making you itchy and jumbling your thoughts. It’s like it’s screaming at you— like something or someone is trying to get your attention.

You reach forward and slide the invitation to the edge of the table with your fingertips. You grab it swiftly and stand again, feeling MJ’s eyes on your back as you move into the kitchen. Shoving the invitation, the envelope, and the brooch in a drawer, you push the notion right out of your mind.

You’ve never entertained MJ’s crap before and you aren’t going to start now. Out of sight, out of mind.

TUESDAY

There’s a flower arrangement sitting on your desk the next morning. It’s lively— all of the flowers a different shade of pink. The stocks are a blush-pink, the roses spanning the pink spectrum. The spray roses are more purple than anything, but they bring the whole thing together.

There’s a small card leaning up against the glass vase, your name scribbled across the front. You pluck it up quickly and flip it over.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

Your purse falls off your shoulder and down your arm as your eyes go wide. You turn quickly, scanning the bullpen as people move about but you’re not exactly sure what or who you’re looking for. You drop your purse into the chair front of your desk and walk out to your assistant.

“Did you sign for these?” you ask, your voice slightly raised and agitated.

Nakia glances up at you slowly over the rims of her glasses, clearly picking up on your demeanor, “Uh, yeah? ‘Bout half an hour ago… everything okay?”

“What flower shop are they from?”

She shrugs, widening her eyes, “I don’t know, it came by delivery service.”

You tug at your suit jacket around your hip and let out a huff, “Don’t accept anymore, okay?”

You turn on your heel before she can answer and stomp back into your office, closing the door behind you. Heat ripples through you as you grab the handset of your phone and bring it to your ear, angrily dialing your sister’s number. You lean against your desk, arms crossed over your chest as it rings, eyes shifting around the room.

“Yo.”

“There are flowers sitting on my desk.”

You’re met with silence for a few seconds, “... okay?”

“There from someone else that I don’t know,” you huff, “The initials are J.B.B. this time.”

“Oh shit, I forgot about that. Okay, so two dudes wanna rail you at this party. That’s my kind of Friday night, sis.”

“Will you cut it out!” you hiss angrily, turning to face the windows behind you, “This is freaking me out!”

“Oh my god,” you hear her moving around, like sheets and pillows being rumpled until a muffled, groggy moan sounds, “Peter… wake up… wake the fuck up… what did you say about that weird party thing?”

You roll your eyes and tap your foot nervously as the two go back and forth. There’s shuffling again on her end, and then a heavy sigh, “I think it’s a masquerade party.” Peter Parker finally says, his words slurred with sleep, “That’s where—”

“I know what a masquerade party is Peter, thank you.”

“Oh yeah, okay, sorry, so,” he starts, shuffling around again, “I heard for the past couple of years that somebody has been throwing a secret masquerade party at different places around town.”

“How did you hear that?”

“So, there’s this girl I had a class with last year, her name was uh, Liz. She said her older sister was invited to it. And then, there was this other girl, Shuri, she also said that her sister got invited one year too. I didn’t get the full scoop from Shuri though cuz she ended up transferring to Columbia, which, okay, yeah it’s a great school and all, but—”

“Peter,” you say, closing your eyes, “Focus please.”

“Right, sorry. So, yeah, it could be that party. Liz said her sister got the same brooch.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up. You clear your throat as you shift, cutting your eyes back to the vase of roses sitting in the corner of your glass desk, “Did she go?” you ask trepidatiously, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand.

“Uh, yeah. She said it was pretty chill.”

“Pretty chill? The fuck does that mean?”

“Sorry, um, she said her sister said it was fun. Plenty of alcohol, plenty of food. But, because of the whole masquerade thing, she never found out who invited her.”

Put it on speaker, your sister's voice rings, then a sharp, sudden sound of skin on skin followed by a squeal from Peter, “Ow! Okay!”

“So,” you start, your fingers picking at the spiral telephone cord, “They didn’t say anything weird happened or anything? They’re both okay?”

“Liz said that her sister said she talked to some blonde guy for a while. He was asking her a bunch of like, weird, artsy questions but she thought it was all a part of the allure of the party so she just went with it. Other than that,” Peter trails off, and you can practically see him shrugging as if he’s right in front of you, “She said it was fun.”

“See? Everything is on the up and up.” MJ adds, “You should go.”

You don’t answer right away. You slide the small card towards the edge of your desk, picking it up again.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

“Peter, thank you, sorry for waking you up.” You say a few moments later, clearing your throat, “I’ll call you later MJ, okay?”

“Okie,” she purrs into the phone, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your answer is distracted— quiet and airy as you set the handset back into the base. You stare back at the flowers, chewing on the inside of your cheek as something starts to gnaw at you. Something deep. You set the small card back up against the vase and shake your mouse to wake up your computer, forcing yourself into your emails, the small sentiment running circles in your mind.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

WEDNESDAY

You’re barely home from work when there’s a knock at your door— in fact, you only have one shoe off when the thud sounds through your apartment. You sigh, slipping your pump back onto your foot before you stand from the bed and move to the door. Peering out of the peephole, you spot a FedEx driver, his hands full of packages.

“Hi,” you greet as you open the door, “Goodness, these are all for me?”

“As soon as you sign for them they are.” He laughs, handing you the small pen and handheld scanner.

You sign quickly as he places the boxes just inside your door, and wiggle your fingers as he makes his leave, hustling back down to his truck. You keep your eyes on the boxes as you close and lock the door— you didn’t order anything. You haven’t ordered anything in at least a week and when you do, it’s always from Amazon. All of these boxes are unmarked, except for the shipping label, that has no return address.

An envelope is taped to the side of the largest box and based on how your week has been going, you already half know what to expect. You rip it away from the box and slide your finger underneath the flap, pulling out another handwritten, five-by-seven card.

Hope it fits… A.S.B.

You shove the card back into the envelope and toss it aside before grabbing the large box, sitting it on the bar. With the help of your house key, you rip into the box, popping open the flaps once the tape is broken down the middle. You gasp as you pull out a black and gold ball gown, your mouth dropping open as your eyes go wide.

The corset top is strapless and intricately hand woven with small, black beads in a leafy design. A layer of gold tulle spills down an even longer layer of black tulle, all the way to the floor. The dress is thick— heavy, as you hold it up in your hands. You search for a tag, sewn in initials, something to try and place where this could have possibly come from, but find nothing, as if it’s one of a kind. You splay it out over the couch and move to the second box— your interest now suddenly piqued.

You pop open the second box to find a slightly smaller box inside. Tucking your fingers underneath the rim, you pull the top away and gasp again— this time bigger— and take a physical step back. You blink stupidly and you fumble around in your pants pocket, trying to find your phone. You slam your finger down on MJ’s name and bring it to your ear, lifting a gold Giuseppe heel up in the air.

“You need to get your ass over here, now.”

There’s total silence in the apartment as you, MJ, and Peter stare at the Giuseppe heels and a handful of jewelry. The most jaw-dropping being a thin rose gold chain adorned with ninety one (Peter counted), different shaped diamonds arranged to resemble the leaves of a vine. At the center, they all meet at a large— museum caliber— yellow diamond.

“So let me get this straight,” MJ starts, placing her hands on her hips, “Those are Giuseppe heels, and not just any Giuseppe heel, the Cruel Crystal Giuseppe heel, that they don’t even make anymore,” she emphasizes with her hands, “A necklace with a diamond that bigger than my goddamn fist, and a, hang on a second,” she closes her eyes, holding up her hands to add to the drama of it all, “A hand stitched ball gown?”

“Don’t forget the mask,” Peter breathes heavily, “That’s, I’m pretty sure that’s made outta pure crystal, so,”

You play with your bottom lip nervously, your left arm thrown over your stomach as you slowly turn your head towards your sister and her boyfriend, “Did your friend's sister get all of this shit too?”

The young, brown haired man scratches his head as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other before shrugging and expelling a breath out of his mouth, “I mean, I…” he shrugs again, completely at a loss, “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we can google the initials or something. Where’s your iPad?” MJ asks, turning on her heel and rushing into your bedroom.

“I tried that already,” you call, grabbing the shoes from the counter and slipping your feet into it, “Oh my god, they fit.” You whisper more to yourself than to anyone else in the room.

MJ rolls her eyes, “Well, what came up?”

“Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes,” you answer as you twirl around in a circle, completely enamored with your shoes, “So, nothing.”

Peter gasps and places his hands on his chest as his face fills with a quick fear, “Fuuuckkk, what if it’s them?”

You and MJ both scoff, “Don’t be stupid, Parker.” MJ says.

“It could be! You don’t know!”

“Ok, yes, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are behind this. Sure,” she cuts her eyes towards you, “He has such a crush on them. Did you try the third set of initials?”

You nod as you stare down at your feet, turning your right foot slightly, watching as the gold glints underneath the light, “Yeah, no luck there either. Just random ass dudes— look at how good these look on my feet, sissy.”

She waves you off as she sits on the coffee table, her face being lit up by the light of your iPad, “Okay, A.S.B., Andrew Stephen Barber, assistant district attorney— could be him… he’s cute at least.” she shrugs.

“I doubt it,” you let out a breath, “I should try on the dress, huh? I mean, you know, just to see.” MJ throws you a look while Peter glances between the two of you nervously, “What? I’m still not going, I just want to see how it looks.”

“Uh huh,” MJ squints her eyes, following you as you walk back into your bedroom, already pulling down the zipper on the back of your shirt, “Sure.”

THURSDAY

MJ💕 12:37pm

Lunch? I’m right around the corner from your building

You hear your phone chime, but you don’t tear your eyes away from your screen immediately. Voices come from the speaker on your phone as you type fervorously. You’re only really half listening— this meeting has nothing to do with you, but, you’re the account manager, so you have to at least try and seem interested while you work on another contract with a much more lucrative, expensive company.

The iPhone rattles again against your glass desk and you snap it up this time, your eyes scanning the message. Right on cue, your stomach rumbles.

You 12:40pm

Sure, sure. Chinese?

MJ💕 12:41pm

Yum.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you open your SPARK messenger and tap on Nakia’s name. She knows you and MJ’s order like that back of her hand, and messages you back minutes later to confirm the food will be on it’s way within the hour. You return your attention to the large computer screen before you, pushing your glasses up your nose as you shift your vision to the second monitor slightly to your left.

There’s a small tap a few minutes later, followed by Nakia’s beautiful face peeking in as she mouth’s MJ before opening the door wider to let your lanky sister breeze into the room. You hold your fingers up to your lips as the chorus of voices still speak from your speaker, but keep your eyes on her as she pulls her bag over her shoulder and head and plops down in one of the plush seats in front of your desk.

She makes herself busy on her phone, no doubt texting Peter as you return to your emails and contract, losing twenty or thirty more minutes.

“Okay guys, I’ll talk to you next week right?” You ask, your fingers hovering over the speaker button, “Okay… alrightly, buh-bye.” you slam your finger down on the small, round button and widen your eyes as you let out an audible breath, “Sorry, sissy.”

MJ holds up her hand, her face still buried in her phone, “You’re an important lady, I get it.”

“I thought you had class today?”

“That’s the good thing about having a pregnant Professor,” she smiles, wiggling her eyebrows, “Morning sickness apparently lasts throughout the day.”

Another tap comes at the door before Nakia emerges again, this time her hands full of food, “Here we are ladies,” she smiles as she sits the bags on your desk, “This also just arrived for you too.”

Your face twists in confusion as she hands you something wrapped in plain brown paper. There’s a black ribbing wrapped around it, tied in a neat little bow in the center of the package. It’s light whatever it is. Your eyes drift slowly over to MJ, who sits up in her seat, peering at the package in your hands before she blinks up at you— a knowing look on her face.

“Thanks Nakia,” you smile, trying not to draw her attention to all of the air being sucked out of the room.

MJ’s phone rings just as Nakia exits the room. You hear her mumble a greeting, but your attention is quickly sucked back to your hands. Curiosity gets the best of you. You pull at the ribbon and toss it aside before curling your fingers around the edges to find where it’s taped together.

Just as your fingers find where the edges meet, Peter Parker’s voice fills the room, “Am I on speaker?”

“Yes!” MJ hisses, “Talk.”

“Ok, so, I was talking to Liz about the weirdo party her sister went to last year. She got the same packages throughout the week! Monday, she got the invite, Tuesday she got flowers, Wednesday she got a dress, shoes, and a masquerade mask, and Thursday she got—“

“A book of poems,” you breathe, the sound low and airy, “By Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Exa-Exactly.” Peter stutters.

It’s delicate, this book— the pages. You thumb through them gently, smelling the authenticity of it— the rarity. It’s been kept in pristine condition but it still looks old, the pages a dull brown; crisp and brittle to the touch. Your heart thumps against your chest as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Your throat constricts as you swallow hard, nerves filling your body.

“Which one is it?” Peter asks softly, the weight of this affecting him through the phone.

“Tamerlane and other poems.” You recite as you close the small book and run your fingers over the front cover.

MJ scrambles to her feet and scurries around you, her eyes plastered on your computer monitor as she starts to type.

Peter clears his throat, “Liz’s sister got a copy of Al Aaraaf. It was like, a first edition or something.”

“Fuck,” the obscenity falls from MJ’s lips with ease, but with a gentle discomfort, “This says there’s less than twelve copies of this in existence— twelve. I mean, how do you even get your hands on something like this?”

You can’t even speak. You just sit there, feeling the small book in your hands, staring blankly at the cover. Peter and MJ start to bicker back and forth as they try to make heads and tails of all of this. You aren’t taken by the book exactly, yeah, you're holding one of maybe twelve copies left in the entire world, but there’s something else gnawing at you in the pit of your stomach— something that’s been just at the tip of your subconscious all week long.

It’s like—

“Was Liz’s sister into Edgar Allan Poe?” You ask suddenly.

“Not at all,” Peter answers quickly, “She thought it was weird.”

“And the dress and the shoes? Did they um,” you blink up at MJ but avert your eyes just as quickly, “They didn’t fit, did they?”

There’s silence from Peter. You can almost see him, standing there in the middle of the college campus with a dumbfounded look on his face— his fingers threading through his hair, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, “No,” he answers after a slow minute or two, “They were too small.” He goes quiet again before he says, “How did you know that?”

The feeling that’s been gnawing at you all week. You’ve felt like someone’s been looking for you. There’s been this… pull— somewhere deep inside of you— like someone is calling for you.

What scares you is that you want to answer.

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting,” MJ recites slowly.

“Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before,” you finish for her, “I used to read that to you when you were a kid.”

“He’s your favorite.”

“My absolute favorite,” you laugh nervously, “I wrote my thesis on Al Aaraaf when I was in school.” You fall back into your chair, “That dress fit me like a glove, MJ— the shoes too.”

She shakes her head quickly, her eyes closed as she slowly comes to the realization that you are. She runs her thin fingers through her wavy hair before she rests her hands on her shoulders, squeezing to comfort herself, “Do you think it’s—”

You shrug, “It could be.”

MJ drops her eyes from yours.

“What’s happening?” Peter’s voice sounds again, “What— what do you mean? Who do you think it is?”

“I’m adopted,” you say slowly, a soft smile on your face as you keep your eyes on MJ, “I was two, maybe three when they took me from my mom. I was placed with our parents, MJ’s biological parents, really quickly— I don’t remember a whole lot, but I remember someone reading Edgar Allan Poe to me, specifically Tamerlane.”

“Fuck,” Peter breathes, “You think it’s her? Your mom?”

You glance towards the floor, a small card catching your eye. You pick it up gingerly and turn it over, your eyes scanning over the handwritten note.

For passionate love is still divine

I lov’d her as an angel might

With ray of the all living light

Which blazes upon Edis’ shrine

See you tomorrow, love — H.R.D.

You drag your eyes back up to MJ’s as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, “It’s definitely someone that knows her.”

FRIDAY

You don’t go into work.

Peter and MJ have been at your apartment all day, helping you piece this crazy story all together. Liz’s sister, Shuri’s sister— they were all you. Same age, all of you born within days of each other. All born at the same hospital. All adopted around the same age.

Someone is looking for you; and has been for years.

You and MJ are now on opposite sides about this party than you were at the beginning of the week. You want to go. You need to; especially if it’ll lead you to your mother. MJ voiced her newfound concerns, to the point where she shed a few tears— but, being the big sister you are, you brushed them away and explained it as best you could. You just need to know if she’s out there— what these people, S.R.G., J.B.B., A.S.B., H.R.D. know about her.

So, she helps you get ready. She curls your hair and pins it up. She paints your nails and helps you into the dress before she leans against the door jam of the bathroom, watching you do your makeup— just like she used to when you were a teenager. Peter knocks on the bedroom door before he barely opens it and shoves his arm inside, an envelope hanging off his finger tips.

“Hey guys,” he says softly, “This just came.”

“You want me to read it?” MJ asks, tapping it against her fingers. When you nod, she tears the flap and slides out the card, “A chariot will await you at 7:30 sharp… but please take your time. S.T.W.”

“What time is it?”

She glances at her phone, “7:25.”

You let out a shaky breath. You lean into the mirror and dab at your lips, removing any excess lipstick before you push back again and drag your eyes down your reflection.

“You know,” you start, keeping your eyes on your painted nails, “I don’t remember my mom at all. Not her face, not her voice, but I remember a man— my dad, I guess.” You blink back towards your reflection, squinting your eyes as the gears turn in your head, “I just remember blonde hair and a deep voice reading those poems to me. I remember feeling safe when he held me.”

MJ drops her eyes and nods slowly as she rakes her fingernails up and down her forearm, “I get why you wanna go. I do.”

“I just need to make these fragments make sense, you know? I remember these other guys too— which,” you shrug, “Would make sense since mom said that my real mom lived in a commune, but,” your words drift off.

“Remember when you thought Steve Rogers was your dad?”

