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potter-imagines · 4 years

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Chosen Sister (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: I had two Ginny idolizing reader requests so this is the first one! I can't find the exact request but the other will be posted during this coming week.

Warning: None (vv short sad part)

Word Count: 3.8k

“Give me back my girlfriend, Ginny. I heard that you’re holding her hostage.”

A loud chorus of knocks sounded out from Ginny Weasley’s dorm room. Dinner had finished an hour before and since the meal ceased, Fred had been searching the entire ground for you, his girlfriend. After about thirty minutes tracing your typical patterns and steps around Hogwarts, Fred ran into Angelina and Alicia who informed him of your whereabouts.

They happily explained to them that they saw Ginny dragging you away after dinner. The girls cooed to Fred about how adorable it was that his girlfriend hung out with his little sister, something Fred didn’t exactly view the same.

Fred Weasley checked your dorm room, the common room, the library, Hermione’s dorm, and finally Ginny’s room. As he trudged up the stone steps grounchily, his ears perked to a point at the ring of a voice that was tattooed in his heart. Your innocent, childlike giggle played like a melody in the empty stairwell.

Fred could feel the corner of his lip tugging up to a smile at the sound. That sugared chortle that he had heard millions of times before but somehow still felt his breath catch at the sound. Standing outside his little sister’s door, Fred’s annoyance was dissolving by your haromous voice echoing from the opposite side.

When Ginny failed to open her dorm up the first round of knock, Fred banged on the door again. Huffing in annoying, Ginny shot you a look, already knowing Fred was gonna scold her. She crawled off her bed and waltzed over to her door, taking her sweet time as she did. You couldn’t help the giggles that rumbled through your chest.

Swing the door open swiftly, Ginny glared at Fred with flames blazing in her eyes. If they weren’t related, he might’ve felt a hint of her wrath. But she was his little sister and not even at her angriest did Fred find her intimidating, not in the slightest.

Ginny Weasley was only thirteen yet her sass and feistiness was beyond her years. Growing up with only brothers probably played a hand. The young girl sent her brother a disgusted look then growled at him,

“I am not holding her hostage! For your information, Y/n happens to be my friend. Might sound surprising to you but she actually enjoys hanging out with me, Fred.”

Fred looked past his sister at the mention of your name. A smile lifted to his lips when he found you. You returned the gesture

“You’re right, that does sound surprising.” The snarky remark caused Ginny to furrow her face in a scowl. Lunging forward the youngest Weasley snapped for her older brother, although missed by a long shot.

“You’re infuriating, Fred!” She howled. Her face was turning red with every second that ticked by. If the situation had been different, you might’ve laughed. Getting between the Weasley siblings when they were arguing- that just wasn’t safe for anyone. Ginny’s aggravation was fuming from her pores as she sent you pleading looks to stay.

It was now that you took a look at the old wooden clock hanging on the way above her roommate's bed. The little hand was pointing to the six as the big hand was approaching eleven. The time seemed to fly by at light speed. You had promised to help Ginny hang up some lights in her room. She had wanted to decorate it just likes yours, as she practically admired anything you did. It made you feel special knowing Ginny looked up to you. You had never experienced it before so it was exciting- but also slightly pressurized- to know she was admiring you as a big sister.

Fred let out an exaggerated groan leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Can I please have my girlfriend back? You got your girl time in. Y/n promised to hangout with me tonight, so I’m rescuing her!” A cheeky wink was thrown your way as Fred walked further in the room, slowly sneaking up to you. The annoyed girl rolled her eyes then ignored her brother. She looked back at you and pursed her lips into a thin line. Ginny was too oblivious to notice his stagger but your attention remained set on him the entire time. You didn’t fight the smirk lifting to your lips as he inched closer, and closer until his feet were only steps from his sister’s back. It was then Ginny noticed the amused tint to your face but before she could bring it to light, Fred bent down in one fluid motion and gripped his hands on either side of your hips. As light as a feather he swept you up and quickly darted for the door, as to escape Ginny before she had the chance to retaliate.

“Wait- hey!” Fred slammed the large door then proceeded down the steps.

“Freddie, love, that wasn’t nice.” The giggles poured from your soul as Fred continued to carry you down the stairs, then took a sharp right, and started walking up the boy’s dormitory staircase. You rested your head against the blade of his shoulder, bobbing with every step he took. He was so handsome, even from the most unpleasant angels. His sharp features stuck out in the darkness, striking your heart. His arms cradled you while he laughed, “Oh shush, you didn’t try to stop me. Wasn’t exactly nice of you to just run off in the middle of dinner. You still have time to make it up to me, though.” The teasing arrogance didn’t go unnoticed. You laughed into the material of his sweater, clutching to his chest. The movement of his legs stopped and he softly leaned over to place you on the ground. Taking his wand out from his back pocket he unlocked his door and opened it up for you to walk in.

You stepped into the quiet room then turned to you boyfriend,

“George and Lee in?” You asked. The grin that rose to his lips was an answer enough. Fred closed the door behind him with a slam then jumped onto his bed with a flop. You watched him lay in the middle of the mattress, throwing his hands in a fold behind his head. He shrugged his shoulders and replied,

“Nope. Was there something in particular you had in mind of doing?” His mask of innocence wasn’t fooling either of you, but it was part of the fun. Keeping your eyes glued to his, you slipped the material of your robes off, leaving you in a white long sleeve button up and a small plaid skirt. You basked in the widening eyes of your boyfriend as he shifted on the comforter. His eyes raked over your body from your head down to your toes. You noticed his gaze particularly set on your exposed legs. Smirking to him you sauntered over to his bed and climbed in with him. His large hands found your bottom instantly. “I think you know, Freddie.”

