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scarletnwidow · 3 years

Text

Destroyed

Part 2

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader (implied Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader)

Warnings: mentions of murder, cussing

A/N: aaaand this is where the angst start, I guess? lol pls give me some sort of feedback, because my ideas for this series hurt me lmao

Summary: You always thought that the best way to get revenge is to let them see you’re happy. You also thought that the best way to move on is to convince yourself that you’re okay until you no longer need any more convincing. You’re about to find out how effective it was.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Wanda has never felt fear like this since she and Pietro were trapped for two days waiting to die. Her eyes widened in panic as she felt your shoulders tense. She didn’t realize that she said it out loud, and she can feel her heart beating so loud and fast she’s definitely sure you can hear it.

You were still silent, so she’s already thinking of believable excuses to take it back. You were startled, to say the least. Your best friend just said she loves you. The first thing that came to your mind was ‘wait, what?’ And then the whirring in your brain is suddenly so loud trying to figure out what she meant that you didn’t notice her discomfort.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just throw it out on you like that.” You only snapped out of your own thoughts when you heard her speak. That’s when you noticed how her body was trembling, which you were still leaning on.

Your eyes snapped up to hers and saw the pure terror in them, and the tears threatening to fall.

You’re sure that your brain had a short circuit because you don’t remember the next thing you did...

until you felt Wanda’s lips on yours.

*****

1 year later

It had been over a year ago when you first met the love of your life.

Yes, since that day, you have been dating your best friend and you have never been so happy in your life.

Never in a million years would you think the universe will ever give you love, after everything that you’ve done. But, you’re grateful and definitely not complaining.

The rest of the team has been nothing but supportive. Tony would always brag that he knew it since day 1, with Steve backing him up saying all your banters before were low-key flirting. You two were the only oblivious ones.

Natasha had claimed the ‘best friend’ title, as your previous one just got promoted to ‘girlfriend’. You couldn’t be happier.

She didn’t fail to live up to her new title as your new best friend. She had told you about how she talked to Wanda, all those months ago. Your face would immediately turn red whenever Natasha would bring it up and your girlfriend will always laugh and tease you about it. “Take a picture, Y/N. It’ll last longer.”

Natasha said as she once again, caught you staring lovingly at your girlfriend. Wanda was cooking, so you’re just at the table staring at her with a huge smile on your face. You can’t help it, you’re in love.

The brunette glanced at you then at Natasha, then chuckled to herself. You also never fail to send a playful glare to the redhead whenever she teases you about how lovestruck you are.

“Mind your business, Romanoff.” You’d scoff with an eye roll.

“Oh, sweetheart. You have a girlfriend because of me. You’re welcome, by the way.” And with that, Wanda and Natasha would always laugh out loud as you’re left to blush at the corner.

You were stunned the first time they told you. You and Wanda have already been dating for a few months before you were dragged in the lounge with Natasha and Wanda, the two women were basically shaking trying to control their laughter.

You couldn’t be any more grateful to Natasha. She did realize your feelings for your best friend way sooner than you. She had held back on her own feelings, didn’t take advantage of your obliviousness to take you for herself.

You were grateful that she did because you couldn’t imagine yourself be with anyone other than the Scarlet Witch, no, Wanda Maximoff. It may be too soon for some, but you already know that you want to be with Wanda for the rest of your life.

You have never felt so sure about anything in your life.

You want to wake up in the morning with her on your side, her green eyes the first thing you’ll see when you open yours.

You two have always been at each other’s sides during missions. When you’re not assigned to a mission together, one of you will always be in the hangar seeing the other off and then will be there in the same spot when the other returned.

You also shared your schedules, so Wanda knows if you have a coming-up mission and you’d know if she does. It was your thing, the comfort that you two will always know that you have each other’s backs.

You always tell Wanda everything going on inside your head because you know she stopped reading minds without permission.

Everything is going perfectly.

Yet, at the back of your mind, you still couldn’t completely let go of your doubts, even if you keep telling yourself you two will be fine. But then there was that one voice in your head, “Perfect doesn’t last forever.”

It was the one thing you could never have the guts to tell her because sometimes it feels valid and sometimes it just feels ridiculous.

Wanda is an extremely great girlfriend, you’re very sure about that. She always makes you feel loved, until she doesn’t. and girl, how right that voice was.

*****

Two years have passed. When you had said “I love you, too” to your girlfriend two years ago, you’d think that right now you could never wish anything more. That you already have everything you need because you’re with your family and the love of your life. You love her with all the fiber in your being and she loves you just the same.

Right? You’re leaning on the kitchen counter with Natasha, your eyes glued to the coffee already cold in your hands. The redhead was watching you carefully; she’s the only person you could confide in with all your heart aside from Wanda. So, she knows everything that’s been going on.

For the past few months, you’ve been spending almost 80% of your time cracking through the depths of your brain trying to figure out where and when it all started.

You didn’t know if you actually don’t know, or you’ve just been brushing aside all the signs throughout those months and telling yourself everything’s fine.

Because that’s what she said.

“Baby? Where are you? Clint’s already here, I told you I have a surprise for our date night!”

You had sent that text 2 hours ago. And you’re still clutching your phone in your hand, afraid that you’ll miss her reply if you’d set it down.

Natasha spent a good 10 minutes searching for you in the compound. You weren’t in your room, not in Wanda’s, not in hers, and not in the gym. Then she suddenly remembered your favorite place.

The redhead found you pacing back and forth on the rooftop. A romantic picnic set up just a few steps in front of you.

She frowned as she walked towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She said, gently catching your arm to stop your pacing.

You looked at her in panic, “Wanda’s not answering any of my calls and texts! Clint got back 2 hours ago, he said Wanda told him that she’ll be going home by herself. What if something happened to her?”

Natasha sighed, “She’s gonna be fine. There’s got to be a reason why. I’m sure she’ll tell you once she comes back. Plus, she’s Wanda, I’m more worried for whoever’s going to attack her.” The redhead joked to ease the tension. Which was successful, as you giggled softly and smiled at her.

You looked back to where you set up your picnic, then glanced back up to the sky, seeing that the sun had started to set.

Natasha literally saw your shoulders slump, smiling sadly at the sun as it illuminated the whole rooftop with gorgeous shades of orange and yellow.

“Okay, Y/L/N, let’s not waste what you’ve got in here. The smell is literally calling my name.” Natasha playfully shoved you as she sat down on the blanket and shoved three macarons on her mouth.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes at your best friend, “I’m not gonna carry you if you choked, Romanoff.” You said as you sat down and poured two glasses of champagne.

Natasha had saved your ass countless times in battles before, and you were glad she’s saving your ass in these times as well.

Wanda came back a good few minutes after you’ve finished your picnic with Natasha. You two were goofily shoving past each other on the way to the kitchen, both your hands full from all the picnic stuff you shared.

The brunette had just stepped into the lounge when she heard your laugh, then Natasha’s following closely behind. When she turned in the corner to the kitchen, she found you and Natasha sipping champagne, picnic blankets, and a basket still on the kitchen counter.

Your back is on Wanda, so Natasha’s eyes were the first to notice the brunette in the corner. Natasha was staring right at her, and Wanda can’t help but stare right back with a frown.

You only noticed she was looking somewhere else when she stopped laughing.

No, she was glaring at something behind you.

You turned around and saw Wanda, her eyes snapping up to meet yours. Natasha only looked away from her when you basically ran up to her.

“Wanda! Is everything alright, babe? Where have you been?” Your voice thick with concern, your girlfriend only giving you a tired smile.

“I’m sorry, everything’s good. I just had to do some stuff. I’m a little tired.” Your eyes instantly softened, her standing you up in your date completely forgotten as you smiled softly at her. Both of you made your way to her room, which had become your shared room.

*****

It was the first of the many signs. You never paid any attention to it back then, nor to every other sign after that. Fortunately for you, Natasha did. You visibly flinched when Natasha grabbed the mug on your hands, thankfully she did, as you would’ve dropped it since your mind just got back from wandering in a million different places.

The redhead raised an eyebrow at you, completely aware of what your thoughts are, as usual.

“You have to talk to her, or I will.” Your best friend said. You sighed, knowing that the threat is half real.

“I can’t just jump to conclusions, Nat.”

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. An idiot maybe, but you’re not stupid. You can feel it as much as I do, and I’m not even her girlfriend!” The redhead exclaimed.

It’s true. You can feel it. You can feel it in every inch of your heart. Everything doesn’t feel fine. Something’s wrong, something has changed.

You’re scared, yes. You’re scared that if you confronted your girlfriend about it, you might only make it worse.

And you couldn’t accept that.

Wanda would sleep with her back on you, which is very unusual because before, she wouldn’t sleep if your arms weren’t around her. You would also wake up with cold sheets beside you, which was a big step back from the usual green eyes that stared at you in the morning.

Wanda also stopped telling you voluntarily about her day, her missions, and her usual routine. She would tell you whenever you ask, but when you noticed that, your ego was a little hurt. So, you stopped asking and stopped telling her yours. She never asked. You’ve noticed a time or two that some members of the team would look at you and Wanda with curious glances. You no longer have your playful banters, Wanda no longer cooks you breakfast, and she no longer try to be beside you all the time like she used to. It’s killing you inside. You’d also notice receiving sympathetic glances when Wanda would sit with Vision during movie nights. Him in your usual spot beside her, while you curled up with blankets beside Natasha, wanting desperately for the Earth to just swallow you whole.

You started to get sick of all the sad smiles thrown your way when your girlfriend would sidle with Vision. You find yourself glaring back at the person who would give you even a glance after seeing Wanda and Vision together. Natasha was downright pissed. She was so damn close to walking up to Wanda and call all of her bullshits out. The pain in your eyes is too much, it also hurt her. As much as she sympathizes with you, she also didn’t hide how annoyed she was with your actions.

You were being a coward. She couldn’t understand how you’re willing to live in pain desperately trying to save a relationship she wasn’t sure is worth saving anymore.

It’s painfully obvious that you’re the only one trying. And she hates that you couldn’t— you refuse to see that. If you were being honest, you know in your heart that this isn’t good. That this wouldn’t end in your favor. No matter how painful it was, it’s still the truth.

“Babe, can we talk?” You tentatively asked your girlfriend as the two of you were preparing for bed.

“About what?” She answered without glancing at you. She sat down and proceeded to position herself under the blanket.

“S-Should I worry about Vision?” You nervously asked. Wanda’s eyes quickly snapped at you. You can’t help but see defensiveness and the threat to drop the subject in them.

She only stared at you, and you were beginning to get uncomfortable under her gaze that you shifted on your feet and stared at the ground.

At your movement, she scoffed, “What about him? He’s our friend.” Wanda had already laid down with her back on you. Her tone screams that she’s done with the conversation.

All the muscles in your body are begging you to continue, but for some reason, you couldn’t make yourself utter another word.

You know, no, you can feel that Wanda’s love is no longer how it used to be. She no longer looks at you with that glint in her eyes, the stare she reserved for you is now being thrown at a fucking toaster.

You know that it’s a bit unfair to Vision, but you couldn’t care less. You’re hurting, and it definitely feels like a toaster is stealing your girlfriend.

Y̶ou sometimes think of going to Tony and ask why couldn’t it be Siri that he gave a body to instead of Jarvis.

Needless to say, you’re aware of your relationship crumbling. You just like to tell yourself that everything’s going to be fine so you brushed up the red flags and pretended you didn’t see them.

It worked when you lost your family; you’ve held your sister in your arms as she bleeds out, asking and blaming yourself how you’re fine and they’re not. You’ve convinced yourself that after your initial grief, you’ll be fine. And it worked. You did turn out fine. So you thought of this the same way.

You just have the habit of running away. *****

You stopped sleeping in the same bed with Wanda after the night you accidentally showed vulnerability at the wrong place in wrong time. Another big mission has gone successfully. You, Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Tony are the only ones who went. And the Avengers once again destroyed a major Hydra base without casualties. Well, no major casualties.

The mission was successful, that’s what matters most. That’s why you spent the entire ride back home in the quinjet brushing off the team’s concern as Natasha and Steve desperately try to clog two holes in your body.

Mainly Natasha telling how stupid you are for catching the bullets aimed at her. “Guys, come on! I’ll be fine! This is nothing!” You said just as you coughed with blood in your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N. You’re not dying because of me.” Natasha’s voice cracked but you pretended you didn’t notice.

When you saw Natasha’s eyes were starting to glint with tears, you sighed and stopped talking.

You were shot right below your left collarbone mere inches from your heart, and another one on your right side below your rib cage. You’re technically laying on a pool of your own blood right now.

The initial 30-minute ride to the base was made into a 15-minute one on your way back. You were still conscious, but Steve picked you up bridal style before you can even protest.

When the quinjet’s doors opened, the first thing you saw was the rest of the team and the medical staff waiting in the hangar. Anxious faces were eager for your return.

You also noticed one thing. Your girlfriend wasn’t here. So was Vision. Your heart dropped, realizing all the promises you made for each other are starting to fade. Like it was made to be broken. You suddenly found yourself cursing that damn Hydra goon for being a terrible marksman that didn’t finish the job. You were fine, though. Dr. Cho has been operating on you for three hours and Natasha’s been by your side the whole time. Still in her suit with your dried blood covering the fabric.

You slowly opened your eyes, closing them just as quickly because of the bright light in the room. You felt a squeeze in your hand, a soft voice calling your name. “Y/N? Are you awake?”

Natasha. Of course. You opened your eyes again and turned to the redhead. You took in her appearance. Her hair is messy, her eyes are red with dried tears on her cheeks. Also, covered in blood.

You can’t help but chuckle. “You look horrible, Nat. You sure you shouldn’t be the one in this bed?” You joked, your voice cracked because your throat was dry. Natasha rolled her eyes, just in time to see a tear has escaped from her eyes.

She playfully scoffed and glared at you as she wipes her face. “You’re such an idiot.” She said as she reached on the bedside and offered you a glass of water.

The redhead seemed to read your mind that as you gave back the glass of water, she tentatively said, “Wanda’s not here.” She watched your face and was actually surprised by your lack of reaction. You already know.

A week later, you were almost good as new. You can now move around freely in the compound, but Steve and Natasha insisted that you take a break from missions. You didn’t mind, it’s nice to sometimes have the entire compound by yourself.

When Wanda found out you almost bled to death, she was genuinely terrified. She rushed to the medical bay and saw you playing on your phone with Natasha reading a book beside you.

You both looked up, Natasha never failing to send a glare at Wanda before telling you she’ll be back later, then turned to leave. Wanda suddenly became your girlfriend again. Or at least, it felt like you have a girlfriend again. You were so confused, but your heart is too happy to have the love of your life beside you again.

She would do all the things she did with you again, and you couldn’t be happier that things are finally coming together. As if the universe sensed your relief, it decided to crush your soul again. ***** Tony Stark being Tony Stark, he told the team one morning that he’s organized a party that weekend, to celebrate the team’s success and your fast recovery.

You were beyond ecstatic, you turned to the woman in your arms, green eyes stared right back at you, and gave you her biggest smile.

You were more than willing to forget the months' worth of pain she caused you, what matters is that she’s here in your arms right now.

You were too blind in ecstasy to notice that her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. The party was in full swing. Several SHIELD agents were lounging on the couch as Tony was telling the story of your mission’s success. You were supposed to be with him, as this party was also dedicated to you.

You were more than happy to be stuck at the bar with Natasha behind the counter, making drinks for the two of you to devour. You came to the party with Wanda, but as soon as Tony literally dragged you in front of everyone and the people gathered all around you, you lost sight of your girlfriend.

You figured you’d let her make rounds, as everyone in this room are your friends and family.

You and Natasha may or may not have already finished a bottle of whiskey with just the two of you. Even when you’re both sober, you two never ran out of things to talk about. Now that you’re drunk, conversations are even more flowing smoothly like water.

“So, where’s your girlfriend?” The redhead seemingly tries to open up another topic just as you two stopped laughing at whatever you were talking about before.

You frowned, yeah, where was your girlfriend? You don’t remember how much time you’ve been drinking, but it’s definitely some time now. Natasha noticed your confusion and laughed, “Your girlfriend is missing! Tell Steve to arrange for a search party.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from the barstool, “I’ll find her. Be right back.” You said as you walked around the room, tried to, at least.

When you couldn’t find the familiar brown hair of your girlfriend, you exit the room and began to make your way towards your room.

You felt a slight tug on your stomach, which immediately made you sober. It was your companion for years, the familiar tug that kept you alive in your work. Wanda wasn’t in her room or yours, nor in the kitchen and living room. You had practically searched the entire compound now, the tug in your stomach stronger each room you don’t find her in.

And then you remembered one place you haven’t looked at yet, the rooftop. You trudged your way up, dreading every step as you near your destination.

Why are your nerves telling you to stop? You stood for a few seconds outside the door, your hand already in the knob. You try to calm your nerves and slowly pushed the door open.

As soon as you open the door, your face was met with a cold breeze, but you were sure it wasn’t the wind that made you completely freeze in your spot.

There she is. The love of your life; in the arms of another, her lips moving in sync with a fucking AMD Ryzen 99.

Your nerves should be at full peak right now, your heart should be beating so fast in your chest that it should ring on your ears.

Instead, your nerves seemed to calm down, seemingly an instinct’s way of telling their owner “I told you so.”

The familiar tug on your stomach vanished, instead, it traveled up to your chest and continued its wonders there. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t make yourself. How ironic it was to feel that you’re somehow stepping over their reality, their own little world where nothing exists but them.

All the while they’re stepping on yours.

An actual minute has passed, and you were already going back to the senses of your own reality, that being you watching your girlfriend kiss a man, no, a goddamn lightsaber.

You feel numb. A minute ago, you were bursting with pain. All you feel now is the anger you’ve pushed aside slowly making its way into every bone in your body.

When they part, you caught a glimpse of that lovestruck smile Wanda used to throw your way, now being thrown at him. You felt another pang in your chest. The brunette caught a movement on her peripheral sight, when she turned, her body froze. You were leaning at the door, your arms crossed and a look of boredom on your face.

Vision practically jumped as he saw you. His eyes widening as your gaze turned to him, but your face showed no emotion. Wanda was watching you when you turned your gaze back at her, she saw your eyes had gone dark, no ounce of light and glint is evident.

She watched you take a deep breath as a smile slowly seeps into your mouth. It sent sharp shivers down her spine. She recognizes that smile. It was your Grim Reaper smile.

The same smile you’d given to the Hydra goon who gave her a solid blow on a mission before you snapped his neck. The same smile you only throw on someone you don’t give two fucks about.

Never in a million years would she ever thought to see that smile aimed at her.

When you speak, she also recognized the ice in your voice. She couldn’t help but feel relieved that you didn’t address her first.

“Hey, Vis. Enjoying making out with my girlfriend? She’s good, isn’t she?” Wanda frowned at your words, you never talked about her that way.

Vision was beyond uncomfortable. As he fucking should. His eyes darting between you, Wanda, and the stairs behind you. You chuckled, noticing his internal debate, and walked to the edge of the rooftop to let him escape. The same spot you had a picnic prepared for her, the spot now being your and Natasha’s. Wanda was nervous, she didn’t know why, but she was nervous about what you’re going to say.

She also can’t help but notice your lack of reaction, and it sent a sting to her heart.

“Since when?” You started, Wanda’s eyes never leaving your side profile. She would be lying if this entire situation doesn’t bother her because you were so calm. Still, she didn’t feel the need to lie.

“Since that one mission we went. It wasn’t my intention, but it just happened before I even know it.” Wanda said softly, noticing your jaw clenched at her words.

You couldn’t help it anymore. You let the tears build up in your eyes, you were going to explode in a matter of minutes if you didn’t.

There was just so much pain.

You turned to Wanda, your tears finally falling on your face. But they weren’t all tears of pain. There were tears of anger as well.

“What did I do wrong? What wasn’t enough about me?” Your voice visibly cracked, but it was harsh. Your whole body trembling with rage. Wanda flinched, she had never heard you raise your voice, let alone direct it at her.

You started to pace in your spot. Your fists clenched at your sides and your eyes sending daggers at hers.

“He’s our friend, huh? Right! It’s weird enough that we have a fucking oven as a friend, and now you’re seriously replacing me with ‘it’?” You emphasized ‘it’, and this made Wanda’s eyes glow red as she walked up in your face.

“Do not talk about Vision that way! He may not be an actual human, but he’s a hundred times more human than you’ll ever be! Who the fuck kills people for fun, huh? A monster.” Your breath hitched. You already know that about yourself. You already know you’re a monster. But hearing it from the person you loved the most didn’t make it any less painful. Even more so. But kill people for fun? Were those nights you spent sharing each other’s past mean nothing to her? Does she really think you did everything for fun? It was probably the most painful thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. ‘Heh. I lost my family, so I’m gonna kill random people!’ Well, fuck you. You can’t help but let out a loud, humorless laugh. Wanda had just said the worst possible thing she could ever say to you.

You were done. You can hear the hope-making machine in your body take its last purr, and then complete silence. Wanda’s eyes reverted to normal as soon as she realized what she said. But it’s too late to take it back.

You were looking at her with such hateful eyes, it was almost unbelievable that hours ago, those eyes are looking at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. She was. Because she was your world. Wanda tried hard not to flinch under your gaze. But couldn’t help herself when you gave her your Reaper smile once again and blurted out, “Well, it takes one to know one.”