You laugh wholeheartedly, “I do! I just always felt like I knew him, I don’t know why.”

You still do— feel like you know him.

“So, yeah. I get it, I really do. It’s gotta be hard not knowing where you come from— thinking that every stranger you meet, or every person you see could possibly be someone you used to know.” MJ sighs as she meets your gaze through the mirror, “You look great. You always look great.”

“Thanks, sissy.” You bunch your dress in your hand and lift it gently as you step towards her, “I’ll be fine.”

She nods quickly, pursing her lips as she cuts her eyes away from yours, “I know that.”

You smile and tilt your head towards her gaze to grab her attention again, “I’m your big sister, you know. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, I just—” she shrugs, “I don’t want you to forget me.”

“MJ,” you start, grabbing her elbow when her chin quivers, “This has nothing to do with you or mom or dad. I love you guys, you’re my family, that will never change. I promise you, okay?” you pull her into a tight hug, rubbing her back, “You will always be my sister— no one will ever take that away from us.”

“Guys,” Peter calls, “A red Audi just pulled up out front, like, an expensive one.”

“Your chariot awaits.” MJ laughs as she pulls away from you, wiping the wetness on her cheeks away.

You thread your fingers with hers and walk out into the living room where Peter smiles softly. You hug him too— he’s the best thing that could have ever happened to your sister.

“You guys are staying here for the night, right?” you ask, grabbing your clutch.

“We’re not leaving until you come back.” MJ answers.

“Okay. I’ll um, I’ll stay in touch throughout the night, okay?”

MJ nods, “We’ll stay by our phones.”

You head for the front door, opening it quickly before you step out into the hallway, “Don’t have sex in my bed,” you say suddenly, whipping back around to face the couple, “Please.”

“Oh my god,” Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes as a red tint flushes through his face, “We won’t.”

“Yeah, we’ll have sex on the couch.” Your shoulders slump as you squint at MJ, her laughter rolling off her tongue, “Just joking. Have fun, please text us.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

You have to turn away from them abruptly or you’d never leave. Grasping your phone and the small clutch you borrowed from MJ, and your crystal mask in your hands, you head for the elevator. It’s a slow ride down to the main floor— silent too. Nothing but the sound of your racing thoughts bouncing back and forth in your mind. The metal box slows to a stop, a soft ding fills the air, and then the world slides back into view— a sleek, red Audi visible through the glass front doors.

A man steps out of the driver seat as you walk towards the door and push through, tightening your grip on your dress. He moves around the car, stopping just at the back door. You notice his eyes dip to your chest and you can’t help but follow his gaze. The flower shaped brooch catches the artificial light of the street lights and each little diamond starts to glint and gleam, even the pearls taking on a new shine.

The driver smiles softly, “The invitation you received was handwritten in an Old English font. The initials at the bottom?”

A test.

“Oh, um, S.G.R.”

“Those flowers you received on Tuesday were beautiful— white carnations, right?”

You shake your head, “Pink roses.”

“I read a poem the other day, I can’t remember what it was called though. It went something like ‘know thou the secret of a spirit bow’d from its wild pride into shame’…”

“O! Yearning heart! I did inherit thy withering portion with the fame, the searing glory which hath shone amid the Jewels of my throne, Halo of Hell! And with a pain not hell shall make me fear again— o craving heart, for the lost flowers and sunshine of my summer hours,” you smile gently, “Tamerlane— the name of the poem.”

He opens the door and holds out his white, gloved hand to you.

1543 Asher Lane is lit up like Rockefeller Center during Christmas. Your mouth drops open as you pull up out front, every window glowing with a warm light. The front doors are thrown open with seemingly hundreds of people moving about inside. The driver opens your door and holds out his hand for you, prompting you to slide your palm into his. He keeps a firm grip on your fingers as you step out, and then helps you up the long front steps.

He only releases your hand when you reach the front door, bowing gently before he skips back down the stairs and towards the car. Your heart drums in your ears as you place your crystal, half face mask on your face and adjust it gently before you drop your hand to the necklace nestled in your cleavage. You play with the large yellow diamond as you step inside, your eyes going wide as the lively noise of a full blown party suddenly fills your ears.

An orchestra plays in the middle of the large, open foyer, the sounds bouncing off the walls and rising up into the tall ceiling. Twenty or thirty couples dance to the upbeat tune and you’d swear you’d just stepped into the 1800s. All the men that move about are dressed in black tuxedos, the only distinction between them all being their different masks. The women twirl in their Venetian ball gowns, their jewelry and intricate, flamboyant masks glinting underneath the light.

There’s double staircases winding up walls, leading up to the second floor, more people laughing and talking intimately on them. Waiters in white suits, black ties and white gloves move seamlessly about, slipping in between the bodies with plates of champagne and finger foods— each one bending forward politely and placing their free hand behind their back as party goers pluck the goodies off their silver serving plates.

The floors are made of marble. A large, ornate chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, spilling a warm, almost golden light over everything and everyone.

“Champagne, ma’am?”

You snap your head towards the voice as it breaks you from your trance, “Thank you,” you smile as you take the thin champagne flute from his tray.

Just as quickly as he arrived, the waiter is gone again, leaving you to admire the scene before you. You take a sip of the bubbly liquid and pull out your phone, taking a quick picture and sending it to MJ with a short message. You’ve barely tucked it away when another voice sounds at your side.

“Would you care to dance?”

You turn towards the calm, deep voice, your lips parting as your eyes bounce between two crystal blue eyes. Blonde hair is swept back neatly, a strong, smooth chin and jawline visible underneath his silver, laser cut Venetian mask. He’s tall— towering almost, his chest and shoulders wide and broad. You’re taken by him almost immediately. You nod quickly, blinking a few times as he takes your champagne flute from you and hands it to a nearby server before he takes your hand and leads you into the middle of the floor.

You gasp as he sweeps you up in his arms, resting his large hand on the small of your back and pulls you into his hard body. You can’t help but stare up at him as he starts to twirl you around the floor, taking complete control of your steps. A laugh bubbles up from your chest as he spins you away from him, extending his long arm until just your fingertips are touching, and then pulls you back into his chest.

He’s a confident man— you can tell by the way he spins you around the dance floor. Even as the tempo of the music changes, from upbeat and fun, to slow and somewhat sad, he stays right in rhythm. You’ve always been a sucker for a man that can dance.

A slow smile creeps onto your face as your eyes bounce back and forth between his while the orchestra plays, “What is this song?” you ask suddenly, breaking the ice between the two of you.

“Sicilienne in E flat major, do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” You laugh a little, turning your head to watch the young cellist, “He’s so young, is he local?”

“He isn’t, no. That’s Sheku Kanneh-Mason of Britain, you may—”

You snap your head back towards him, “He played at the Royal Wedding! Oh my god!”

He chuckles as he gently tightens his hold around your waist, “The very one.”

You turn your head to watch the young man as he plays, completely in awe of his raw talent and bask in it, knowing you’ll never be in such company again, “My God, this is incredible. I have no idea what I’m doing here.” You laugh.

“Well, you were invited, yes?”

“Yeah but I—” you stop yourself, shaking your head gently before you smile again, “I had a crazy thought about this party. I thought someone from my past was trying to reach out to me.” He tilts his head a little, his eyes scanning your face. You laugh again, “Don’t mind me, I’m just imagining things apparently.”

“Someone from your past?” He nudges gently.

You’re not sure if it's the champagne you’ve been sipping all evening, or just because for some reason you feel like you’ve known this man your whole life, but you start to spill your guts, “I thought, God, this is going to sound stupid. I thought my mom, or someone who knew my mom was trying to reach out to me through this party, which sounds insane now that I think about it. I was adopted, so,” you shrug, “I dunno, I was kinda hoping that she’d be here or that someone could get me in touch with her. Sounds crazy, right?”

He spins you again, this time slow, his eyes dragging down your body. He pulls you back into him and you rest your hand on his chest as you watch the orchestra, a soft smile on your face, “You are young yet, my friend, but the time will arrive when you will learn to judge for yourself of what is going on in the world, without trusting to the gossip of others,” you recite, “Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see.”

His steps hitch ever so lightly.

You turn back to face him, blinking up at him as another smile spreads on your lips, “I didn’t catch your name?”

He blinks at you, something new in his eyes— something like relief? You can’t tell. His lips part and he takes a breath, trying but failing to get his mouth to move, “I’m sorry,” he finally says, laughing gently as he shakes his head, “Um, I’m Steven— Steve. Um, Edgar Allan Poe?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “He’s one of my favorite poets. That last line just kind of describes my thoughts over the past few days is all.”

“It’s strange for a young girl like yourself to be an Edgar Allan Poe aficionado.”

You shrug again, nodding, “I know. I just, I’ve always had an affinity for him, it’s one of the few memories of my father that I have. He used to read Poe’s poems to me as a child.”

He stops dancing abruptly, “May you excuse me? I’m sorry, I have to um, I have to go see someone very quickly. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can even answer, he brushes past you, dipping in and out of the people still filling the dance floor. You blink in confusion, watching as he jogs up the stairs and stops at the very top step, leaning into a dark haired man. They both turn in your direction after a few minutes, catching your eye before they turn back to one another, the dark haired man grabbing Steven’s arm in… surprise, maybe?

They break apart seconds later, Steven jogging back down the stairs, the dark haired man walking briskly along the long catwalk, stopping only to tap three other men on the back before they too follow quickly behind him and disappear. You grab another champagne glass from a waiter and take a gulp as heat flushes through you— nerves suddenly racking your body.

You keep your eyes on Steve as he pushes through the people again, making a line straight towards you. Tilting your head back, you finish off the rest of your glass as he approaches you again, “I’m sorry,” he smiles, “That was rude of me.”

“Oh, it’s, it’s no problem,” you laugh nervously, clearing your throat as you glance around the crowded room.

He holds out his hand to you, “Would you come with me? Please?”

You shake your head as fear strikes you, “Oh, you know, I actually have to get going, I—”

“I know your mother,” your eyes widen at his words, stopping you dead in your tracks, “And your father. Please, come with me.”

You aren’t crazy.

Someone is really trying to contact you.

You grab his hand and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. He steps aside and lets you lead, placing his hands on your waist as the two of you move up the long staircase. Once you reach the top, he grabs your hand again and pulls you along the catwalk until you disappear down the hallway. You pass by a series of doors before you stop at the last one, Steve stopping to knock.

The door pops open seconds later and Steve steps aside again, dropping your hand to hold his out towards the door. You remove your mask and sweep your hair out of your face as your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at Steve.

“It’s okay,” he reassures, his voice soft and calm.

You take a step, and then another, your heart beating hard and fast, goosebumps popping up on your skin. You step into the room but stop dead in your tracks as the air is sucked right out of your body. Four men sit at a long, antique, baroque style table. Their hands are placed flat on the dark marble top, heads bowed. The room is dark except for the flickering candles that sit in their ornate holders in the middle of the table, the light accentuating the mens’ black and gold scaramouche masks.

Fear rolls through you in waves, your breaths shaky and heavy as it falls from your lips. The door clicks behind you and you feel a hand on the small of your back again, another one on your elbow, “It’s alright darling,” he whispers in your ear, “I’ll help you to your seat, okay?”

“Steve,” your voice trembling, “I don’t, I don’t understand, I—”

“It’s alright, I promise you. We are not going to hurt you. That goes against everything we stand for. Come.”

You blink wildly at the men at the table as Steve pushes you past them slowly. They don’t flinch— no one makes a move to glance up at you or even breathe harder than what they already are. You were so busy staring at the men occupying four of the five chairs at the table, that you didn’t even notice the hand carved chair sitting against the wall at the back of the room.

The frame is golden, the upholstery teal in color and covered with floral embroidery, the back designed with a diamond tuft. It sits up a little higher than the table— propped up on a small, hand built stage with three steps leading up to it. Steve helps you up the small steps, keeping your hand in his until you’re seated.

As soon as you're settled, the four seated men pull a candle from the center of the table and place it right in front of them. The golden flames dance at the tips of the long, white candles, casting shadows over the dark walls.

“You may begin.”

You snap your head towards Steve as he speaks, your mouth hanging open, your eyes wide, breath shaky. The dark haired man that Steve first spoke to stands, his chair scuffing against the floor as he pushes away from the table. He grasps the candle holder in both hands as he approaches you slowly, his eyes cast down towards the floor.

Your breath quickens as he nears you. You squeeze Steve’s hand as you push back into the chair, starting to draw your feet up as he kneels before you, “Wait, wait, wait, wait! What are you—”

“It’s okay, darling.” Steve purrs, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hands, “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you. Just relax.”

A hot tear streaks down your cheek as your whimper, your chin trembling as you push a hard, focused breath out of your mouth. The man in front of you mumbles something— in French you think, but you aren’t sure— before he reaches into his pocket. Your breath hitches in your throat as he starts to sprinkle rose petals at your feet, chanting as he does.

You feel his fingers brush over your exposed toes before he lifts your right foot and slips off your gold shoe— tracing a cross with the tip of his finger on the top of your foot. He repeats his actions to the left and stands, keeping his head down as he makes a cross over his face and chest and then turns and returns to his seat.

The next man stands, a thick beard covering his chin, his candle in hand as he approaches you, never making eye contact. Instead of rose petals, he lays money at your feet— a single dollar bill— before he traces the cross into your skin while he speaks in French.

The third man is clean shaven, like Steve, but his hair dark— some falling over his mask and onto his forehead. He leaves a handful of herbs and one white egg at your feet before sweeping his fingertips over your toes and branding each foot with an imaginary cross.

The fourth man that kneels before you repeats everything to a T. He’s tall, his skin a deep, smooth walnut brown. He leaves behind a handful of wheat grain and what looks like raw sugarcane before he blesses your feet and rises again. He taps his forehead and chest before each shoulder and moves away, retaking his seat at the table.

Tears still trickle down your cheeks as you blink furiously— your stomach churning, your palms clammy. You snap your eyes towards Steve as he finally releases your hand and grabs a bowl from the small table tucked into the corner of the room. He steps in front of you and kneels, setting the hand painted bowl at your feet. He lifts your feet gently, placing them in the bowl with care, massaging your ankles and lower calves to calm you.

It works— your voice trembles as you push out a gentle hum, focusing on his hands on your skin. He starts to speak in French, his voice low and calm, much like most of the evening. He pulls a small flask out of his jacket pocket and pops the lid before he pours the unusually cool liquid over your feet. You flinch instinctively but focus again on his soft hands, kneading your feet as he washes them.

Steve pulls the white silk pocket square from his suit jacket and dabs at your feet, wiping away the moisture. He traces a cross on the tops of your feet before standing again and cups your face with his hands. You’re drawn into him— resting your forehead to his as he continues to chant, his lips so close they brush against yours as he speaks.

“Bless this missing child,” he whispers, the only part of his chant in english, “She is home at last.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, every burning candle is suddenly extinguished by some force now filling the room. You blink in the darkness, your breath quickening as you grab Steve’s forearms.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh,” he coos, stroking your bottom lip with his thumbs, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

The room is full— so full of energy; power. It whips around you, electrifying your skin and blood, rattling your bones. It’s foreign— anomalous— but yet feels so comforting and warm. Like love. Like you're surrounded by family. You loosen your grip on Steve’s forearms as the fear drains from your body, a voice— a soft whisper in your ears. A voice you’ve never heard before but have somehow heard your whole life. It’s a language you don’t understand, but yet you know exactly what it’s saying.

Your eyes pop open suddenly and the room is washed in a warm light as the candles are suddenly lit again. Steve smiles at you softly as your eyes, now full of wonder and a new sacred knowledge, bounce back and forth between his deep blues. There’s a new electricity between the two of you, something unspoken, but written in the stars all the same.

The blood in your veins rushes hard, the sound of your thumping heart beating in your ears as goosebumps pop up over your skin again. Your stomach tightens as the molten of your ardor starts to pool and spread through your body, blazing a quick path. Steve’s thumbs still sweep over your lips, underneath your eyes, over your nose as you hold loosely onto his wrists. You grab your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes fall to his mouth before you inhale sharply— soft and pink, his lips.

His large palms spread warmth through your face, his thumbs still circling— still pushing along your smooth skin. Blue eyes dart around your face, continually meeting your deep brown eyes before dipping to your expectant lips. He pushes closer— so close that his pillowy lips rest against yours, but he doesn’t rush it— doesn’t press any harder.

He leaves it all up to you.

The energy is back in the room, swirling, filling you up with the power and presence with each breath you take. You press your lips to his as the sweet sirens start to whisper to you again. A moan slips from your mouth and into Steve’s, where he gobbles it up, exchanging a deep, pleased groan of his own.

His lips start to travel, moving down to your chin and jaw. He nuzzles into the soft, warm crook of your neck where he sucks lightly— his velvet tongue sneaking out and slipping along your skin. You push your chest into his as your back straightens, a gasp filling your lungs with the sweet air that surrounds you.

The emotion takes over in the heat of the moment— the fire of his lips and hands setting you a flame. Your leg hooks around his waist as you curl your fingers over his broad shoulders, digging your black painted nails into his shoulder blades. His teeth nip at your taut flesh and you lurch forward, your head tilting towards the ceiling as a choked moan strains in your throat.

You feel his deft fingertips on your naked calf, slipping along the length— over and around your knee, up your thigh— where he kneads and gropes, pulling heavier, louder sounds from you as his lips caress your flesh. A shiver rolls down your spine when his thick digits brush over your sticky panties. He doesn’t shy away, he sweeps the pads of his fingers over you again and again, finding a sweet little rhythm as he applies a gentle pressure.