Almost a week later, it happened again. Fred was scrambling around the Gryffindor common room asking every waking student if they had seen you. Most students were getting ready for dinner, some already there. George was waiting near the portrait watching curiously as his twin ran around the room from person to person. Even to George it was a bit strange no one had seen you, although as the hours dragged on he took into account the absence of his little sister also. George sighed to himself then kicked his leg into the wall, leaning back against the brick waiting patiently for Fred.

On the opposite side of the large room, the other half of the Weasley twins was talking to Lee Jordan, seeing if he had any valuable information. Lee, just like everyone else he asked, had no clue where you were. Right as his conversation with Lee was dwindling, the sigh of a curly haired girl caught Fred’s eyes and he abruptly excused himself from Lee and ran over.

As Fred reached Hermione, he gave her shoulder a line of taps,

“Hermione! Hey! Do you know where Y/n is? George said he saw you two in the courtyard this morning but I haven’t seen her all day.” Fred questioned the bright witch in a pleasing tone. She swiveled around and tilted her head to the side causing her frizzy hair to bounce like springs. Eyebrows knitted together, her lips scrunched to the side. Deep in thought she hummed to herself then answered,

“No I don’t at the moment, Fred, I’m sorry. I spent the morning with her and Ginny but I haven’t seen either of them since we left the library around lunch. That was hours ago, though. Maybe try checking Ginny’s room?” Hermione offered.

You had been studying most of the morning in the courtyard then in the library. Ginny and Hermione joined you, despite all three of you being in different years. Not that it came as much of a surprise, but Hermione helped you with your work without missing a beat. Where you were stuck for minutes, she had finished four questions ago. She was a brilliant friend to have, schoolwise and personally. You might be older than the young witch but Hermione’s advice was like no others so you loved having her around.

Fred shook his head and mumbled a ‘no’.

“That was the first place I looked. Don’t know where she is either. Did I do something? Y/n’s not upset with me is she?” The fear and worry in his voice soaked the air and Hermione gave him a gaze of bewilderment.

“What? She didn’t say anything to me about being mad at you and I’m sure she would’ve if she were. She seemed perfectly fine so I don’t think it’s that. Ginny was the one who seemed in a mood if anything.” She stated firmly. As close as the two of you were, you would have told Hermione if Fred angered you. You shared everything with her.

The towering boy nodded, eyes scanning the space behind Hermione. He was running out of places to check and people to ask. Hermione was his best bet next to Ginny and no one knew where Ginny was either which, for anyone capable of putting 2 and 2 together meant you and Ginny were more likely than not together somewhere.

“Thanks, Hermione. Let me know if you see either of them, please.” Hermione nodded and smiled kindly to Fred, then walked off to join Harry and Ron. Fred took off towards the portrait, yelling to George that he would be back shortly.

Leaving the common room Fred shut the painting behind him and made his way to the moving staircase. While standing on the middle step, he tried to think if he was a girl, where would he go? The bathroom? No, not for that long. A swim in the lake? Well, it was a few weeks out from winter so that was unlikely. Fred huffed as he hopped off the stairs on the fourth floor and walked towards the library. Passing by he noticed a group of Hufflepuff boys sitting around a table and Professor Pince shushing them furiously. He kept on past the library and made his way down a mostly empty corridor.

The clock was nearing five in the afternoon and it was definitely out of the ordinary for the two of you to go this long in one day without even passing by one another. Maybe you were in the common room. Just with his luck you would show up right when he left. As the thought seemed to be a possibility, the sudden sound of your familiar light, delicate voice, hit his ears. Halting completely, Fred peeked his head towards the staircase on his left where the noise came from.

“Y/n?” The inquiry came quietly. Fred half wondered if he had imagined it. No reply came to his question, but he did hear someone speaking again, a new voice he recognized as his little sister’s. Moving closer to the open, cobble stairwell, Fred suddenly stopped when he heard the shaky voice of his little sister and the sound of tears splashing against the hard ground.

“He doesn’t even notice me, Y/n! I’m practically invisible in his eyes… I hate it.” Ginny’s somber cries became louder as Fred stood just on the other side of the arch in the wall. He caught a small glimpse of the scene around the wall. On the bottom step, you and Ginny were sitting next to each other. Her head leaned on your shoulder as she sobbed sadly. It was a new sight- Fred was pretty sure he hadn’t seen Ginny cry since she was in diapers. Part of him wanted to beat the daylights out of whoever hurt his little sister, but he knew it would only cause more chaos for Ginny if he injected himself now. Fred was brought back to reality when your comforting tone reassured Ginny.