----

@xxxtwilightaxelxxx here it is! Happy reading~

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siriusmydeer · 4 years

Note

ooo okay so a James Potter x reader soulmate au where they feel each others pain, and she has a suspicion he's her soulmate but it's confirmed when he falls off his broom, and she hates him being her soulmate because he's in love with lily, but he says that lily doesn't matter anymore blah blah, and she says she first thought it was him when he fell of a bench in the great hall or something after confessing his love for lily in front of the entire school (1)

‘all along that they were soulmates but she tells him its really inconsiderate for being so obvious about his love for lily when he knew he had a soulmate and he feels really guilty and tries to make it up for her and yeah fluff ending please :)’

the painful soulmate

james potter x fem!reader

summary: in a world where you can feel your soulmates pain; your soulmate happens to think someone else is his soulmate

word count: 2.2k

warning: swearing, mentions of verbally abusing someone, mentions of beating people up, injuries; falling in the air, cracked ribs, tripping, face planting. joking name calling, kissing, angst, soulmate au, insinuation of unrequited love, fluff ending

by the age of 16 you and every other witch along with wizard were given a particular... gift. you wouldn’t consider it a gift, more like your worse fucking nightmare but you could squeal and pretend to be all dainty and excited about meeting your soulmate.

i mean why not give someone a choice on who they wanted to love? this wasn’t a game of spin the bottle this was forever.

being the only female in your friend group, made all the boys amongst you ridiculously pry into your privacy. wanting to know who they had to verbally torture considering they would scoop up the ‘precious little baby-girl’ of the group.

coming directly from the drama queen himself; sirius black. it’s not like they could beat up your partner because you would be able to feel his or her pain as-well.

you were sat in the marauders dorm absently playing with your fingers while looking at each of your mates, sirius and remus attempted to finish their plans on a new prank for the newest defence against the dark arts teacher, james sat at his desk table writing up ways to ask lily more dramatically than the last and peter had been figuring out his transfiguration homework from a few days prior.

“prongs, if you know she’s gonna say no, then why ask?” remus questioned not even looked at the sapphire-eyed boy. his only logic being, ‘well ill turn her no into a yes.’ as if coercion was the way to go.

the brunette sat at the table swiftly turning his head in the lyncanthropes direction, his spectacles almost falling down his nose from the quick snap of his head. “well, lily-pad has always said, ‘not in a million years!’ but that means after a million years she’d go out with me.” finishing his speech with a small grin.

the rest of the group on the other hand looked at him dumbfounded. eyebrows either scrunched or furrowed, “james m’afraid that’s not how it works.” you spoke, trying to ease his feelings as if your words could stop his incessant pining.

“well, i’ll just make it work!” turning around and continuing his list, speaking as if he was godric gryffindor coming up with the best idea of the century. “ten galleons she says no again.” sirius quickly whispers in peters direction, the dirty blonde haired boy doing a quick nod then looking back at his parchment.

“i heard that!”

the next time there was a ramble of soulmate talk, which by the way you were getting exhausted from. why did everyone have to have a soulmate? why couldn’t you pick from your own free will? it’s not even like you could have a bloody crush because there was already someone supposedly out there for you!

one free period, ONE! and it’s spent over peter narrowing down his options on all the gryffindor girls he might be paired with. “it’s definitely not marls, peter.” sirius’ pearl irises glanced at peter than over to remus who was trying to teach you how to play wizards chess.

“moony, not to be offensive, but this game sucks arse.” you shrugged, glaring at your queen piece that looked like it wanted to yell at you. as you were twisting around the wood of your pieces, james got up from the bench catching a glimpse of red among the ravenclaw students. instead tripping on the stone of the bench and face planting into the freshly cut grass.

you felt a soreness at the fronts of your calves and an immense discomfort on your face. you grimaced while rubbing your knees trying to soothe the random shoot of exertion through your veins to the point where you almost had the urge to groan.

james quickly scrambled to his feet trying to brush out his hair that had sprinkles of green all over the front, you completely ignored the fact that james’ fall broken by the stone of the bench had caused you to have a twinge of pain into your system.

“none of you saw that.” he panted with slight embarrassment, directing his message to sirius who had his hand clenched into a fist over his lips attempting to cover up the small chortles that were threatening to escape his lips.

“don’t worry, we saw nothing.” you confirmed with an amused grin, putting your two fingers over your lips like a seal.

he grinned back at you twice as hard, your heart starting more of an upbeat frequency that you started to notice as he sat beside you moving a piece that could ruin remus’ chance at winning.

“you slimy git! you’re helping her cheat, you little slag!” remus whined, trying to analyze the board again.

after your recovery, from absolutely nothing. you were sprawled on the scarlet-couch waiting for the rest of your friends to come back from detention. you dazed into a book remus had recently given to you, an icepack laying on your foot as you were almost hypnotized by the pride and prejudice book in your hands.

“oi, m’lady!” sirius abruptly shouted while returning to his common room. you jumped from the stentorian voice, that sunk into the now not-solemn and peaceful common room.

you turned your head seeing the bespectacled boy limp onto the other vermillion couch and rest his leg onto the plush of the pillow, meanwhile, the fawn and dirty blonde haired boys sat in the gryffindor-red love seats tired from their detention.

“what’s wrong with him?” you asked, referring to james’ leg that was propped under the pillow.

“we don’t know, we were walking and he just picked up his foot in agony. who knows maybe lily stubbed her toe.” sirius amused to the rest of the group. but your eyes widened in concern, but you had— there’s absolutely and completely no way. more than one person can stub their toe in one day, not just— just one person.

almost like you were in a daze or hypnotized, as stealth as possible you grabbed the maroon coloured blanket that was rested on the arm rest of the couch you spread it over your legs covering the foot; that you had injured previously that day.

what the fuck. no seriously, what the fuck. there wasn’t— there couldn’t even be— that wouldn’t work. it’s not possible. the butterflies, the flushed face, the nervous ticks— fuck.

over the course of the next few days, you were very careful. you could’ve been mary friggin’ poppins i mean you didn’t want him to get suspicious if you were both injured at the same time. you also did not want to know if he— the boy pining over lily fucking evans since first year was possibly— no there’s no way.

the following week there was a slytherin and gryffindor quidditch game. which also happened to be incredibly nerve wracking not only for you but between both houses, as much as slytherin wanted to seem nonchalant there act was simply not going to work. this determined who would be playing in the quidditch house cup, slytherins also happened to not play the fairest in quidditch so extra gryffindor training was keen.

well now that following week, was today. the game was fine, great even. gryffindor was in the lead and james was about to score a quaffle in the hoop, that was until slytherin beater decided to bat a bludger right into james torso causing him to collapse off his broom twenty five feet into the air with nothing to break his fall. at the reflect of the bludger on james ribs you already groaned hunched over into your seat catches the attention of both peter and sirius.

dumbledore did all the spells he could in such a swiftly manner before james skidded on the muddy grass of the pitch. by then you couldn’t even hold in the moans and groans from his affliction with the hard iron bludger and the fall from the air.

both peter and sirius’ eyes widened and shared a look before taking concern to your arching figure. “m’god i didn’t think it hurt that bad!” you groaned into your hands that could almost be seen as trembling from the agony that you were in as james’ team mates brought him down to the infirmary to check for injuries which he did in-fact have.

after sirius had brought you to your dorm, attempting to do a spell to rid you of most-but not all of your pain he raced to healers wing, seeing james on the verge of unconsciousness as madam pomfrey tried to whip up a potion in a fast manner to heal the boy.

i guess it was true— james was your soulmate. your soulmate in love with another woman that is.

a few hours later james was ordered to stay the night for observation, while both sirius and peter decided to catch up remus along with james up on the other ‘things’ more, or less, that occurred during the quidditch match.

him, and lily.... weren’t soulmates? he thought maybe one day they would’ve ended up together, at some point. not his very best friend being the one he’s ‘destined’ with. but he was desperate to speak with you, how did you know? did you even know? how bad did it hurt? he had so many questions scattered around his brain, until he saw your face that was close to a grimace from pain.

“hi.” you whispered, catching his attention.

“hey.” he whispered back hoarsely, gulping at the sudden tension in the room.

“so we’re—“ “you’re my—“ you both spoke at the same time, following an humourless more-so nervous chuckle, from the both of you.

“how long— did you even know?” james started, looking at your figure as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

you sat down nervously, cracking your knuckles as you were unsure where to start. “i thought— i started wondering, that day me and rem were playing chess and you fell.” you cleared your throat while speaking, avoiding eye contact entirely. “my knees started to hurt, but i didn’t even notice it. the day that you came into the common room limping, was when i suspected it.” you wrung your fingers together nervously, then looking into his irises.

“you knew? why didn’t you—“ his anger already starting to get the best of him, you knew that you were his soulmate. you were right in-front of him, but you never told him; he almost felt betrayed.

“i didn’t know! only suspected. but you have to understand, james. you were incessantly pinning after lily, you claimed you were ‘in love with her’. you’re making it seem like it was gonna be so easy for me to tell you that ‘guess what, james! the girl you love actually isn’t your soulmate and it’s your best friend you have no interest in!’ prongs, m’fraud s’not that easy.” you mocked, proving your correct argument to him based on his actions.

he took a shaky breath, analyzing basically his whole life in-front of him. even though he might’ve ‘loved’ lily, you were still more important to him. soulmate or not, he would always go to you first. he could barely stand to fight with you, he couldn’t loose you over some silly crush that he had.

“it doesn’t matter— lily— she doesn’t matter. y/n it’s you, soulmate, not soulmate, who cares! lily or not lily, you’ve always been my go-to, my number one, i mean you’ve always been the most important!” he said drastically while punctuating his words, and flailing his arms in the air to prove his point to you.

you sighed looking at him, almost unsure of his words. he looked at you expectantly before speaking again, “i’ll get on my knees right now and beg to you. with broken— well now bruised but priory broken ribs. not to mention my stubbed toe.” he chuckled at last second trying to humour you.

“oh my g— get up!” you snickered at him, james potter was on his knees fighting all the pride in his system right in-front of you where you were sat. his hands grasped both sides of your thighs trying to soothe you into you forgiving him.

at the sight of him right infront of you, with the best sirius black puppy dog eyes he could muster with a pouted lip you immediately gave in. “fine.” you sighed, “fine, fine, fine.” you giggled.

both of his hands encasing your cheeks, a small pout on your lips. “can i kiss you?” he asked, his elbows resting on your thighs. you looked at him pretending to ponder off in thought; shrugging while you spoke, “hmmm, maybe. i gues—“ he quickly cut you off, kissing your pouted lips in the middle of a sentence.

you kissed back, holding his face between your agile fingers. your right hand resting on his squared jaw and the other in his fluffy and borderline-sweaty hair. your lips slotting together, he could feel the mint taste from the gum you have chewed earlier bleed onto his tastebuds; you on the other hand, not such a memorable taste.

you quickly pulled away, a dramatic whine escaping from his throat. “you remember when you face planted into the dirt earlier?” you giggled while asking him. he looked at you confused; why would... you... be asking if he remembered himself falling?

“erm, yeah i can recall.”

“yeah your mouth tastes like dirt.”

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#james potter one shot #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x oc #james potter x you #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter fanart #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter

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cosmiccandydreamer · 2 years

Text

it's the little things

Hey, all you beautiful people, I'm starting a new Eddie x female reader story where the reader meets and starts dating Eddie and later finds out she has powers.

Eddie Munson x Reader (she/her)

Chapter 1

If anyone had told you this is what your life would be five years ago, you'd of asked them what they were smoking. From moving from California to Indiana to monsters and magic new friends, a boyfriend to saving the world, life had taken a turn. How did you get here? we will get to that. who am I? I'm your subconscious! Taking note of all the things your therapist is gonna have a field day with someday. First, let's reflect on what just happened.

Present day

It started with the buzzing, the creeping, crawling feeling from the tip of your toes up to your kneecaps through your stomach; there it spread, branched off, straggled, traveled along every vein, every inch of skin it threatened to bust out the tips of your fingers. Finally reached your head; the crackling blinding electric wave; was almost too much. Still, it wasn't; it came to you naturally as though you had always felt this way, waiting dormant as easy as breathing, as easy as seeing, as easy as living. Time slowed down, your eyes narrowed, breathing shallow; it was as though you had pulled back the fabric of time to a slow dragging crawl.

All you saw was Dustin's yells becoming faint, shallow, muffled screens behind you; nothing mattered now but him. You ran and ran; you could have sworn your feet had levitated off the ground. The bats swarming around him in a circle blocked him from your sight, your vision narrowing, focusing on him in the middle, then you saw it, and you heard it. You felt it; you felt his pain. The squelching sound of ripping into his side, the horrible, horrible scream you will never forget for the rest of your life, rips through you like a knife, a piercing feeling. Eddie Eddie Eddie, his name echoing in your head building and building, nothing mattered but him; nothing ever mattered but him.

Suddenly you felt yourself break, coming to a complete stop snapping out of your trance; you looked around, searching for assistance against these creatures. Slowly, you close your eyes, take a deep purposeful breath, and focus on breathing. El's voice came floating through your mind smoothly and slowly; focus, you can do this; and that's when you felt it again, the electricity then it came over you, a primal second nature autopilot your body knew what to do before you did and before you knew it you were raising your arms forward breathing deep center it then let LET GO pushing electricity toward the bats, as he suddenly fell. It was fast and slow all at once; he hit the ground with a thud, your eyes wide, your mouth opened, then you heard a voice that you didn't recognize as yours; you wouldn't have recognized it as yours if you didn't feel the burning in your throat from the scream Eddie you screamed his name it pierced through the dark atmosphere so sharp one would have thought it would have ripped a hole in the sky. Louder was your voice, higher and more vital than ever heard before, so loud it became one with the electric vibration.

The pulsing wave shot forward, slamming into the bats; they screeched and retreated, flying upward and into the shadows. Your hands fell at your sides as you tried to steady your breathing. "Wow," you thought, "what the fuck was that?" no time to answer that question as your attention was brought back to Eddie, who was lightly moaning on the ground in front of you. Racing forward, you quickly reached him, kneeling at his side; don't be dead, please. The silent prayer you repeated over and over while you scanned over him for injuries. You were afraid to touch him, worried he would break; he looked so fragile like he would shatter into a million pieces with one touch. You gently cupped his face turning him in your direction. You heard Dustin's shallow breathing as he finally reached the both of you. "Is he dead? "his sweet little voice cracking from worry and exhaustion, looking back from Eddie to you. " I don't know," your voice small, barely above a whisper. You made small circles on his cheek, anxiously waiting for any sign of life; you promised to come back to me. Neither of you spoke, the air filled with tension and silence with only the occasional thunder crack in the distance. It felt like hours had passed when Eddie finally opened his eyes. "hey there's, my rockstar," you softly said, a smile creeping over your face as tears stung your eyes; he turned to look at you and Dustin, who let out a yelp of relief and dragged his hands over his face letting out a sigh " hey baby" he weakly replied " did I do good? I didn't run away this time " "no, honey, no, you didn't; you did so well; I'm so proud of you" shaking your head up and down, you leaned forward to kiss his forehead lightly. "Eddie, man, that was super badass; I'm telling the guys about this later." " Thanks, Henderson," he coughed a few times, groaning " was I hallucinating, or did you shoot laser beams out of your hands? " " yeah, I was wondering that too; why didn't you tell us you could do that?" "I didn't know that I could or would have done it before Dustin," you snapped. "I was supposed to save you" "you did save me, Eddie, you did, then I saved you; that's what we do; we protect each other" looking over his body, you found the injury; it was a significant bite mark to his side causing his white shirt to slowly turn crimson you gulped and looked over to Dustin, "we need to tie the wound he's losing a lot of blood." Taking the scarf out of Eddie's pocket, you pressed it onto the cut earning a low groan from Eddie "damn babe, you know I like it rough but fuck" "ugh, gross dude, I'm right here," he chuckled "you'll get it one day when you find your soulmate Henderson" "um I did find my soulmate, remember Susie?".

As the guys conversed, you took a moment to weigh the severity of the situation; looking around, you didn't know how long before the bats came back or if you could stop them again; this new power was still a mystery to you, and you still needed to find the others. "We need to move. I can't lift him out of the gate alone, and your leg is also hurt; how is your leg? Sorry I forgot to ask" "it hurts but ill be ok, no but that was amazing; you looked like a superhero! like the scarlet witch or something." You smiled softly to yourself thanking Dustin "you are going to wear that scarlet witch outfit for me," Eddie said a small smile creeping up on his face "you know when we get home?" you took his hand in yours lightly squeezing it "did I just unlock a new role-playing kink for you, Mr. Munson?" "I think you did baby" "guys seriously gross!!!" "you think you could do it again?" " where in the bedroom?" "GUYS" "well yes but no like right now if the bats come back?" You shook your head "I dont know honestly it came so fast and natural I saw you hurt and it just came I need to talk to el ask her more about it. But for now, we need to find the others. I wanted to get you thru the gate, but we're not strong enough to lift you," Eddie scoffed; "you think I would let you? Let my superhero girlfriend save the world without me? Even if I can't fight, I'm coming with you; you need me for battle strategy and eye candy" he winked at you before coughing again, earning an eye roll from Dustin and you. "ok, let's make a plan quickly" "aye aye, captain, ow fuck" "Eddie put your arms down idiot" "I love you to superhero."

#eddie munson #eddiemunson x reader #stranger things #stranger things s4

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13atoms · 3 years

Text

Deep Focus: Chapter 1 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom’s a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. [7.7k]

________________________________________________________

There was such a style to everything Tom wrote, everything he directed. A sincere passion that you suspected was always meant to be used elsewhere. You wondered if his craftsmanship was ever appreciated, on the other side of the screen, as strangers got hot and bothered watching each meticulously designed frame of his vision come to life.

Sure, it was porn. But Tom directed it like he could win an Oscar for ‘hot lifeguard pounded poolside’. This was his livelihood, his passion, and it was a damn shame he wasn’t award-season eligible.

The names would make you wince, as you saw them uploaded to the site, thumbnails and previews drawing in viewers by the million with their shots of heaving bodies and glistening sweat. Tom never called the videos such crass things. Not in his scripts. You would get copies titled ‘Romantic Night In’ or ‘Office Love Affair.’ He was a fan of sugar-coating what would be inside those innocuous white pages, a veneer of respectability which Tom insisted upon, regardless of how obvious the true nature of the videos was. But once the videos were sold, it was out of his hands. Your face contorted mid-faux-orgasm would be plastered across the site, and everyone involved would try and forget what happened.

Ignore the comments.

Keep moving.

You often wondered how Tom wound up in this place, with his sharply tailored suits and polished shoes, eloquent and educated, his words almost poetic as he directed mid-budget porn in hotel rooms and his studio day-in, day-out.

Then again, he never seemed particularly bothered by it. He gave each shoot his full attention, his full boundless enthusiasm and all the professionalism he could muster. You wondered how he balanced it, sometimes, the creative drive to press on with trying to be creative and shoehorn romance into films knowing that, ultimately, it was porn.

He had interviewed you like a real director might, talking about your life and experience and ambitions, almost apologetic when he had finally choked out ‘could you undress’, barely glancing at your naked form before he hired you as his first employee.

You asked him early on, while watching him try and assemble a fake restaurant-date set in the studio, complete with faux windows and an extra playing a waiter, why he bothered when three-minutes of good quality fucking footage would make him the same amount of money. He’d given you a strange smile, the wrinkles beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes, and shrugged.

“I make what I’d like to see.”

The words haunted you later, as your rather attractive co-star bent you over the white-cloth covered dining table and you allowed mewls and groans to escape your mouth without a second thought. Trying to avoid the muted blue of Tom’s eyes behind the cameraman.

Despite your reservations when you first started to work for him, Tom had won you over. His gentler, more romantic approach to pornography had a loyal following. Both of your pseudonyms garnered huge numbers of views across various platforms, and Tom was keen to cultivate a collection of female-friendly porn. Against all the odds, it was working.

And you loved working with him. He was a great director, and inspired writer, and a genuinely brilliant boss. He made sure you saw royalties, good pay, that everyone you worked with was screened and tested, always keeping you safe. Always.

Each time he called a wrap, passing you a robe and offering a meek congratulations on your performance, you found yourself more and more pleased you had wound up working with him.

“You really do have a talent,” he’d told you one day, distracting you as you discussed a new script in his office.

You were sat opposite him, Tom’s glasses perched on his head as he watched you read, your feet resting against the leg of his desk. You’d come in to your shared workspace to try some costumes out, to discuss new scenes, still recovering from a thoroughly exhausting shoot the day before. There were still light bruises around your wrists, and you caught Tom glancing at them worriedly each time your long-sleeved shirt slipped.

“I love that you’re such an actor,” he continued, hands tapping the desk as he spoke, “like, a real actor.”

Your eyes drifted across the script, scanning it with your bottom lip between your teeth. He always appreciated your input, wanting the ‘female fantasy’ in a lot of his work, and he’d timidly shown you some ‘student-professor’ script he’d been working on. He was like that, embarrassed in a way which you wouldn’t expect from a man with his considerable experience in adult entertainment. He was assertive, certain, even stern where it counted. But with just the two of you together, dancing around what was sexy and what wasn’t, he seemed desperate to avoid saying anything you might perceive as too ‘crude’.

“What do you mean?” you’d chuckled, still flicking through the first draft.