Hips roll. Chests swell. Grips tighten as your head rolls back. Your mouth falls open as you drag in a breath, pushing it out with a husky groan. Your teeth grab your bottom lip again as you slide your hand around his wide back, hooking your arm around his neck. Humming, you open your eyes, blinking slowly back at four sets of hungry eyes trained on you and Steve. You inhale again, letting your lips part as you link eyes with each man at the table.

The men sit stark still— not moving a muscle as the flame from the candles light your bodies. Shadows dance across their masked faces as they watch in silence, but you can feel each and every one of them. Each energy is slightly different but acutely masculine, acutely tuned into you.

You don’t mind them watching. The scene salacious— vulgar.

Wrapped up in two large, muscly arms, you’re hoisted from the chair as Steve grabs your lips again with his own. He walks you to the table and sits you on the edge, right between two of the four men occupying it. The marble top is cool to the touch as he helps you up onto your feet, holding the tips of your fingers with his hand. He leads you into the center of the table, five heads all tilted up towards you as you stand there, the bottom of your dress dragging behind you as you move.

You feel like a princess with all of their eyes on you, hanging on to your every move, drinking in every inch of you. You twirl— a giggle falling from your lips before you sink down to your knees, peeking over your shoulder at the only brown eyed man in the room. You place your thin fingers over your lips, playing with them gently as you bat your eyes at him and sweep your hair over your shoulder— exposing the zipper of your dress.

He obliges without hesitation. Standing to his feet, he reaches for you— a warm hand on your bare shoulder, another grasping the zipper. You nuzzle your chin and cheek against his long fingers before brushing your lips over them quickly. His warm brown skin melts into yours as he pulls on your zipper, exposing more and more of your naked back as he goes.

The soft smile on your face grows wider as he centers his large palm in the middle of your back. Warm skin to warm skin. His eyes are ablaze— dark, blown pupils against a lighter brown iris— set dead on you as his lips part, showing off a distinctive gap in his teeth as his fingers whisk across your back and shoulder.

You turn to face him, still kneeling in the center of the table, and reach for his mask— pulling gently on the black tie until the bow falls away. He lets you remove it from him, a soft smile playing on his lips as you reveal the handsome face underneath.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Steve offers softly.

Samuel tips his head towards you as you run the tips of your fingers along his softly bearded jaw, “S.T.W.” you say easy, recalling the last of your calling cards, “Hi Sam.”

You lean forward and place your lips on his— one gentle, chaste kiss before you break away from him with a soft smack.

You follow Steve with your eyes as he moves to the man seated next to Sam. Steve places his hand on his shoulder, “Andrew Stephen Barber.”

You bat your eyes at Andrew as he stands and takes your hand, bringing the backs of your fingers to his lips, “Andy.” He supplies as he removes his mask and sits it gently on the table.

“A.S.B., thank you for the dress.”

His presence is calm— gentle, matching the softness of his beard and dark hair. You press your free hand into the halter top of your dress to keep it from falling, but all the modesty you once had is evaporating quickly. You feel like you’ve known them all forever.

The next pair of blue eyes bring a forceful energy, one of entitlement and defiance. Before Steve can get his name out, he’s standing, his mask in his hand revealing his boyish, clean face, “Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” He winks at you suggestively, “Ransom.”

He wraps his long arm around your waist and pulls you close, crashing his lips to yours in a fury. You giggle against him before accepting his velvety tongue into your mouth, letting it sweep along your bottom lip and then slide along yours. Steve taps his shoulder and after a beat… or two, Ransom releases you from his grip, a smirk on his face, a twinkle in his eye.

You turn to the fourth man— the dark haired man that Steve initially spoke to on the stairs. He’s standing, with Steve behind him, the tips of his fingers resting on the edge of the long table. He’s the only one wearing gloves. His breathing is controlled, his eyes set on you as you inch towards him, sitting up on your knees in front of him.

You walk your fingers up his chest seductively, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you smile at him, “You must be J.B.B.”

He tilts his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I could be S.G.R.”

“While the guy named Steven stands behind you?” you squint playfully, reaching for his mask.

He grabs your wrist with his left hand, making you gasp. It’s a firm grip, but it excites something deep in you. You drop your hands into your lap, flattening them on your thighs as you take a deep breath and push it out of your nose. He glances over his shoulder at Steve, who nods just once before he turns back to face you and starts to pull at the fingers of his gloves. He removes the right hand first, tucking the black glove into his pocket before he starts on the left, pulling slowly— finger by finger.

Your mouth drops open as he pulls the nylon material away, your eyes going wide as he stretches out his digits, the candle light glinting off of the dark metal. The breath in your throat hitches as you watch him reach for his mask and untie it, pulling it away from his face to reveal a familiar one.

J.B.B.

James Buchanan Barnes.

So that means—

You blink towards Steve, whose mask is now off and sitting on the table. He rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he exhales deeply, “James Buchanan Barnes,” he then points at himself, “Steven Grant Rogers.”

You blink rapidly— completely dumbfounded as the two super soldiers stand before you. Bucky takes your hand, brushing his lips over your fingers before he pops them into his mouth, sucking gently on your digits as he flicks his eyes back up to yours. Your stomach tightens. A hum accompanies the breath that vibrates through your chest as he drags his left hand up and down your arm.

Steve cups your cheek and turns your head towards him before he traces your jaw and chin with his index finger, “We’re gonna take care of you baby girl,” he whispers as he places his fingertips on your forehead and brushes them down your face, “We’ve searched for you for so long.”

You believe him— you don’t know what he’s talking about, but you believe every word.

You push in and kiss Bucky, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and squeeze gently before you turn towards Steve, pulling him into another deep kiss, “Get this dress off of me.” You whisper.

Hands— so many hands, each pair distinctively different, are on your body within seconds, tugging and pulling at the heavy dress until you’re free of it. The only piece of clothing left on you is your thin thong as you lay back on the table, your hands over your bare breasts, covering them. You gaze up at the five men peering at you, their eyes wide and hungry.

Steve slips his hand down your sternum, the pads of his fingers sliding down your stomach to your hips, where he traces the thin band of your underwear— his touch making you raise your hips from the table. Sam drags his thumb along your chin and bottom lip before he pushes the tip just inside your all too eager mouth. You suck gently, running your tongue the length of his digit as Ransom pries your hands away from your breasts.

You moan softly, arching your back into Ransom’s hands as he starts to tweak your taut nipples, rolling them both between his fingers before he leans down and sucks your right breast into his mouth. Hands grab your thighs, kneading your flesh and pull them apart as Andy licks into your mouth, his tongue massaging the roof as he holds your chin.

The energy is back in the room— the power swirling as the men start to devour you. There’s tongues over your toes, hands on your tight nipples and abundant breasts, lips on your shoulders and neck. Fingernails scrape against your skin as they slink underneath the band of your panties, pulling them down your thighs and calves before they slide over your ankle and are discarded to the floor.

You feel the warm metal and flesh hand of Bucky around your ankles, drawing your legs up so they’re bent at the knee. He crawls onto the table, his heavy blue eyes drinking you in as he lets his metal fingers dance up and down the inside of your thigh. You start to shiver at his touch— your back arching away from the table as you gasp and hiss from the hands and mouths and tongues all over you.

Bucky sinks down— low, onto his belly— his eyes still trained on yours as he wraps his arms around your thighs. He starts to blow warm air against your sticky, hot sex, his eyes finally dipping away from yours and to your lower half as your hips jerk and whine. His metal fingers push through your folds gently, rubbing the sensitive nub at the center of you, then teasing your slit and opening.

Steve presses his balmy lips right in the valley of your breasts and peppers kisses along your jiggling flesh. The tip of his tongue circles your nipples before his teeth nip and bite. You gasp loud as a metal finger, and then a second push into your cunt— a thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips jut upward as you mewl, the sound quickly being covered up by Sam’s mouth as he kisses you hard.

Bucky blinks up at you as he withdrawals his fingers and waits— waits for you to make eye contact with him before he sucks them into his mouth, wiping them clean of your slick. He moans— heavy and hard as he closes his eyes, savoring your taste.

Your hips start to roll into his hand as he dips his fingers back into you, his breath washing over your quivering thighs. Ransom tickles your right knee, then skips his hand down the inside of your thigh, where he cups your sex around Bucky’s pushing fingers. Ransom starts to rub your clit, pressing firm circles into your wet flesh as Bucky curls his fingers to massage your muscles.

Andy sinks his teeth into your side before his tongue glances out over your stomach, circling your belly button before he sucks on your skin. He presses his hand into your lower stomach to add some pressure— Sam and Steve each taking a breast into their wet mouths, their tongues swishing and swirling.

You dig a hand into Steve’s hair and cup Sam’s head as they tease your nipples, a sharp yelp bursting through your lips as Sam bites down gently. Ransom spreads your folds with his index and middle fingers and suddenly, there’s a tongue— a warm, velvety tongue flattening against your clit. You push your head up to watch as Bucky sucks on your nub, his eyes searing into yours as he releases you with a smack, and then dives back in, the tip of his tongue flirting with your opening, his fingers still pumping.

Your head and hips roll as unrestrained groans rumble through your chest and fill the room, mingling with the deep moans and growls of the five men pleasing you. The sound of a zipper bounces off the walls— your hand then grabbed and pulled to your left. You gasp at the heavy warmth that fills your palm as your fingers wrap around Sam’s length. You roll your head towards him, biting your bottom lip as you watch your hand slide up and down his impressive girth.

You grab Steve’s hip with your free hand, digging your fingers into him as you lean up, beckoning him to come closer. You kiss him hard once he’s within distance, smacking your lips against his before you sound into his mouth as Ransom slaps your pussy, the gold band around his ring finger adding a heaviness to the strikes.

Bucky kisses up your thigh, sinking his teeth into your flesh every now and again until he reaches your ankle and foot. He thumbs at your black painted nails before he pulls your toes into his mouth as he massages your calf, “These are cute, these toes.” He murmurs, a light chuckle vibrating through him.

A chorus of zips start to sound, one right after the other. Their jackets soon hit the floor, the crisp, white sleeves of their button downs are rolled up their forearms before they all descend on you again. You’re lifted from the table into Andy’s arms as Sam slides into the space you once occupied on the table, his pants riding low on his hips. Andy kisses you deeply before placing you back on your feet on the top of the table, keeping a hold of your hand as you traipse along Sam’s side.

You throw your leg over Sam’s body and sit slowly, wiggling your hips as you position yourself on his lower stomach. You reach back, dragging your fingers through the curly patch of hair covering his lower half, tickling his skin. You slip your fingers into his unzipped pants and pull him free, stroking and squeezing him slowly before you swipe your fingers over his wet tip.

Two strong hands grip your waist— Ransom— as you slip your hand down to Sam’s base and lift upward, guiding him towards your entrance. Ransom holds you steady as you sit down on Sam, your cunt swallowing every delicious inch of Sam’s cock until he’s completely disappeared. You lean forward, splaying your fingers out on his wide, thick chest as he grabs hold of your thighs. You pull up, hissing as his cock slides out of the tight grasp of your pussy and then sit back down, moaning as he fills you again.

Ransom slips his hand up your spine and wraps his fingers over your shoulder as you start a slow rhythm, up and down, up and down, up and down. Your hips roll as Sam starts to buck his hips up into you, each stroke a little harder, a little sharper than the one before it. There’s a chest to your back and then teeth nibbling at your earlobe as you lean back into the body and rest your head on a shoulder. Ransom’s mouth then covers yours as he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight as you ride Sam, your nails digging into his rich brown skin.

You gasp as a tongue teases your thick nipple, and then a hand closes over your left breast, squeezing and kneading gently. You slide your hand into Ransom’s hair as you watch Steve flick the tip of his tongue against your nipple before he sucks your breast into his mouth, moaning as his tongue swirls.

Andy slips his hand down your stomach and starts to work your clit, grabbing your chin with his free hand and tilting your head towards his. His head is tilted upwards, his eyes hooded as he peers down at you through his long, thick eye lashes. You whine as Sam’s pace quickens, fucking up into you hard as he grips your hips so tight you’re sure he’ll leave marks behind. Andy snarls his lip as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open, as your hips falter, as you get louder and less restrained. He licks into your mouth before he lays a filthy kiss on you— demanding and sloppy.

Ransom squeezes your shoulder before he pushes you forward with his other hand, nearly crushing you against Sam’s chest. You shiver when you feel his cock slide through your ass cheeks, leaving a wetness behind. He pulls back and the backs of his fingers glance over your ass, deep hisses and a grunt coming from him as he strokes his cock— a drop of his cum dribbling onto your skin.

He suddenly pushes his fingers into your mouth— index, middle, and ring— wetting them with your saliva before he drags them back through your ass, the tips circling your hole. There’s a tangy taste left in your mouth, some of you, some of him, as he slaps his dick against your ass and then spreads you apart. Sam slows beneath you and then stops as he drags his large hands up and down your forearms, grabbing your hand and sucking your fingers into his warm mouth.

You slam your eyes closed, tensing as Ransom starts to push the head of his cock against your asshole. He places his hand against the center of your back, Bucky cups your face in his palms, sweeping his thumbs over your cheeks as he pecks your lips with his, singing gentle praise to help relax you.

“You can do it baby,” Bucky whispers, rubbing his nose against yours, smiling softly, “You can take him baby, I know you can. Can’t she Steve?”

Steve sinks his teeth into your shoulder, humming as he drags his red, swollen lips down your arm, “This pretty girl sure can,” he reassures, his voice smooth and low, “And it’s gonna feel so good, baby. You’re gonna feel so full, so stretched.”

You whimper loudly. You grab Bucky’s shoulder as Ransom’s dick finally breaks through your threshold. Ransom lets out a breath, the warm splashing over your back as he stills, a shuddering groan vibrating through his chest. Ransom squeezes your shoulder again, leaning forward to place sloppy kisses on your back, “More?”

Steve kisses your temple before he nuzzles into the side of your face, “You can do it sweet girl. You can take him all.”

Bucky kisses your lips again. Sam nibbles on the tips of your fingers as he nudges his hips into yours, burying deeper into you. You nod quickly— you do want more. More, more, more.

Ransom starts to push again, spreading your tight muscles as he forges, filling you right up. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out— his stomach now pressing into your ass as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck.

“Such a good girl,” Bucky purrs as he reaches between you and Sam’s bodies, starting to play with your nub, “Such a sweet, pretty girl.”

Sam is the first to move, pressing up into you before he withdrawals slowly. Ransom counters his actions, pulling out when Sam pushes in, delving in when Sam drags out. It’s hypnotizing— the rhythm, the push and pull. Your mouth goes slack as Steve rolls your nipples in his hands, his tongue and teeth nipping and licking at your damp skin. You roll your hips, pushing back into Ransom as Sam fucks up into you as electricity flows through your veins.

“That’s it baby girl,” Bucky praises through impassioned kisses, his tongue slipping along your lips and the roof of your mouth, “Stuffed full, aren’t you sweetie?”

Your stomach tightens at the words, your heart beat pounding against your chest and in your ears as a tingle rushing up your spine. There’s a pull deep in your belly, a molten heat and the raw emotions spreading through you as your body tightens hard. Your hips jerk as a sudden current strikes you— your cunt closing around Sam. He shudders and you feel it, feel it rumble through his chest as his own hips get desperate.

Ransom fucks your ass with fluid motions, his enormous hands and long fingers digging into the supple flesh of your waist. He grunts, hard and grainy as the warmth of your insides caress his cock. Ransom gets loud, Sam gets loud, you get whimpery— needy, almost to the point of tears as the waves roll harder and faster through you. Each stroke, each thrust, each plow of their hips driving you closer and closer to your demise.

A moan chokes in your throat as your orgasm blooms across your skin, but soon the sounds are pouring out of you. Loud, desperate, relieved as the waves finally crash. Bucky bites his bottom lip hard as his fingers slap against your jumping clit. Steve pinches your nipples as he rests his forehead against the side of your face, his hot breath sticking to your skin.

Sam drives his hips into yours once more and digs his thumbs into the creases of your thighs as his cock starts to spit, over and over again, spilling into you. Ransom fucks through it all, keeping a firm grip on your shoulder until he too comes undone in your ass. He pushes deep, deep, deep inside as he spurts, watching as your hole spasms around him.

Ransom pulls out of you as soon as he’s milked and you feel his cum bubble out of you, slipping down the inside of your thigh. You’re lifted off of Sam— brought to the edge of the table, on your hands and knees, your feet hanging over the end. A massive hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest and head down onto the cool surface as you try and catch your breath. You jump when a pair of warm lips connect where your ass ends and your thigh begins, a soft beard brushing against your skin.

Andy drags his finger up the inside of your thigh, collecting the cum that’s spilled from you and pushes two fingers into your hot cunt— your muscles still quaking, still constricting. He fingers you slowly, skimming his fingertips up and down your thigh as he pushes his digits, cramming Sam and Ransom’s cum deep.

You hum with each stroke, lunging forward softly, your nipples grazing over the marble table top as you move. You blink slowly as you lift your head, watching as Bucky climbs onto the table, spreading his legs as they slide around you. He slides his flesh hand into his pants and starts to stroke his cock— long, languid pulls as his metal fingers pull on his tight balls. You wrap your hands around his thighs, the excitement bubbling up in your chest once more as you watch him.

Andy replaces his fingers with his dick in one fell swoop. You mewl, your tits bouncing as he starts a brisk pace. The sound of his skin slapping against yours bouncing off the walls as Ransom, Sam, and Steve watch on, chests rising and falling hard as they tug their hands up and down their cocks at the sight.

You rock forward, your face inches from Bucky’s cock as he jerks himself, peering down his long body at you. Keeping your eyes on his, you push your tongue out from behind your teeth and lick at his shaft quickly before puckering your lips to kiss the thick vein running the length of him. You push your hands over his hips and up over his abs as your mouth slides over his wet, red mushroom tip.