“Oh Ginny, don’t say that. He’s just stupid- boys are like that. I honestly don’t think he realizes what he’s doing.” Fred wondered who you were talking about. Did Ginny fancy someone? The sniffles of his sister shook the air. Her face left your shoulder as she buried it into the sleeves of her jacket. The material soaked up her salty teardrops and she forced herself to take some deep breaths in order to calm down. Just as her body stopped quivering, the thought entered her mind again and she remarked,

“He’s never gonna-”

Fred looked on in surprise as you leaned forward and pulled Ginny in for a tight hug. Your hand rubbed along her back, soothing the young girl. She rubbed her eyes constantly, the redness only worsening. Pulling away, you rubbed the drops away from under Ginny’s eyes and gave her a small smile,

“No, he will. I just think he’s got all this stuff with ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’ on his mind… but even if he doesn’t, then he’s not the one. You’re an amazing person, Ginny. Any guy would be lucky to have you but you’re too young to be heartbroken over a little boy. I don’t want you wasting your time being sad about boys when you should be having fun with me and your friends!”

“You really mean that, Y/n?” Her eyes lit in hopefulness. Ginny had quickly become a little sister of sorts to you. Seeing her upset, hurt, mad, anything, you felt it too. Although Ginny was young, only thirteen. You didn’t want her ruining herself chasing after a boy who wasn’t able to give her the time and attention she deserved. Being friends with Harry, your judgement told you that the poor boy most likely didn’t even catch onto the fact Ginny fancied him.

Chosen one? Yes. Oblivious one? Also yes.

On the other side of the wall, Fred’s heart was basically goop from the exchange. He messed with his sister, sure, but she was still his baby sister and it meant the world to him to see you, his girlfriend, so kind, and sweet to Ginny.

“I would never lie to you, Ginny.” You promised her.

“I should go wash up before dinner, I’m sure I look a mess! I’ll see you then, okay? And… thank you, Y/n. It means a lot to have you around and I don’t know, it’s cool to have you as a friend.” She reached forward and gave you one last hug. You grinned at her and said,

“Of course, Ginny. It’s cool to have you as a friend as well.”

Fred smiled to himself. He never realized just how much his sister looked up to you and it made him feel prouder than ever to call you his.

Not long later, Ginny rushed off down the staircase heading back for her dorm room. It had been hours since she’d return so it didn’t seem like the best choice to go missing for hours then show up for dinner with a blotchy face from crying. She wasn’t up for the questions and prying. You waved goodbye to her then sat for a few moments by yourself in silence. Well, at least you had assumed you were alone.

Right as your body began sinking in relaxation into the step, an entering pair of footsteps caused your eyes to snap open. Emerging from the open hallway outside the stairwell was a particular adorning red head you had grown to love so much. Fred stepped in through the arch and grinned at you. You were surprised by his presence, you had yet to see him all day, having spent most of it comforting Ginny, so you were taken aback that he was able to find you.

“Freddie! How did you find me?” You jumped up with a grin and threw your arms around Fred’s neck. His knees pulled him down from the force and his hands wrapped around your waist, accepting the embrace fully. Chuckling loudly Fred joked,

“Ah, so you were hiding from me!”

You sent him a narrowed look and pointed towards the direction where Ginny had retreated.

“No, no, I wasn’t hiding. Your sister needed me so I decided to be with her. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-” Your apology was cut short by the feeling of Fred’s plump lips kissing yours. He kept the kiss short and sweet, just wanting to taste your lips. He went almost the whole day not seeing you so he wasn’t able to resist for much longer. You kissed him back, a bit more forcefully than Fred. His lips danced against yours, the action of snogging being second nature among you two. Fred pulled away slowly, his lips staying close to yours. Your foreheads were leaning against each other, smiles plastered on both your lips.

“That was maybe the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so nice to Ginny, love. You didn’t need to do that.” He insisted in a whisper tone. Moving your forehead against his you explained,

“I wanted to, she’s my friend. I really care about her and… I don’t know, I’ve never had someone who looks up to me so, it’s kinda fun to know someone thinks I’m admirable.”

Glancing up, Fred’s eyes were already locked on yours. The warmth and homeiness of his honey pooled eyes pulled you in. Brown eyes never looked so perfect until you met Fred. Stepping up on your tiptoes, your hand secured itself along Fred’s jaw as you tugged him towards you. He parted his lips as you planted another kiss to his mouth. It was more of a peck, a tinny smooch leaving you to separate quickly. Leaning back into Fred’s arms, you basked in his hold. Never once did you ever feel exposed to danger when Fred had his arms clasped around you. It was impossible.

“That’s why I love you, you’re just perfect in every way. Everyday you find new ways to make me fall in love with you all over again...you’re too sweet, darling. Thank you for looking out for Ginny. It means a lot to me. Even if it means I have to share my time with you, which is just criminal, it does mean a lot.” His lips wasted no time scattering a mess of small, wet kisses along your face. No inch was left unkissed. You giggled wildly as he continued for a few moments. Planting one last kiss to your pursed lips, Fred stopped his attack and leaned back to smirk at you. Your laughter died out as you began to calm yourself. Smiling over to Fred, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in reassurance. “Of course, Freddie. I love you, babe.”

Lifting his hand, he rested his cheek on the skin of your hand. His face turned so he could press a faint peck to your hand, then he glanced up at you through his lashes.

“I love you too, darling. How bout we make up for all that lost time, hm?” That devilish, mischievous smirk you saw far too often had returned. Playing dumb you just chuckled,

“I was thinking the exact same thing, I was wanting some dinner too!”