He only entrusted you with such early versions of his work – but that made sense. Your careers were symbiotic, tied to one another with an unspoken pact. He directed everything you were in, and you were in everything he directed.

It made sense.

“You don’t just… I don’t know. You never make my scripts seem silly. Or cheesy. You… you really try and make them feel real. I could write anything, and you’ll deliver the lines well. I was overseeing auditions earlier and... I just kept thinking none of them were you. I think you might be the best in the business.”

You rolled your eyes, offering him a disbelieving smirk, and he scoffed.

“I’m serious! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The weight of his words settled heavy in your chest, and you turned back to the script, frowning as you flicked through the loose-leaf pages. Tom fidgeted behind his desk, unhappy with losing your attention, but you ignored him.

“Here. If you want the fantasy to be believable, I think he needs to lock the office door. Make a show of it, you know. Cover my mouth,” you comment dismissively. Tom already has as pen in his hand, making notes. “It could be hot, maybe ‘Don’t make a sound or you can’t cum’, something like that. As if there’s other students in the corridor outside.”

Nodding, Tom dutifully wrote down your words, mouth slightly open in realisation as he listened.

“Don’t make a sound…” Tom repeated, and you felt yourself blush.

“Not… not that exactly,” you backtracked, “you’re the real writer! I just think, there needs to be some build up. A remind of the power dynamic. Him going straight to oral is a bit… fast. That could happen in any old plot, you know?”

You felt his eyes on you, looking up from the paper to spot Tom leaning back in his chair, a distant smile on his face.

“You really are the best,” he praised, “that’s great. I’ll do rewrites tonight.”

For a moment, you let his words hang heavy in the air. Then you blinked back at him, a slight frown pinching your forehead at his strange mood. He was calm, for once. Tom was usually a ball of enthusiasm, and you wondered if your dismissal of his words earlier had done something to hamper his spirit.

“It’s always easier to critique,” you dismissed, “I love the script, it’s great. I really think it’ll be good. Hot. Maybe I can wear a Britneyschool girl costume, or something?”

He frowned a little, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought.

“No, weird. We’re going for University student, just… a nice pair of jeans or something.”

“Don’t they wear suits where you went, posh boy?” you teased, loving how it riled him up. “I’ll try and dress like a smart person.”

“You are smart, don’t give me that.”

You rolled your eyes, loving how you managed to fluster him, putting the script back on his cluttered desk as you reached for your bag. This was how your meetings always went, a few hours of notes, some teasing, and a hasty retreat once Tom told you the next shoot day you had to attend. You still had a few hours of social media to do for the last video you’d shot together, notes from Tom, and you lamented the sight of the sun setting outside of your shared office. You’d hoped for at least a bit of natural light today.

“I’m serious, you are!” Tom asserted, and you ignored him purposely as you shut down your laptop, preparing to take it home.

“Yeah, I know, whatever. Don’t work too late!”

“Rich coming from you,” he sighed, “it really doesn’t matter if we send that last edit late.”

“It matters to me! I’d quite like to get paid this week, you know?”

Tom sighed. The two of you tried to produce a couple of videos a week – one for Tom’s site and another to sell to a third party. It didn’t leave either of you with much free time, both of you left in the tiny office at all hours as you worked to keep up with demand.

“Very true. But I’d rather you got some sleep, you know I can help if you’re short on money,” he offered, shuffling papers on his own desk.

He was always quick to jump to an offer to help, and you tried to ignore the fondness spreading through your chest at his eagerness to look out for you. That gentle protectiveness which coursed through Tom was enough to make you melt.

He was one in a million, that was for sure.

“I’m fine, Tom. Thank you though, I’ll ask, if, y’know –”

“Do! Any time. Actually…”

Tom cut himself off, typing something into his phone, and your pocket buzzed with a notification.

“Get yourself a nice dinner.”

You checked your phone to see a transfer from Tom. It wasn’t a crazy amount, but too much for just dinner, and you huffed performatively as he grinned at you.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous –”

He barely made more than you, and you were certainly doing perfectly comfortably.

“Royalties are really good this month. That old break-up sex video is trending again, apparently.”

You smothered a smile. It was hate-fucking, as you’d told Tom a hundred times. That was the title. You could still remember the look on his face the day you’d filmed it, his twitchiness, the unknown male actor who had slightly scared both of you with his sheer size as he stepped into the studio. The male star had fucked you like you’d broken his heart, hands on your neck and hips bruising yours as he pounded into you, and you’d be a little alarmed at how little you had needed to act in his domineering presence. He’d been muscular and tall and assertive, almost injuring you with his enthusiasm, and the shoot had ended with you a sweaty mess, struggling to walk, eyes watery.

You had ached from the moment Tom helped you up from the bed, a protective body between you and your costar as you watched the man collect his clothes and his paycheck. The footage had been great, you’d watched Tom edit it, but it had been your first taste of Tom’s protectiveness. The actor had never returned, and Tom had bought a hot water bottle for the office, pressing it into your lap as he brought tea for the pair of you, loathing how you winced as you moved.

He’d taken you out for dinner that night to celebrate a good edit, but you knew the real reason. That neither of you wanted the other to be alone. It had been a lovely evening, a restaurant then a bar, without a break in laughing conversation the entire night. It hadn’t been a date, but if it had been a date, it would’ve been the nicest date you’d ever been on. In those moments, you wondered if Tom was really cut out for the industry. If you were.

As much as Tom hated the film, it was hot. It had propelled your studio into the spotlight, and it paid a significant chunk of your rent.

“Thank you,” you smiled to him, wracking your mind for anything else that needed discussing before you headed home.

Maybe you’d get takeaway. That would be nice.

Tom cleared his throat.

“What are we shooting tomorrow, by the way?”

You looked up at his words, frowning a little at the realisation you hadn’t been given a script yet. It was unlike him, to be so unprepared. Usually everything was organised weeks in advance. With a glance at the shadows under his eyes, you decided not to tease him about it.

“We’re shooting tomorrow?”

“This week… we’ve only got one video. I was just thinking something simple, I haven’t called a costar yet, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to –”

It was your paycheck on the line as much as Tom’s, and you wondered how the hell you’d forgotten.

“Do we have a camera crew?” you frowned.

“No, not yet. I can call though. Or I could just do it myself, if we’re not doing anything too complicated?”

You thought for a moment, leaning against the open doorframe as Tom started to pack up his own desk, nimble fingers tapping across his keyboard.

“Solo?” you suggested, stifling a laugh as Tom blinked and tilted his head to face you.

“I missed that, love?”

“Solo. Like ‘hot female solo’ or something?”

He smiled slightly, closing his laptop lid.

“That’ll do well, I’m sure. Do we need anything costume-wise? Props?”

Toys. He meant toys. You smiled at his refusal to call a spade a damn spade.

“I’m sure we can find everything here. It’ll be nice to do a simple shoot for a change,” you enthused, holding the door for Tom as he moved to turn off the lights, lingering nearby as he locked up the office.

“Yeah. Single-shot, no camera-man either.”

“Cheap,” you sighed, as though it was the sexiest thing in the world.

You did the books, and avoiding having any more costs this month sounded great.

“Yeah,” Tom smiled, falling into step beside you as the two of you left the warehouse studio.

He looked ready to say something else, but changed his mind. For a second the two you stood by the exit, words trapped beneath your closed lips as the early evening air enveloped you.

“Do you need a lift home?” Tom finally offered.

“No. No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. Usual time. Twelve?”

“Perfect.”

He reached an arm out, ready for you to walk into his embrace, and you froze. The moment was over as soon as it started, his arm retracted, and you could only stare. His hand found the curls at the back of his head, scratching there, a blush dusting his cheeks in the harsh fluorescent lights of the car park. You could kick yourself as you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clench of his jaw. He felt awkward. You contemplated hugging him, but the moment had passed. Instead you rocked on your heels for a second, before turning to leave.

“Bye, Tom!”

“‘Night! Look after yourself, don’t forget dinner. I’ll see you – ”

He cut himself off as you walked too far away, and you could have kicked yourself for the sadness in his final syllable. You sighed as your feet fell against the pavement, your whole walk home haunted by the awkward shuffle of Tom’s hands as he went to hug you goodbye.

You were surprised by how difficult it was to brush off that awkward memory. As you ordered and ate dinner, you were reminded of Tom with every bite, that he’d snuck aside part of the company’s petty cash budget to give you dinner. That both of you had gone home, separately, to separate empty houses and empty beds.

Had he wanted to go for drinks? Wanted company? You had come to accept a long time ago that the man was your closest friend. He would be the person you called in an emergency, a shoulder to cry on. You liked to think he’d lean on you the same way.

Despite that, you spent limited time together outside of a professional context. You never met up on weekends, or casually called. Of course you didn’t. He made a career out of seeing you naked, watching you fake orgasms for other men. As you readied yourself for the day, you reminded yourself that of course, he would be nice to his only full-time, very lucrative actress. To his business partner.

As you’d queued up the company’s social media posts the night before, you could only think of Tom behind the camera, orchestrating each photo and clip you uploaded.

You couldn’t help the grin which split your face as you walked into the studio, bag flung over your shoulder, overpacked with everything you thought you could possibly need. Tom greeted you, emerging from his office with a smile.

Before you could overthink it, you walked into his arms, giving him very little choice in the matter as you greeted him with a hug. In his surprise you felt his body stiffen, his arms slowly wrapping around you, and you were momentarily gobsmacked by the muscular form he seemed to hide behind those suits.

He was a little more dressed down today, smart black jeans and a button-up white shirt, unruly hair sticking up like it did when he forgot to brush it. He looked better than yesterday, like he’d had a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning,” he chuckled, bemusement clear in his voice.

You pulled back from the hug, a little embarrassed at the affection until you saw the smile stretching across his face, reaching his eyes. Suddenly the previous night, worrying you had inadvertently rejected him, seemed to be erased.

“Morning! What have you got for me?”

The studio space was cleaned, but empty. The camera stood in the corner as Tom lead you further into the room, his office door open to the side of it, and you frowned at the emptiness of the space.

There were tape marks on the floor where sets were usually assembled, conspicuous without the usual hive of activity buzzing around some piece of furniture you would be thrown onto or fucked against. There was nothing.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Tom was saying, his gentle voice booming in the empty space, “we don’t have a script or anything so… I’ll leave it to you.”

You bit your lip.

It was more freedom than you were used to, less direction, less to build the fantasy where you could forget you were ultimately in a warehouse with just your business partner. It was… nothing. Tom said your name quietly, and you nodded, stepping back to assess the space.

“I’m just thinking,” you reassured him.

Had the studio always been this quiet? You tried to remember a shoot day where it had been this silent, this calm, without the stress of lighting people or cameramen or scripts being thrown around. You could hear every step Tom took as he walked towards the camera, the wheel-mounted tripod creaking as he moved it across the floor, checking batteries and SD cards while you stood in place, your bag still hanging from one shoulder.

Noticing your frozen stance Tom frowned across at you, nothing but gentle concern in his blue eyes and the fine lines around them.

“I was thinking something kind of minimal, maybe cosy?” he offered, “Maybe an armchair? Something like that?”

You thought about it for a moment, crossing to the corner of the room to finally set down your bag.

He was finally getting into ‘director mode’, growing more energetic by the second.

“I’m thinking we just frame it on you, no distraction. Single take, if we can.”

You nodded silently as he crossed to the storage cupboard he’s overeagerly labelled a ‘props department’. It was stacked high with fabric and furniture and lingerie, tubs of various exotic sex toys near the door. Tom stepped straight past them.

There was a mattress in the props room, materials to build a bed, and you pondered on the idea for a moment.

“We could keep it really simple, maybe?” you suggested, “Find a warm background. Or just use white. Try and get one twenty minute shot, or something.”

You reached for lube without thought, collecting the near-empty bottle of body oil beside it too, as you perused the options in front of you.

“Remind me to buy more of that,” Tom mused, sparing a glance to the bottles in your arms before standing beside you to peruse the options.

You nodded silently, your free hand rifling through bagged silicone toys, slightly in a daze as you picked out a few options. There was a slight blush dusted across Tom’s high cheekbones as he turned to see your arms full of dildos. You smiled as it took him a second to find words, and wondered how the hell he’d chosen to start a porn studio in the first place.

“Colour co-ordinated,” he commented, and you smiled, picking out yet another pink toy from the pile.

“Naturally,” you smiled, “I think that’s everything? Could we drag a mattress and pillows out?”

He nodded silently, already moving to manoeuvre the double mattress leaning against a wall in the props room. You rolled your eyes before helping, knowing he was being a gentleman, or whatever he called it. You called it putting his back out.

He rejected your help, so you grabbed as many pillows as you could, following him back into the main studio, privately smiling at the dramatic grunts he made trying to move the mattress. He tossed it to the ground with a grunt, shoving it into the corner of the room, before pausing again.

You dropped everything down on to it, toys, lube, pillows and all.

And then both of you waited.

It was so strangely intimate, just the two of you in the room, the strange nature of your relationship weighing heavy after last night’s miscommunication. Suddenly there was nothing you wanted to do less than take your clothes off.

“White sheets?”

“Hm?” you hadn’t processed what Tom said, too wrapped up in your own world, frowning down at the bare mattress.

“I was thinking white sheets.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

He was off, assigned another task, and you almost envied his distraction as you slowly sorted the pillows how you wanted, gathered the toys absentmindedly. Before Tom came back from the props closet you made yourself scarce, catching sight of his slim outline through the doorway. Facing away from you as he rummaged.

In the single bathroom of the studio you cleaned anything that would be going inside of you, avoiding your reflection, trying to shake off the odd nervousness coursing through your veins.

Why? It had been years since you felt this way before a shoot. Before you’d met Tom, even. Sure, shoots could be exciting, exhilarating, intimidating, but this self-consciousness, this self-doubt… it had come from nowhere.

You pressed your forehead to the mirror, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. The tap running sounded like a waterfall, the silicone under your fingers felt alien, the air almost claustrophobic as you wondered what the hell was wrong with you.

Tom was done making the bed when you got back, frowning at his phone until he heard you re-enter the studio space, quick to look up and see if you were happy with his set. You felt hyper-aware of him, of every movement he made, a clean towel and toys cradled in one arm as you took in the space. It was a simple premise, just a clean fitted sheet pillows in a corner, a clear space for you in the middle. You knew it would look good on screen. You knew this was an easy job.

You felt sick to your stomach.

“Do you want to face the camera? Or kind of, not acknowledge it?” Tom asked, speaking again as you forgot to reply, too caught up in your own mind. “Maybe if you ignore it that’s more… voyeuristic?”

“Sounds good,” you responded, kneeling to prepare your space. This was autopilot, your day job. You could do this.

“Right.”

He sounded a little put out by your response, but moved the camera anyway, switching to a knee-height tripod. You stood, stepped back to give him space, and frowning at the sudden headrush. You blinked, catching yourself staring at the flex of his arms as he moved the heavy equipment. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring into space until Tom called your name a second time, crossing into your personal space.

“Are you okay?”

Tom’s voice was so soft you wanted to cry, fingers hovering beside your bicep, his gentle eyes demanding for you to meet them, daring for you to lie while his face is so close to yours.

Somehow, the guilt of his worry made you feel worse.

“No, I’m…I’m being stupid. Sorry, just tired.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

“No, I, uh, I slept fine. I’m not sure. Just not really feeling it.”

His face fell, but you knew he wasn’t disappointed in you. He thought he’d done something wrong. Immediately you were talking, doing anything you could to soften his guilt.

“It’s my job, though. I can do it. This is great Tom, I think it’ll be a good shoot.”

“Sweetheart –”

You sighed, eyes falling to the mattress, before forcing a smile.

“Let’s get this over with!”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but you forced yourself to move, pulled your feet from the floor with far more effort than it ought to take. There was some comfort in rummaging through your own bag, that piece of home, something private from the studio. You found the vibrator you’d brought, a pink bullet you used almost exclusively at home, fully charged that morning. Behind you, Tom snorted in amusement.

“Nothing here is ever charged,” you shrugged off his stare, knowing damn well you didn’t have to explain yourself.

You wanted to explain anyway though. Just in case, Tom thought anything he did wasn’t enough. He seemed perfectly fine with the criticism, though you knew he was making a mental note. He always did, then you had something to say.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, you stripped to your underwear, folding your clothes neatly and being careful not to show any self-consciousness in your posture. You’d never been ashamed or embarrassed before now, and you weren’t about to start. Even if it was just you, and a very well, fully dressed Tom. Vibrator clutched in your fingers, you finally sat on the damn mattress.

He was the other side of the camera now, somehow both distant and a few feet away. You found yourself staring at your body in the monitor, just watching. Tom’s voice broke you out of yet another daze, and you wanted to pinch yourself. Why couldn’t you do it today?

“We don’t have to do this today, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay I just… I forget it’s just us sometimes, you know? There’s such a production and so many people and at the end of the day…”

Tom smiled, a relief on his face that told you he had been feeling it too. That this was weird.

“I know what you mean. If you’re uncomfortable…”

“Just give me a second to warm up, we need to make something, after all.”

You stretched, not really sure why, moving a little around the nook Tom had created, shuffling pillows and practicing where you wanted to lie back, watching a monitor as Tom played with a soft lighting, twisting and turning to find the most flattering angles you could.

As he shuffled things around, Tom nodded to the spread of toys you’d set out. You’d added your vibrator to the pink line up, perfectly organised on the white towel.

“Do you want those in shot?”

You shrugged.

“Might be hot?”

He nodded silently. You moved the toys in to the frame, trying to blink away the cloud which had settled in your mind. The world felt foggy, your arms like they were moving through treacle, and you knew Tom had noticed.

As he prepared two directional microphones, you tried not to feel claustrophobic. The audio from the microphone he was pointing towards your pussy would be almost grotesque, and you fought not to shuffle further from it as you imagined Tom listening later, headphones in, as he balanced the levels between your moans and the wet sounds of you fucking yourself.

Fuck.

Why was this so different to a regular shoot?

You’d done solo shoots before. With Tom. And half-a-dozen other crew, you reminded yourself.

You caught sight of his curls above the monitor, face serious as he set everything up.

“Speak?”

“Testing, testing,” you spouted off nonsense until he offered you a thumbs up, happy with the audio.

Then there was nothing else to do.

He stood, looming over the equipment. And you looming over you.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, smiling at your frown. “You’re in charge here, I’m just the camera guy.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was trying to put you at ease.

“You’re the director,” you reminded him, knowing how he preened himself under the title.

You were impressed that his eyes had only roamed down your body once as he took in the shoot, glancing at the indulgent layout of toys, double checking the monitor, one headphone in. He had that stance he always adopted when he was directing, and you knew it was his favourite moment in any of this. The moment everything was pinned on him.

It happened so quickly you almost missed the moment he knelt down, blinking in surprise as his face remerged at your level beside the camera.

“Then my direction is: enjoy yourself. Forget I’m here. Let’s show them something real.”

He must have seen your shock, because it made him smile.

“Real?” you questioned, and he nodded firmly.

“I’m serious.”

For a beat, both of you were silent, his eyes meeting yours over the body of the camera.

“If you can,” he offered, “I understand it’s not always…”

You interrupted him with a hand, smiling your understanding of what he was saying, and dismissing it in one motion. The silence dragged on, and you decided to push this forwards. If you were done by lunch, Tom would probably insist on taking you somewhere nice.

“I don’t know if I should use – ” you ghosted a finger across the biggest toy, worrying a bottom lip between your teeth, “Simplicity might be key.”

“Do what you want, darling. What feels good.”

You nodded mutely, and for just a second you saw doubt flicker across his face. This was new territory, and even you weren’t sure if this was a step too far.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. If I’m… actually… it might take a while. Let me know if I’m taking too long.”

“Take as long as you need, darling. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tilting your head at him a little, you realised abruptly just how intimate this was. Moreover, that you wanted it anyway. That you were about to make him watch you cum. Make him hear you, smell you. He couldn’t touch, but he could watch.

And that was enough for you to perform.

Tom gave you a countdown, red lights peppered your field of view, and he was recording. He had taken a seat on the floor behind the camera set up, one headphone in to monitor audio, waiting.

You stayed sat up, back arched a little as your hands began to caress you own body, keeping on eye on the monitor while your face was out of the shot. You rubbed along your thighs, across your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra and the elastic of your underwear each time you passed them, trailing your fingertips. It didn’t really feel like anything, doing this to yourself, but you knew to tease the camera. Tom would cut out anything too slow.

Your gaze remained firmly on the screen as you began to make your touches firmer, more deliberate, dragging lines into your skin and flirting with the camera. You admired the soft skin of your breasts as you started to shift your bra, enjoying the stiffening of your nipples in the monitor until –

The screen went black, and you immediately glanced at Tom, frowning as you lost the visual of yourself. He met your questioning gaze sternly, eyebrows furrowed, and you remembered his direction.

“Enjoy yourself.”

With nothing left to look at you closed your eyes, feeling the blood rushing to the surface of your skin, the sensitivity of your breasts as your fingers idly danced across them. You shoved your bra down unthinkingly, wanting to feel more, rubbing at the heaviness of your breasts and wincing as you enjoyed the pleasure and pain of pinching at your nipples, teasing them to attention. You glanced your nails across them, feeling it in your core. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Fuck the cameras.

It was hard to let to, to stop the delicious feeling of your fingers on your own breasts, but you forced yourself to free one hand, shoving off the bra, desperate to feel yourself without it. You knew you were grimacing, it wouldn’t be sexy, but you didn’t care. That was Tom’s problem.