Bucky moans deep, his back arching from the table as he pushes his hips up into your mouth, sending his cock right to the back of your throat. You pull upward as his hips sink back to the table, releasing him with a pop and smiling as his cock sways back and forth. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, wiggling him a little before you lower your mouth over his tip, sucking lightly as you swirl your tongue over his slit.

Your plump lips go slack around Bucky as Andy presses into a spot— sending a jolt right to your heart. Andy lets his hands roam along your back and sides as he fucks you, gripping and squeezing, groping and kneading your thick, soft flesh. He’ll push deep, and then just stay there for a few seconds, savoring the warmth, the tightness of your slick muscles before he wiggles his hips and withdrawals from you, just to plunge back in.

You release Bucky quickly to swallow the piquant spunk left on your tongue before you cram him back into your mouth. You suck on his cock head as you pump him up and down, twisting and turning your hand as you go. A muffled moan seeps from your mouth, vibrating around Bucky’s cock as you slam your eyes closed, feeling Andy’s strokes in your stomach.

The tingles are back— the pull in your belly. Your pussy tightens as the electricity within you starts to bounce around, synapses firing. Andy feels it, Bucky too, their hips pushing harder and faster. Your nails scratch at Bucky’s skin, squeezing uncontrollably as your heart beats in your ears, heat flushing your face.

Andy fucks into you good, hard and deep, sending you right over the edge once more. Your release spreads through you, warming every inch of flesh, every pore, every follicle. Andy thumbs your clit as he continues to pump his hips, fucking your right through your orgasm until your contracting muscles and slick coax his climax. Bucky erupts at nearly the same time— long, hot ribbons of his cum shooting from him, splattering on his stomach and dribbling down his cock.

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye, Steve standing from one of the chairs to grab your chin, pushing your head and face up towards him. He kisses you hard— sloppy, sucking on your bottom lip before he tongues the roof of your mouth. He pulls away, cupping your face in his hands gently as he rubs his thumbs along your cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, eyes full of affection.

“Such a good girl.” he whispers.

He pulls you into another kiss, but this time it’s softer— sweeter. Slower.

Andy pulls out of you, his hands still sweeping over your back and ass and thighs. He presses another kiss right into the creases of each cheek before he falls into a chair next to Sam. Bucky slides off of the table and sits next to Ransom, resting his head on the back of the chair and lets his mouth go slack as he lets out a breath.

Steve crawls onto the table as the four other men drag their chairs to the edges of the table, sitting up straighter once they get situated. Steve grabs your lips with his, a soft hum wavering in his throat. He separates from you but doesn’t go far— resting his forehead on yours as he nuzzles into you, rubbing the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours. He starts to guide you back, his hand behind your head, as he lays you down flat on the table, your knees drawn up, your feet flat against the cool surface.

You sweep your hands up and down your thighs in anticipation as you watch him unbutton his shirt slowly, his blue eyes wandering the length of your body as his fingers move. You push up onto your elbows, tilting your head as you blink at him when he pulls the material away from his buff torso.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you dip your eyes to his broad chest, his skin tanned and tight. There are faint scars littered along his skin— a few tiger stripes on his biceps and sides. His stomach is firm and flat, six perfect abs carved out, and the cutest belly button you think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. You sit up, placing your hand in the middle of his chest, right in the middle of those hard pecs and watch your hand move with each breath he takes. Your fingers fall, down his sternum, over those abs, and slightly into the dark blonde patch of hair that peeks out of his open pants.

You draw your bottom lip into your mouth and send your eyes up to his as your hand digs deeper— your dainty fingers wrapping around his hard, hot cock. His chest tightens at your touch. You inch your body closer to his, throwing your legs open and around either side of his body as you start to pump him slowly. You draw your hand up his shaft, sweeping your palm over his sensitive, weeping tip before you push back down, squeezing him gently— feeling him.

His breathing gets deeper, his chest and stomach constricting, his lips parting and quivering ever so lightly as you massage him. All five pairs of eyes are on you— unwavering, barely blinking as they consume you and only you. The power swells in your chest. You feel like a goddamn queen. Captivating. Strong.

You pull him free of his dark slacks and have to take a breath at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. Thick and long, his tip shiny and wet and red— eager— his dick jumping every now and again as cum dribbles out of his slit. You sweep the pads of your fingers over the tip again, collecting the warm, cloudy spunk and push it down his shaft, along the thick vein that runs down him, wetting every inch of him.

He pulls you into his lap in one swift move, like you’re absolutely weightless. His cock settles against your pussy and clit, resting against your stomach as he wraps his arm around your back and waist. You instantly start to roll your hips, sliding your skin along his dick— coping a feel— letting it radiate through you.

The current in the room picks up. The flames of the candles start to flicker as if there’s a strong breeze that threatens to extinguish them. You push up with the help of Steve’s strength, your mouth hanging open as you guide him towards your entrance. You push his flesh through your folds, teasing yourself a little before you align him with you, starting to sink your hips down.

You dig your fingertips into his shoulders, let your head fall back as he opens you up inch by inch. A growl scratches at the back of your throat when you feel his hot lips on your neck, peppering kisses, tongue lapping, teeth nipping as you take him. The candles flicker hard as Steve bottoms out in you— hip to hip; flesh to flesh.

Throwing an arm around his neck, you really start to move, pulling up on that towering dick before sinking back down on it. Your tits bounce as your hips roll, a delicious burn starting to spread through your thighs. Steve’s hips fuck into yours, meeting you halfway as you crash down. There’s hands on you again— on your shoulders and arms, on your thighs, wrapping around your ankles— Andy, Ransom, Sam, and Bucky— grabbing, kneading, gripping, groping.

The electricity in the room bounces off the walls, energizing you, drawing you into Steve more and more with each passing second. The wind even kicks up outside, slamming against the sprawling house, shaking the lush trees. The warm moonlight cascades into the room and over your bodies as you fuck Steve unmercifully on top of the old table. You gasp and moan and pant— the sounds bitten off, choked, and heavy as your pussy constricts around him.

He appeases each whim of your hips, driving into you deep and hard, taking control when your hips jerk and shudder. He encourages you— they all do— sweet, tiny whispers, filthy, low declamations. Their voices rattle your brain and your bones as the candle light trembles again.

You’re slamming into each other, Steve bottoming out with each thrust. Your stomach is tight, your body warm and prickly, your clit stinging as another orgasm looms in the distance. Steve’s hips are rolling and pushing, his fingernails scratching your skin as he rakes them down your naked back. There’s teeth on your shoulders and neck, lips over your nipples, fingers prodding against your clit until you come undone, shouting and pleading to every God you know.

A sudden burst of warmth explodes inside of you— Steve’s strangled groans growing loud as he comes. Your face breaks with passion, tears threatening to spill as ungodly, high-pitched sounds spill from your lips. You’re all shrouded in darkness. The candle light whipped away, suddenly extinguished by the invisible forces in the room.

The candles relight again out of nowhere as you collapse against Steve as your body finally gives out after the thorough fuck session. You’re heavy and limp, air rushing out of your mouth, sticking to his damp, humid skin. You can’t even keep your eyes open. You hum intermittently as their hands brush over your skin before they pull you away from him, laying you back down on the table.

Their voices ring out, all in sink, chanting again in French. Sam sprinkles your body with the flask, from your head to your toes— Steve traces a cross on your chest. They all flatten your hands on you as their chorus finishes, and you hear the soft voices again. They’re warm and happy, the feminine voices, as the love— the familial undercurrent— fills the room again.

You’re lifted into arms, pressed against a chest before one of their discarded jackets is thrown over your shoulders. Your head is foggy, thoughts slow as someone carries you out of the room. You feel their protection, the fierce safeguard of you as suddenly you’re the center of attention. It feels as if hundreds of eyes are on you— because there are as they walk you right through the center of the party.

“Our missing child is home.” Steve announces, smiling softly down on you, sweeping his large hand over your forehead, “The family is complete once more.”

An exuberant applause erupts.

You’re moving again, slowly the eyes on you disappearing as the fivesome moves you through the house. A door clicks, the sound of the bottom of it sweeping across the carpet filling your ears. A warmth surrounds you as you’re laid down onto a bed, a large, full comforter covering your naked body. You squirm, your head rolling against the pillow as you murmur and whimper.

“Shh shh shh, little one,” Sam purrs, stroking your face with his thick fingers, “You’re safe.”

“We’re all here sweet girl. Just rest.” Andy says calmly, brushing his lips over the backs of your fingers.

Naked bodies surround you— cram you right in the middle of them. Arms and legs are thrown over you, fingers thread with yours, lips and beards glance over your skin as they whisper and blether. You roll into a body, you’re not even sure who’s, and you hold onto them tight, letting the sleep seep in, letting it pull you away into the deep.

SATURDAY

There’s an intrusive light burning into your face. You shift, rolling your head away from it before rolling your entire body over onto your side. You stretch your arms out and sigh slowly, wanting nothing more than to melt back into the soft, deep slumber that had been disturbed— but your brain has other plans. It slowly starts to awaken, the fog lifting, memories and visions of the night before playing before your eyes. Hands on your skin, lips locked on yours, eyes following your every move.

You spring upwards.

Your eyes pop open as you inhale sharply. You snap your head to the right and then the left before you scan the room, finding it completely empty. You turn back towards the windows, squinting and blinking as the sun belts into the room, the light spilling over the floor and bed. Voices float towards you— warm, male laughter— before it dies away again and all you hear are the random chirps of birds and the soft swish of the breeze against the trees and house.

That’s when the soreness seeps in. You roll your shoulders as you recognize the subtle pain, roll your neck before stretching your arms above your head. There’s laughter again, the clatter of pans and dishes and you blink at the closed bedroom door. Questions start to populate and swarm, pushing away the rest of the sleepy fog in your mind.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed and stand, but throw your hands back on the mattress as you stumble, having to steady yourself. Your legs are jelly. A hum vibrates in your chest and throat as you take a step after a few sobering seconds. The muscles of your sex scream at you— achy and tight— used. It’s sharp but also dull, nagging and deep— the soreness. It feels good. Feels right.

Spotting an egg shaped floor length mirror leaning up against the far wall, you pad towards it, squinting and hissing as pangs of the delicious pain prickle along your skin and muscles. You peer at your body, twisting and turning. You’re marked beyond belief— suck marks on your neck and shoulders, red raised welts on your sides and thighs, deep bruises and teeth marks scattered along your body like a map.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

You spot a small bench in front of the bed, a pink satin tank top and matching shorts tossed over it. You slip the tank top over your arms to cover your bare torso and pull the shorts up your legs, your ample behind poking out of the bottom of them. You start for the door and move into a long hallway, following the laughter and voices emanating from deep in the house.

This is a really big house. It takes a while, well, you’re nosey so you peek into each room you pass and stop to eye the paintings on the wall, but you finally find the source of all the noise. You turn into the vast kitchen, finding five men placed throughout it. Sam is over the stove, cracking eggs and flipping potatoes and fresh vegetables. Andy sits at the bar, his nose buried in the Saturday paper as he sips on a black coffee. Bucky and Steve sit at the table, talking hushly over some old papers, and Ransom leans against the fridge, thumbing through his phone.

Bucky’s the first to notice you. He greets you with a wide, bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the sides, his nose scrunching, “Good morning beautiful.”

The rest of the men all blink at you and a warmth flushes through your face as you play with your fingers. Before you can respond, Ransom sweeps you off your feet and into his arms, kissing you hard and deep before he sits you back down and swats your behind, “Mornin’ doll.”

“Don’t be so rough with her,” Andy chides the slightly younger man. He grabs your wrist, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, “Sleep well, baby?”

“I did, thank you.” You smile, nervous but flattered by the attention.

“Hope you’re hungry sweetie,” Sam says, leaning into you to peck your lips as you move towards him.

“I’m starving.”

“I bet. You slept hard last night.” He winks, nudging you with his shoulder, “Ransom, plates.”

“I’m not the help, Wilson.”

“Well you are to-fuckin-day. Get the plates, trust fund baby.”

You laugh as you move towards the table, getting swept up into another breathless kiss by Bucky before Steve pulls you into his lap, brushing his nose over the back of your shoulder. Ransom and Sam hand out the plates one by one, taking drink orders and handing them out before they take their seats at the long table. You stay in Steve’s lap as you eat, listening as they all chat and cut up a little, teasing the youngest of them, Ransom, and listening intently as Andy talks about his latest case.

“I bet baby girl over here has some questions, hmm?” Bucky says after a while, cutting into his sausage and popping a small piece into his mouth.

You nod as you chew and swallow, before your eyes go wide, “Oh shit! My sister MJ! I bet she’s—”

Ransom slides your phone towards you, “I texted her for you last night and again this morning. Convinced her not to call the cops— she’s a feisty one.”

“Oh God, thank you.” You sigh, glancing over the texts.

“You can call her if you’d like. We can step out.” Steve offers, peering at you over your shoulder.

“No, no. She seems to be pacified for the moment. I’ll call her in a little while. So,” you lead in, “How, um, what is all of this? How do you guys know me, or my mom, to be more specific?”

Steve wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him before he takes a breath, “This is going to sound really strange and it’s a really long story.”

“I got time,” you laugh, “It’s the only reason I came last night. Didn’t expect to get fucked by five dudes, but, you know,” you giggle, “Shit happens.”

“Steve and I,” Bucky starts, “We knew your great-grandmother, Marie-Angelie Paris Laveau of New Orleans. Steve was… sickly.” You nod quickly, having read everything there is to know about the great Steve Rogers, “I had heard that there was this new religion, down south. A woman that claimed to be a healer and Steve was my best friend, so, we decided to check it out in the early forties— wanted to see if she could help him.”

“When we finally got to Louisiana and tracked Marie-Angelie down, it was nothing that Bucky and I had ever seen before.” Steve chuckles, “Your great-grandmother was a beautiful woman, had thousands of followers, just like her mother, and her mother before her.”

“Followers?” You ask, furrowing your brow.

Bucky shifts his eyes to Steve before they land back on you, “You’re a direct descendant of Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen of the French quarter.”

Your eyes widen at the words.

“The elder Marie was a very powerful woman, passed down her knowledge and her gift to her daughters who kept her spirit and her craft alive. Marie-Angelie took one look at Steve and knew she could help. So,” Bucky takes a breath, holding it in his chest for a second before he pushes it out, “We made our offerings, appeased the spirits and we had Steve stay with her for the night.”

“She prayed over me all night. Chanted, offered the spirits many gifts, had me drink this potion that she’d made,” Steve says slowly, “I’m not too sure what happened. I just remember waking up and looking like this. It came with conditions of course, one of which she told us about, the other she didn’t.”

“What were they?” you breathe, engrossed in the story.

“The condition we knew about was that Bucky and I had to join the society.” You raise your eyebrows, prompting Steve to smile, “The elder Marie, your great-great-great-great grandmother entered into a pact with Sam’s great-great-great-great grandfather.”

“He was a farmer,” Sam says after he takes a sip of his coffee, taking over the story, “My great-great-great-great granddaddy went to Marie for a little advice and to have her pray for his crops. He was flat broke, about to lose the farm, Louisiana was going through a terrible drought— he offered Marie the last dollar he had in his pocket. His crop came in more bountiful than ever, in fact, it was the only farm that yielded that season. Made him a millionaire overnight. So, in exchange for her prayers, he offered her and her offspring protection. As long as there's a Laveau bloodline, the Wilson’s will watch over them.”

Silence falls over the room as you blink back at Sam, unable to speak. Bucky leans forward, placing his flesh hand over yours and rubs gently as concern fills his blue eyes, “You okay, honey?”

You nod, closing your eyes as you swallow, “Yeah, I, um, so… okay, so Sam, Steve and you are bound to protect me? Because of this society that was formed?”

“Us too,” Andy adds, “My great-great-great-great grandfather, Reginald Barber was a politician, went to Marie for some help around the same time as Sam’s granddad did, and when she fulfilled his request, he also joined.”

“My grandad is a writer, he too ended up joining the society in the early sixties with your grandmother when his first novel blew up.” Ransom says, “Harland Thrombey.”

“Harland Thrombey, the mystery writer, right? I thought he had a daughter?”

“That’s my mom. When I was born, I took her place in the order.”

You lift your eyebrows, nodding your head, “Wow.” you laugh a little, “So, what exactly do you guys do for me?”

“We just keep you safe. Watch over you, try to fulfill all of your… needs.” Sam answers with a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye, “Keep the bloodline going, if need be.”

You squint suddenly as the wheels and gears in your brain turn, “Wait so, this is passed down? From generation to generation?”

“Yes.” Andy answers simply.

“So, that means that all of your fathers, had sex with my mother? Am I.. oh my god,” your hands fly to your face, “Am I related to you one you?”

“No, oh my god!” Ransom recoils, his face screwed up in disgust, “The fuck do you think we are, weirdos? No.”

Steve laughs, rubbing your stomach with his large hand, “Your father is James Rhodes. He’s part of the congregation, the followers of your grandmothers. He was chosen for your mother, just like your partner will be chosen for you.”

You blink, your mind empty, “Chosen?”

“It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation.” Steve nods, “Either way, your partner will be someone who will understand our debt to you and your family. If your partner is indeed someone in the society, that person is then removed, so there’s no impropriety, and someone in the congregation will take his place to keep the society full. Once you’re paired with whoever, we all then have a duty to reproduce so our children can take care of yours— again, with women in the congregation who understand our duty, and so on and so forth.”

You fall back against Steve’s chest, slumping a little at all of the information, “It’s a lot,” Sam reassures, “I know, I’m sorry.”

Insane is what it is, you think, rubbing your forehead with your manicured fingers. Somehow though, it all just kind of makes sense, “You said there was another condition? After you and Bucky went to Louisiana? What was it?”

“Me.” Bucky smiles, leaning back into his seat as his eyes fall into his lap.