“You know that wasn’t what-” You interrupted him, placing your pointer finger in the center of his lips creating a ‘shush’ gesture. He stared at you waiting for the next move. It was now you who held the bold smirk. You grasped Fred’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs so you could get to the Great Hall. His face fell in disappointment, clearly expecting a different turn of events. You didn’t leave him down for long when you batted your long lashes up at Fred and stated,

“Dinner first, then dessert after, okay?” It was the way you said it rather than the words themselves that did him in. That playful gleam that sparked in your eyes, he loved it.

Fred immediately felt his clothes, more specifically his trousers, turn tight at your words alone. He side eyed you as you skipped down the steps, unsure if you were the one teasing him now, or if you were being truthful. Narrowing his peer in seriousness, Fred tried to decipher the sickly sweet smirk on your lips. It wasn’t until you turned the tables, lifting his hand up to kiss the back of it, that he realized you weren’t joking. Eagerness took over as Fred locked his hand even more securely around yours and sped up his pace to the Great Hall. “Anything you say, love.”

He practically chased you the whole way to the dinning hall, your loud laughter filling the silence in the air. Your friends chuckled when they saw you two running in. You guys never seemed happier and it made all they ecstatic to see their friends finding love with each other. George waved the two of you over having saved a spot next to him for both of you. Fred escorted you to the opening, his hand never leaving yours even when you sat. For the rest of the meal, Fred’s hand rotated between your hand and your thigh, but never left your skin. And when Ginny sat down and smiled over at you, engaging you in conversation, Fred just squeezed your hand with a small grin, and pretended not to listen in. From then on, Fred only interrupted your hangout sessions to join in, and surprisingly, Fred Weasley was a great gossiper.

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wishfullyeternal · 3 years

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Crowley x Reader- Healing Your Wings, My Dear

Words- 1192

Warnings- Depictions of blood, cuts, scrapes, etc. Swearing

Anon Requested- Sorry to bother you but I wanted to know if you could make another Crowley fic where he has wings again? Totally don’t have to but I read the first one and I thought it was an amazing thought and I can’t stop thinking about it! It could be a fluff where Crowleys wings somehow get injured and the reader helps bandage them and then they lay down and the reader grooms them and stuff idk. Again, you totally don’t have to do it! Thank you!!

A/N- Ayeo bros! Back at it again! Thank you for the request, had a lot of fun making this! Hopefully you like! Love you lovelies!

"Ah, bloody hell!" You jumped up from your chair, dropping the book you were reading, quickly scanning the room to find that Crowley was facing away from you, his suit soaked in blood.

"Crowley? What the hell happened to you? Where have you been-"

"Just a few little cuts from the Winchesters, nothing too bad darling..." He trailed off, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before slowly focusing on you. He slid against the wall and to the ground, his face going far too pale for comfort, much like a porcelain doll. Except he wasn't porcelain, and should never be.

"Ah fuck!" You ran to the bathroom, looking desperately for things to help Crowley but only found a small first aid kit. (You'd think he would keep at least something useful for injuries, but alas you were wrong)

"Hey, hey, you'll be okay." You opened up the first aid kit to find little to no supplies.

"Damnit Crowley how do you not have anything! At least invest in a good first aid kit you blithering idiot," Crowley started to chuckle but then sucked in a breath, wheezing harshly. You grabbed some alcohol and poured the clear liquid onto a cotton round, making sure not to get too much on your hands.

"No not that dear, it's not me, it's the wings..." He trailed off and winced, letting the wings appear behind him, void-like black with sparks of red scattered throughout, more towards the scapulars than anything else. But they weren't like how you had seen them the first time, instead, they had large cuts and scrapes all around them, with feathers bent out of place and down covering the floor. He shook them up and had to harshly bite his lip to keep himself stable.

"Oh Crowley, please let me help," He nodded and lent the left-wing to you, it was so bad that through some of the cuts you could see the light shine through, barely covered in anything but a thin layer of skin. The veins that coursed through the wings were the most visible and caught your eye with not red blood, but black.

Quickly though you put the alcohol pad onto the dried patches of blood, smeared from cuts that were still oozing. Crowley let out a harsh breath and sighed heavily. Looking at him his chest was rising and falling rapidly and if you weren't fast enough he would go into shock. He was a demon but still inhabited a human body, so ailments still affected him just as much as a regular human.

"You're gonna be okay, don't fall asleep on me, gotta make sure you're still breathing," Crowley's brown eyes looked at you with an emotion that was somewhere between the spectrum of disbelief and comfort. You began to clean the bigger cuts, making sure to keep them sterile before packing them with the small amount of gauze in the first aid kit. The cotton round soaked in alcohol was now a dark grey color from the blood as you threw it to the side, examining the scrapes and putting bandages on as needed.

"I'm going to need to pluck some blood feathers Crowley, but let me do the other side first," Crowley noticeably shook his head, knowing the process would be quite painful, but if not done swiftly and correctly the feather wouldn't clot itself and he would lose a lot of blood.

You then again soaked another cotton round in alcohol, swiping along the sides of scrapes and cuts, letting the round grow more and more black with the more blood it picked up.

"Damn, that hurt," He winced when you went over a tender spot, a bruise already forming over the exposed skin of his wing.

"Sorry," You were blunt with your response, focusing on the task at hand, and pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a particularly bad wound, allowing it to fizz up and grow white, killing the bacteria that would be too painful for you to use straight rubbing alcohol on.