You needed to touch yourself.

One hand reached below the waistband of your underwear, seeking out your clit, guided by a familiar ache. It was all you could focus on, your other hand forgotten, cupping your breast, the sensation vague and lost as your fingers found your clit. The sensation overwhelmed you as you shifted the hood, your body beginning to produce wetness. The room was a little cold, the air relieving against the heat of your bare skin, making your nipples peak as you leant back into the nest of pillows behind you.

You felt your stomach tense, a bolt of electricity tensing the muscles up and down your body as you brushed across your clit a little too hard. Your middle finger probed your pussy experimentally, slipping inside of you, quickly joined by a second as you played with the wetness there.

One, two, three pumps of your fingers inside you was enough for you to gasp, your eyes still closed against the bright lights as focused on nothing but feeling. No more fucking around.

You reached for your vibrator, hand knocking against the thick silicone toy lined up beside it, writhing as you pressed it against the fabric covering your clit. You cycled through the settings as fast as you could, still desperate for more stimulation.

More. It was on the highest setting. You wanted more.

Without moving the vibrator you shoved your underwear off, huffing as you kicked them away, not caring where they landed. The tip of the toy nudged against your clit exquisitely, and you froze.

There.

You thought about Tom watching you. The hot blood coursing through your body, the line up of toys just waiting to be shoved inside of you. The sensitivity of you clit as you held it against that perfect point. The air against your dripping, aching pussy. The muscles starting to clench, the rhythm of your body. Building, building, you didn’t fight the feeling.

This was what you wanted.

That warm familiarity of the vibrator on your clit, the runaway train of your thoughts, it was enough to drive you over the edge. You hadn’t realised the keening, groaning noises you were making until you heard them, pleasure leaving your lips as an afterthought.

You felt empty.

Blindly you reached out, sticky fingers finding the shaft of a toy you wanted, a smaller one you could take right now. A dollop of lube in the palm of your hand was all it would take, a few pumps of the toy enough to coat it, the excess lubricant smeared on the sheets. You didn’t care. Not your problem.

Without conscious thought, you were still rubbing yourself, two fingers absently making circles against your clit as you fidgeted to be able to take the dildo. You didn’t bother preparing yourself anymore. You were wet enough, and you wanted the stretch.

Needed it.

Needed to feel full.

You shoved the toy into yourself, gritted teeth and your spare hand grasping at your breast, giving the nipple a sharp pinch to interrupt the overwhelming feeling of that silicone pushing inside of you. Your walls were stretched open, a gasp reaching your ears as you felt a nudge against your cervix.

It wasn’t enough. You felt wild, desperate, as you sloppily pulled the toy from yourself and shoved it back in, clenching down and still needing more.

Your fingers found a larger toy, arousal and lubricant smearing across your body as you discarded the dildo which you had just been fucking yourself with, leaving it somewhere on the mattress, forgotten in favour of the bigger option. It was thick. Maybe, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have considered it. But instead you coated it in lube, squirting the clear liquid on to the tip and rubbing it down the toy, focusing on nothing but the need pulsing through your pelvis.

On the emptiness inside you, begging, pleading to be filled. It hurt, how much you wanted to be stretched out, to feel something pounding into you. You felt animalistic, desperate for anything. The last of your conscious thought was occupied by the need in your clit, the demand for friction, and you just didn’t have enough hands. It was impossible to think. When you finally sank down on the fake cock, leaning back, legs apart, gaze focused on nothing but your own swollen pussy, it was a relief. You gasped, then sighed, pushing another inch of the toy inside you. You felt stretched already, split in half, but you kept going. With each thrust, you took the silicone further inside of you until you felt the dull ache of the toy going too far.

Finally, that emptiness felt sated, and you stayed still, too stuffed to risk moving and too blissed out to care.

But you needed more.

Each bear down made the toy threaten to shift, and you didn’t have the brain power to thrust and pay attention to your aching clit. You moved gingerly, grabbing a pillow to straddle, holding the toy inside you as you hunted for your vibrator.

You couldn’t even lean too far to reach it, you were so full it ached. And it was delicious.

With the smooth plastic finally in your hand you leant back, ready to bring yourself to another orgasm. With a blink, you realised there was a tear tracking its way down your cheek, and you smiled to yourself.

And then you accidentally looked forwards. Your eyes met Tom’s. The camera. The lights. The switched off monitor.

You wanted to cry.

He was watching you directly, with those sharp blue eyes, one finger resting along his jawline, his usual calculating, wide stance replaced with one knee hugged to his chest as he sat on the concrete floor. He was watching you.

You. Stuffed full, straddling a pillow on the bed Tom had fucking made, covered in a mix of lube and your own arousal. That strange feeling from earlier came back full force.

God. He had seen you actually come. Without acting or cheesy lines or clever angles to hide the worst of your O-face. You could pretend to come, tell your male co-stars what a good time you’d had, follow direction, anything. But this was too real. And it was just you and Tom. In the corner of a huge studio, bright lights and cameras and –

Had he called cut? You wouldn’t have heard. Did he realise you’d lost control? That you had forgotten you were supposed to be acting and been so desperate and –

“You’re doing amazing.”

You smiled at him weakly, gasping as the toy inside you nudged your cervix as you fidgeted. You didn’t realise that you were awaiting direction until he spoke.

“Another one?”

His voice was a little throatier than usual, though you supposed he’d been quiet for a while. His eyes kept drifting from your face, and you wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as you did.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes, listening to the increasing pitch of the vibrator as you turned it up to its maximum setting.

The minutes stretched on as your orgasm built, little raises and falls of your hips accompanying that insistent buzz of your favourite vibrator, the toy inside you starting to ache as it stretched you apart. It was impossible to forget that Tom was watching you now. That his piercing gaze was on you. As a matter of professionalism, you tried to avoid looking up. You ignored the camera, fucked your body in the way you knew it would respond to, only half-faking it as you came a second time.

You moaned and groaned and gave the camera an indulgent few seconds of overstimulation, the vibrator pushed against your clit to make you writhe and shake. You pulled yourself off the dildo in a mess of arousal, played with yourself, showing off how stretched out you were.

Fingers swirling in the arousal inside of you, you sighed in relief when Tom called, “cut.”

Dropping the toy, you pulled your legs together, ignoring him for a second as you took deep breaths. Taking stock of your body, the residual pleasure and pain and stickiness. A lot of stickiness.

Tom took pity on you, shifting a softbox so you had a clear path out of the corner you were hemmed into.

“Go and have a shower,” he told you, the most softly-spoken command you’d ever heard.

Nonetheless, you followed orders. On weak legs, you indulged in as long as shower as you dared, cleaning up and then just… waiting. Trying to avoid the real world. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in a robe, you found your clothes folded outside. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but you thanked the universe for him anyway.

When you re-emerged you were fully dressed and feeling a lot more like yourself again. And, actually, quite proud of yourself. Tom’s busyness told you everything had been recorded properly, equipment moved and the mattress bare, leant against the wall.

“All good?” you asked, more to announce your presence than anything. He stopped moving, offering you a gentle smile.

“Perfect! I think it’ll be great. Do you want to go get lunch somewhere? To celebrate?”

Predictable as anything. The thought made your heart swell with fondness for him, his head tilt and excitement, his strange place here.

“I think I’ll just go home,” you tried to smile apologetically, but you could still feel the ache inside you, the dull oversensitivity of your clit against your underwear.

The embarrassment and excitement fighting in the fit of your stomach.

Tom nodded, clear understanding on his face. He held the door for you on the way out.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” he asked, quietly, like you might run off if he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Your bedroom fell silent as the vibrator stopped, the battery finally flat. You whined in disappointment, desperate for another orgasm. Your fingers replaced it instantly, rubbing, desperately pulling more wetness from the arousal weeping from you, but you were too oversensitive.

Panting, vision blurry, your thighs aching, you blinked away tears. You glanced at the nightstand. Tom hadn’t text you.

When you woke up the next morning your phone was dead. You’d forgotten to charge it last night, and leaving it in your room to charge offered a strangely peaceful morning. You had a few hours before you would be expected at the studio, and no work to do before then.

You indulged in spending time getting ready for the day, making a decent breakfast, doing a few chores you’d been putting off.

Processing what had happened yesterday.

In the clear light of day, you wondered if you ought to be embarrassed for the way you’d completely lost yourself at the shoot. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised at you’d just followed Tom’s direction. Done what he’d asked. It had been intense, for sure, but you’d done what he’d asked. If anything you regretted the moment he’d had to speak, losing your nerve. You hoped he didn’t want pick-up shots today, you weren’t sure your body could take any more.

You thought about the night before, clearing up the scattered clothes and charging the vibrator you’d left strewn beside your bed, more ashamed of the images which had been conjured by your overactive imagination in the late-night privacy of your bedroom. You hated that everything you imagined was involved blue eyes. Distinctive curls. Pulling buttons from smart shirts and kissing along sharp cheekbones. Poor Tom. He didn’t need you overstepping that mark. And yet when you had closed your eyes, imagined you were under those lights again, all you could imagine was Tom. His creative gaze. Listening to the smoothness his voice leant to everything he said as he instructed you even more intimately than usual.

As you switched your phone back on, you forced the thoughts from your mind. They couldn’t follow you to the studio. The two of you had built something good. Something successful. The studio was doing well, you were both saving money away for the future, building your brands. You couldn’t screw that up now by imagining him like that. He trusted you. You trusted each other. Relied on one another.

You wondered if he ever fucked other actresses.

#lord forigve me for i have have rpf x reader #13atoms #fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston imagine #this is a weird one #i think 2 more chapters maybe #lmk what you think!

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glassartpeasants · 4 years

Text

Fool

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, name calling, death??, toxic relationships

A/N: If I’m sad ya’ll gonna be sad too. Kinda grinded on this one too so it might be bad and it might be good. 50/50. This was also done at work so :D

~~~

“Damnit, Damnit, DAMNIT!” You yell into your pillow as another night was ruined.

Your ‘husband’ was nowhere to be found. Which only made you that much angrier. Tonight was your guy’s anniversary and again, just like last year, he missed it. The dinner, the surprise you had in store, everything was just a bunch of bullshit.

“Stupid prick.” You throw off your dress and clean up all the makeup on your face, stepping into the shower crying.

“What’s so wrong with me that he can’t even bother to show up?” You hiccuped in the shower as you felt the shower water mix with your tears.

~~~

Once you were finished with your shower you put on your pajama’s and went into the living room putting your blanket and pillow on the couch before snuggling into it.

He didn’t deserve to even be near you after this little stunt he pulled for the second time.

‘Do I really not mean that much to him?’ You thought to yourself as all your insecurities comeback to haunt you.

Tears keep slipping down your face before you went silent hearing the door unlock signaling your ‘husband’ was home. You closed your eyes steadying your breathing holding your tongue as the urge to lash out at him became almost unbearable.

“Why would she be sleeping here? The bed is not far away? Did she accidentally fall sleep here?”

You clenched the blanket tightly as tears threatened to show. You could just sense the lack of empathy in his voice as he tried to figure out why weren’t you in bed. But even after trying to convince your self to stay quiet the anger rose up once more.

“I’m sleeping here cause I want to be away from you asshole.” Your tone of voice held venom in each word as Chisaki looked at you with wide eyes realizing that you weren’t asleep at all.

“Care to explain why?” His voice was still monotone but you looked in his eyes and sensed just a tiny bit of confusion.

“What’s the date and time Kai?” You replied, your words still sharp.

“It’s midnight and the date is-oh...”

“Yeah, it was our fucking anniversary which you forgot. FOR THE SECOND TIME!” You yelled at him standing up from the couch as you looked deep into those golden eyes.

“Sorry I guess?”

“YOU GUESS?! YOU GUESS?!?!”

“Your voice lower it-”

“No Kai! Do you know how much it hurts me feeling like im not worth your god-damn time?!”

“(Y/N) I’m warning you...”

“Please at least tell me what im doing wrong!”

“I SAID ENOUGH!” Before you could even react Chisaki’s hand reached towards you and grabbed you by the arm, causing you to be overhauled in a instant before getting put back together.

You jerked your arm out of his grip looking at him with wide, fearful eyes, your entire being shaking with terror. You shook your head, taking steps away from him as your tears flowed down your cheeks, heavily breathing.

“You-you...” You looked into his eyes and saw no hint of remorse. At least nothing you could see as you moved quite far away from him. He didn’t even make an attempt to say sorry before turning around and going back to his room.

You crashed to the floor as you rubbed your arm while you silently cried. Hiccups slowly becoming the only thing you could hear as you laid on the floor in a fetal position. Your breathing becoming ragged as the crying made you struggle for air.

~~~

One Week Later

You haven’t spoken to Kai since the incident. You haven’t even looked in his direction. You shook everytime you remembered that night. It was only a week ago but it still felt like it was only a few seconds ago.

You sighed as you walked past Kai’s office, needing to pass it in order to get to the kitchen.

Just as you were walking by you heard your name come up in a conversation in his office. You stopped walking and slowly went to listen, being quiet as a mouse.

“I seriously feel like she’s only with me for my money.” You wanted to gasp out in offense but decided to stay quiet. You stayed with this man for almost three years and he thinks that your only with him for the money? You felt your heart break even more. Why did he even ask you to marry him if this was his mindset?

“She’s really starting to piss me off Chrono.”

“Have you talked to her since that night?”

“WHY WOULD I TALK TO THE COCK HUNGRY WHORE WHO GETS UPSET ABOUT EVERYTHING?!” That was it. Your heart was shattered even more then it already was. You take off your ring and throw it down that halls of the compound before running to your room to gather all your things that your asshole of a husband didn’t buy.

You had a few clothes and sentimental things before shoving it all in a suitcase and putting it into a guest bedroom. As much as you wanted to leave right away, you couldn’t since you weren’t anywhere near family.

‘I mean there’s always living on the streets.’ You thought before quickly dismissing the idea, realizing it was to dangerous to be going out alone in this quirk filled world while being quirkless.

But the more you thought about it the more your plan came into fruition.

~~~

5 Days Later

You looked out your window as you felt the breeze hit you from your open window. You still havent even spoken to Kai and pretended like he didn’t exist at all.

‘Tonights the night.’

You sigh as you take a deep breath before climbing out the window slowly, trying not to hurt yourself. Your things were already outside, putting them there earlier that day.

Once your feet hit the ground you grabbed your things and booked it. You ran as fast as your feet could take you. You couldn’t help the smile that etched itself into your face.

Your feet finally came to a stop once you saw the old building you were planning on staying at for the time being. Being homeless is better then being with that self absorbed prick.

You started walking as you legs carried you inside the house and up the stairs. It was an old apartment building that was left abandoned after the Kamino incident.

~~~

Kai let out a sigh as he got out of the shower ready to go back to work when he noticed something.

All your REALLY important stuff that belonged to you was gone.

He shrugged his shoulders thinking you just took it with you to your room before putting on clothes and walking down the hallway towards his office.

Just as he reached the office he felt something underneath his shoe. He moved his foot and to his surprise your ring was underneath it.

He picked up the ring looking at the engraved words he had put into on so that it would always remain special to you. What was this doing here? Did it fall off your finger and you didn’t notice? He let out a low grumble before turning to go to your ‘now’ room before realizing the door was locked.

He tried the lock again before getting angry and smashing the door ope only to find a bare room and an open window.

~~~

1-2 Months Later

Letting out a sigh as you looked around your now ‘living area’ and smile in happiness. It was only one tiny room so you had to make the best of the situation. You gathered a few things for your little home so it looked more like a little room and less like an old basement. You lived in the top of the building, aka the attic. You had to steal some things in order to have it look a little nicer. You might have stolen a bed out of someones back end of their truck but we don’t talk about that.

But all in all you thought it looked pretty good.

You sigh as you fall back on the bed looking up at the clean ceiling smiling knowing all the spiders are gone.