You glance back at Steve, “I don’t understand.”

“In order for me to achieve this,” Steve motions towards his body, “Something had to be sacrificed, “The spirits chose Bucky. Some years later, after we joined the army—”

You gasp, covering your mouth again, “When he fell from the train.” You finish for him.

Steve just nods, “I put two and two together after a while. I went back to Marie and told her I was done— I wanted out and I didn’t care what happened to me for it. So I ended up just kind of floating through life. Threw myself into my work and saving the world. I didn’t know at the time that some of my blood had gotten into the hands of the Germans during the war. They studied it— noticed that my enzymes were nearly indestructible. They created the super soldier serum to replicate my strength and healing abilities.”

“Hydra, is what they were called. They found me and started experimenting.” A sad smile covers Bucky’s face. You lean forward, cupping his cheek in your hand and rub your thumb just under his eye. His smile turns upward as he nuzzles into your warm palm, “I’m alright.”

“I got wind of Bucky in the eighties, he had assassinated this researcher, they actually got a picture of him. I had to bring him home,” Steve shrugs, “But he was tricky— elusive. I tracked him for a few years but I couldn’t ever get close, and I knew I only had one option at that point.” Steve rests his lips against your shoulder, brushing them back and forth slowly against your warm skin, “I tracked down your grandmother and your mom for help.”

You feel him smile against you and you turn, throwing your arms around his neck as he continues his story, “You were barely walking when I met you the first time. You were so cute, so little. Even though I was still pissed, you stole my heart as soon as I saw you. You were the only innocence in this craziness.”

A tear slips down your cheek. He wipes it away with his fingers, smiling softly at you as you’re overcome with emotion, “Did you used to read to me?” you ask with a shaky voice, the early, fragmented memories you have of a blonde, blue eyed man suddenly making sense.

“Tamerlane by Edgar Allan Poe was your favorite.” he smiles, “That’s how I knew it was you last night. Poe was your favorite, even back then.”

You hug him tightly and feel hands on your back and shoulders, a pair of lips on the top of your head and the side of your face as Andy, Bucky, Ransom, and Sam crowd around you, “We brought you home now.” Sam voices gently, “We’ll take care of you baby. From now until the end of days.”

You let them soothe you. Let them stroke your hair and whisper their sweet nothings. Let them kiss your skin and wipe away the tears as the sun cutting into the room through the windows washes you in warmth. You lean back after what seems like forever, sniffling gently as Steve brushes those fingers underneath your eyes, “I want to meet my mom.”

“Of course. We’ll take you to her whenever you’re ready. She was supposed to be here but, she couldn’t deal with the heartbreak again if it wasn’t you. She’s been looking for you for so long— they both have.”

You exhale deeply, closing your eyes as you rest your head against Steve’s chest, nuzzling into him, “Why was I taken?”

“Somebody sent a tip to the police that your mother was living in a commune—” you feel him tense, his tone going harsh, “Just a nosey ass woman who didn’t have anything better to do with her time. Made up some shit about drug trafficking coming out of the house. It was raided while I was in Europe— they took you, put you up for adoption. I should have been there. I should have protected you.”

“You're protecting me now. That’s all that matters.” You whisper, “But,” your voice drops away as you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Ransom’s massive hand runs up and down your back, “What is it, honey?”

“My sister. My mom and my dad— the people that raised me. I love them.”

“We are not going to take you away from them,” Bucky answers quickly, “They’re a part of you. We understand that.”

“Can’t wait to meet that sister of yours,” Ransom adds, “She seems fun.”

You laugh through the fresh wave of tears that have wetted your face, “She is fun. She has a boyfriend named Peter, he loves you two,” you smile, gesturing towards Steve and Bucky, “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You close your eyes again, your head starting to pound from all of the information that’s been placed at your feet. Your stomach churns and you shiver, causing Steve to tighten his grip, “Let’s lay you down, huh? That was a lot to take in.”

They all follow you and Steve back into the bedroom where you first woke up that morning. You’re stripped naked again, crowded in the middle of their hulky bodies. They let you cry. They let you talk aimlessly. They let you get angry, and then sad, and then content as you work through your sordid history. One by one, their lips are on yours again. Hands dig into your sides and grip your thighs. Languid thrusts, hot breaths, short whimpers, and long cries fill the room as they make love to you over and over.

Your bones are liquid. Your body, your cunt stretched and used— so sore you’re not even sure your limbs are connected anymore. You come, time and time again, from their mouths, their fingers, their wet, hard cocks. You take it all— two of them stuffing you full while a third occupies your mouth, the other two not-so-patiently waiting for their turn at you.

Sleep tugs at you from every angle after a while and you fade in and out as the day drags on. Women come to you in your dreams— the women of your family. They whisper to you, the great secrets of your long lineage. They smile and lay their hands on you, filling you with their spirits, their love.

You’re suddenly at a large body of water— Bayou St. John. A woman perches by the bank, her hand swishing back and forth in the cool water. You traipse towards her through the tall grass, your feet sinking into the wet ground. You kneel next to her as she sings a native song. She’s wrapped in a red, white, and blue shawl, her eyes sparkling as she turns towards you. She cups your face, running her hand down your cheek and jaw before she reaches into the water and pulls out a large, multicolored fish.

You spring forward, gasping hard and deep as you wake from the vivid dream. You cover your face with your hands as a chill runs down your spine, your forehead covered in a cold sweat. Without thinking, you splay your hand over your stomach as your heart stills. There’s movement behind you— Steve slinks his hand around your middle, settling his hand over your much smaller one.

You peek over your shoulder and he’s staring at you, his lips parted slightly, his blue eyes wide and full of knowing. His words from earlier coming back to you. Your partner will be chosen for you. It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation. You lay back down, curling into him, tracing his nose and jaw, his chin and eyes with your fingers as he blinks back at you.

“Did you see her too?” You breathe. Great-great-great-great grandmother Marie Laveau.

He nods, “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers as Sam, Andy, Ransom, and Bucky all sprawl out around the two of you, “I promise.”

You nod, smiling slowly, “I know.”

You mean it. You know he will— that they all will.

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Text

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better.

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood.

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more.

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment.

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen.

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them.

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.”

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?”

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius. I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.”

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!”

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.”

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus.

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.”

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.”

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.”

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending.

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.”

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

#remus lupin #sirius black #bowie #felix martin #simon #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #coops #hockey #adhd #blood on the ice #found family #prohibitionincurls #collab #fanfic #my fic

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fangirl--writes · 3 years

Text

A Dance. Jeremiah Valeska x Reader

AN: Hello! Long Time no see huh? I have started writing again and what better way to start than with the softest boi!

Link to the song the Reader plays: https://youtu.be/pIgZ7gMze7A

Let me know what you think and if there should be a part two??

I was aiming this is right before and during S04/E17

*****************************************************************

It was still.

Soundless suave from the occasional tick of the old hands of the grandfather clock placed elegantly in the corner of the spacious room. Dust was gathering on the table tops; you had been ignoring it for about a week or so.

Sometimes it gets to him-

Sometimes.

Your significant other, Xander Wilde.

Lately he’d been holing himself in his office, or on a conference call with his associates.

The stoic, ginger haired man was busy, you understood this.

Owning your own company was a lot.

Your leg began to bounce softly off the edge of your cushioned chair, tapping against the plush fabric to a rhythm familiar as you turned the next page in your book.

He was busy sure- but he made time for you.

Dinners, take out naturally delivered by his proxy. Movie nights, occasionally spent curled up on the couch that now sat neglected on the other side of the room.

Your favorite however; was the times he’d flip on the record player; the corner of his lip would twinge in the faintest of grins. His knowing grin as you called it, he’d usually flash one as he selected the music for your dance.

Xander’s ocean eyes would drift over to you, peeking from over the top of his glasses as the record would start sending you into a near giggle fit every time.

He’d reach out, sweep you off your feet and gently glide around the room in an endless nonsensical pattern. His hand was on your waist as he led you in an imaginary waltz, pulling you ever so close your noses nearly touched.

He was different then, his face would drop into his rare soft grin and his eyes, you would dare say light up watching you. Your hands crawling up his shoulder and gliding down to hold his to hold him closer.

You’d lay your head on his chest and let the world, the worries, the work go.

It was nothing when you carelessly stepped across the carpeted living room, twirling about without a care in the world.

You took a breath marking the page in your book. You’d reached out to his proxy, and requested a new record, something with a little more…kick.

Well, new was perhaps not the right term but kick, definitely yes.

You rose from your plush chair, stretching your back as you set the book down. Your eyes laid on the solid wooden door that separated you from your beloved.

If layers of dust and neglected dishes piled in the sink wouldn’t make him see you, perhaps this would.

With a careful hand you spun the vinyl. The cover was worn and slightly tattered from use, you inspected it momentarily before pulling out the record. Gently you laid it on the turntable, setting into place before slinking over to the door.

You sucked in a breath as you paused hesitant at the door.

“Xander?” his name tumbled from your mouth as you rasped against the heavy wood.

No response.

Perhaps he didn’t hear you.

Again, you knocked calling his name louder.

Silence met your reserve as you let out a small huff, impatient.

The wheels turned in your head as you stared into empty space. A soft smile twitched on the corner of your lips.

Working is one thing, but ignoring you is another.

With narrowed eyes you strode back to the turntable, with a flick of your wrist you switched it on eyes darting back to the door again, just in case.

Gently you pushed the dial for the volume, going about as high as it could before setting the needle down to put your plan in motion.

The smooth instrumentals sent your body swaying as the music blared through the den.

You shifted the weight in your heels as you twisted about keeping a watchful eye on the door.

The music swept through the room, sending you into a state as your mind focused on the beat.

You put the boom-boom into my heart

You send my soul sky-high

When your lovin' starts

You swept around the furniture spinning and twirling around aimlessly, singing as loudly as you could manage. No longer was the warm reserved space a living room, melting away in your mind’s eye to stage, open and wide just for you. The soft lamp lighting transformed to bright spot lights that strobed the walls.

Jitterbug into my brain

Goes a bang-bang-bang

‘Til my feet do the same

The words fell from your mouth as if on cue, your chest heaving as you shouted out into the invisible crowd.

You didn’t notice as the door to Xander’s study cracked open, his face twisted into a disgruntled sneer as he looked out into the living room, annoyed his work flow was interrupted. The walls were shaking. His concentration broken as the acescent rumbling pounded through the door. His chest tightened as he prepared to scold you for being so loud.

His brows rose into a curious arch as he caught sight of your form twirling about. Your nose wrinkled as your face contorted fixated on the words as you sang blissfully unaware of his presence.

For a split second he contemplated turning the music down, alerting you to his presence and going back to his work, those thoughts were quickly discarded as he found himself rooted in place eyes glued to you.

He leaned against the wooden frame, mouth still agape as his eyes followed your enraptured movements, you were so enthralling, the way your hips swayed and your body danced about, wrapped in your own little world.

You take the grey skies outta’ my waay

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day

You turned a bright spark into a flame

My beats per minute never been the same

You were singing… about him.

Xander felt his body tense, his dark brows furrowed in thought. Recently, he’d been neglecting you for his most recent project. He’d skipped dinners taking them in his office, or not eating at all, working so late into the night that he’d come out and find you curled up on the couch, the book you were reading hanging loosely in your hand or fallen forgotten on the floor.

Each time his heart panged with regret, yet, he still overlooked you…

After all this time, you still cared about him. He noticed when you set out meals for him lovingly wrapped up with a hand written note or brewed coffee before you fell asleep. His eyes fell to the table and the dust that was layered on its surface… usually the two of you would clean together. An activity that calmed you both, a menial task. But one that was fun when he was with you, the way you’d turn dusting or dishes into a game or just a time to reflect and enjoy.

He admired you, finding your sense of wonder and forever finding joy in something so small endearing.

As if on their own, he felt his body throw its self forward his feet following suit. He reached for your hand; his face flushed as he took hold of your wrist, your eyes opening in realization.

“X..Xander…” his name was soft on your lips as you peered up at him.

Your eyes sending him into a flustered frenzy he moved to spin you, trying to match the rhythm as he tottered with the music.

This wasn’t the type he was used to; the soft melodies of classical were typical in your shared home, gentle waltzing that was slow and simple.

You giggled as he clumsily danced with you, his fingers laced with yours as he awkwardly watched his feet as not to step on you. Your fingertips softly lifted his chin to meet your bright gaze, wordlessly you beckoned him to follow you. He sucked down a needed breath copying your motions, quickly coming in to his own as he spun you in his arms.

His blush faded as he moved with you, eyes settling on your face. He felt his cheeks crack as a faint line of a smile graced his lips. Xander cherished these moments with you, savored them, however; he couldn’t force back the slivers of voices whispering in his ears.

Fraud

If only she knew the real you…

She wouldn’t be dancing cheek to cheek with a monster...

Your head tipped as your lover stared ahead aimlessly his blue eyes faded behind his glasses. His chest steadily falling in shallow breathes as his grip loosened on your hands.

You been through so many of these with him, they’d become more frequent in recent months and you couldn’t figure out why.

Gently you pushed yourself against his chest as you caressed his cheek with the pad of your thumb, gingerly reaching to press your forehead against his.

He shifted under your hand, sweeping his arm to your waist to pull you closer as his eyes closed as he basked in your touch.

“Darling…”

His voice was barely a whisper as he pressed into your hand.

“I… need to

“Sir-

The urgent voice of his proxy pulled his head away from yours. Your eyes flickered to her rigid form in the door way to the labyrinth.

Immediately Xander straightened himself. Your hand falling to the way side as you took a step back.

He took a in cool breath, collecting his thoughts as he adjusted his suit jacket. His calculated eyes turned to you again; a look of faint concern etched on his face.

Xander’s tone shifted.

“Ecco take Y/N to our room.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, rather a command.

His hands reached to squeeze yours in some attempt to soothe you as he stepped closer.

The woman in the door way quickly made a move towards you.

“What’s going on?” Your voice hitched in your throat as you spoke, gaze bouncing confused between the two figures.

“Xander, Please-

You spoke again, voice cracked with worry as Ecco touched your arm nodding to her boss.

His eyes were downcast, his gaze going past you to the floor as his head shook softly. He pulled away swiftly moving past you before you could latch on to him.

“Ecco will keep you safe.”

The young blonde pursed her lips as her grip tightened, her voice was hard as she pulled you from your spot on the floor.

“Come with me miss.”

“Xander Wilde-

Your feet were firm as you rooted yourself down; your voice was harsh as you called after him again.

You will tell me what is going on!”

He paused just before he slipped away from view, your tone causing him to freeze; hesitating only for a mere moment before continuing on his way his eyes front.

You felt weak as he vanished down the slinking hallways of the maze.

Ecco tugged at your arm, now half dragging you along as she led you away from the den. Your eyes glued to the spot where he stopped, hoping he’d come back for you.

The record was forgotten now, music long over. The needle scratching endlessly in the silence of your screams, a faint memory of what was only an hour ago. You were blissfully unaware then, completely and utterly clueless to how your life would burn in the turmoil of what was coming.

tag list: @valeskaduh @seldomabsent @violentvaleska @fuwa-fuwa-yandere

If anyone else would like to be on the list just drop a comment down below!

#jeremiah valeska #prespray jeremiah valeska #prespray jeremiah #jeremiah valeska gotham #Gotham #gotham on FOX #gotham x reader #jeremiah x reader #gotham fanfic #gotham fanfiction #x reader #x reader fanfiction #jeremiah valeska imagine #gotham imagine

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londonskies · 4 years

Text

DON’T SAY THE S WORD!!

https://images.app.goo.gl/JKKNVtwZNGAVVwzB9

In which Corpse has a secret girlfriend and his insomnia is driving them both up the wall, putting precious Sykkuno in danger because he said the word “Sleep”.

Hi! This is just a once in a blue moon, feel good, fluff fic cause I have commitment issues on my writing lol.

Yes, my writing style is long winded, I’m really sorry, but I hope you enjoy it!

credits to u/balderdash_lee on reddit

Corpse had not slept for close to 50 hours by the time that they had started their latest month prior pre-planned plasmophobia session with Rae, Sykkunno and Toast, but it was like he was hyped up on sugar for the last hour or so and Y/n was really beginning to get worried.

This was a tattletale sign of the huge crash her boyfriend was about to go through, and yet the stubborn man just would not step away from his computer.

She had tried everything, from luring him with pizza (to which he had snatched a few slices and had just retreated to his gaming room once more) to telling him that there was a fire in the kitchen (to which he replied was virtually impossible given how meticulous Y/n was in the kitchen) to faking an injury (which corpse called bullshit on without even looking at her).

It was getting really frustrating and she knew for a fact that the longer her boyfriend was going to wait this out, the worse he was going to feel.

And the worse he was going to act.

He would never hurt anyone, ever. The man was the definition of a soft boi beyond his brain meltingly amazing voice. But when he was beyond bone dead tired like he was right now, he had the tendency to act mean, and the only person who had the capability of calming him down in the middle of the pandemic was Y/n, and she would have to hijack his stream.

The stream that was filled with hundreds of thousands of people who didn’t even know that their precious Corpse was in a relationship with anyone.

Would she have the chance to mute him before he went on his tired, angry, borderline crazy monologue? She would try, but probably not.

Y/n had to bring out the big guns.

Rae and Toast were pretty easy people to conspire with and were almost always down to do pranks and other shit that Y/n came up with, and always, always down to do whatever it took to get Corpse to take care of himself.

Sykkuno though, bless him, the cutest, most clueless person Y/n had ever met.

He was always very concerned for Corpse’s health but was the worst at going incognito. So Rae and Toast were the ones who used their code word (lights out) and had always been the ones who had the role of making sure Sykkuno knew what to do.