"Now I'm going to take these tweezers and pluck out some feathers, promise you won't kill me okay?" Crowley lightly laughed and nodded,

"Gotcha love, no killing" You put the tweezers at the shaft of the feather that was broken, blood already beginning to hinder the process. It covered the surface of the tweezers and caused them to slip, making you resolve and use your fingers. You didn't warn him, knowing that if you did the pain would probably be greater, and instead pulled harshly, letting the feather release itself from his skin. A small amount of blood came from the pore of the wing, but other than that it was quite clean, and a new one would eventually grow in its place.

"Now for the others," You said to yourself,

"This time try to warn me, darling, I don't fancy being violated in such a way," You rolled your eyes and shook your head, warning him until the last one.

"Done," You said, brushing off your hands and cleaning up the mess you had made. Crowley plopped himself onto his bed, and sighed deeply, desperately wanting sleep to overcome him.

"Get up for me, I want to do something," Crowley groaned and reluctantly sat up, you sat behind him and looked at the ruffled feathers, seeing ones that were out of place and down in places where down should not be.

"Let me groom them," You weren't really giving him a choice, but he obliged and stretched them out. You ran your fingers through them and began carding through the ones that were obviously bent out of shape, and massaging places that were swollen.

"Thank you love, I appreciate it" You nodded and just smiled,

"Happy to help my king of hell," Crowley quietly stretched the wings again, letting you gently reach to his uropygial gland, where oil secreted and allowed his wings to be waterproof and sturdier than before. He tried to control his breathing, but at the touch of that gland, his breathing became erratic, knowing the area was quite sensitive.

"Sorry, I just want to make sure they'll heal correctly," Crowley didn't respond and let you slowly spread the oil onto the wings, allowing it to seep through and cover the entirety of the wings. Once finished the wings showed new life, although the scars wouldn't heal completely, and he would still have some missing feathers, they were still beautiful to you. After leaving the room to wash your hands from the oil, you found him sleeping soundly in his bed, his suit still on and wings lazily spread across the bed.

"Crowley," You shook him gently, he only groaned and said,

"What, I'm trying to sleep," You pursed your lips,

"Crowley move, give me some room!" He began to bitch and moan, but stopped himself,

"Fine," He moved the wing covering the bed over himself, cradling his chest and letting you finally lie down. The both of you were immensely tired from the debacle, and sleep came easily. You felt Crowley's wing begin to brush against your midsection, slowly letting itself release the tension it held. You let the warmth envelope you as you fell asleep, letting your eyes close and mind quiet.

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

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Life’s not a movie

Pairing: Spike x fem!chubby!reader

Request: Hello if your requests are still open...how about spike with a chubby reader who is 24 and still a virgin and she is shy and depressed but tries to hide it by acting happy go lucky. She loves his poems and is a good friend to him but she secretly loves him and she finally confesses her feelings to him and he kisses her and it's her first kiss? Maybe they are having a night out as friends which turns into a date when she tells him, and that's how they end up kissing?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hey, so I wanted to simplify reader’s personality a little because not everyone will be able to access something so specific.

Warnings: Mention of sex. I’ve written her a little insecure about her weight (only vaguely mentioned once) and being a virgin/having not kissed anyone (hope that’s okay).

💖 Don’t worry if you haven’t had these experiences yet either, everyone has their own time for everything !! 💖

You and Spike were walking from opposite directions, with the other on your minds. Things with Spike were nice, he made you feel more human. Which, of course was ironic, because he wasn’t even a little bit human. In physicality, at least.

You smiled when you saw him, giving him a little wave. He enjoyed the way your chubby form didn’t appear to make you second-guess yourself. You appeared confident and more so when he was by your side. He especially liked the way you lit up the area you were in, always so cheery when you greeted him. On the surface, at least.

You were very good friends, so good that everyone already just presumed that you were dating. You spent most evenings with him, sometimes watching crappy tv and other evenings reading while Spike wrote poetry.

Some evenings, if you were really lucky, he would let you read them. Only a few he selected (he was very secretive about certain poems you couldn’t see as they were too intimate). You always gushed about how much you loved them, smiling and rereading them - trying to memorise them.

He wished he could read to you the ones he had hidden sometimes. They spoke of deep, unrequited feelings that longed to be free. Feelings for you. Alas, you had never initiated anything or so much as hinted similar feelings. Besides, he enjoyed having you to himself as a friend at least and couldn’t bear to jeopardise this so he just hadn’t acted on it.

You were meeting to go to the Bronze, neither of you realised the feelings the other harboured, but it didn’t stop you both wanting to spend every waking minute with each other. He loved your tummy. Sometimes you felt perhaps a little too big but to him that was a ridiculous thought. You appeared so soft he often imagined himself wrapping his arms around you and resting a hand there. Maybe rubbing his hand sooothingly while you were watching one of those movies he allowed you to pick from the rental store. He was thinking about this as you both sat down and had realised that he was staring at you. Again.

When you both sat down in a booth, he tried his best not to make his loving gaze so obvious - he had a reputation to uphold after all. To make himself feel better, he moved the conversation to something else. He asked about your younger friends, the Scoobies. He did this often, sometimes to try and figure out if they still thought of him as a threat and other times just because it amused him to hear of the often tumultuous teenage drama that the Slayer and her gang got caught up in.