You turn on your little radio by ‘your’ bed before slowly shutting your eyes and falling into a peaceful slumber.

~~~

A thousand thoughts swirled his mind right now. All these problems and it feels like he was running in circles.

First, he was trying to figure out his plan with the bullets, then there was you.

Where did you go? He asked so many people if they saw someone that looked like you and no one saw you. He grew more anger by the minute.

A million of ‘If i haven’t done this or If I hadn’t done that’ went through his entire being making him shake with anxiety. He knows what he did was wrong, but he also knows that his pride will always be and always has been his biggest down fall.

He can still remember the way you looked at him that night. You looked at him like he was a monster.

He didn’t even notice he was crying until he saw a tear drop fall from his eyes and onto the paper work.

“I shouldn’t have said all those nasty things about her...” He held his chest where his heart should be only to have his mind keep running at lightening speed thinking what if?

What if he never missed those anniversary's?

What if he never killed you?

What if he never called you all those nasty things?

And...

What If he never let you go?

#kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki overhaul #chisaki x reader #kai #shie hassaikai #overhaul angst #overhaul #mha overhaul #overhaul x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #angst

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soramel · 3 years

Text

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

Part 1

jjkxreader Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 1.5k approx. Part 1/5

“You coming tonight?” your friend, Jimin, queried. The air’s getting colder these days. Gone were the colors of autumn that used to cover the path you’re taking and only left with the cold wet pavement.

You shrugged, “I have reports to finish.”

Meaning a netflix series you have to catch up on in the comfort of your couch. You were already deciding if you should order chicken wings or just go with a hot choco. Maybe ramen... you might need to stop by the store for kimchi. You’ve ran out last week.

Jimin whined, “Again? I thought you just finished the other day? Isn’t it finals in two weeks?” he knew you’re not just up for any party. He barely hitched you up on one, but he thought you’d give it a try, considering you’re a semester away from graduation in two weeks time.

“That also. It’s the finals,” you wittingly replied. Then faked a complaint, “Ugh, there’s too much to catch up on. I want to graduate already.”

You turned to him and gave out a sheepish smile, “Here’s my building. I’ll join you guys next time! Bye!”

It was a good call. It has been raining cats and dogs for hours. The heavy rain droned out the city’s noise outside your apartment and nothing could be more perfect right now with you and your laptop and a can of beer at hand.

The sky lit up with lightning followed by a loud rumble of startling thunder.

In a blink, a shadowed figure appeared beside your bed. You yelped in surprise.

Out of instinct you threw him whatever you’re holding. He didn’t flinch and you just watched as the fedora hat fell off his head, revealing a set of unruly curls covering his eyes.

You gasped, hands covering your mouth.

The stranger’s eyes fell shut in annoyance at the sudden beer facial wash.

Before he could even speak, you shouted, “Who the fuck are you?!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m calling 911!”

You questioned and threatened. Words coming out in spitfire.

He patiently wiped the stinking liquid off his face then taking a look at his watch while you dial for the police. Only then you realized you lost grip of your phone before even pressing the green button.

You tried to pick it up only to stare in horror as your hand went through.

You stared back at the strange man while you took everything in. He’s wearing a black trench coat, black gloves, and black combat boots. A character straight out of steampunk.

He let out a sigh and a forced smile.

“You’re early,” said the man with a hint of amusement.

“I just received your death notification while fetching a soul. He made a fuss and we had some problems so, apologies for being late.”

Is he crazy? A psychopath? A stalker?

“Ah, how rude of me. Jeon Jungkook. Your grim reaper, at your service.”

You’re beyond shock.

You thought you needed to be sent to a mental hospital for even believing whatever the freak is saying right now.

He raised his finger and sighed before pulling out a tablet under his coat. It’s as if he has done this a thousand times as he nonchalantly fed you information you couldn’t grasp.

“L/N, Y/N. Your cause of death should be of old age at 93 on August 10, 2090.”

Cocking his head to the side, “I need you to come with me to the headquarters so we can settle this.”

You gaped in utter shock.

“I’m dead?”

Jungkook nodded, “Yes. You had a car accident while crossing Adelaide...” he paused and swiped on his gadget, “1 hour and 2 minutes ago.”

You were about to speak when he held up his hand. “I know you have a lot of questions, but we need to get going. My shift’s ending in 0:00 and I still have one soul left to fetch today.”

In a daze, you stood up and followed him outside your apartment. The elevator dinged as it opened. He flashed his bunny-like smile and gestured towards the lift.

“After you,”

You walked meekly, unsure whether this is some kind of prank being pulled by Jimin. Is he his friend? Is this your punishment for ditching him nth times in a row?

Jungkook stepped into the elevator as you look for cameras. Your run-down apartment has none.

Then the lights inside flickered, making you jolt.

Ding!

The doors whooshed open only to find yourself in a grand bedroom. Wails of grief from the family rung through your ears as you followed his footsteps, still out of your sanity.

An old man’s body is laying on the bed, with the machine showing a flatline on the bedside. Jungkook wore off his fedora as he greeted the old man who’s staring at his grieving family.

“Sir. It’s time.” he informed solemnly. The man turned to you his eyes flashed with understanding. He stared up to Jungkook and nodded, accepting his fate.

You pursed your lips as you held onto nothing but your hands. As Jungkook opened the bedroom door, you three were led to a neighborhood, outside of a mansion.

There’s a car waiting. Jungkook held the car door open for him. With a last look at the house, he silently rode the car. The door falling shut after.

You were speechless. This...

isn’t a prank.

You’re dead.

“That was fast,” Jungkook said, sounding happy. “Ah I love fetching old people sometimes. Smooth as butter,” he told himself as he dust off his hands out of habit.

When he turned to you, his nose crinkled in light disgust.

“Come with me,” he ordered.

You followed suit and couldn’t even utter a word. Barely understanding what’s happening.

A minute of silence passed as you walked down on the neighborhood.

“I’m not supposed to be dead, right?” you asked, remembering what he said earlier.

You watched the back of his head bob up and down. “That’s why I’m bringing you to the headquarters in Jongno district. You’re my first odd case,” he explained.

“How... how would I live? When I don’t have my body anymore?” you walked up to him. Stopping him from taking a step further.

“Shouldn’t we get my body first?” you asked, frantic. He just stared back at you and replied, “And what? Hide it in a fridge?”

“I don’t even have one in my house,” he followed then continued walking.

You felt utter frustration. It’s unfair. Extremely unfair. They did some kind of mistake then now you have to suffer. What kind of shit are they on to?

“But I wasn’t supposed to die! As you said!” you yelled at him. Tears welling up in your eyes.

He stopped and turned back to you. He looked around and grabbed you by the arm. Jungkook walked towards a door and went in and as if there’s a sudden shift, quite of a whiplash, you exited to another door leading to another neighborhood.

He didn’t stop walking and you tried your best to stop him as he just moved forward despite the cobblestone wall ahead of you.

In a blink, you were led to a white-washed hall. Endless counters like those in a bank with red digital numbers on top of each one.

He didn’t let go of you as he tapped on the self-service queue machine.

A receipt is printed, a ding heard, then you were being dragged again 10 counters down the hall.

His pissed off face were gone in a second as he flashed his friendly smile on the lady behind the desk.

“Jungkook! It’s been 3 Julian years!” she greeted enthusiastically.

Then inquired right away, “Another stubborn soul?”

She turned to you, and ranted on “Oh poor young lady, no need to worry. You’ll be reincarnated after passing the 7 trials! 49 days if you’re a noble soul but that’s 1 in a million traveling the afterlife. You’ll just spend a decade on average! We have a long queue at the gate, you see. You should fall in line now.”

She talked out in one breath then turned to the arrogant grim reaper, giving out a wink as if she just solved a problem for him.

Jungkook shook his head and leaned on the counter. “She’s not supposed to pass yet. Here,”

He took out his tablet and showed your profile. The lady frowned before another “Oh,” in surprise passed her lips.

She then swallowed and feigned a smile. “I have to call a higher up for this. Give me a sec.”

The lady dialed something on the telephone and spoke, “Sir, we have a case 3 here.”

“Understood.”

She looked up at both of you after the call. The door to your left opened as she let you in.

“Follow me,” she said in her top-notch customer service tone.

You were lost after a series of turns and doors and lifts.

At another turn around the end of a hallway, you saw an intricate carved-out door at the other end.

The lady knocked before the knob clicked open.

#bts fanfic #jungkook fantasy au #jungkook fanfic #jk x reader #jkxreader

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incarnateirony · 3 years

Note

Hello! :)

This is another question about Walker ratings.

Last week was original series finale, full on Wild West, and the finals came back at 1.028 and .15.

This week finals aren't in, but the prelims 0.971 and .10. That's the third time it's dipped under a million in 5 weeks. it's had prelims at .10 before but they went up to .15 with the finals. Funnily enough the prelims were .20 last week and dropped to .15.

With four weeks left to go, how low is likely?

I can't think this is a cheap show to make, it's got an expensive lead who eats rolex's for breakfast and a large, reasonably known, regular cast. It's not like the normal cast of CW teenage unknowns.

It really is a rubbish show but, will a million keep tuning in to see Jared tic and grimace his way through a shitty script, or can it fall lower?

It's so fucking arrogant of the CW to put this shit out and expect a hit.

The thing about 0.15 is it depends on the thousandths column. 0.15 flat (or like 0.146 that rounds up to 0.15) rounds down to 0.1. 0.151 rounds up to 0.2. To explain that phenomenon with the fast track nationals that are rounded in prelims. (Also, sometimes prelims are off by a few thousandths so read like 0.151 and then may drop to 0.149, or vice verse, so it can shuffle that in finals. That's why they're fast track, not finals)

I already said, when the first episode aired and they rejoiced at the 0.4 rounded up (about 0.35X if I remember in fast track), to enjoy it while it lasted, because "It would be lucky if it didn't round down to 0.1 in its first season"). Not because of typical decline. Typical decline would be about 25%. 33% tops. Not like 66%. Just because I saw it in the cards. And guess what, it happened, and it's not over yet.

The final episode or two may receive a boost just by the nature of promos and push, but between here and there, expect it to continue to fight and fight and fight to round up to 0.2 again. I doubt it will drop BELOW 0.1 flat, but we could all be pleasantly surprised. Expect it to hover in the 0.1-0.15 zone for the rest of the first season run, maybe pulling a few 0.16 if it's lucky depending on what the media weatherdome is like around it on a good day.

It's fall season you'll want to keep an eye on. Premieres tend to launch about where the previous season left off but within a few episodes it's likely to have a minimum 15% decline just from standard annual. And then any further decline from general loss of interest, since this show seems to have a hole in its hull. So basically expect walker to--if it's very lucky--premiere at about 0.13 in fall and then drift down to 0.11 within a few episodes and, from there, do the standard leaky ship effect and probably be airing around 0.08 by spring.

Or it could take a worse track and launch around 0.1 after the first ep or two and then dwindle to something like 0.066, round up to 0.07 by spring.

So basically, where we're at is our current zone to look out for, for most of the rest of the season, with some wobble--down for several, up for end of season. Next season it'll premiere between 0.12-0.14, drift to 0.10-0.11 within a few eps and then drain anywhere to 0.08-0.066/0.07 by spring. If it does any worse than that, god bless its little cowboy spittin' heart.

But this is also what I mean about CW decline in general and its inevitable heat death. Spring and Fall 2020, shows were airing at 0.3 still--SPN, the Flash (~0.4), All American, Batwoman--hell, even Riverdale and Legacies were in zone to round up. to 0.3. Now, everything has crashed through the floor in less than what's considered a full season and is lucky to round up to 0.2, most are in 0.1 range. Their top hits are lucky to hit 0.15x to round up to 0.2. We're talking about a 50% crash on the network which just magically happened to hit around, oh, december, for reasons we'll pretend not to understand.

This is why boycotting all forms of products that ever passed through their hands, even if they're technically licensed to the parent companies now, is important. Live watching, streaming, even watching on syndication networks like TNT, whatever. Cut out it being profitable, quarantine anyone from wanting to do business with them or buy any products cranked through them, cut out the entire reason for it to exist. It's essentially bankrolled by CBS/WB right now as a content vehicle and if it's failing and nobody is buying their stuff, that bankrolling will end, especially with the netflix deal shattered.

I know it doesn't look like it's doing anything at a glance--but say, SPN's franchiseability being cut in more than 1/3 (77-23) lowers how much or how hard streamers barter for it. Same for all their products having dropping value. It makes it dead in the water even for digital distribution profit. Their ad space is barely worth shit these days. Hell, check out their advertisers, find 10 people that all use their products and call bomb them over half a day threatening to cancel service/use and raise their flags. They'll move to greener pastures. Geico, tmobile, sprint, and so on. (Btw liberty and some others also advertise but fun fact, geico manages liberty to some extent so if you bombard both of them it'll cross share--literally geico agents handle liberty accounts for customer service, don't ask how I know this)

The further people spread the word to cut CW out as a shit network for its handling of *all* shows--both live and digital-- the more its heat death will be expedited.

Do you really think it'll live long when its "hit" shows are running 0.07 and its others are running a nice 0.05 that MIGHT round up to 0.1? MIGHT??? how many will start rounding to 0.0 by next year alone even by classic decline, and how many can you expedite into doing so--

Even at its current trajectory unless the CW MAJORLY changes something, there is no way on planet earth it will make it past fall 2023. And that's being generous. So pedal to the metal, kids. Keep it up, don't go "oh it's been long enough", KEEP spreading the word, KEEP turning it off if you see it on friend/family/work TV, KEEP making sure your friends aren't streaming it, KEEP blasting it without giving them free PR, KEEP them off the digital trends as much as you can. There's a slim chance that one could make them close shop after spring 2022. And I definitely see a decent chance of killing it by Spring 2023.

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thetorturerwrites · 3 years

Note

Requesting part 2 to the rope flying one!

+ Anonymous asked:Part two of the Kylo rope suspension play, please?!?

1 in the morning counts as Tuesday, right? Requests aren’t open, but please have this from my brain so I can go to sleep. Herein, we journey into first-person territory; so, if you don’t like it, too bad. I already did it. So there. ;)

***

“Sorry.”

It was the bump of his hips into mine, and the resulting step I had to take into his space to steady myself that moved us from a peaceful co-existence into something prickly, spiky with feeling. His touches had been specific to this point, goal-oriented. The upper harness went beneath my arms and around my chest, knotted at my sternum, with hardly a whisper of his fingertips. His instructions were clipped and succinct. He was almost too efficient.

With the waist harness, though, he took to nudging me into a different position physically rather than verbally. The toe of his boot against my heel. The push of his forearm against my shoulders. Nothing too abrupt; all easily endured. But when he leaned his hip into mine, my center of gravity shifted, and I fell onto him, all breasts and hips and hands that latched onto granite disguised as skin. I was softness, plump against his hardness.

And then, that stupid, stupid word shot out of my stupid, stupid mouth before I even realized what I was saying.

I’d long since stopped the daily apologizing I’d been raised on. For taking up space. For wearing clothes. For existing. For wanting, no choosing, to be happy. But every now and then, it crept back up, startling even me. This pressure, this utter hatred society placed on me for daring to exist in a body shaped like mine. Every now and then, I couldn’t quash the apology on my tongue, couldn’t chase it back behind my teeth no matter how hard they would grind.

Sorry. Sorry you have to deal with this. With these arms, these legs, this roundness. Sorry you have to look at this doughiness instead of svelte, these rolls instead of muscles. Sorry you have to maneuver around this bigness, this heavy body.

Sorry you have to see me.

His reaction was immediate. Those dark eyes I’d tried so hard to stare directly into narrowed to slits, the implication clear. I had to look away, which only earned me a threatening hiss.

I winced so hard he could surely hear it.

His fingers gripped my chin, already wobbling with so much unsaid, but I couldn’t look anywhere else now. His tight pinch wouldn’t allow it; and so, I did the only thing I could think of…

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

It was a heavy whisper, laden with insecurity but laced with the fight I’d spent years building up. I decided long ago that I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel ugly, silly, fat, stupid. Less than. Never, ever less than.

Even these supposedly accepting people with their insipid excuses about why they wouldn’t tie a fat body.

“I don’t want to hear that shit ever again.” His low voice shot through my gut and made my eyes water. “Do you understand me?”

I wanted so much to show him I was strong. To prove to him, to fucking all of them, that I could do this, that I could do everything the others could do, regardless of my size. And here I was, already crying like a child because he caught me trying to placate a hate he’d never even shown me.

“Yes,” It was a war just to get the word out, and I tasted the resulting tears on my tight lips. “I understand.”

He leaned in faster than I could comprehend and licked at the corner of my mouth, tasting the salty drops collecting there. Dumbstruck, I gaped at him and the hungry, satisfied look dancing across his angular features.

Could he taste all that feeling there?

In what felt like only seconds, the mermaid’s tail was complete, knotted from the juncture of my thighs to my knees. He moved my hands to grasp the rope connecting me to the hard point, wrapped his own around the free end, and sank down to the floor.

One moment I was standing, watching him watch me; and the next, I simply wasn’t. With a yelp, I closed my eyes at the first sway because it happened so fast. But then, realization dawned, and I looked from him, winding the rope around his flexing forearm and sinking down to the ground again to hoist me higher, to the ground -- the ground I no longer stood upon.

He did it.

Fresh tears, no less salty but decidedly happier, rose up to cloud my vision, but it didn’t matter. This was the best swing set ever, and I wasn’t just watching. I was doing the whole damn thing.

And I was doing it in a way that made me more aware of my body than ever.

I’d thought it must feel freeing, weightless. To be up in the air and defying gravity like that? It must feel like floating. But it didn’t. The rope dug into my hips, an aching, deep bite I loved. All of my weight sunk into the harness, which only made me more aware of it. My body was turned in such a way there was no disguising my belly or my ass, but the appreciative way his palms smoothed over every available bit of both made me feel wanted, erotic and lovely.

Proud.

Every part of me was made to handle this, to take on and do hard things. Maybe before I saw sponginess; but now, I only saw strength. I was made to endure.

The room, the world went silent except for my breathing, his breathing, and the world inside my head. I understood now how so many people lost themselves to the rope, how easy it was to become undone in the binding. I envisioned a million different scenarios, all of them centering me suffering for him, pushing myself to limits for which I did not yet have words. I wanted all of that.

It felt like prayer, meditation, worship. And he was my guide.

Before I could over-think, I reached for him, sliding both arms around his shoulders and turning into his torso. For a moment, I thought great, ugly sobs were on the horizon; but as his fingers tangled into my hair and tipped my head back, I could only smile, triumphant and infinitely fucking pleased with myself.

Turns out fat girls can fly.

#torturer tuesdays #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine

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hoodoo12 · 4 years

Text

Elegy (1/6)

What follows is a story of Miss Argentina and Beetlejuice and how their own personal issues keep them locked in their own private hells. Contains smut and angst. It was done as a rp between @clairjohnson and myself. NSFW. Beetlejuice/Miss Argentina. Beej is a combination of movie and musical; Miss Argentina has contains hcs (such as her name and circumstances). Also contains minor mentions of OC Dante’s Inferno employees. (Tagging people who have asked in the past. If you’d like to be tagged, hmu. If you’d like to be untagged, hmu. @turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @janitor-boy @beejiesbitch @angelicspaceprince) Enjoy!

He’d married, been murdered, vanquished the evil that was Juno – he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again anytime soon – said some weird heartfelt goodbyes to people he just terrorized, and was carried off by his clones in the smallest, most subdued mosh pit style ever, for an exit that was worthy of some kind of award, just for the theatrics of it.

The second he was through the swirling mists of the doorway that separated the living from the Netherworld, he turned on his own clones and attacked them remorselessly, using claws and teeth to tear them apart, growling like he’d lost his mind and spitting like he was rabid.

None of the clones attempted to fight back or escape. They were part of him, and he was so fucking angry – it made him angrier that they just took their destruction passively, his destruction, a destruction of self that made his hands drip with gore, his mouth taste like clotted blood, and his clothing, the tuxedo conjured specifically for something positive in his fucking waste of a life, a deeper color.

He hated this fucking suit.

He was too exhausted by the end of his rampage to flick it away, however. Stepping over the piles of meat that had been clones, he wiped his hands down his front and winced as they brushed over the new ventilation that goddamn teenager graced him with. He kicked the door to the waiting room hard enough that it bounced off the interior wall of purgatory, startling the assholes sitting around waiting for their stupid numbers to be called.

---

It had been another slow day in the waiting room. Not that Miss Argentina had any way to count “days” – time had little meaning in death – but her job was as uneventful now as it had been several hundred new arrivals ago. Staring down at her clipboard Maria crossed out the name of the last soul she’d sent back to meet their case worker. Juno was surprisingly absent at the moment, but the receptionist wasn’t too concerned. Her boss was a work-alcoholic and honestly, what else did Juno have to do? She’d be back soon.

In a practiced motion, one she’d done a million times, Maria stood and slid open the dividing screen to the waiting room.

“Number 5,678 Mr. Hen – “

The rest of the name caught in her throat when the door to the left of her was blown open, rattling on hinges that threatened to give. A split second of panic washed over her, an emotion really only needed for the living, before she saw who it was.

Betelgeuse.

“Mr. Hendrix,” she finished, moving her gaze from the fuming poltergeist to the sorry looking dead man standing up from his seat. “Your caseworker is waiting for you – please step through those doors.”

Maria placed her clipboard back on the desk then leaned out the window a little further, giving the older, bloodied man a deeper once over. “Back so soon, Mr. Betelgeuse? Should I pull you a number?”

"Fuck this place and fuck the numbers!" he spit, literally spit, making the ghost sitting nearest in his line of fire wipe his face as he hoisted himself up – some kind of heart attack took him, no doubt, from the lack of obvious trauma and the effort he took to get out of the molded plastic chair – and hurried as fast as he could out of range.

He could take that chair and beat down every wall in this place. He could tear apart every single soul in this forsaken pit. He could bypass the eons of fucking waiting and just march right down the hall to the Lost Souls' Room –

– scary thing was, that option held some real fucking appeal at the moment.

Beetlejuice glared at each and every dead person cowering in place. Fucking losers. Just like the fucking Maitlands, but worse, because they followed the goddamn directions in the fucking Handbook and were now stuck here.

But what did that say about him? the voice in the crate in the back of his mind whispered. You tried, and you still ended up right.here.with.them.

Beetlejuice grabbed the side of his head, mindless of the residual tackiness on his hand, and gave his hair a yank. Sometimes that dislodged the voice enough to make it shut up.

His gaze fell on the beauty queen behind the partition. He couldn't tell if she was politely waiting for his tantrum to subside, or if she was being indifferently patient, having seen it all before.

Maria wondered, absently, where all the blood had come from. She noticed the gaping hole in his chest and assumed it might all be his – but it was always hard to tell with Betelgeuse. His brand of “bio-exorcising” wasn’t the cleanest. However, based on his outfit, she doubted his day job was what sent him back here. The fool had tried to get married again.

Fixing him with a cool, pleasant smile, Maria yanked a number from the ticket dispenser and held it up. “I’ll just pull one for you, then. You know the rules – no number, no getting to see Juno.”