“Aaaaaaaaaaanddd, lights out baby!” Rae screamed as she made her way past Sykkuno at the entrance of the house they were in at the moment, but Sykkuno, the precious little boy that he is, just watched Rae with a bewildered face, getting even more confused when Toast made his way past him as well, whispering “Lights out.” and moving back to the truck in the game.

From inside, Corpse’s character was busy laughing at a joke he made about a picture in the wall and had not noticed the other two missing. He did notice though, when Sykkuno appeared near him to ask him what was up before convulsing and dropping to the floor.

Corpse’s laugh was noticeably more manic now, getting a lot more high pitched and erratic. For a second, Sykkuno laughed with him, then when Corpse’s went on for too long, suddenly looked confused on his stream, turning to face the general vicinity he Corpse’s character was.

So he spoke through their always open discord chat. “Uhh, Corpse? You okay there buddy?”

The stubborn man just kept laughing, Y/n increasingly getting concerned as she watched all 4 player’s streams on different devices one room over. Rae and Toast were chatting about the pills in the truck, so as to not alarm Corpse of the lowkey distraction they were doing to finish the game easy (aka getting at least 3 of them killed), and then giving excuses to stop streaming and giving Y/n a chance to haul his ass to bed.

Sykkuno on the other hand, was now (against all plans spoken about prior) continuing to talk to Corpse.

“Corpse?” the timid man spoke once more, finally reaching the ever more manic Corpse.

All of a sudden, an eerie silence fell around the two of them, settling for a few seconds before getting filled by a flat “Yea?” from Corpse.

Y/n could almost hear the sentence that Sy would reply to that, and at that moment, she knew, they were fucked.

With a quick “Fuckin shite” to both Rae and Toast’s chat, Y/n bounded over to Corpse’s office, hearing tail end of the question that was about to make Corpse’s brain go kaboom.

“You sound tired man, maybe you should sleep for a bit?”

She knew he only meant good. Sykkuno was just one of those guys that would never want to hurt anyone. She knew it, Corpse knew it, everyone knew it.

But her secret boyfriend was sleep deprived and going batshit crazy because of it, and currently, his trigger word was the word Sleep.

Y/n would give poor Sy a viking funeral if she can’t stop this.

“I am not tire-” Corpse was pretty intimidating when he wanted to be, and I knew that that low voice of his would scare every single hitman in a 1000 mile radius when used in a booming, angry way. And the way his voice was escalating was sure to end in said booming, angry way.

Y/n sprinted into his recording room, only partially wincing at the horridly loud bang the door made when she wrenched it open to fling herself at her boyfriend. The world seemed to slow as she soared through the air, uncaring if she knocked things out of the way.

Gotta make sure their baby Sy would never be at that end of Corpse’s fury.

She partially landed on his lap, torso hanging off the side. It hurt as her ribs made contact on the armrest of his computer chair, but it stopped his tirade with a surprised “Ooof!” and knocked him away from his PC.

“Honey!! Don’t yell at Sy!”

“Y/n???”

Oh shit.

Of course Sykkuno had to yell out her name during a stream. She had bet Toast 200 dollars that Sy would be the one to drop her name, and it was high time she cashed in.

Y/n fixed herself on Corpse’s lap, shoving his headphones off of him and forcing him into a hug. Of course he protested, but eventually relaxed in her grip, muttering about how his eyes and wrists hurt now but he promised to play with the OTV peeps and his insomnia hit him too hard these past few days.

“Baby,” he whispered hoarsely, his grip tightening on her as well. It only took a moment for Y/n to realize that her boyfriend was shaking, trying not to fall apart. “It hurts.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, putting a kiss on the top of his head as he relaxed even more. They had to move to a more comfortable space soon or else Corpse would fall asleep here and she would have to move him (which at 5 feet, is not very easy.) but he was relaxing and Y/n couldn’t make herself distract him from that.

“I know babe, it’s okay. We’ll breathe through it. You can do it, I know you can.” Corpse would never fess up to crying, but the growing patch of tears on her sweater was evidence of the amount of pain that he was experiencing.

His dedication was amazing, but a lot of the time he sacrificed his health for it. So as much as she didn’t want to hold him back, sometimes she really just had to step in and meddle to save him from himself.

They stayed like that for a while, Y/n occasionally having to coach him through his breathing, but overall, they were doing fine.

Y/n smiled into his hair when he finally stopped shaking. “That’s it babe, you’re doing amazing.” she whispered, moving to get off his lap. She wasn’t the lightest person despite her shortness, her curves never letting her be skinny, so she was sure that her sitting on his lap was making his legs go numb. Corpse, on the other hand, only held on tighter, basically turning into a koala at this point.

“Corpse, Honey, your legs are gonna go numb, babe.” she giggled. She tried to put him at arm’s length, but her apparently octopus boyfriend had planned to never let her go.

“No.” he mumbled, pressing his face ever tighter into her sweater, making her giggle, in turn, making him smile.

Eventually, he detached his face from her sweater and peeked up at his girlfriend, the visual of his tousled hair, pout, one sparkling eye and the other now only partially covered by his falling eyepatch, but both with smudged eyeliner and mirth, made her melt. “Don’t go, please?” Y/n giggled at him. “I’m not gonna leave babe, I just gotta get off your lap before I make your legs undergo hypoxia.”

“I’d let them cut off my legs if it meant having you here forever.” if she hadn’t already fallen in love with this man, she would say that this was the moment that she fell in love with him. But falling in love with him over and over again was probably something that she would never stop doing, even if Corpse ever decided to not love her back one day.

They were jolted out of their happy little bubble when they heard a loud screech coming from his headphones making a sound more akin to blasting speakers than headphones, which had apparently fallen just beside them on the table instead of the floor like Y/n anticipated. “STOP YOUR LOVING AND GO TO SLEEP CORPSE!” Rae screeched, making the both of them laugh out loud, but one look at his screen stopped them at their tracks.

Corpse was miraculously still alive in game, Rae’s character moving back and forth in front of his.

Rae… was streaming, right?

Oh shit numero dos.

One look at the chat showed that they had just outed themselves. The sappy couple making everyone watching go absolutely bonkers at the chat.

“WHO IS THAT?” -ijustlovemakingsounds

“HONEY???? BABE?????” - corpseybae

“WHAT IS HAPPENING??” -randomuser

“IS CORPSE OKAY?” -ShinigamiEyes

“CORPSE??” -corpsekkuno28

“BABY?????” -honestlywtf

“HE’S SO SWEET OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!!” -cutiepiecorpsey

“WAIT WAIT WAIT IS HE OKAY????” -omgilovehim

“WHO THE HECK??” -wifeyyyycorpse

Both parties were staring wide eyed at the screens. Even with slow mode on, the chat was going a hundred miles per hour and all they were seeing were screaming chats in all caps zooming up.

For a second Y/n just kept staring quietly, and then the first giggle escaped her and soon, both of them were a giggling pile of sweaters and limbs on Corpse’s computer chair, not even trying to stop their antics. Rae screamed another “YOU’RE BOTH CUTE AND WE ALL KNOW IT STOP AND SLEEP!!”

The laughter seemed endless.

It was the sound of Y/n’s phone ringing from the other room that finally got her up from the warm confines of Corpse’s lap. But before she left, she was going to make sure that Corpse was not just going to continue streaming in her absence.

“Sooo….” Y/n turned them over so that she was facing the screen and not him, talking directly into the mic as she scrambled for the headphones she had shoved off of his head. “Yes Corpse Husband has a Corpse wife and she’s now taking him back to their coffins because the hubby is a stubborn piece of shit and has not slept in more than 50 hours.”

The casual information drop made the chat go even crazier, people now freaking out about her, trying to find out who she was, what she did, when and where they met, stuff like that. “I’ll see what I can do to answer your questions, you simps. But I gotta knock him out for now, and I promise you won’t be left hanging.”

She felt him wrap his arms around her waist once more, feeling him press his face tightly against her back. “Baby,” he started to say, but Y/n cut him off with a few pats to wherever she could reach behind her.

“Sorry, but the jackass is now cut off from the mic and shall be cut off until he sleeps, so I shall be the one to say, good day to you sirs and madams, he shall see you on the next one! Bye!!!!”

Then a pause, and a quietly frustrated “Hun, how do you turn it off??”

The chat was flooded with variations of “She’s so cute!!” and as tempted as he was to keep it going for a bit, he knew that it would upset and worry his adorable girlfriend to do so.

So from his vantage point, he just mumbled a quick “Bye!” before cutting off stream. Normally, he would stay and read superchats and see how many new members he had gained, but this time, his tiny, but determined girlfriend was dead set on getting him to chill his ass out.

And he let you.

He watched as you dragged him off to bed, tucking him in all the fluffy blankets you’d gotten for his comfort, smiled as you eagerly burrowed yourself under the fluff with him, sighed contentedly as your warmth surrounded him as you cuddled into him.

He basked in your presence as he held you back just as tight, feeling you plant a kiss in his hair and smile as he relaxed ever more. From across the room, the mirror reflected the image of the two of you, touching the deepest recesses of the soul he would never claim to have.

And as he drifted off, he watched as you glowed in the streaks of the fading afternoon sun, peeking through their heavy curtains, he thought:

What more was there to ask for?

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Lost Boys: Call 911

GIF by lostinsantacarla

Paul x Reader

Word Count: 2,550

Summary: Reader is out on patrol as part of the Santa Carla PD when they respond to a call out at the wharf.

Amid the riotous flare of fireworks and fire crackers, it was difficult to make out the quickly approaching cop car but Marko prided himself on being observative.

Paul, Paulie, P-Man, his forever partner on the other hand…

Grabbing Paul by the front of his tank, he pulled the other vampire down to hiss in his ear. “We got company. We bail on my signal, got it?”

The honey blonde nodded distractedly, mesmerized by the bright bursts of colors overhead. The reds and blues and whites and pinks mixed with the curtain of smoke, creating a kaleidoscope against the inky night sky.

He only heard part of what Marko was gripping about—something about a signal—but it wasn’t his fault he was having so much fun.

Another of their fireworks went off from behind Max’s Video, making him laugh even harder when some empty pallets became collateral. They splintered into pieces, the crunching sound of the wood masked by the other explosions.

Nothing said summer time fun like launching some Big Boys at the video store. It was a rockin’ light show and piss-off-Max scheme all wrapped in one. The crochety, old douche in question would no doubt have some choice words for them later but Paul wasn’t thinking about that; the only thing on his mind was blowing shit up.

In fact, he was so into it that he wasn’t prepared for the sharp punch to his ribs. He flew into the wall as Marko ran past, scampering to get airborne. “Go, go, go!”

The back door to the store opened with such force that it banged into the wall with a loud crack. Paul could sympathize. Two officers came through and before he could even think to pick himself up and run, they were on him.

The rounder of the two sat on his back, putting all his pounds into pinning Paul down. Normally, he would’ve thrown him off and maybe, probably, killed him, no sweat.

But.

There were too many people around that could catch him in the act. There’s no way Max would step in and not even Paul was stupid enough to slaughter that many people in plain sight.

Marko, he whined through the bond. A little help, bud? I’m kinda stuck.

All he got back was a manic cackle.

Paul squawked in outrage, knowing that the other would not be lending an assist. That traitor was all too content to sit back and laugh at him.

Whatever.

Screw him then.

It’s not like Paul had never been hauled in before anyhow.

“You know,” he grunted to the cop on his back, “It’s a good thing you’re not fat or anything, otherwise this would be more difficult.”

The knee dug into his back even harder and his head was pulled back by his hair. It didn’t hurt that much but still! He worked for hours to make his hair look good!

“Police brutality! I have rights, you know!” he yelled. The cop was starting to get on his nerves.

His face was shoved back into the ground and he ate gravel, sputtering to get the pebbles and grime out of his mouth with mixed success. The taste lingered and the only way to get rid of it would be to wash it down with something—

Hmm. He hadn’t planned on feeding that night but some pig blood would take care of it nicely.

He attempted to at least think of an isolated spot to rip out his throat without getting caught. Maybe in the cop car. Maybe he could drag him to the bushes outside of the station.

Oh! If the guy stopped for doughnuts, he could steal the car—doughnuts sounded good though. A nice chocolate glaze with sprinkles or something filled with strawberry jelly! The corner store on the boulevard had the best selection this time of night. He needed more hairspray, too, as long as he was at it, a magazine or three—he shook his head.

Come on, self, get it together!

“I’m going to find the one that ran. Officer Y/LN, you take this idiot back to the car and sit tight until I get back.”

Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and he had been so focused on the tub of lard that had him on the ground that he forgot two cops had burst through the door.

He planted his feet and refused to be moved as he glanced at the second one. It was like pushing at a stone wall, the other at his back unable to shove him into motion.

Immediately, Paul realized his mistake.

Why was he so occupied with that other asshole when he could’ve been looking at you, been pressed up against you the entire time?

The saying was that everyone loved a person in uniform and Paul was no exception. You made the normally dull standard navy uniform look good, the short sleeves showing off your arms and the pants managed to cup your ass in the tastiest way.

He’d cup your ass even better, if you gave him the chance.

Even the serious, disapproving scowl on your face was hot. What he wouldn’t do to get you to make that face with you on top of him, manhandling him any which way you wanted.

Screw his little feeding plan. He was willing to spare your partner in exchange for getting to know you better.

A big happy smile stretching across his face, he finally moved, dragging your partner rather than being forced forward.

“Hey, sexy,” he said with his signature wink, the one that always got him what he wanted with people. “Name’s Paul.”

To his disappointment, you didn’t respond and merely took control of his handcuffed hands as they were passed over.

As you lead him back through the video store, he pulled his arms to the left, acting like he was trying to resist. Just like he expected, you corrected him with a strong, tight grip that sent a rush down his spine.

“Ouch, babe, not so rough,” he purred. “I’m very sensitive.”

He glanced back quick to see your reaction and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You still wore a straight face that gave nothing away. No clenched jaw, no embarrassed tightening of your eyes. Definitely no hint of an amused smile.

Gods, babe. You were really testing him.

Guess he’d have to try harder.

***

You were new to the Santa Carla Police Department. Very new. New as in it was your first incident on your first night on patrol.

It was just your luck that you’d ended up with airhead who’d set off a whole fireworks display right outside of a crowded store, which could have serious injury, and was now trying to flirt his way out of it.

Hell—was he pouting?

For a city of its size, Santa Carla PD had a surprising number of job openings. You were new to the area, having moved because it seemed like a nice, sunny California beach town and you were in need of a change.

You didn’t have any prior experience but you’d passed all the screenings and tests and expected the job offer they made. It had benefits, the pay was good, and, importantly, it was legal which seemed to be in short supply around these parts.

That last part was a surprise, especially with the high number of missing people’s cases; you’d think that more places would be desperate to fill jobs, too.

Steering the suspect towards the check out counter, you flagged down the owner who had been the called in to the station.

He turned towards you with a smile on his face and greeted you politely. “Hello, officer.”

“We caught one suspect, sir. The other fled the scene and my partner went after him. I’ll get started on the report—are you planning to press charges?”

The smile was suddenly no where to be seen and he casted a glare at the handcuffed blonde.

“But of course. I’ve told this degenerate and the others in this gang to stay out of here a hundred times before. They’ve gone too far this time.”

The suspect merely shrugged his shoulders and winked at you which set the owner off further.

“That! That right there is what I’m talking about. No respect, no conduct. How is a father supposed to parent if he gets no respect? Maybe they’re missing a motherly influence,” he trailed off.

A motherly influence? Okaaay, then.

Clearing your throat, you tried to bring the conversation back to topic. “Yeah…Well let me put him in the car and then we can get started on the report. Have a good night, sir.”

That should’ve been the end of it but of course the blonde had to open his big mouth. “Bye daddy!”

Max’s hand came down heavy on the counter and you jostled the boy away before he managed to start a full-blown confrontation.

“You surely have a big mouth for someone who’s being arrested. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

His head perked up and you had to really plant your weight to keep him from turning around and sending you flying into a display in the process. Definitely stronger than he looked.

You noted that piece of information just in case he tried anything else.

“Aww. Are you worried about me?” he cooed. “Don’t be. I trust you to protect me, officer.”

“Any one ever tell you that you’re ridiculous?”

“All the time,” he nodded happily.

The profile of the suspect was coming together in your mind. Clearly, he was simple.

Happy and excitable, and yes, even pretty, but simple.

There’s no way he had been the mastermind behind the firework plot; that honor was likely saved for the one who escaped. He probably hadn’t agreed to do it with malicious intent either. Unfortunately, his inability to think things through had landed him in trouble and he was your problem now.

When you got to the entryway he even tried to the door open. “After you, officer.”

With a resigned sigh, you prodded him forward. Again. Really, this guy was worse than a puppy. A puppy could eventually be trained to listen but seeing as how he was late teens/early twenties, it was doubtful he ever would.

“You said your name was Paul?”

The p in his ‘yep’ popped.

“Last name?”

“Just Paul. I wouldn’t mind getting your name though.”

There’s no way you were telling him that. He would be that much more insufferable if he knew. And try as he might to hide his full name, that would come out when you booked him at the station.

“Well, Paul. You’re being charged with public endangerment and vandalism. Under California law, those are both misdemeanor crimes so most likely—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away your words with a flick of his head. Annoyed, you yanked on the cuffs, causing him to moan. “I do appreciate a good pair of handcuffs.”

“You—!” You had to stop yourself from calling him a little shit out loud. No one would’ve stopped you, but you felt weird about it, almost like it would come off as being unprofessional.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to bring your voice back down. “Saying crazy things is only going to make things worse for you.”

“Promise to punish me if I don’t?” Another wink was flashed at you.