They were doing their coursework tonight, Willow had called it a study-over - the priority was work, not sleep apparently. You were a lot older than them, having met them by coincidence. You got on with them well, but they were a bit younger than you (and they liked to tell you to stay away from spike a lot). You explained what they were up to to Spike, making him snort at how lame the group that used to ruin all of his evil plots were.

“People at that age should be out shagging anything that bloody moves - not sitting in memorising facts about historical events” He saw you shift slightly uncomfortably and paused, before asking, “What? You don’t agree, love?”

“No- it’s, uh, not that-” You say softly, trying to make your mouth stop forming words. But that plan went out of the window as you started to squirm under his stare and continue bashfully, “I, uh, haven’t actually…”

“What?” he asked, not letting it go. his eyes boring into yours. You sighed, deciding to just say it. Like ripping off a plaster.

“I haven’t had sex, Spike. Okay?” there was an edge to your voice as you snapped, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s alright, love... you, uh, don’t have to do anythin’ you’re not wantin’-” he started to reassure you, still confused as he knew the feelings he had for you - so he knew others must have had such feelings over the years.

“That’s not the problem, I want to have sex I just haven’t- haven’t found anyone. Or, well, no one’s found that they like me…”

“Bollocks!” he cut you off abruptly, “Life’s not a movie, pet… it’s not one of those girly flicks you watch when you think I’m sleepin’ in the afternoon... Life can be messy, it can’t be predicted, no matter what the magic voodoo types ‘round here think… so bloody what if you haven’t shagged a bloke yet-?”

“Spike! You’re talking too loud! People are looking!”

“So fucking what? She’s a virgin!” He said louder, but nobody was really paying much attention to either of you, or they at least had enough manners to act as if they hadn’t before you looked up to check, “Who bloody cares?”

“Me spike. I care” You mutter, embarrassment permeating through every pore, “I haven’t even- I haven’t even kissed anyone” you hissed, deciding you might as well get everything out into the open.

“But you’ve been on a date?” He askedslowly, a little frown. You shook your head, no. He was confused. Someone like you he was convinced someone would have taken you out years ago. You were smart, funny and very sweet. He had been convinced you had a boyfriend and cursing this imaginary man as he had been missing you recently. Not realising that you had been trying to sort through your feelings for him.

He shrugged, looked you in the eyes, grabbed your hands from across the table and knew exactly what he needed to do.

“Let’s make this a date then”

“No- Spike you don’t-” you started to

“No arguments. I want to, love. Beautiful woman on my arm for the entire evening – make all the buggers jealous and you can say you’ve been on a date” He grinned, as if this hadn’t been an in-the-moment decision. He moved around the table making sure not to give you any room. Sitting beside you and watching your every move. He leaned in, moving his hand from yours to the small of your back as he whispered into your ear.

“Drink?” he asked, just the one word making the hair on the back of your neck raise as you shivered, hoping that he didn’t notice as he got up from his seat.

“Yeah - please. Could I have-”

“I know my girl’s order” he said with a wink. You smiled not able to help yourself enjoying the interaction but a light frown on your brow as he walked off. He exhaled an unneeded breath as he went, thinking about what he had just said, about how he wished you were his.

You continued to frown a little, mulling over how he could switch to flirting so easily. It worried you, how easily he could pretend. He had very obvious feelings for you, but you took it as him feeling sorry for you.

When he returned, he set your favourite drink in front of you before he slipped his hand back over yours, resting it there gently. He was ecstatic, he had been dreaming of becoming closer to you for a while now and he finally had a chance, even if it was under the guise of a friend helping a friend out.

You stayed there for a little while, Spike making small talk asking you questions that he tried to pretend weren’t probing as you sat together before your insecurity got the better of you.

“I do-don’t think I can do this. It’s too hard” You say suddenly, looking down at his hand on yours. You released your hand from his and getting up to leave. He takes your wrist, pulling you back to him but your face tells him he needs to let go. Hot tears were threatening to spill and a thick lump in your throat almost choking you. He was confused, why were you reacting that way? Was he that repulsive to you?

You move to get some fresh air, each intake of the cold night having you wishing that you could just swallow up Sunnydale in its entirety. Take it from the map and leave a crater in it’s place. No more embarrassment, no more admitting that you’re a virgin. That nobody had even appeared to want to kiss you before. That you had never had the confidence to make a move yourself. A happy coincidence being that if you swallowed the town there would be no more hell mouth and demons.

You could start fresh, nobody feeling sorry for you or pretending to care to make you feel better. You appreciated Spike and what he had been trying to do. Helping out a friend. But you so desperately wanted him your heart had started to ache with every accelerated beat.

He had followed you, taking your jacket from where it had been draped on the chair behind you that you had left when you got up. He draped it over your large shoulders, his hand lingering on your back before moving.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked quietly, leaning against the wall as you stared into the night. You shook your head, there was a pause before everything started to bubble over and your feelings started to tumble from your mouth.

“It’s like those poems you write, Spike. The feelings you conjure I can’t fake. I like you and this is cruel, almost worse than having never been on a date because I want it to be real and it’s just not it-it’s theatre. It’s you feeling pity – just helping out a friend-” you rushed out, each word crashing into the next.

“Hey, slow down, pet” He halted you, “Bloody motor-mouth” he muttered, with a shake of his head. A ghost of a smile on your lips. He often called you that, but for gushing about something you really enjoyed. It was a term of endearment, “That – in there was the most honest I’ve been with you. I wanted all of that… I wanted more” he admitted softly. The same voice he reserved for discussing the most romantic feelings his poetry had revealed.