The beauty queen leaned further out of the window and rested her chin in the palm of her hand – her clipboard and list forgotten for the moment. Red tuxedo – a classic for him. How many times had she seen him in it? She could remember at least four, and she guessed he’d worn it twice as many times before she’d crossed over. Betelgeuse never told her how old he was, but after working with him for over three decades, it was clear he had a few hundred years under his belt.

When was he going to stop pulling this stunt? It never worked. Always ended up with him down in the waiting room – back here with her. Maria bristled, both angry and jealous that he got to leave this hell and go gallivanting top side as he pleased. Her smile tightened and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You never invite me to your weddings,” Maria said casually, lifting the hand from her chin to examine the ruby manicure. “Any good plans for your honeymoon?”

She flicked her gaze up to catch his reaction.

The bitterness and pure rage inside him managed to ratchet up another notch with the receptionist's detached apathy to his situation as she offered the ticket out to him.

Anyone else, and he'd have taken that hand off at the wrist; he could feel his teeth lengthen in anticipation of it. As it were, he snatched the paper away with enough force to tear it. He crumpled it in his fist and shoved it into a pocket without looking at it, casting his glance around the room again at all the lesser assholes who were pointedly trying not to look at him and become the focus of his ire.

Maria's words, her barbed little query spoken in her light accent, just poured salt into the gaping hole in his chest.

"Fuck you," he roared. His voice cracked.

Maria was used to seeing Betelgeuse angry. She was also used to seeing him happy – manically so. The man had a way of taking emotions to the extreme. She was not, however, used to hearing the crack in his voice. The next biting remark died on her tongue and she peered up from her nails, her brow furrowing.

“Oh, don’t look so upset.” She tutted, but there was less sarcasm behind it. “You have all the time in the world to try again, don’t you? It’s not like you’re stuck here (like she was). Not for long, anyway.”

Had this time been different from his other attempts? The pain in his expression suggested so. If he kept this up she may just bring him around back to avoid disturbing the waiting ghosts. Maria didn’t like bending the rules, but for the good of her job she’d bend them. That’s what she told herself at least. For the job.

try again

not like you're stuck here

Her words meant to comfort stung, jamming themselves like smaller spears into his chest. She was partially right. It wasn't like he was stuck here, so long as he could convince some dumb sucker to fulfill the terms of the contract. Finding the right dumb sucker was what took the time and energy.

That led to the whole "try again" debacle. What was the point? He'd never succeed; despite the seemingly impressive power he had in the upper world, it was useless. He was useless, like everything was smoke and mirrors and the one being fooled was him.

He realized he had his fists clenched so hard he was shaking. The ghosts surrounding him in the mismatched furniture, patiently waiting their turn, still did their damnedest to pretend they heard and saw nothing.

"No one is like me!" he'd shrieked in the Maitlands' faces.

The stupid deads sitting here proved it. He had half a mind to grab the nearest one and rip him apart like he'd treated his clones, just to continue to give his rage an outlet, but on top of everything else he didn't want to deal with the consequences of that. Maria was still watching him, as if she expected him to do something of the sort, like she was steeling herself to have to intervene and de-escalate him, even though he knew it wasn't anywhere near part of her job.

The shaking of his fists drew her gaze down – would he really be so brash as to tear through the souls waiting? Not that he could actually kill anyone, but it would make them have to get a new place in line . . . and the paperwork involved would be a headache.

Maria lifted her Miss Argentina sash over her head and draped it on the back of her chair. Quietly, but quickly, she moved around her desk and out the side door that led to the waiting room. Like approaching a wild animal you didn’t want to startle, Maria crept forward. Delicately, she placed her fingers on the side of his arm to get his attention, keeping her back straight and her expression calm.

“How about you come wait in the back, Mr. Betelgeuse.”

Her voice was smooth. She had started adding in the “Mr.” when he’d gone rogue and stopped working for Juno. The days of familiarity, of her calling him “Beej”, were long gone. Maria still kept a certain level of fondness for the poltergeist, though she’d never admit it aloud.

The roots of his hair were probably the color of this fucking suit.

When Maria physically approached and laid a manicured hand on his arm, he almost spun on her. When the pressure on his arm increased, aided by her nails digging in so hard he could feel them through the layers of fabric, he forced himself to relent.

"Fine," he agreed bitterly.

She’d felt him tense at her touch, and Maria briefly considered she’d made a grave mistake approaching him, until his muscles relaxed – slightly – under her fingers. Thank goodness.

Keeping her hand on his arm the receptionist guided him to the office door. She peered out to catch the relief on the newly dead faces before shutting it behind her.

“Take a seat.” She gestured to the chair next to her desk and sat back down on her own. She wanted to stay disinterested, wanted to keep things professional, but she couldn’t.

“So.” Maria pulled some papers together and tapped them on her desk until they were even. “Is most of that blood yours? I haven’t seen you looking so . . . out of sorts in quite some time.”

The beauty queen looked at him from the corner of her eye, pretending to keep most of her attention on the work in front of her.

He sat where indicated, in the hard straight back chair beside her desk. If he wanted, he could look up and see the filing cabinets, the paths in the rug worn through to the subfloor underneath, the endless stacks of paper, and the hallway where the caseworker's offices were.

He didn't want to. He could walk through the place blindfolded. Nothing changed in the Netherworld; it was all slog and dismay. And they thought he was crazy for wanting back out?!

A cigarette appeared in his hand. Sticking it between his lips he glanced up at her question and statement.

"Yeah. The blood's mine. First from that goddamn teenager and second – " He broke off there and used lighting the cigarette as an excuse not to finish and admit he'd torn apart his own clones in a fit of rage. " – never mind. Nothing matters. It's the same shit for eternity."

Maria watched, with pointed interest, as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth. Well, at least the blood was his. Less mess for Juno to clean up later.

“Thanks.” She drawled sardonically, bringing her own cigarette into existence. “I’d love one.”

As she took a drag, Maria let his remark sit in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. Most of the dead seemed to be having an on-going crisis – and if Beej had been feeling the same, he’d never let on.

“You’ve always been one for the dramatics. But never nihilism.” She paused, “ – also, did you just say teenager? You know what – I don’t want to know.”

She threw her hand up at that, waving the question off. He was a scumbag, to be sure, but the thought of him being that scummy was not an idea she wanted to entertain.

He'd have felt bad about not offering her a smoke if he was in a different state of mind. As it were, it didn't even register until she pointed it out. Even then he couldn't quite bring himself to care. It was easy, however, to fill in the blanks she left out.

"It was a fuckin' green card thing," he growled. "Most teens – especially gothy ones who think their existence is the worst of anyone, ever – are dumb as shit. Easy to manipulate. Except this one was too damn clever for her own good. She used – "

It was on the tip of his tongue to admit his naked, desperate desire to be accepted was used effectively against him, but that made sour bile rise in the back of his throat and he had to swallow it down again.

" – ugly art to impale me," he corrected after only a brief hesitation. He took a deep drag, and was dismayed to see that some smoke drifted out the hole in his chest. That kid must've punctured a lung. He sighed as he pulled at his shirt to try and cover it.

From the corner of his eye he watched her watch him. He didn't want her pity. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew he didn't want her pity.

Maria felt herself relax at his growled response – pleased to hear he was still a normal scumbag of the con-man variety. She couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips into a smile when he admitted how he kicked the bucket this time around. She’d seen a lot of dumb ways to die, but ugly art was a first. Chuckling through a drag, she eyed the smoke coming out of his chest, causing her lips to curl even further upward.

As good as it was to have him talking, the anger radiating off him was still obvious. She could practically feel it on her skin. Whenever he got out of hand Juno was usually around to deal with him – but not this time. She was still surprisingly absent. Fortunately, Maria had worked here long enough to know what her boss’s trump card was.

“Juno’s been away from the office today.” she started, putting out her cigarette in the glass tray on her desk. “And you look like you’re in the need of a distraction after . . . your little accident.”

The receptionist spun her chair to face him, one slender bare leg crossed over the other, and raised a brow at the bloodied ghost.

“How does a drink or two at Dante’s sound? On Juno’s tab, of course.”

She smiled, scarlet lips parting to show off her straight white smile. In many ways the two were opposites. Beej was unapologetically himself, moss and all, while Miss Argentina went to great lengths to appear perfect. Even though she had let some of that anxiety go in death, bad habits were hard to break.

“I’ll join you – if you don’t mind. I could use some time out of the office.”

In an effort to appear disinterested in the state of both his clothing and the new hole he was going to have to figure out how to close, Beetlejuice kept his eyes on the paperwork she'd straightened. A kid's profile, from the looks of it. One perk about working as Juno's assistant way back when was helping the kids when they came through –

He glanced up sharply when Maria mentioned Dante's. Actually suggesting it, and accompanying him to it. He would've thought that the beauty queen would pretend that place never existed, although he knew she must have been both scouted and offered a job there.

"On Juno's tab? A drink or five sounds great."

Some time that old hag was going to show up again, slathered in Sandworm spit and gastric juices, and he'd much rather not be found here if possible. He stood up abruptly, making the wooden chair squeal against the floor.

"Fine. I'll let you take me out."

“Only drinks, Mr. Betelgeuse. I’m not paying for any other services.”

Miss Argentina hadn’t had a chance to be out in quite some time. With an eternity stretching out in front of you, there was little rush to do much of anything other than your assigned job. Peering down at her burgundy gown, she also realized she hadn’t changed her outfit in years – wearing the same dress to two different parties used to be a mortifying thought when she was alive.

How things change. The beauty queen stood, and with a few moments of concentration, changed into a red cocktail dress. Her French curled hair now in tight waves around her shoulders. It felt nice. A little like being alive, even. Even if it was just to go out and watch this man get drunk off his ass. But she understood his desire to live again – didn’t all ghosts wish they could be top side? He was certainly the most tenacious about getting there.

“All right, ready when you are,” she said while smoothing down her new outfit. She turned from the older man and started towards the office exit, throwing a ‘are you coming?’ glance over her shoulder at him.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her hands smoothing down the fabric of her choice of dress. With his cigarette still caught between two fingers, he ran his thumb over his lower lip, thinking about the differences between the dead and the breathers changing clothing – the breathers had to take it off and put it back on, versus simply willing a new outfit into existence.

Of course the dead could be titillatingly mundane, if they chose. It was too bad this was the never-closed office, and there was a waiting room full of ghosts on the other side of the glass partition –

At her invitation and with a sigh, Beetlejuice stepped off the road that daydream was headed. He'd lost the chance with her a long time ago.

He flicked his still lit cigarette into the ether and decided if she was going to be dolled up, it wouldn't be right for him to accompany her in what he was wearing. Between one step towards the door and the next, his blood-soaked tux became his favorite striped suit. He left the hole in his torso under his shirt.

"Lead the way, muñeca." tbc . . .

#writing #role-play #BeetleTina #Beetlejuice #Miss Argentina #Beetlejuice x Miss Argentina #Movie Beetlejuice #musical Beetlejuice #fanfiction #rp

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redhawtriot · 5 years

Text

Caught in the Act (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

So… this is technically like half of the request but I had way too many ideas for this (and its already long as hell. oops). I’m only doing one Bakugou cheating scenario on this page so go big or go home, right?

I also saw that this blog that I made like two weeks ago has like 100 of you guys following it wtf?! So to celebrate, I’m making my first actual series an interactive one! The following chapters will be very short (besides this one, she thicc), but each will have a question at the end that will determine the events of the next chapter! I made an account on OpinionStage where you guys can vote on through Tumblr, so hopefully at least one of you is excited.

Part two (the other half of this request) is where this fun will begin, so stay whelmed.

Fuck this site for making me repost this :)

Love you guys

HnM💕

Warning: Don’t read this to your fucking kids

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Essentially, your girls night for the week had been, in lack of better words, a shit show.

The brisk, fall air pierced your skin, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. You didn’t even want to touch your sticky filth.

You just wanted to run home to your Bakugou– he was all the warmth that you needed and more. More than anything, you wanted to forget about the foul man that had assaulted you at your now ex-favorite club.

A frown momentarily sneaked its way onto your face to corrupt the brave expression you had held in front of your girlfriends,

“Hey” you had raised your hands to halt your friend, “Don’t do something ridiculous! I promise I’m alright, Jirou!” You had begged her when she had prepared to fight the man as he grabbed your arms. You had already politely asked him to back away from you after he tried to grind himself against you. He called it dancing—you called it sexual harassment.

The nightclub security had already been watching this man and immediately closed in on him to escort him out of the club as soon as he moved in towards you. But it must not have been fast enough.

Everything happened so rapidly that you could barely blink in time before you were drenched in a sticky liquid. Still, you kept a calm expression on your face. Your friends’ careers as heroes depended on how calmly you acted,

“No, it’s okay! I needed to head home anyway!” you had argued with your girls after the man had thrown his drink at you. You tried to bring a smile onto your face as the slight sting of the alcohol penetrated your eyes, “Bakugou will pick me up,” you blinked heavily.

Of course he wouldn’t pick you up in front of the club.

No, that would just be a disaster waiting to happen.

He would more than likely blow the entire place up once he found out what had transpired.

However, after the fourth failed attempt at calling Bakugou, you had given up. It was honestly a stretch anyway. He barely made it past nine o’ clock most nights, and it was well on its way to midnight. You could see your breath as you gave off a heavy sigh, but you never faltered in your steps.

You just wanted to go home to your man, clean your pathetic ass in a hot shower, and forget other men existed in this world.

You groaned to yourself as you remembered how late your guys’ roommate, Kirishima, would stay up in the front living room playing video games—the same front living room you would have to sneak past to make your way to the sanctuary of your shower.

You opened the front door as quietly as you could and prodded your, matted, liquor-contaminated head into the threshold of your home. You probably looked like a wild animal as you scrunched your eyebrows and stared at the dark living room for a while before finally building up the courage to tiptoe towards your bathroom.

You didn’t even want to go to your room in fear of interrogation from a very sleepy, very pissed off Bakugou.

Better not poke the bear. Better just wash the stink and sins away and keep it moving like nothing had happened.

Kirishima not being awake on his Xbox for once was a blessing on a normal day, but today it was truly god sent. Hell, even Bakugou not being able to pick you up might have been a blessing in disguise—or so you thought.

As soon as you turned your shower off you heard it– a steady, creaking noise.

“What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself as your face crinkled upwards in disgust. Kirishima hardly ever brought girls home, and when he did, he was as quiet as a mouse with them. In fact, you hardly even knew the women were there until the next morning when they awkwardly wobbled out of the apartment with their heads tucked down.

The pace of the creaking sped up and the smack of the headboard joined in a repetitive thudding, causing you to freeze in place. Breathless feminine moans joined the little musical number in increasing volume for short while before they became more ‘shrieky’ in nature.

A grimace fell upon your expression, “What the fuck?” you once again mouthed. You quickly snatched your towel and wrapped it around you with haste as you tried to run from the unholy concerto that was being orchestrated in your room.

Wait.

Your room?

Your room was the room that was connected to the bathroom walls—not Kiri’s.

It was in that moment of realization that you heard the moans return, this time a gruff male voice joined the duet,

“Shit!” The moan was drawn out until it faded into a heavy, guttural groan.

You paused again as your heart dropped deeply into your chest. You stretched your hearing and waited for his voice to appear again over her constant whines, “Just like that, baby,” his voice reemerged as he groaned deeply. Your heart harshly reminded you of its existence as it lurched suddenly.

That sounded like Bakugou.

But it had to be a mistake. You rehearsed this thought repeatedly as you sped to your room as quietly as you could—your mind racing even faster than your legs. Your Bakugou was sound asleep in his bed like he was this time of night every night. He was sound asleep and stretched out on his side of the bed with the lights off and with a sock thrown over the flashing light of his work desk computer—he hated that light at night.

You faltered as your hand stuttered uncontrollably toward your door handle. Bakugou’s never even looked at another woman before. It took him years to throw even you, his current fiancé, a second glance. He would never in a million years be on the other side of this door with another woman making those ungodly sounds.

Sounds you hadn’t heard in months.

It had to be Kirishima you tried to convince yourself as you gently twisted the door handle, ‘Please god, he just went into the wrong room,’ you prayed as you threw the door open.

Every single muscle in your body froze as you ingested the sight in front of you—your heart included.

You caught the tail end of their act, and you could only watch in complete disgust as the muscles of your beloved’s back violently contracted in sweat glistened pulses.

The woman made horrified eye contact with you as she was being pinned against your grandmother’s dresser, yet she couldn’t fight the last moan that ripped itself from her, her legs spasming as Bakugou’s flesh smacked into hers for a final time.

He desperately pressed himself into her like he was trying to become her, “Fuck,” he groaned into her neck. You noticed his nails dig deeply into her raised wrists as his hips rashly stuttered to a stop, “Don’t clench around me like that, babe. Relax.” His shaky breath demanded.

The woman looked far from relaxed, “H-Hey!” she anxiously tapped his shoulder, trying to warn him of their impending doom. Her wide eyes were still fixated on your ever-growing livid ones.

“BAKUGOU!” You screeched. The relaxed emotion that you had so desperately tried to keep plastered onto your face that night completely shattered as you angrily marched up to him and snatched the back of his hair, “You bastard!!”

As you yanked downward, he surprisingly fell to the ground, disconnecting with the other slut on trial as they both flew to the ground.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he yelled as his body heavily thudded into the ground.

“That’s my line, you fucking jackass!” you felt your voice crack. Everything hurt. There was pressure in the back of your eyes, the front of your chest, your legs, your throat, your toes, your everything. Everything in your body felt weak under your boiling blood as if you were about to explode.

“Y-Y/N…?” you saw his trademark pissed off expression drop to an unfamiliar one as his eyes finally adjust to you in the darkness of the room. It must have resided in an area between fear and sadness.

You fought the unruly emotions that threatened to take control over your body as you clenched your fist.

Fuck him. He doesn’t get to be sad.

“What?? Were you expecting someone else!?” you spat as you roughly kicked one of his nearby feet, “You probably were expecting more company, you whore,”

No response.

You dug your nails deep into the palm of your hands as if it would somehow release the excruciating pressure that you were feeling.

The woman’s meek voice suddenly broke the extreme silence you all shared, “I-I’m gonna g—”

“GO!” you angrily whipped yourself around to her before grabbing the nearest item that you could, “You dumb bitch! You’re lucky I don’t fuck you up too!” You threw the item as you cursed, not even bothering to know what it was.

It barely missed the naked girl and loudly shattered against one of your walls as she scurried towards the door. You went to reach for another object from your grandmothers’ dresser, promising that you wouldn’t miss this time, but you froze as you found yourself in the mirror connected to the dresser.

You hadn’t realized in your rage that you were crying until you saw your tear-soaked face in the dark reflection. You tried so hard to keep yourself together. You prided yourself on being level-headed in stressful situations, but you were far from level-headed. You were conceited to ever even try to take on that persona.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you could only lament about how pathetic you looked—how pathetic you were.

“I…I’m such an idiot!” you painfully gripped at your hair as you fell into your knees in front of the man you loved. Heavy sobs tore themselves free of your burning throat. You heaved yourself forward into your lap in a failed attempted to catch them, but it was too late.

“I don’t… know what to say.” Bakugou finally spoke up, his face completely flipped upside down from its usual tenseness.

Of course.

Out of all of the times you wanted this loud-mouthed jerk to shut up, now is when he is at a loss for words.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that fell from your lips.

“I don’t see what’s so fucking funny?” he angrily retorted, as he stumbled to make his way up. You were suddenly met with his member being swung at your eye level as you stayed crouched onto the ground. That’s when you noticed–

He didn’t even have a condom on.

He made you get tested for STDs and pregnancy before he even had sex with you with a condom.

“I don’t know where that thing has been,” He had said then. It wouldn’t be until months later when you had started birth control when he had finally decided to risk sex without latex protection. The memory jolted an unexpected emotion from you as your chest bobbed from an oncoming laugh.

“G-get out.” You laughed again, tears still steadily falling from your face. You probably looked absolutely psychotic right now, but it was like all of the emotions that you had been stifling all these years had resurfaced with a vengeance. You struggled to drag yourself to stand so that you wouldn’t have to look at his still wet dick.

You continued to laugh and cry as Bakugou stared at you, his expression becoming disgruntled from the disturbing sight,

“What the fuck is wrong wi—”

“Get. OUT!!” you angrily interrupted him as you roared into his face. He blinked spastically in response as the shock of the altercation finally began to sink into his decelerated mind.

‘F-fuck,’

His heart sank, ‘What did I just do?’ He racked his brain as he tried to remember all of the events that had taken place to lead him to this moment, but the world seemed to be spinning ferociously, shaking up and mixing the timeline of the night.

He was plucked from his thoughts as he caught a glimpse of your face in the darkness of the room.

Why were you looking at him like you hated his existence—like if you could disintegrate his body with your eyes, you would. For the first time in years, Bakugou felt hot tears tingle against the back of his eyes, “Y/N, I…” his voice became stuck in his chest as his heart gave sudden jolt, “I’m so s–”

His chest became tight as you whipped away from him and silently threw a pointed finger towards the door.

He stumbled back a few feet as if you had just thrown a physical attack his way.

After a few moments of watching you hold the same position, he noticed you had started to cry again as your rocking shoulders lurched forward.

His face fell even further into the expression of despair before he froze. He could fix this if you would just let him, dammit!

He growled in annoyance at your ignoring him before he finally thawed his body, “FINE!” he yelled at you before smacking your pointed hand out to the way so that he could stagger out of the room. He loudly slammed the door shut, leaving you alone with your deafening thoughts.

You immediately dropped back to the ground before you curled yourself up into a ball and released painful sobs.

You had absolutely no fear that he would catch you in this state. His pride would never allow him to come back after storming out like that.

However on the other side of the door, Bakugou had already turned back around. Instant guilt had created a cacophony of loud feelings in his mind. How could he have hurt you like that?

The thought caused his heart to thrum and his hands to flinch away from the door handle; however, he strengthened his resolve and firmly grasped the handle once more until suddenly–