It was at that point you noticed he had long lashes for a male. They fluttered like butterfly wings whenever he blinked. Except you had a job to do and really shouldn’t care about how pretty he was.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took you by surprise when he leaned in close. Acting on tactical instinct, you threw him against the police vehicle, his torso pressed against the hood with legs spread wide.

The position was designed to be as uncomfortable as it looked so that there was little to no chance of him bucking you off. Good.

“Need I remind you,” you said gruffly, “That you are under arrest. Don’t test me.”

“You should most definitely frisk me,” he panted.

You sincerely hoped it was pain, and not from pleasure, but from your brief encounter with Paul, it honestly could be the latter. Your own heart was pounding in your chest as well but that was due to the adrenaline pumping through your system.

Or so you maintained.

Still, he had a point. Frisking was standard procedure to make sure the suspect was carrying anything potentially dangerous, or illegal. Hell. You were going to have to give into this particular demand, weren’t you?

Wanting to get it over with, you tried to be as fast as possible while still be thorough.

His muscles were surprisingly cold as you felt up his arms and then his back. It was summertime and when most people had problems overheating, it didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

You dreaded going anywhere near his ass but it had to be done. He even insisted on ‘helping’ by pushing his cheeks further into your hands by curving his lower back as you patted down his pants pockets.

“Check the front too. I could have anything down my pants, ya know.”

That didn’t sound suggestive at all. His flirtations were so over the top is was near comical at that point. You couldn’t let him know that though. You were the authority figure in this situation.

“Alright smart guy, the frisking is over with. And surprise, surprise there was exactly nothing in your pants.”

“You wound me, babe.” If he had use of his arms, his hand would’ve definitely been placed over his heart.

Standing him upright, you opened the door to seat him in the back. That had been the plan any way.

One second you held his metal clad wrists firmly in your grip and in the next, he twisted himself away effortlessly.

He spread his hands apart and although they each had a shiny steel band around them, the chain that had connected them broke off with a metallic clink.

Just like that he was completely mobile and he wasted no time.

In another imperceptible move, he covered your back with his front, his breath tickling you.

You couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“It’s been a pleasure, officer, but I really should get going. I’m just too cute for jail.” He rolled his head and his nose traced the shell of your ear with a deep inhale. “This was fun though. Let’s do it again, hmm?”

He shoved you into the back seat and luckily your reflexes were fast enough to catch yourself before you face planted into the leather seat. Thrashing like mad, you spun around as fast as you could but it was no use: Paul was already gone.

Stumbling out, you looked back and forth hoping to catch a glimpse of what direction he went but it was useless. Not only was that little shit stronger than he seemed, he was also faster.

Noted.

With a sinking realization, you knew you were going to have to explain this to your partner.

Oh, you were not looking forward to this…

Worst first night on a job ever.

_______________

Hope you enjoyed Paul! I feel like this is goofy and over the top but I guess that’s basically Paul’s vibes in a nutshell. Marko has definitely gotten Paul arrested before and Max has definitely called the cops on them before too haha. Thanks for reading <3

#the lost boys #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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rextasywrites · 3 years

Note

i heard someone's got their requests open...... SO i dont really have much other than my thirst for smut and the total conviction that leon is a boobs man (while chris is an ass man), you can't change my mind. and its not even about size, i just know that man loves him some 🍒, big or small. anyways, im also a sucker for some angst so what about a little thing where leon and the reader broke up for whatever reason but deep down they miss each other a lot and wish they have not given up so easily, and then they sleep together... for like the first time since the break up and leon is all up on her and her 🍒 that he missee so much. just smut w a little plot lmao, thank you if you consider!! :)

This has been my favourite request so far so I had to get to it right away! i hope you enjoy it anon! <3

Warnings: smut and some angst at first

It’s been a month since Leon left. After one of the worst missions he ever had to face, he decided it was enough. If he had to face zombies and bio weapons and fuck knows what else, he’d do it alone and not risk her life too. Breaking up was the wisest decision, keeping her save. As a Kennedy, she would always have a target on her back, ready to be shot at. And if another person he loves dies because of him...Leon didn’t know if he would be able to overcome the grief and sadness.

It was two in the morning when you heard someone banging against your door. Out of reflex, you grabbed the gun he had left at your apartment months ago, ‘just in case’. Now was one of those times you thought. With an unlocked gun and in your nightgown you headed towards the door. The mysterious visitor was still banging against it, saying your name over and over again. “(Y/N), (Y/N), open up!”, you’d recognize that voice anywhere. Leon. And he sounded drunk.

You placed the gun away and unlocked the door. This caught Leon by surprise and he stumbled forwards, thanks to your great reflexes you caught him before his pretty face could kiss the hardwood floor. “Leon, the fuck you doing here?”, you asked as you helped him back on his feet. Together you headed to the living room where you sat him down on the couch, getting him a glass of water.

“I miss you baby!”, Leon hip cupped during the sentence, giving you his best puppy eyes. Fuck, not the puppy eyes…

“Leon, we broke up a month ago.”, you replied as you placed the cup of ice cold water in his hands. It still hurt, and seeing him in a state like this confirmed your belief that he wasn’t taking it easily.

Leon shrugged and took a few sips from the water, pulling a face. “That’s not wodka…”, he muttered as he placed the glass down. “Anyway. I missed you and your smell and your soft hair and your boobs and…”

You sighed and cupped his cheeks, “Leon, stop it. We broke up for a reason…”

“And that reason is stupid as fuck. I miss you.”, he confessed like the drunken mess that he is, still using his puppy eyes like you. Leon tilted his head, sticking his bottom lip out, “I miss waking up to you next to me, when you drool on your pillow and your hair is all messy an-”

You cut him off. Enough is enough. You had longed for him and his touch ever since he walked out of the door of your apartment, crying just like you did. Ever since you wanted him for yourself again, your Leon. You cut him off with a soft kiss, tasting the various liquors he had dumped into his body into the hours prior to your meeting.

“Leon…”, you whispered against his lips, the stubble of his beard scratching against your cheeks as he rubbed against you. All the feelings pent up were crashing down on you, and you both couldn’t hold back the desire burning deep inside of your bodies.

“Bedroom. Now.”, Leon said as he stood up, pulling you with him. Despite his stumbling, the muscle memory told him where your bedroom was, and in no time you two were in the bed you had shared so many times. Leon pulled you into his lap, instantly burying his face between your breasts. As a breathy moan escaped your throat, Leon tugged on your nightgown. “Off.”

To his enjoyment, your nightgown found its way to your bedroom floor, and to his delight, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Damn, how I missed them”, Leon muttered as his eyes were fixed on your breasts, taking in their shape, form, even the colour of your nipples. His calloused fingers flicked your nipples, drawing a moan from your lips. Ever since he had found out they were your weakness...Nothing had stopped him from spending literal hours between them, drawing one orgasm after the other from your body.

“You sound so fucking sweet like that...missed your cute moans, babe.”, Leon growled out as he placed one hand on your hips, guiding you to grind against him. As if it was in your blood, you moved your hips against his, feeling his rather obvious bulge against your panties. “Good girl.”, Leon flicked his tongue over your nipples, one time each, just enough to make you wish for more. Your hand dug into his shoulders, a silent beg for touch and satisfaction.

The moment Leon wrapped his lips around your nipple felt as if you were floating on cloud 7. The familiar feeling of his teeth gently biting into your soft flesh, leaving marks behind to show whose girl you are. How his beard scraped ever so slightly against your skin, tiny red traces of your connection for days to admire. He sucked and licked as if his life depended on it.

Because you were so busy with the pleasure Leon brought upon you with his mouth, you didn’t realize that he had tugged your panties to the side, only when his fingers brushed against your clit was when you gasped. Leon pulled away from your tits, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple. What a sight, what a view. “Do you want this?”

“Of fucking course.”, you breathed out, and before Leon could suck on your other breast, you pulled him into another kiss, breathlessly but full of need and lust. While you kissed Leon, his fingers collected enough of your sheer endless wetness and plunged them inside of you. The stretch and calloused feeling made you feel filled up, a feeling you had longed for since Leon had last touched you. “Leon, please…”, you moaned out as he stroked over your g-spot, feeling every little bit of your inside, of the place that made you feel so good.

“Please what? Say it, little girl.”

“I want you Leon. Fuck, I need you. Now.”, and that was all Leon needed. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty and whining. You wiggled your hips while he pulled down his own jeans and took off his shirt, giving you enough time to admire the beautiful man in front of you.

Leon pulled you closer once he was undressed, leaning against the wall by the bed, guiding your hips closer to his. God, he was so beautiful with his uncut cock, standing at attention just because of you. “I missed this.”, you confessed and to your surprise, Leon agreed with you before he slowly guided himself inside of you. Fuck, how you deeply you missed his. It felt as if you two were made for each other. You needed a hot second to adjust to his size, he wasn’t so big that it would hurt, but...an impressive cock was hidden in his pants.

“Fuck, little girl, you feel so good.”, Leon groaned as he started to move his hips along with your, moving as one. He rested his head on your shoulder, one arm around your waist, the other one busy with rubbing your clit. His touch alone made you see stars, and since you hadn’t masturbated since he left, your orgasm was approaching fast.

The first waves of your orgasm caught Leon by surprise, making him look up to you. “Already?”, he asked, his lips parted and swollen from all the kisses you had shared. You nodded as another wave washed over you, and Leon felt his cock twitching inside of you. So tight, so fucking good…

“Fuck, baby”, Leon moaned against your skin, pulling you into another open mouthed kiss. The taste of alcohol was fading off, replaced with his unique taste. And fuck, it was an addicting taste. Your tongues danced together as every moan was swallowed by the other party.

It didn’t take much longer for you to cum. His thick fingers, his cock made for your pussy...together you reached your peaks, panting and moaning as the orgasms came over you. As you contracted around him, Leon filled you up to the brim, the sweetest feeling of them all with your lovers cum inside of you. Your neighbours probably heard your loud moans but at this moment, you couldn’t care less.

As Leon went soft, his cock slipped out of you, his cum dripping out. But in this very moment you felt more connected to Leon than you had ever been, and judging by his soft smile, he felt the same.

“Come on little one, lets catch some sleep?”, Leon suggested. It wasn’t even in question that he would leave. Fuck no, this bed had been his bed for so long and now came his chance to sleep in it again. You nodded and got off his lap. After quickly drying yourself up, you joined Leon under the covers, snuggling against his chest.

With a soft yawn you dozed off in your lovers arms, but you were sure you heard Leon say, “I love you and will do so forever.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #Anonymous

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

Devil Inside

pairing : childhood friends! Yuta x Y/N

genre : fluff, horror au, smut but not detailed

word count: 5.6k words

warnings: fuckboy Yuta, calling someone a 'goth girl', horror movies, Yuta becomes an incubus, too much blood, raw meat eating, flesh eating, human organ eating, slut shaming a minor character, calling Yuta a whore, killing, mention of male molestation, mentioned teacher-student intercourse, shirtless Yuta, mentions of breeding, mentioned kitchen sex, mentioned shower sex, mentioned rough sex, Y/N getting wounded, skipping classes, Yuta as a murderer, a cambion. In other words, this is disturbing and problematic.

a/n: Inspired by this set of pictures and the movie Jennifer's Body. This is my first time writing a horror themed AU and this is badly written. I just can't stop thinking about this so for me to do something productive today, I had to post this. 😂 This has uncomfortable theme so please read in moderation. I went crazy over this, sorry. Feedback is highly appreciated. 😘

You and Yuta had been friends since forever, stemming from the history of your parents being friends and all since college. Your home is his home and you have your own room in his house. Staying together inside one room isn't a problem, your parents trusted you both but growing up is different.

You had to admit that you grew up leading a boring life, too bookish, and didn't even interact with your classmates. Yuta, on the other hand, has always been the life of the party, the school superstar, the popular guy. And that huge difference created a wall between your friendship.

You didn't know when it started, it just did. He started hanging out with the cool kids while you were left in the shadows. You can't really get mad at him, that's growing up. And he didn't change when it was just the two of you.

When your parents would go abroad for their business trips, Yuta would check on you every night. If you have eaten dinner, if you've locked all the windows, or if you knew the number for the police station or the fire station in case something happens. He's still the same Yuta. Your childhood friend, Yuta.

"Did you do your assignments?" He asked, not removing his eyes from the TV where he's watching a horror film. This is something that he can't do at their home or his mom would freak out.

You rolled your eyes, answering a 'Yes, abeoji' while opening the fridge to see what to have for breakfast tomorrow then whining since there's more raw food in there than easy-to-eat foods. "I'll probably skip breakfast tomorrow." You said more to yourself, already thinking to wake up early and just get some waffles from the shop near the bus stop.

"Just leave the back door unlocked, I'll cook breakfast for you tomorrow." Yuta claimed that made you look at him.

You raised your eyebrow at that. "Weird that you're here." You started then sat next to him on the couch, "No date?" He showed a screenshot of her photo, a different girl than yesterday. She was wearing black, with black eyeliner, and a pierced eyebrow. "She looks like a goth. Is that your type now?"

"She's hot!" He exclaimed and you just nodded at him. "And she wants to meet at 11 pm so yeah." That was a weird time to meet up. But you didn't react and just focused on the TV just as the jump scare happened. You quickly hid your face on the throw pillow, blowing heavy breaths that made the guy next to you laugh. You hated horror, hated blood, and you're convinced that Yuta is doing this to scare you. "I'll get going." He said, standing up.

"Can you close the TV first? Or stop the movie, at least?" You said, face still behind the pillow. He laughed then closed the TV, engulfing you in darkness that made you more scared. The bloody face from the TV earlier flashing on your mind.

"Sorry Y/N. I promised not to scare you like that again." You heard him say then felt something warm on the top of your head followed by a smooching sound. He patted your head, "I really have to go. I'll see you in the morning."

You waited for the sound of the door closing before you removed the throw pillow from your burning face. He kissed your head, right? You felt that. Why would he do that? Does he know that you have a crush on him? Or is it just his manwhore ways? But why you? You screamed at the throw pillow, cursing at Yuta for being the charming guy he is.

You cannot deny the fact that each day, your feelings for Yuta had to grow. Who are you to blame when he's getting more handsome each day? And you're just a girl who has a weak heart for him. The image was still vivid in your mind, the first time you watched a horror movie and you were already crying in fright ten minutes into the movie. "I will protect you, Y/N." And you believed that. Yuta is always there to protect you.

A loud bang can be heard that made you wake up in your sleep. You listened for other noises and heard footsteps, someone is inside your home. The first instinct is to call Yuta but what if he's in another place, you cannot trouble him. So you just took the baseball bat he lent you for this circumstance, repeating in your mind the number of the police station.

You quietly tiptoed down the stairs and saw the light of the refrigerator open. Is it a food thief? And how did he come inside your house? You can see a trail of blood on the kitchen floor that startled you. The bat was dropped on the floor when you saw someone seated in front of the refrigerator. "Yuta?"

He was covered in blood, eating the raw beef as if starving. His eyes were blood cold and you stepped back in fright. He looks like a monster. What kind of a crazy dream is this? You have to do something to wake up. Anything to wake yourself up.

And as stupid as you sound, you hit your head with the bat that was on the ground.

You opened your eyes, the sunlight hitting your eyes and your head aching real bad as if something hit you. You groaned while stretching then remembered your dream. Yuta. Your kitchen. Quickly, you ran to the kitchen to see Yuta’s mom cooking something. “I’m glad you’re up. You’ll be late for class.”

“Auntie, where is Yuta?” She shrugged, saying that he didn’t even go home last night. It was a normal occurrence, that’s part of Yuta’s social life. “I’ll just prepare for school.” When you glanced at the couch, Yuta’s baseball bat was there. Weird, isn’t it supposed to be in your room?

You had a nice breakfast, thanks to Yuta’s mom, and enough time to go to school. The first thing was to get your books in your locker and walk to class, avoiding some of your schoolmates who block the way. Before you can get inside the room, you see Yuta passing by opposite your way with a new girl in his arms. You knew her, the cheerleader, the basketball team’s girlfriend. Wow, she reached the soccer team now. When your eyes met with Yuta, you were reminded of him seated on your kitchen floor. Filled with blood and with dead cold eyes. You shake your head. That was a dream. You shivered. A very vivid dream.

It was a normal boring school day, a typical day that it surprised you when Yuta wrapped his arms around you then leaned closer. “I need your help.” A curious look was etched on your face. “Math. Help me study for the exam tomorrow.” You nodded, removing his hand from your shoulder. “Why?” He asked before putting back his hand on you.

“I just don’t want your girlfriends to misunderstand.” Yuta chuckled then pinched your cheek. “Yuta, stop it. It hurts.”

He smiled. That breathtaking smile which makes you weak for him. “Sorry.” He whispered then leaned to place a kiss on your reddening cheek, startling you. Your eyes widened at his actions. What is wrong with Yuta? “You do know that I like you more than I like those girls, right?” What? Your heart kept on beating wildly against your chest that you’re scared he might hear it. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Once you breathe in, without realizing that you’re holding your breath, you saw everyone’s eyes were on you. Oh no! This is trouble.

You went home early, trying to stay away from your schoolmates. You don’t want to talk to them and explain that you’re friends with Yuta, that will cause some damage to him. But why did he do that? You tried raking your brains for an answer but you can’t seem to find the right one. So you just shrugged it and maybe ask Yuta when he gets to your house.

It’s late at night. You finished reviewing the whole chapter for your exam tomorrow yet Yuta is a no show. You lightly glanced at the house next door, seeing that the living room lights were on. Their car isn’t in the garage, meaning his parents are not at home. Then you saw the silhouette of someone making out on the couch. Oh, his ditching makes sense now. You closed the door and made sure to close the light, ready to get a good night’s sleep.