He knew you had been platonic for a long time, missing all of the signs that you liked him back until now. He looked at you, a silent conversation between you. You could almost hear his mind screaming out for you as he pulled you into him.

His eyebrow quirked, ensuring he hadn’t read the wrong signals. If he was honest, he had been waiting for this for a very long time. Since before even your friendship had suddenly developed he had that feeling of concentrated affection for you that he knew was leading to this. He could only hope that this was where it could end up.

You barely started to nod your approval before he pulled you crashing your mouth into his. He kissed you hungrily, your soft lips a beautiful sensation that had only been fantasy until recently. Despite the evident passion, there was an undercurrent of understanding. A hint of sweet amongst it all that told you it was still spike, the man that had written those words. Words that now made perfect sense. His poetry only now making sense to you as you felt it. You were connected to him so intimately and you were sure his poetry had now been about affection for you. You couldn’t fake something like this.

The kiss was special, you had thought you would be nervous, unsure what you were doing as it was so new to you. But it was perfect, your lips moving with his in a way that you were sure meant this was destiny. All of the stars aligning and pointing towards the spot that you were kissing under.

You realised that you hadn’t been doing anything with your hands, they had been suspended in mid-air as if you were worried to reach and contact his skin your hands would go straight through him, revealing that he was merely a spectre. This moment being too good to be true. You were half convinced that he would be a hallucination, not corporeal to the touch.

It was like a dream, but it was better than any you had ever thought up. His skin on yours. The way he lingered against your chubby curves in adoration, as if he had never been allowed to touch something so precious. The kiss deepened and you didn’t have time to worry if you were doing anything right, you were wrapped up in how good this felt. The heightened feelings mingling with just how much you cared for the vampire that was now press himself against you as close as he could physically get.

One of his hands had been in your hair, the other at your hip until he realised your hands hadn’t touched him. He smirked into the kiss, remembering that you hadn’t done this before. His hands moved, gliding along your soft skin, leaving goose-bumps as he made his way to where your hands were still tentatively waiting to catch up with your brain. He moved your hands and guided you to rest on him, his eyes scrutinising your face as he did.

You smiled, breathless, wrapping your arms around him further and nestling to rest your head on his shoulder. He ran his hands along your shapely form before resting against your waist. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his body under your hands. Neither of you had to say anything. You knew it was the start of something, it was rising in both of your chests.

That kiss was definitely worth the wait.

#spike x reader #spike btvs #spike x you #spike imagine #btvs imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #chubby reader #female reader #mention of sex #Scooby reader #spike fic #btvs x you #x reader

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

Among These Pages

Summary: After a painful breakup, you move to a new town and you’re instantly attracted to a small bookshop near your new residence. The new owner has definitely caught your eye.

Warnings: Smut and mild cursing

A/N: So this idea originated from a Discord chat (again) in an Arthur specific server. Needless to say this one was fun to write.

The hot sun beat down amongst the worn cement and faded asphalt of this little town you now called home. Bright and sunny, though a little bit too hot for your taste. You quickened your pace to seek the shade of a tree, careful to keep out of the paths of others.

Having slight relief from the blistering sun, you squinted around for another view of your surroundings. A small, quaint village bustling with its inhabitants. The streets were lined with independent shops, restaurants and cafes. The buildings and walkways were splashed with brightly colored plants and paint, immediately setting a cheerful vibe in the atmosphere.

After spending the first day moving in and unpacking, you decided to take a break and explore your new residence. You’ve only really experienced it through your car windows, and stopped in one of the cafes once or twice. However, you now wanted the full experience. Though with how sweltering it was, you were probably better off driving.

You fanned yourself for a moment and cast your attention down the length of the block. More food, smoothies, coffee, ice cream, except you weren’t all that hungry at the moment.

However, another sign caught your eye. Though too far to see, your curiosity spiked and you walked forward. As you drew in closer shapes began to appear, along with letters. Morgan Books, painted in gold lettering in a distinctly Western styled font. Underneath was a stack of books with one opened on top. A bookshop. Being from where you were, you were used to the large corporate bookstores. You hadn’t come across an independently owned one in years.

Checking this place out was a perfect excuse to get out of the sun for a bit. You increased your pace until you were standing at the store front. The building like the others surrounding had a somewhat rustic appearance, part of the charm that attracted you to living here. The windows were dusty and the inside was fairly dark, but you could make out the silhouettes of shelves. You approached the entrance and pulled open the door, ringing a bell overhead. You stepped across the threshold to be greeted by a cool breeze of air conditioning.

You sighed in relief and looked around. The shop itself was fairly small, or at least appeared that way as it was full of multiple bookcases, all of which were stacked floor to ceiling with books. The floorboards creaked elsewhere, and you turned to see someone appear from around one of the shelves.

A man, tall and broad-framed. He offered a quick smile. “Hey there, welcome!”

“Hello.” You greeted him politely.

He stepped closer, allowing a better view of his face. You couldn’t help but to notice how handsome he looked. “Need help findin’ anything?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nah, just exploring, really. I saw this place and I wondered what sort of treasures lurked within.” You lightly joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you’ll find plenty here. Got new n’ used, so feel free to look ‘round.”