“BAKU-BROOOOO!” Kirishima’s booming voice could be heard moments before the front door was slammed open and bounced against your living room wall, “Ya made it back alive, man! We were all worried about you after you disappeared…” he slurred as he fumbled over to his best friend like a toddler taking his first steps.

Bakugou couldn’t find it in himself to reply to the redhead as the latter threw himself at him with a hearty laugh. The laugh, however, came to an abrupt end as Kirishima stared blankly at Bakugous face, “Hey… wha’s wrong, best buddy? Holy hell, w-why are you crying?!” he loudly whispered. A loud rumble could be heard before Kirishima violently gagged, releasing the contents of his stomach.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction

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londonalozzy · 4 years

Text

Did You Know? 2/2

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

Summary: You find yourself in Siberia with Steve and Bucky. When Tony arrives you get caught in the crossfire, not knowing how or even if you can stop their fighting. Other than Steve who you're in love with, Tony is the most important person to you in the world, the closest thing you have to a Dad. It's tearing you apart seeing them fight like this. What do you do? How do you stop it?

Read Part 1

Masterlist

The moment that Steve confessed to knowing it was Bucky that killed Tony's parents all hell broke loose. They crashed and moved around the space with such speed it was almost impossible to tell which one was which. All I saw was a flash of red, blue and black.

I was stunned, distraught, broken hearted. I don't know how to fix this or how to make it better. Tony was out for blood, Steve was trying to protect Bucky, and Bucky was trying to save himself. I, well I just stood there, watching chaos erupt around me, a million questions running through my head. I knew I had to do something. I just had no idea what.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Zemo, still safely encased inside his chamber. A huge satisfied grin filled his features and it was then I realised he had won. He got exactly what he wanted. He blamed the Avengers for the loses he suffered during the Sokovia attack. In his eyes we wrecked his family, so he was now destroying ours. It looks like he achieved everything he set out too.

There was one thing that was certain in my mind, one conclusion I had come to. No longer could I fight alongside Steve and Bucky, not after this. It wasn't just the act of killing Howard and Maria that made me feel this way. It was how they've dealt with it since. They'd got me on their team, had me helping them, defending them. All the while they were keeping this big, dark secret. Bucky I can understand not telling me, he had no loyalty to me or to Tony. Steve on the other hand is a different story. I chose to go with him, knowing that doing so could destroy my relationship with the only father figure I've ever known. I did it because I thought he needed me. I did it because I loved him. Just goes to show that love isn't enough, trust is just as important. As of now Steve didn't have mine.

I was pulled out of the internal war I was experiencing when a large explosion to the side of me brought me straight back in to the real one. Fire erupted everywhere and debris began to fall all around.

Before I had time to even think about moving a massive cluster of concrete and broken twisted metal began to rain down, right on top of me. I made to jump out of the way but didn't manage to break free completely. Tripping over a metal beam I awaited the inevitable crushing. There was no way I was getting out of this. About to emit a scream of terror I was immediately cut short when I was pulled out of the debris path.

"Are you ok?" Steve breathed heavily in concern, pulling me to my feet and reaching out to check me for any injury.

"Don't...touch...me," I forced out with gritted teeth.

"(Y/N), listen to me."

"There is nothing you can say that will make this better. Not a damn thing."

"I love you," he shook, cuts and bruises littering his face. Usually I'd be fawning over him, concerned about the blood and grazes. Right now though, right in that moment, I couldn't care less.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you started hiding things from me."

"He's my best friend (Y/N)."

"Yeah, and I was your girlfriend."

"Wait, what do you mean was?"

"Maybe you should work that out for yourself."

Before Steve could reply to my angered outburst, my attention was drawn to the fight going on above us, Tony and Bucky not taking a break.

Bucky managed to break free for a second, taking his advantage to run as fast as he could. Tony made to follow, floating off of the floor and aiming himself in Bucky's direction.

"It wasn't him Tony. Hydra messed with his head," Steve yelled out, grabbing Tony by the foot and pulling him back.

"MOVE," Tony screamed.

"Dad, please don't do this. Be better than them. I can't lose you. If anything happens to you..."

"I have to do this (Y/N), I have to. He killed my Mom."

With that, he bolted off and the fight ensued, Steve quick to follow suit trying to tear them apart. Before long, Steve was right back in the battle himself, he and Bucky both beating on Tony like he was a punch bag. Who was this Captain America? This man I was watching right in front of me? Certainly not the guy I fell in love with.

As the fight went from the ground up into the rafters, I watched on helplessly, knowing that if I did try and get involved that I'd be no match. It wasn't just that though. Who would I be fighting with? Who would I be fighting against? I knew I couldn't stand alongside Steve and Bucky now, but could I stand against them?

"DAD!" I suddenly screamed, watching as Tony was slammed against metal railings, Steve attaching a metal cable around his neck and then pulling him towards the ground.

"Honey, get out of here," Tony called over to me, sadness but determination in his voice as he launched straight back up into the air, right in Bucky's direction.

Tony grabbed Bucky, pulling him off of an upper balcony and then flying off the side. Before they could get very far, Steve launched himself at the two, wrapping his arms tightly around Tony's neck and then proceeding to try and loosen his grip on his friend. The weight of the three proved too much for Tony's suit to bear and sure enough they all came plummeting to the ground, a deafening shudder, shaking the building as they hit the floor.

For a second none of them moved which gave me enough time to run over to them. Bucky lay motionless, knocked out from the impact. Steve shakily got to his feet and Tony, Tony stood strong and proud in front of Cap, no sign of letting up any time soon.

"Nothing can change what happened?" Steve struggled to get out as I came to a stop between the pair.

"I don't care. He killed my parents."

Sobs started to wrack my body as they immediately went at each other again, both men failing to see the affect this was all taking on me. I was shaking, could barely breathe. As it continued, Bucky now awake and joining in with the pummelling I could feel myself losing control. Spots clouded my vision, ringing began in my ears. Just when I thought I was going to pass out, the men beat my body to it. Tony made to launch a blast at Bucky with his gauntlet, which Steve knocked away with his shield. Unfortunately the blast didn't hit the wall, or the floor, or a pillar. It hit me. I fell to the ground with a large thud, my left side erupting with a pain I'd never experienced before. Just as I spotted the fight halt, both Tony and Steve desperately rushing in my direction, screaming my name as they did so, the blackness took hold, my eyesight flickered and I for want of a better word, checked out.

I have no idea how long I was out for but when I eventually came too, I felt like I was on fire. The first person I saw was Bucky, he was standing above me, regret and sorrow in his eyes. Steve and Tony were knelt at either side of me, Tony's face plate now gone and Steve, tearing up as he compressed my wound with his gloved hand.

"If I'd known...me getting severely injured...would stop your fighting, I would have got...in your path way...sooner," I croaked with a dry throat, tears threatening to spill from all of our eyes as I struggled to pull myself up.

"(Y/N), I'm so sorry honey. That was never supposed to happen," Tony whispered in despair.

"I should have been looking where I aimed it with the shield. It's all my fault," Steve breathed out in exhaustion, refusing to leave my side. I managed to trample over to a pillar, leaning myself against it for a little more comfort as I looked on at the regretful faces in front of me. God, this hurt.

"Do you have...any idea what this is...is doing to me?" I stammered in agony, pushing Steve away slightly when he got a little too close. I really couldn't have him near me right now.

"Every time...you hit each other, you are attacking...me. Not only are you killing each other, you are...killing me too...literally. Stop this, stop it...NOW. Please...whilst we still have a chance."

"I had to protect him (Y/N). He's my friend," Steve tried to defend.

"So was I," Tony bit out.

It was that answer that gave me the clarity I needed. At first I thought that he was just angry over finding out it was Bucky who killed his parents. I couldn't have been more wrong. He was just as angry at Steve, his friend, his team mate. Steve had lied to him, kept this from him, just like he had kept it from me. I couldn't let that go. I don't know if I ever would be able to.

Yes, I felt more trampled on by Steve and Bucky in that moment than I have ever felt by anyone. But still I could not see them killed, hurt even, especially Steve. This was my opportunity to break it up. Only minutes ago I thought we were coming to a truce, I for one shining second thought I had my family back together. How wrong I was. Now, we are more broken than ever. There was no getting back from this.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?" he asked, hope filling his eyes.

"Take Bucky and get out of here," I instructed, no emotion in my voice but tears threatening to break free.

"What?...But what about you?"

"I'm going...I'm going to where I should have been all along."

"Please, don't do this?"

"You've given me no choice. I can't see you killed Steve. I love you, I do, but I can't forgive you. I can't help you either. You need to go now, or I'm never going to be able to stop him."

Tony stood in silence the entire time, shock all over his features as a result of what had happened to me. I was bleeding profusely now, my vision once again fading in and out. I had to get this done though, had to finish this.

Not giving Steve a chance to talk any more I turned my attention to Tony, tears finally making themselves known, as it started to get too much. My next words sealed my decision for all of us.

"Dad? Take me home."

THE END!!!!

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radiant-flutterbun · 3 years

Text

Mason’s Brightside Part 2

Part 1

“No Mason, weird dreams are not a symptom of the herb I gave you last night,” Alaria sighed “If you had listened to me you would know the opposite is true.”

“No dreams is a symptom?”

“Yes and so are dehydration headaches so make sure you drink lots of water.”

Alaria shooed Mason outside of the healing den and he nearly crashed into Corkscrew, a spiral.

“Watch where you’re going!” Corkscrew snarled.

Mason ignored him and went to get something to drink, his mind however was still thinking about that dream. He’d never been a vivid dreamer. Something about it was so unnatural.

Evan came up to him later in the day and he described the dream to him.

“Weird right?”

“Yeah but sometimes a dream is just a dream. Don’t read too much into it.”

“But it felt so real!”

“You sure it’s not… Ya know your mind playing tricks on you?”

Mason glared at Evan “It wasn’t that.”

“Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to imply…” Evan coughed “Maybe you’re just not used to a good night’s sleep is all.”

Mason thought about that for a moment “That… Ok yeah that I can believe.”

The next night he was given the same herb from Alaria and he found himself right back at the Emperor’s Wake.

“Good to see you again Mason,” It was the tundra. They were sitting beside him, so close that Mason could feel their fur on him “Are you on your way?”

“I-” Mason began and then he snarled “What are you doing in my head?”

The tundra looked back at him calmly, “You can thank our local dreamwalker for that.”

“Dreamwalker…?”

“You’ll be waking soon. I don’t have time to explain. Please come here to the Emperor’s Wake. I’ll explain everything. It’ll be much easier in person, I promise.”

Mason was about to speak when he found himself awake, sunlight danced across his room.

He began to pack his things. It didn’t take long. Being formerly dead, he didn’t have any personal belongings from his world. All he had were just a few art supplies Flare had been kind enough to give him, a simple dagger, a water canister, a few snacks and a blanket. Everything fit neatly in a bag he wrapped over his shoulder.

He trotted down the stairs from his room and into the clan lobby. He made his way to the main exit when Evan found him.

“Where are you going?” He asked, seeing the bag.

Mason sighed “The Emperor’s Wake.”

“What? Isn’t that where that monster is?”

“Yep.”

“And you want to go there?!”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where the dragons in my dreams told me to go.”

“So you’re just going to listen to random dream dragons now?”

“See this is why I was trying to avoid you.”

Evan looked hurt “You were planning on leaving without telling me?”

“Because I knew this would happen! I knew you wouldn’t understand! Listen, I've been here before. I know that whoever these dragons are, they're not going to get out of my head until I do what they want me to do.”

“Hey no offense Mason but the last time you listened to some... thing in your mind you ended up hurting a kid.”

Mason snarled “He wasn’t just a kid. Don’t oversimplify what Muerto is.”

“I’m just saying, if you knew that was Match speaking to you, would you still have done the things you did?”

“Yes. Match is just another self centered god, but at least me listening to him, capturing Muerto, weakening him. Getting him to spill his dirty little secrets. At least that did something! You would have rotted away to nothing and we would have all been trapped in that horrible place until we died. I got the gods’ attention. I changed things!”

Evan took a deep breath “Ok. Yeah you’re right. But I also don’t have to like what we had to do to get where we are now. Maybe this time we can take some time to think about what we’re getting into before we have to hurt anyone?”

“We? You want to come with me?”

“I don’t like the idea of being near that monster, but I hate the idea of letting you go alone even more.”

***

Mason waited for Evan to pack his things. Like him, it wasn’t much so they were off on their journey soon enough. Evan felt bad leaving without a word so he took the time to leave a note for Nike.

The two took off and soared over the Sunbeam Ruins in the direction of the area now known as the Emperor’s Wake. Mason had a map with him to help him keep track of their journey. As he flapped his wings he noted how natural flight felt to him. It was strange to him how quickly he picked up the skill. His original body was not one designed for flight and never in a million years would he have guessed he’d eventually become a dragon. Sepulchral had taught him to fly after he had entered the Dragon Planet. Sepulchral was a good teacher, and unlike all of the other Selcouth creatures that were brought to Sornieth, Sepulchral actually had wings back in their world, making him uniquely experienced with flight. But even with such an excellent teacher, Mason felt like he shouldn’t have picked up the skill quite so quickly. It only made it more frustrating that relearning to draw was not as natural to him.

“Sorry about planning to take off without you,” Mason said after a few miles of silence.

“Hey, it's cool. No big deal,” Evan responded.

“What were you going to tell me the other day, by the way? I didn’t mean to brush you off like that. Sorry again.”

“Oh that?” Evan laughed nervously “That was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Mason glanced at his friend “Alright…” He thought about pushing the subject, but decided to let it go.

The two flew in silence until it got dark. They camped out in a secluded pine forest for the night and took off again when it was morning.

Their flight was uneventful until they flew over a patch of land that was scarred in an unusual way. Most of the Sunbeam Ruins were filled with rolling fields of grass and green pine trees dotted with ruins from a forgotten era. But this patch of land was blackened and dead. It was not burned like a fire found it, rather it looked like a perfect circle of the land just shriveled up and died. Below structures that were not ancient ruins were crushed and destroyed like a tornado ran through the community.

“What do you suppose happened down there?” Evan asked.

Mason shook his head “Nothing good probably. Let's keep moving.”

It wasn’t long before the land began to look more like what Mason saw in his dreams. There were tell-tale signs of destruction, but not quite like the shriveled dead land they had just passed. Mason searched the ground below him and nearly stopped mid flight. There on top of a hill covered in ruins was the same rugged tundra that had spoken to him.

Mason landed beside them with a thud and Evan landed more gracefully beside him.

“You!” Mason snarled.

The tundra smiled and waved “Mason! So good to see you in person. And oh look! You brought a friend.”

“Why were you in my head? How do you know who I am? What do you want with me?”

“Holy shit,” Evan was ignoring the tundra and instead his eyes were fixed on the horizon “It’s real.”

Mason heard a roar and looked up. There in the distance was the rampaging beast, the Emperor Luminax. It was even more horrible than it was in his dreams.

“Terrifying isn’t it?” The tundra asked, following Mason’s gaze.

“It’s just… Hard to believe it’s real.”

“I know. Seeing your first Emperor… It makes you wonder what’s real and what’s fake. But that thing is real alright. It’s destroying lives and the gods are doing nothing about it.”

Mason snorted “Yeah that sounds about right.”

“Ah, don’t like gods do you?” The tiny bug dragon from Mason’s dream landed on top of the tundra’s head “I knew this one would fit in well!”

Mason peeled his eyes away from the undead creature in the distance “Ok, no more talking until you two explain why you were in my head.”

“Ah that would be Karyu’s doing,” The tundra addressed the bug sitting on their head.

“How dare you!” Mason lunged forward to swat the bug, but they quickly flew away. Mason ended up hitting the large tundra’s antlers instead. Mason’s hand stung and the tundra glared at him.

“Maybe instead of threatening my friend, you could sit down and listen.” The tundra shoved Mason to the ground. Mason tried to get back up, but stopped when the tundra gave him another glare.

Karyu flew back onto the tundra’s head and pointed at Mason “That one tortured a kid god, so I guess I shouldn’t really be too surprised. Still, he has use here.”

Mason’s eyes widened “How did you-”

“My name is Perryn,” The tundra cut Mason off and smiled “I’m an Emperor hunter, and my friend Karyu here is a dream walker.”

“And demigod!” Once again Karyu took off from their perch on Perryn’s head. They circled in the air and as they landed they began to transform. Before Mason’s eyes the little bug dragon grew in size. They spun so fast it forced Mason to blink and with that one blink a new creature was standing where the bug disappeared. Its body was unmistakably human to Mason, but it still had some of the bug features of its dragon form. Antennae sprung up from Karyu’s head and insectoid wings from their back. They wore a long robe and their long purple hair touched the ground. They were still small, Perryn towered over them and so would have Mason if he had been standing, but they were no longer squishable.

“My mother is the goddess of dreams for this world, and lucky me, I’ve inherited some of her powers,” Karyu walked up to Mason and poked his snout. He snapped at their fingers “You have the most fascinating dreams out of everyones’ I’ve walked through. So many memories are mixed with yours. Some juicy ones too!”

“No. You didn’t.”

“It’s just a shame that lately you haven't been dreaming much. I’m guessing insomnia? Well that’s no good for me or my pals here at The Guild of Osiris! I was afraid if your sleeping patterns continued I would have lost contact with you! And that would have been a real bummer.”

“Which is why Karyu had to bring me into the picture,” Perryn said “We needed you to come here before they lost contact with you and they thought you would listen to me and not them.”

“And I was fucking right!” Karyu grinned and then leaned close to Mason and whispered “I just thought Perryn would be more your type. I’m gorgeous, I know, but I’m taken.”

Mason just stared at Karyu. He opened his mouth and then closed it like a fish out of water.

“Yes. Karyu was right!” Peryn shouted and then coughed “And now you’re here like we were hoping. Karyu has seen a lot of things about you from their dream walking ,which I know may be awkward and invasive-”

“You don’t think?” Mason found his voice for a moment.

“But Karyu has a knack for finding those who are perfect for helping our cause. Mason, is life uncertain to you? Maybe you’ll make a good Emperor Hunter.”

#tgoo #clan ton theon #tcotg

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thatlarainop · 3 years

Text

ON THE SURFACE (Benn x OC)

(cross posted on archiveofourown.org)

Chapter 1: Bond

“So, you’re finally finishing your studies, uh?” asked the red haired boy to the other guy, who was slightly taller and muscular than him. Said man looked at him, then shook his head with a discreet smile

“Unfortunately no, Shanks-“ Ben began, while he lighted a cigarette, looking at his younger friend, whom he considered as his little brother. They had known each other for more than a decade, ever since Shanks moved in his neighbourhood as a little boy with his parents. Ben was asked to look after him, since he was little and troublemaker. He was sceptical at first, but after spending some time together he grew affectionate of him, to the point they formed a fraternal bond.

“I’d like to get a doctorate in business, even if it takes lot of time and efforts,” Ben admitted, grinning around his cigarette.

“You aim high, as usual,” Shanks added, smiling softly. “And this is what I’ve always admired of you.”

Ben smiled at that, and ruffled his messy red hair lovingly.

“You should get an haircut though,” Shanks said suddenly, staring at Ben’s long wavy black hair, which were tied in a low ponytail, with a rebel strand that always hung on the left side of his face.

“Shut up.” Ben deadpanned.

Later in the afternoon, Ben was alone in a small park, studying for final exams. Usually no one came here, as there was no playground for the children, especially in earlier afternoon hours. There was absolute silence, and Ben was enjoying the calmness of the place. He then decided to go somewhere and eat something, and decided to take a shortcut, since San Francisco is full of them. He then heard loud voices coming from a small side street, and he got curious as he heard the tones of said voices getting more and more aggressive.

He then noticed a girl around his age standing fearless in front of three slightly older and towering men, whom had an ugly grin on their faces.

They made fun of her, called her names and overall humiliated her, but she was standing still and fiercely in front of them. That made the ‘men’ angry, and they started threatening her and even dared to raise their hands to her.

Ben went ballistic and started walking towards them. The girl knew how to defend herself, clearly she had learned martial arts in self-defence. She successfully knocked out two of the men, but Ben got alarmed when he saw the only man standing, perhaps the most dangerous one, holding a dagger behind his back, out from the girl’s sight.

He put himself between the two dangerously staring at the man in front of him. He was a bit taller than him, but less muscular and nevertheless coward. Ben spit his cigarette on the ground, before he fully faced him.

“You know,” Ben began, cracking a grin that was full of disgust and pity for this ‘man’, as the latter spat on him. “I don’t know what’s more gutless: the fact that three of you were against a single girl or that you’re hiding a fucking dagger behind your back.” He concluded calmly, as he felt the woman tense behind him. He didn’t want to startle her more than she already was.

“You are the classic man all hat and no cattle, aren’t you? It won’t take me much time to stab you dead. And don’t worry, that whore behind your back will pay the same price.”

Ben rolled his eyes, before crossing his arms. “If I were all hat and no cattle, as you say, I wouldn’t have joined the army years ago.”

The other man hadn’t wasted further time and he attacked as fast and as powerfully as he could, aiming at Ben’s stomach. But he was stopped in place by his hand and, after waiting a few seconds, Ben twisted the man’s arm behind his back, and brought him to his knees before declaring: “Next time think twice before going up against someone!” And with a punch he knocked him out and then kicked him on the stomach, making him roll without consciousness towards his companions.

Ben sighed before turning to the woman, whose face colour was still drained. His hard expression softened after seeing her so distraught, so he put his hands on her shoulder and shook her gently. “Hey! Everything is alright now. Are you hurt?” he asked calmly, even though he was overall worried. She looked at him more serene than before, the sweet curls of her golden blonde hair falling sweetly all the way towards her back, making her appear as an angel in his eyes. She then cleared her voice and asked confidently: “What’s your name?”

“Ben, Ben Beckman, and yours?” he asked, looking right in her eyes. “Sophie, Sophie Harper.”

“Well Sophie, I suggest calling the police, and get rid of them once for all,” he mused, and she nodded in agreement.

They were finally released in the evening, as the three men were officially arrested. Even though the woman at his side was confident and powerful, both physically and mentally as he had witnessed in the afternoon, he could have sworn that she was still upset. And cold, as she was holding her shoulders with both hands and was trembling. Despite this, her expression was still firm, and at the same time gentle.

Ben didn’t say a word as he took off his black jacket and put it gently over her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise (as he was very tall, and her head could only reach the base of his neck) but didn’t protest, and just muttered a grateful thank you. She felt guilty though, as remained only with his black t-shirt, whereas she had a warm black sweater and a white miniskirt (and she’d damned herself for this choice, since she knew the temperatures would have dropped).

She wanted to give back his jacket, when she heard his stomach grumbling. She laughed heartily, and he was a little embarrassed but still didn’t budge. “I’ve only had breakfast and you know, today has been busy and yeah, I’m hungry.” He joked drily, still finding amusing how ridiculously his jacket looked on her. Still he found her cute.

“Well, I know a pub that is nearby, we could go there and eat and drink something. My treat,” before Ben opened his mouth to protest, she patted his shoulder “you need to grow up, big boy.”

“You know what’s curious about you?” Sophie started, as she tied her hair in a knot, “your hair. I mean, it’s so long and beautiful. You can keep it better than I can do with mine. That’s not fair” she puffed jokingly, while taking a sip of her beer. She still had his jacket nearby, it smelled of cigarettes, sea and cologne, smell that she couldn’t forget easily.