You opened your eyes in darkness, the clock reading that it’s almost 4 am. You felt thirsty that you decided to go downstairs to get a cup of water, halfway through the stairs you can see someone on the other door’s yard digging up something. Curious, you put on a coat and exited the backdoor to check on it. The same Yuta, covered in blood, and this time you knew you weren’t dreaming.

“Yuta?” You called but he kept digging. Blood mixed with the soil and the most horrible thing you can see, limbs. “Yuta.” You called once again, even holding his shoulder to make him look at you. He kept covering the body with the soil, even covering it up with a large pot. What has he done? This isn’t the Yuta you know and it scared you.

“Y/N.” He called that made you look at him. The warmth of his voice is still there. “Help me, please.” He sounded broken. “I’m really scared.” The first time you saw this reaction on Yuta. He looks so fragile, so vulnerable.

There’s a part of you that’s still wary of him. You have questions in your head that you wanted to ask him and you waited for him to finish his shower, while you make coffee for both of you, as you collect your thoughts. When he sat in front of you at the kitchen table, he looked like the Yuta you knew except there’s pain in his eyes. “Yuta.” You called, rubbing the side of your cup. “What…?” But you don’t know what to ask him.

“I killed Miss Jang.” Your eyes widened in surprise. The assistant PE teacher? “We had amazing sex and then…” You shook your head. He had sex with a teacher? Wow, his man whoring is of another level. “You don’t understand, she’s been touching me appropriately for the past couple of months so I just gave her what she wanted.”

A gasp escaped your throat. “She’s what?” He just stared at you. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Do you think someone would believe me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head. “Because it’s embarrassing.” You scoffed then rolled your eyes at him. “So you killed her?”

“I ate her.”

“Yuta, I don’t need the details of your sexcapades…”

“I ate her organs.” Your eyes widened in surprise. What? “It’s a craving after having sex with someone. I just want to eat something raw and her flesh can’t even satisfy me.” That explains why he’s covered with blood.

The memory of that night came to you, when he was eating that raw meat from the fridge. “When did it start?” He answered last night and you were more surprised that it is true and not a dream. “How?” He shrugged. “What do you plan to do now?”

“I don’t know.” He held your hand that was on the table, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Help me, please. I don’t want to kill another woman again.” You sighed. This was Yuta. Your childhood friend. The guy you like. You nodded before thinking how stupid it is to do this.

The news of Miss Jang being missing is the talk in your class the next day but what’s more surprising is some testimony of the guys who were molested by her, like Yuta. You watched as your friend fiddled with his thumbs, obviously listening to your classmates. He actually did them a favor but something isn’t right. Why is this happening to Yuta?

A sexual thirst, a thirst for flesh. Your phone showed a result called an incubus, a demon that pursues sexual relations with women. But why does Yuta keep on eating flesh to satisfy his craving? You stood up and decided to ditch class just to have the answers to your questions, finding yourself in the back of the library. The collection of forbidden books.

“What are you doing here?” You immediately hushed Yuta as you got hold of a black book, opening it to reveal different pentagrams and illustrations of spooky creatures. “What is that?”

“An incubus.” You said then sat on the library floor, Yuta following you. “Demons who attract women for sexual pleasure.” Before he could say anything else, “I think that was what is happening to you.”

You visibly saw him gulp. “You think I’m a demon?” No, you don’t.

“Possessed by a demon, Yuta.” You flipped the pages of the book to see about the different rituals on how to summon a demon. “Did you join a cult? Or even got drugged and was offered as a human sacrifice?” You stopped. That night. That girl. “The goth girl, you saw her that night. Do you remember what happened?”

“We had sex.” You rolled your eyes at that, of course. “I told her I’m a virgin because she likes guys like that. We had amazing sex, mind-blowing sex.” You sighed. “Then I woke up on your kitchen floor.” That’s all he remembers? Finally, your thoughts are confirmed, it isn’t a dream. You really saw Yuta that night. “You were lying on the ground as well and I had to remove my shirt before carrying you to your room.”

The thought of the shirtless Yuta carrying you made the blood rose up your cheeks. “You were covered in blood that time and the trail…”

“I had to clean that up before you wake up because you’re scared of blood.” You stared at him warmly. He had to think about that? “You saw me?” You nodded, sharing that he was eating that raw meat when you saw him. “Did I scare you?” If there was one person you cannot lie to, that would be Yuta. He can easily see through you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I won’t hurt you, I promise that.”

You held his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll help you, Yuta. We can remove that demon inside you.”

The only conclusion you can come up with is to meet with the same goth girl he met before. Yuta remembered having sex with her and he was eating that raw meat as if really hungry so she might be alive, Yuta didn’t kill her. And you have to hurry because each night that passes, Yuta has someone to bury in the backyard. It's a female prostitute one night, then a drug pusher, followed by the girl in class who bullied you.

It's becoming a huge issue in town, the disappearance of young girls, that your parents had to come home quickly worried about your safety. "From now on, go home early." Your dad ordered. "I'll ask Yuta to walk you home every day." How would they feel if Yuta was the one doing all these?

He was worried about you joining him in meeting up with the girl, even repeating to you that he'll kill himself if something bad happens to you but you assured him that you'll be fine. It's not you who needed help now, it was him. You need to put a stop to this before another one gets hurt.

The girl was laughing cynically when you asked her what to do to remove the demon inside your friend. "A cambion." She answered and you curiously gave her a look. "That's the goal of an incubus. Once there's a cambion, he will leave the body he's possessing."

A cambion? All you need is to have a cambion so the demon can leave Yuta. You searched what it was and just facepalmed yourself. Fuck this! Will he be saved?

----

"You want me to breed someone?" You shiver at his choice of words but nod, nonetheless. "How can I do that when eating them becomes part of the sexual process?"

You shook your head then ruffled your hair. This is getting you crazy. "You know, this is your fault for whoring around. If you just had a fixed girlfriend then this wouldn't happen…"

"Then why did you reject my confession?" You blinked twice as if it can clear what you heard. Did you hear him correctly? "I told you I'll marry you in senior year and what is your answer? I'm not marrying you, Yuta." He said while copying your voice, leaving you dumbfounded. "I was heartbroken that time so I started dating other girls then maybe you can finally notice me."

"I thought you were teasing me that time." Your voice got louder that your mom knocked on the door asking if you two were fighting. He shook his head, smiling at your mom. When she closed the door, you just stared at him awkwardly. Once again, you had to ruffle your hair. This is so frustrating! "Just, make a baby with someone."

You waited, biting your thumb as the clock struck 3 am. You haven't had the right sleep thinking of what might happen to Yuta then you saw movement in the yard. Quietly, you went out of the backdoor of your house and saw him outside, blood on his clothes. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "Same."

"Where is her body?" You removed your cardigan to wipe away the blood from his face and his neck.

He looks tired, hopeless. "I left her body on a roadside." You gasped at that. "I can't save myself. I'll be like this forever." He can't, he needed to fight himself. Fight his urges. But even you knew that it was impossible.

There was a flicker of light coming from their kitchen, someone was going to see you. They're going to see Yuta with a bloody shirt like this. "Remove your shirt." You ordered and he looked confused so you just ripped it from him. Shit, you just realized how this looked like when two booming voices can be heard calling both your names. Both your dads.

"Where is your shirt?" Your dad asked, arms crossed. You're inside your house, both your fathers and mothers staring at the two of you. "And you're wearing only that outside?" You glanced at the thin nightgown you were wearing and Yuta handed you a throw pillow. "Please wear your shirt, Yuta."

"I ripped his shirt, dad." You heard both your moms giggle. "Can we please not make a big deal of this? This isn't what you think it is."

Yuta's dad sighed. "Our only concern is why bother doing it outside? We let you sleep in each other's room." What?

"Are you exhibitionists?" Your mom asked and you gasped. Is that what they're thinking now? Your head aches, you didn't have any decent sleep yet and this ordeal with Yuta is making you lose your mind. Can't you just all talk tomorrow, not at 4 in the morning?

Yuta held your hand, lacing your fingers together. "I'm willing to take responsibility if something happens to Y/N." Surprised, you glanced at him. Nothing happened, he knew that. What the hell is he saying so suddenly? "But can I please stay with Y/N tonight, uncle?"

It was a surprise when your dad allowed you both to go upstairs to your room but you had to wait until they're in their rooms before getting your cardigan and Yuta's blood-stained clothes from the yard. Yuta was still seated on your bed when you went back to your room, staring at you with his misty eyes.

He pulled you close, arms wrapped around your waist while his head was on your chest. "I'm scared." His hold got tighter. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." If you're frustrated with this, you realized Yuta might be in bigger pain than you are. You held his hair, threading your fingers along its strand. You've been together for so long but this has been the most intimate thing that you two had ever done. "You were right, this is my fault for hurting those girls. I used them for my self pleasure, to boost my ego. This is me getting punished for all of that."

You held his hands, kneeling in front of him to see his face. "But you don't deserve this, Yuta." You held his cheeks as tears started falling from his eyes. "We'll do something, I promise."

He pulled you up, letting you sit on his lap. The warmth of his eyes makes your heart beat rapidly inside your chest. "I love you, Y/N." Your eyes widened at the sudden confession, "I'm sorry for getting you dragged into this but I'm thankful you haven't left me yet." He hugged you, head on your shoulder and you can feel his warm breath on your neck. "I love you. I don't want you to leave me."

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He's scared, you can feel him shaking. "I won't leave you, Yuta." You let him sob in your chest like a little child just wanting some warmth. And you realized, this might be just what he needed.

Both of you skipped school that morning since you slept at 5 am, just laying next to each other. Your head on his chest, hands held together. It was him who first got out of bed, prepared himself, then placed a small kiss on our head before leaving your room. If only you could stay like this. But he had to go and fuck another woman tonight to satisfy his thirst, making your heart ache. Can you live like this?

Your parents and Yuta were seated around the dining table when you went down for breakfast. "We were just telling Yuta that we have a business trip in Brazil." You nodded, used to it by now. "And because of the news around, it would be better that he stay here with you." Your mom suggested that it made you surprised. After last night, they're letting you live in one roof with a guy, unsupervised?

"Mom. I can stay at home alone."

"I know. But just to be safe." You're not even safe with their suggestion. "I know what you're thinking honey. You're a female and a male with raging hormones, it's alright with us." Yuta choked on the food and you hissed at your parents.

Your dad coughed lightly. "We stacked some condoms just in case."

"Dad!"

"Honey, we agreed to let them have their freedom." You glared at your mom. "We really wanted a grandchild." It's your turn to choke at your food. Then it made you stop. If he breeds a human, the incubus will go away. This might just be your answer.

---

"No, Y/N!" Yuta stated firmly after explaining what your plan is. "What if I hurt you?"

You shook your head. You're not scared of that now but you're frightened for Yuta and the things that might happen to him if this continues on. The police started investigating the missing dead girls, it's only a matter of time before they can chase down Yuta. You held his cheeks, distress can be seen in his expression. "I trust you, Yuta."

It was a crazy plan. When your parents left that afternoon, you stacked up some raw meat that the butcher thought you were throwing a party. Yuta didn't kill the first girl, the goth girl, and you're holding to that belief that Yuta can have some control over himself. When the night struck, you locked all doors to your house that would forbid Yuta from going out.

"I'm giving you the last chance to back out from this, Y/N." You shook your head. "I'm sorry." He whispered, carrying you to the countertop of the kitchen. "If something bad happens, I'll kill myself. I swear."

You giggled then wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then we'll be like Romeo and Juliet." He laughed at your reference before moving closer to plant his lips on yours. Your first kiss with Yuta. His lips were so soft and he tasted so sweet that made your brain hazy.

When he slipped his tongue inside you and his fingers dug on your waist, you knew there's no way you can get out of this. You can feel his warmth in every touch, in every part of your skin his lips touched. He slowly undressed you, making sure that he's still Yuta and whispering promises that he wouldn't hurt you. He didn't at first and you refused to believe that you made love with him at your kitchen counter.

The grandfather clock signaled that it is midnight. Yuta just pulled you down from the kitchen counter, turning you around, and thrust into you that made you scream. No foreplay, no kissing. You turned to see his eyes, those dead eyes. His hand held your neck, the other digging in your waist. You prevent making a sound, not wanting to alert his parents next door. His teeth dig in your shoulder, an excruciating pain that makes you bite your lip to prevent a sound. This is how he kills them.

You tried to reach for the raw meat nearby, desperately trying to move out of his hold. You pushed yourself away from the counter, causing him to fall to the ground. You watched as he took the meat and ate it as if starved, like the first night you saw him in this state. Every night, he's like this. An appetite for sex, an appetite for flesh.

And it breaks your heart that you can't do anything to help him.

He ate five portions of the raw meat and you mentally told yourself to get some tomorrow for what might happen at night. You covered him with a blanket as he lay down your kitchen floor, kissing his forehead. You wanted this to stop, wanted him to be normal again. You clean the wound on your shoulder as well as the scratch on your side, hissing in pain as you put medicine on the bleeding part.

You woke up with his warm arms wrapped around you, a kiss on your wounded shoulder woke you up. "Did I do this? I really did hurt you." He grazed his finger on the spot that hurt as you shook your head. He nuzzled his nose on your shoulder and you felt his warmth. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"But Yuta this is better. We know that you still have control over yourself." You sat on the bed and he traced the scratch on your side. "When the clock struck twelve, that's when you started having that hunger. We're slowly knowing things about you now. We can do this together, Yuta."

He nodded, watching you stand up then head to the bathroom. You were supposed to close the door when you felt him enter the same room. The warm feeling is back when his hands touch your body, in contrast to the cold water cascading down your body. You skipped class again because of the pain in your shoulder and he went to school.

If this continues, it's better to listen to both your parents and just get married. Live together in a far city where you can start a new life, maybe you can give birth to Yuta's child and it will end his suffering. As you put new meat inside the fridge, you heard a knock on the door. Yuta came in with a distressed look on his face. "The police are at school. They were starting to suspect a student at school."

"Did you do anything?" He shook his head, hands clasped together. "Just lay low for a while."

"What if they found out that it was me?" You shook your head, that's the worst-case scenario. And you promise not to let that happen.

He stayed at your house, particularly your room that night. When the clock struck twelve, you were pushed on your bed with Yuta pounding on you real rough. The moment you felt his lips on your neck, you rolled to the bed and reached for the raw meat on the bedside table. You breathed hard, you can do this.

The police were doing their best, you had to give them that. And it scares you that they'll narrow it down to you and Yuta doing these things. The disappearance of the women stopped but the deaths were a mystery that the police remained to look for clues. It's been a couple of nights since you've done this with Yuta and every day, a new wound would appear on your body.

Your parents came back from their business trip when they noticed the amount of raw meat in your fridge and the wounds in your body. You tried to shrug it off, saying that it's just your clumsiness. Yet, they never bought it. You cannot ask Yuta to stay over so you keep your phone in your ear, watching his room for movements. The moment the clock struck midnight, nothing happened to your surprise. He kept saying that he's fine, that he doesn't need anything, that he's still Yuta. Maybe an off day.

You slept relieved but woke up with the sound of police sirens. You glanced at the window outside and saw the yard next door being dug out by your dad and some men in uniform, Yuta's dad watching nearby. How? You ran downstairs to check on Yuta but your mom quickly told you to stay inside. "We're sorry, we trusted you to a murderer."

"He's not." You shouted trying to see from the window. Yuta was handcuffed, a large man holding him in place. He shook his head when your eyes met and the sight of rotten decaying bones caught your attention.

Your stomach churned and you vomited on the kitchen sink, your mom helping you by rubbing your back. "He's such a sweet child. What happened to Yuta?" Your mom asked and you itched to tell her that it's not him. A devil inside him.

Your eyes widened at the realization. Nothing happened last night. Now, you're having this weird feeling in your body. A cambion. And you felt yourself fainting at that information.

---

It's been years, seven years to be exact when that moment happened to your life. Yuta's parents moved to a different town but you still see them from time to time, as well as your parents. When they found out that you were pregnant with Yuta's child, they immediately sent you away to give birth abroad. Your son was three when you went back to the country and introduced him to his dad.

"Daddy!" Your son cheered seeing his dad walking outside the huge gates of the visitor's area. The older was grinning wide, carrying his son to where you are. He kissed you on your forehead and your son giggled, "Daddy, mommy said I can go to a big school this year." He nodded, letting the young boy sat on his lap. "Grandma and grandpa are going to buy me my bag."

Yuta giggled and you noticed how the two looked very much alike. It was the exact reason why your parents warmed up on Yuta and let you introduce your son to him. "I'm sorry. But when dad gets out of here, I'm going to pick you up from school every day."

You can feel your eyes water at that. The younger boy wrapped his arms around his neck, "When are you getting out of here?" You both sighed. It's always his question.

"Just another three years, then we can be together." There's a lot of pain in his words. "You and mommy can wait for me, right?" Your son nodded.

He reached out to hold your hand that was above the table. You nodded at him. You waited this long, another three years wouldn't hurt. He engaged in another conversation with the younger boy and you gazed at him, he looks better than the first few years he's here.

"Time to get back, Nakamoto." The police officer said and your son hugged his father's neck, refusing to let go of him.

This has always been a problem every time you visit Yuta. "Honey, we have to go. Daddy has to get back." You said quietly, taking him from Yuta. Your son glared at the big man behind his dad and he just turned his head to look at the wall. "Honey, let's get ice cream." You said quickly and the younger smiled at you. The guard turned around, asking what happened that his head was hurting.

Yuta gave you a worried look but you just shook your head, putting sunglasses on your son. "Say bye to daddy." You whispered and he obeyed you. "I'll come to visit you soon."

He kissed you on the forehead, "I'm sorry." Again. you shook your head. No one warned you about having a cambion and the risk it takes to be its parents. "I love you." But right now, your son and Yuta are the most important people in your life.

"I love you, too." And you're willing to throw everything in the past just to be happy with your small family.

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