He puffed the smoke of his cigarette out, his smile curving around it. “Actually it’s a family secret,” he deadpanned, before adding “my father too has long hair, although his is straight.”

She nodded amusedly, and at the same time couldn’t help but stare at his eyes. Their colour is similar to deer’s, a deep dark brown, a lighter shade of brown lining the edges within an luminescent glow, and they are sharp, full of intelligence and wisdom.

They then started a conversation as they decided to get to know each other better. He told her about his aspirations in the future, whereas she told him she decided to improve her passion and become a professional photographer. She even confessed that she dropped her lawyer studies to do so, much to her family’s disappointment. “I’ve already found someone that pays me for my photographs, and I’ve been asked to take some pictures of the Grandline University, and also to write something about it.”

He looked at her in surprise, as he told her that he was studying there, and was willing to help her. She looked so grateful, knowing that she could have worked with someone she liked. But then her expression became somber as she was staring at the scars in his arms, as they looked old but still painful. She then remembered that he was once part of the army, so she already knew the answer. But she was a stranger to him, to that broad shouldered man that looked so intimidating and yet had a calm and gentle attitude (with her, because she remembered how threatening and dangerous he was with her attacker.)

They continued their conversation, both spoke about their families, but didn’t spend more than a few words about them, both willing to not go into details. Sophie then paid and put herself on his jacket, and they made their way to her apartment. It was late and wanted to invite him inside, but then she thought it was inappropriate to invite a stranger this way. Yet.

She gave him back the jacket, and hugged him as a thank you. He returned it back, and went back to his own flat.

The day after they met in a café and had breakfast together, both happy to see each other again, with Ben constantly eyeing Sophie’s professional camera. The 24 years-old girl, she is younger than him by just one year, told him it was her mother’s gift, as she was the only one that backed her decision to fulfil her dream.

They then set out and went to the University. Sophie photographed all the buildings in various perspectives, while Ben told her everything he knew, but at some point she noticed a fountain, exactly at the centre of the compound. It represents a statue of a mermaid, perhaps a princess, and she was quite sure it was made of marble. Ben quirked an eyebrow at her bewilderment, and provided her an explanation. “It’s Shirahoshi, a legendary mermaid. She was also a princess, but what made her even more peculiar was her power. She was said to be the incarnation of the Ancient Weapon Poseidon, but nothing more is known about her. We are talking about something that might have existed more than 1 million years ago, nor is known the real power of this Ancient Weapon.”

She nodded interested, while taking some pictures, and mentally promised that she would write something down about this mermaid.

As the day went by, she noticed how much fast the time has passed, as she was fascinated by Ben’s way of talking and explaining. She couldn’t have imagined a better way of working. A very pleasant company and a large variety of stories and places.

Even Ben was comfortable around her, as she was a quiet presence, except for some pleasant joke every now and then, and a very good and curious listener. He thought that they really had a good chemistry, no one interrupted the other and they were attracted to one another.

When Shanks saw them together, during his date with another girl, he thought that his friend finally found someone that truly made him happy. And he wanted to celebrate, also because he himself had a great girl by his side. Her name was Makino and to him she appeared as beautiful as a mermaid, and nevertheless a kind presence.

Some months have passed by, and Ben finally decided to take Sophie out for a date. They went to the same pub they went when they first met. But this time the ending was different.

He took her home to his own flat, which had a double bed, and of course he did spring cleaned. He always claimed he didn’t have enough time to clean everything, but as a matter of fact he was a messy person.

He went to the kitchen and started preparing some tea, whereas she looked around the walls. There were lots of photos, him with his parents, with his friends and a photo of him dressed in his military uniform. He had slight short hair, his muscular chest and arms were well visible beneath his clothing, and he was briefly smiling at the camera. Beside him was Shanks, his friend she got to know, in his civilian clothes and unmissable straw hat.

“Tea is ready,” he announced, with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a tray in his hands. He saw her poking around, and couldn’t help but smiling. Especially when he saw her spotting a photo taken during his military service. “That was not a nice time,” he said quietly, images of that period flashing in front of him. She turned around, but she didn’t have that look of pity he hated so much. Her expression was soft and sympathetic. “You want to…talk about it?” She questioned quietly. “Sure.”

He was pouring tea in her mug, then looked into her beautiful seafoam green eyes and started talking. “As you might have understood, I’ve been part of the army for a period of my life. To be precise, I was 19 at the time and I’ve wanted to follow in my parents’ footstep. They both were part of the army, both were important pillars of it. I… didn’t want to be any less.” he took a sip of his tea, whereas Sophie was trying to grasp every information he was giving her, holding her breath and waiting for the worse to come.

“And so I signed up, after I graduated high school. I was quite good at it actually, and that’s because my father insisted on training me when I was younger. And everyone knew me, Beckman isn’t exactly an unknown last name in this field. And this is what almost killed me,” he took a pause, while she gulped, eyes getting even wider, as she silently got closer to his, holding his hand. “It was during a mission, I had to save a friend of mine, but I wasn’t careful enough, and the opposing army took me as an hostage.”

He took a deep breath, and he looked at her in the eyes, deer brown meeting green seafoam. He brushed a strand of blonde hair off her face, and then continued: “It was a great opportunity for them, they sent photos to my parents, and even videos of my torture, but… I still refused to tell them the things they pretended to know from me. But I had to pay the price for that as you can see. They split open my left forearm, and even marked my right forearm with a cross. My face, chest and legs were full of bruises and my nose was broken.”

He then pinched his nose to calm himself, before ending with: “I thought I was deemed to die, since they even shot me in the shoulder and thigh, but I was saved by my friends. They successfully tracked me down, and defeated our enemies. They found me tied in a chair with a rope, beaten up but alive. We won, and I didn’t give up until the end. That was my victory,” he whispered, smiling briefly at Sophie, whom had tears in her eyes. “My parents were of course distraught by all of this, and I told them that I wanted to go to university. And now I want to get a doctorate in business. They were of course relieved, and I’ve hugged both of them the tightest way I could, like when I was a child.”

She hugged him, crying in his arms. Ben took her face in his hands, wiped her tears from her face and kissed her lightly. They both were in each other arms, comforted by their own closeness. He then lift her up in his arms gently, and brought her in his bedroom. He gently laid her in his bed and his gaze focused in her clothes. Her wardrobe was always so colourful, kissed by the rainbow, and he especially liked her short sleeved sweater coloured of a rich yellow. They took off their clothes, he put on a condom and passion overwhelmed them.

Making love with him was the sweetest thing she ever experienced. His rough hands were delicate on her body, the kisses they shared were soft and wet. It was her first time, and she did it with a great man.

7 Years later

Ben was humming a song while he was preparing dinner for him and his fiancée. Sophie told him she had something to do, but he didn’t know what.

He just came home from work, and was pretty happy since he got promoted and his salary was increased.

“Hey Benny?” called out Sophie, putting on her slippers. She had a very big smile and was blushing a little. He came out of the kitchen with his blue kitchen apron and his hair tied in a low knot. She laughed softly at his appearance and hugged him briefly.

“Why are smiling this way?” he asked, amused despite himself.

Without any warns, she took his hand and put it on her belly, that was a little rounder than usual, and said: “Our baby is in there.”

He was shocked and became a little paler, then he covered his mouth with his hands and supressed the tears welling up in his eyes. He regained his calm attitude and he smiled, while he hugged his fiancée.

8 months later

The 33 years-old man was pacing around the waiting room. Shanks himself was nervous, so it didn’t really help him. The red haired man was becoming an uncle!

Ben was in great turmoil, and he was even shaking. His baby girl didn’t want to come out, and his fiancée had been in the delivery room for almost one full day. His parents and Shanks tried to calm him down, but without success. He also received various calls from Sophie’s parents, since they couldn’t come because of the weather., and that didn’t help his anxiety.

The midwife told him that Sophie needed a caesarean section, otherwise she and the baby would have been in even more life threatening. He nodded and sat down on his chair, Shanks put his only hand on his shoulder, to give the man some comfort. Ben was fighting back tears, and looked at his side, where he had located a teddy bear and chocolates. It was the 14th February, it was Valentine’s day.

Time passed slowly, and he was getting even more desperate, he felt a terrible headache and was paler that usual. He was about to go out and lit another cigarette, when he heard a baby cry, and he felt the floor crumble beneath him. He looked at the delivery room and Shanks got closer to him, offering him fraternal support.

He waited now with more hope, until a nurse brought him inside. His Sophie was lying exhausted, she looked paler and had horrendous dark circles, and was panting, her hand holding her chest. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Wait there, I’ll bring you your baby,” said the nurse with an understanding smile. He muttered a thank you and sat down near Sophie, stroking gently her sweaty hair.

“Hey, everything is fine now,” she said, once she saw his anxious and worried expression. She even smiled softly when she saw the teddy bear in his arms. Their eyes brightened when they saw the midwife coming with the cleaned and swaddled child. The baby girl was sleeping, and when she was handled to her mother she started fussing, cuddling even nearer to her. Ben stroked gently her head, and was surprised to see that much hair she inherited from him.

Lara was the name they chose, and with her birth she crowned their bond.

#benn beckman #shanks #one piece #marshall d. teach #original character #monkey d. luffy #shanks x makino #one piece makino #red haired pirates

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 5: The Tell (Part Two)

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

P.S. Scott gets lost in la la land and Beacon Hills might have a mountain lion problem??

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

I sighed into my locker and let my head drop against the cool metal. I forgot to do my calculus homework. Again.

I couldn't blame myself too much. I was still shaken up by the events of last week, although I’d done my best to forget about it. No one had seen any signs of the alpha since the video store. Jackson was acting really strange, though. Most of the time I saw him he looked sick and jumpy. Something was just off. He did get closer to the alpha than me, so maybe he was just processing in his own way.

Lydia had been weird right after, but she seemed to push whatever remaining fear she had into the back of her mind. The strangest part, though, was that both of them had told people the animal that attacked was a mountain lion.

“Oh, God.” I heard Allison grumble from beside me.

I glanced over to see a bunch of balloons floating out of her locker. She tried her best to push them back in, and looked around nervously. She pulled out a card and read it over quickly before turning to glare at me.

“Really?”

I just grinned back. Lydia somehow knew it was her birthday today, so we filled her locker with all her favorites. Plus the balloons to embarrass her just a little. A moment later, Scott walked up.

He inspected the scene and put the pieces together quickly. “Is it your birthday?”

“No. No. Nope. I mean...yes.” She shoved the remaining loose balloons back inside the metal cage and frowned. “Please don't tell anybody. I don't even know how they found out.”

I avoided her glare and shut my locker before crossing my arms and leaning against it.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Scott sounded a little hurt.

“Because...” She hesitated, looking between us. “I’m seventeen.”

Oh. That was news to me. Scott blinked, shocked.

“That’s exactly the reaction I’m trying to avoid.” She muttered, pulling a textbook out before slamming her locker with a slam.

“Hey, I totally get it. You had to repeat a year because of all the moving around. Right?” That would've been my guess, too. It was pretty obvious if you knew her at all.

But she looked surprised by his answer. So surprised that she rushed forward and gave him a kiss. I looked away quickly, clearing my throat awkwardly.

“What was that for?” Scott asked, and I figured it was safe to look again.

“For being the first person ever, literally, to make the right assumption.” She grinned at him, and he returned the look with a awe-struck expression of his own.

They were really good together. A little too easily distracted, maybe, but it was clear that they were in love. I just wondered if they knew it yet.

“I’ll catch you guys later.” She walked away with one final wave.

I moved to head toward class, but Scott caught my arm gently. I turned and looked at him expectantly.

“You okay?” His big brown eyes looked at me with concern and I sighed. He always tried to take care of everybody. He’d checked on me a million times since the video store attack, and I’d told him I was fine, but he was relentless.

“Yes, Scott.” I confirmed with a roll of my eyes. “I was okay yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, too. You don't need to keep worrying about me.”

He didn't look convinced. “Just...if you need anything. I’m here. We both are. Me and Stiles, I mean. You can talk to us.”

I felt my face grow hot at the mention of his name. Things had been normal after our weird almost kiss. Utterly and completely normal. We hadn't talked about it since. We hadn't talked much at all, actually. Just typical school stuff. Not that I minded.

“Thanks.” I gave him a genuine smile and turned to leave.

I really needed to get to class. I was already falling behind, since my mind had been preoccupied lately. By the time I was done talking to Scott, the hallways were empty. I picked up the pace, hoping I could still make it before the late bell. I glanced down, and almost immediately slammed into someone’s back.

I raised my head quickly, ready to apologize, but stopped when I saw who it was. I let out a huff, my shoulders tensing. Derek Hale was standing in front of me, looking threatening as ever. I hadn't seen him in nearly two weeks, and I preferred it that way. He gave me a serious case of the heebie-jeebies.

“Why are you always here?” I found myself asking without thinking about the consequences. He was way too old to be in a high school. I was honestly surprised no one had ever called him out for hanging around here without actually being a student.

He took a step forward, and I took one back. His crystal blue eyes trailed over me from head to toe, and I shifted uncomfortably. “You don't need to be afraid.”

“Well, excuse me.” I scoffed. “The last time I saw you here, you tried kidnapping me.”

His head cocked to the side and his eyebrows rose in agreement. “True. But I’m not here for you.”

“Then why are you here?” I swallowed nervously. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went. Just his presence put me on edge.

He continued walking toward me, and I kept moving back until I ran into the lockers harshly. I gasped, surprised at the sudden contact, my breathing picking up with my rising anxiety.

He didn’t stop until he was only half a foot away. I watched him expectantly, waiting for him to grab me or rip my throat out or something. I hadn’t even been able to get away from him when he was almost dead, so I was very aware that my chances or survival if he wanted to hurt me were slim to none.

“If you ever want to learn some control, you know where to find me.” His eyes trailed over my face as he spoke. And then, he was gone.

I watched him walk away, more confused than ever. Control? Over what? I didn’t have much time to think about it, because Jackson came stumbling out of the boys locker room just in front of me. He looked sickly, his normally tanned skin white as paper, and he was sweating profusely.

He looked around nervously, itching at the back of his neck, before his eyes met mine.

“You okay?” I asked tentatively, not sure what was even wrong with him. Maybe he had the flu or something?

“Fine.” He muttered, his gaze flickering around the hallway almost obsessively.

He turned and stalked away from me with a shake of his head. That was odd. He’d been acting so weird ever since the video store. I watched his retreating back, then turned toward the direction Derek had gone. At once I realized that they had both come out of the locker room. So Derek was here...for Jackson?

My mind was swimming with possibilities as I finally made my way to class.

————————

I walked through the school’s parking lot, trying to find Allison. I waited nearly ten minutes by our lockers but she never showed. I hadn’t seen her at lunch, either, come to think of it.

“Hey,” I jumped at the sudden presence beside me, but relaxed at the sight of familiar brown eyes. “I need you to do your witchy thing.”

I stopped and looked at Stiles with raised eyebrows. “My what?”

“Your thing.” He flailed his arms wildly, seemingly in a hurry.

“I don’t have a thing.” I said slowly, not sure what he was getting at.

“You have a thing.” He raised his eyebrows and huffed when I just stared at him. “Okay. Look. I haven’t been able to find Scott all day and his phone is going straight to voicemail. I just need you to tell me if he’s in trouble.”

I finally realized that he was talking about my visions and rolled my eyes before continuing on my way. “That is so not how it works.”

He let out a little ha and clapped his hands together with a jump. “So you admit you have a thing!”

“Can’t help you, Stiles.” I called over my shoulder and shook my head. I had no idea how my visions worked, but I knew I couldn’t just turn them on and off whenever I wanted.

He let out an impatient groan and jogged up to my side again. “I’m worried, Y/N. Very worried.”

There was still no sign of Allison anywhere. I stopped again and turned all the way around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her car. It didn’t look like it was even in the parking lot.

“He’s probably with Allison.” I decided. “She’s been gone all day too.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing various options in his head. Then he reached out and wrapped a hand around my wrist gently. Before I could even fully process that he was touching me, I was being dragged through the parking lot. I nearly tripped over my own feet as I tried to keep up with his quick pace. I swear, he never slows down.

“What are you doing?” I breathed, dodging a few people as he weaved us between parked cars.

“You're helping me find him.” He announced, not even bothering to phrase it like a question.

We arrived at his Jeep a moment later and he pulled open the passenger door before looking at me expectantly. I stood firmly in place.

“I have homework.” It wasn't even a lie. I was behind in almost every class due to the whole almost being attacked by a murderous werewolf thing.

“I’ll do it for you.” He offered quickly, gesturing for me to get into the car.

I mean, that didn't sound half bad...

“Fine.” With a resigned huff I slid inside. Stiles shut the door quickly and jogged around the front to get into the driver’s seat.

Within minutes the school was long behind us. I didn't know where he was going, but I figured he had some kind of plan. He always did. We hadn't spoken since he turned the car on, and I was beginning to feel a little awkward. Should we talk about it? We should talk about it. Right?

I opened my mouth to do just that, but instead a totally different stream of words came out. “Do you think it has anything to do with Derek?”

Stiles’ head turned in my direction so fast I was afraid he may have given himself whiplash. “Derek?”

“Uh.” Yeah, that was so not the right thing to say. I wasn't even planning on telling him about our weird interaction this morning. Why brain? Why?

“Why would Scott be with him?” He pressed, still looking at me.

“Can you focus on the road?” My voice rose with worry and his eyes twitched at me before he complied with pursed lips. “I may have seen him this morning, and the last time he was at the school he was looking for Scott, so—”

He slammed on the breaks so suddenly that I launched forward, my seatbelt barely saving me from faceplanting into the dash.

“Y/N!” He snapped incredulously. “You have to tell me these things!”

“I just did.” I looked at him with wide eyes as I readjusted myself in my seat. My gaze moved behind us to make sure no one was coming. This was not the first time he’d abruptly stopped in the middle of the road, and it really wasn't helping with my theory that every time I was in this car my life was somehow in danger.

He scoffed and made a U turn, taking us back in the direction we’d just come from. “Did he say anything to you? What was he doing?”

“I don't know.” I decided to gloss over the fact that he had indeed said something very weird to me. “I think he was talking to Jackson.”

“Jackson? Why would he be talking to Jackson?” He, thankfully, kept his eyes on the road, but I saw them twitch again. I noticed he did that a lot. I wasn't sure if it was an anxious tick, or it meant he was thinking, or what. It was just a Stiles thing. One of his mannerisms that made him all the more endearing.

I shrugged. “Like anyone knows what goes through that guys head. Maybe he threatened him or something. Jackson came out of the locker room looking pretty shaken up.”

“No. No, that doesn’t make any sense.” He mumbled, more to himself than me.

A few minutes later, we were sitting outside mine and Scott’s houses. We’d already driven past Allison’s, all of them proving empty. Her car was nowhere to be seen. Stiles started the Jeep again, and we were on our way to Beacon Hills Preserve. He was persistent about checking the Hale house, despite my efforts to convince him how utterly stupid that idea was.

Nothing good had ever happened there. I had no desire to go back, but I’d found out over the last few weeks that he could be even more stubborn than me—something I didn’t think was possible—so I didn’t push too hard. I knew it was a losing fight.

He slowed down at the entrance of the preserve when we stumbled upon Allison’s car parked next to a trailhead. I found myself chewing on my bottom lip, growing nervous. Stiles looked at me with raised eyebrows, and I frowned.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe they went on a hike.”

He scoffed and continued driving as far as the Jeep would go. When Derek’s withered house came into view, we stopped.

“Do you always spy on your friends?” I tried to get comfortable in my seat, assuming we’d be here for awhile.

He shrugged from beside me. “Only with probable cause.”

Not more than thirty seconds later, we saw a woman who I recognized as Kate Argent approaching with two men flanked at her sides.

Stiles completely spazzed out and ducked down in his seat. “Who the hell are they?”

Each of the men were carrying large guns, and Kate had one strapped across her chest. They easily let themselves right in. I mean, there wasn’t much stopping them. There were more holes than not in that thing. You could barely even call it a house anymore.

“I know one of them is Allison’s aunt.” I breathed, not feeling any better now that they were out of sight.

“That’s bad. Very very bad.” His eyes practically bulged out of his head and his chest was rising and falling erratically as he started panicking. He moved to get out of the car and I jerked forward to grab his arm.

“What the hell are you doing? Do you have a freaking death wish?” For some reason, I was whispering. It just felt like we were going to be caught any second.

Then, the unmistakable sounds of struggling and gunshots echoed through the woods.

“Those are hunters, Y/N! Scott could be in there.” Stiles started pulling against me again, but I only tightened my grip.

“And we’re human. What are either of us going to do?”

He stopped struggling for a moment and glanced toward the back of the car. “I have a bat.”

More groans and shouts came from the house. Both of our heads whipped in that direction at the sound. I leaned forward in my seat, trying to get a better view, but it was too dark inside to see anything. Plus, the sun was going down, which didn’t help.

Suddenly, Derek came barreling out the front door at top speed. He was shirtless, for some reason, and looked really shaken up. He didn’t even glance in our direction as he sprinted through the trees. Stiles and I watched him pass by in stunned silence.

A few seconds later, Kate and the two men exited as well. Stiles ducked down beside me again, but I was too curious to move. What were they even doing? It didn’t look like any of them were hurt despite the gunshots and yelling.

My heart dropped into my stomach as they started walking our way.

“We need to go.” I breathed, tapping him on the arm quickly.

“It’s fine, you can’t see anything down here.” He shook his head, seemingly confident in the anatomy of his Jeep.

I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “They can still see the car, Stiles!”

His face dropped in realization and he sprang back upright. After fumbling with the keys for a few seconds, we were fleeing the scene quickly. I watched them the whole way and, thankfully, it didn’t look like they’d spotted us.

We’d barely gotten out of the preserve when Stiles’ phone chimed in his pocket. He rushed to pull it free, swerving into the wrong lane due to his frenzied state. I braced my hands against the dashboard and gave him an incredulous look as he checked the notification.

“God, Scott. Finally.” He breathed a sigh of relief, but his face quickly changed as he read the message.

“What is it?” My stomach tightened uncomfortably with anxiety. That look couldn’t be good.

“Allison’s dad shot an animal at the school.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“Okay?” I was so beyond confused. Why was this a big deal? “What animal?”

He glanced my way briefly, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “A mountain lion.”

Episode 5, Part One Episode 6

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