You nodded in response, and turned your attention toward the endless amount of books. You scanned the shelves, following along with the signs marked on top of which cases held which topics. You found that he had a little bit of everything; from encyclopedias to New Age books, to computer guides (from the early 2000’s) to conspiracy theories. You had to giggle to yourself upon reading some of the synopses for a collection of the more esoteric pieces.

Time soon became lost to you with more exploration. All the while the man who greeted you earlier moved through the shop occasionally. After a while it felt like you’d been here for ages. When you checked your phone, you’d realized nearly a half hour passed since first walking into this place. You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t anticipated spending that much time here.

As you were putting your phone away and moved toward the front of the shop, the man sat at his register and caught your attention.

“So, find any treasures?” he casually asked.

You paused to turn to him. “Guess I did, you have a…uh, an interesting collection.” You responded, tilting your head back toward some of the shelves.

He nodded in agreement, offering you a half-smile. “You’d be surprised what people come in askin’ for, or what people come in to sell.”

“Well if I needed a how-to book on Windows 2000, I’ll know where to stop by.” You said with a giggle.

He shook his head and smiled even more. “See? Those books have been on them shelves for years. Ain’t sure why I still keep ‘em ‘round.”

“Antiquity value perhaps?” you joked.

He gave a small, hearty laugh. “’Spose so. Guess I should get rid of ‘em, they belong in a museum at this point.”

His laughter made you smile. “Anyway, I should be heading back home and unpack some more…”

His expression changed to curiosity. “You jus’ move here?” when you nodded, he asked, “Where from?”

“Couple hours north,” you answered. “Needed a change of scenery, you know?”

He nodded in understanding. “You’ll be glad ya moved here. This lil’ town has its charms, folks here are nice too.”

“I’m glad, believe me,” you sighed. “It’s a nice change of pace. I’m glad to have found this bookstore too, it adds to the charm.”

He grinned at you. A cute, slightly lopsided grin that somehow made your heart flutter. “Glad you think so.”

---

The next two days was spent unpacking the rest of your house, keeping yourself focused on it to have everything organized before the first day of your new job. It was Sunday, and by noon you’d finally unwrapped the last of your décor and placed it accordingly in your living room. You smiled to yourself as your eyes panned across the room, proud of how much you’d accomplished in just three days. Sure, you didn’t have too many possessions, yet it was a relief to tackle the largest of chores.

Though you hadn’t expected to finish this soon. With only half the day gone, you wondered what else to do. You supposed you could explore more, and that little shop on the corner popped up in your mind, along with the image of the handsome owner…

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by again.

After a quick lunch break and heading outside, it was only fifteen minutes of walking before you reached your destination. It wasn’t as hot out today which you were thankful for. You strode up to the door and pulled it open, the bell once again alerting your incoming presence.

As soon as you stepped in, your eyes darted to the shopkeeper who sat behind the register. He peered up at your entrance.

“Hey, welcome back!” he greeted with enthusiasm.

You blinked in surprise. “You remember me?”

“’Course, when ya live in a small town, you tend to remember faces,” He explained. “Y’back to find more treasures?”

You smiled. “In a way, I finished unpacking earlier than expected so I thought I’d come back into town for a bit.”

“So you’re all settled in then?” he asked.

“For the most part. I start my new job tomorrow, so I’d figure I use my free time productively by…looking for more old computer manuals.”

He chuckled at that. “Now that ya mentioned it, I think I better do some inventory o’ the place. Might as well get rid of the useless stuff,” He spoke while standing up. “I won’t get in your way.”

You nodded, sidestepping as he rounded from around the counter to move past you. As he passed by, a short whiff of his cologne wafted through your nostrils. He smelled good, and you briefly turned your head to take a look as he walked away. He was certainly broad, almost too broad to fit in this little shop. Yet he moved between the bookcases with ease.

He turned a corner, obscuring himself from your vision. You turned your attention back to the books, looking for the topics that would particularly spark your interest.

It’d fallen quiet, aside from the creak of floorboards and sliding of books across wood. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pass back and forth with a few in his hands, carrying them towards the back. You’d sneak another glance or two without him looking, appreciating his physique.

After a little while, you found yourself poring over a book on the religion of Wicca. It was something that piqued your interest in your earlier life, though never had a chance to really learn about it. You’d only just began to skim through it, although the content was interesting enough that you started to read.

A loud crash emanated elsewhere in the shop, causing you to jump in surprise. The shopkeeper hissed out a curse, prompting you to peer around in search of the source.

“You okay?” you called out.

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh of annoyance. “Jus’ one o’ these shelves fell apart.”

You listened to the sounds of him attempting to clean up the mess, and followed it through the narrow aisles until you found him. He was bent over, attempting to collect the disheveled books spilled at his feet.

“Here, let me help.” You said, automatically starting forward.

“No, you don’t have to –” he began, glancing up at you.

“There’s a lot here.” You stated, gathering a few into your arms.

He didn’t argue further, and together the two of you managed to collect them all. He nodded in thanks and headed toward the back once again, with you on his heels. He led you to an open door to reveal a small back room. From over his shoulder you spotted a chair and desk, and a pile of books placed haphazardly on top of it. He placed his armful on an empty space and gestured for you to do the same. Once you emptied your arms and exited the back room, you turned to him.

“Thank you.”

You nodded to him. “You’re welcome…” you glanced around the shop again, and an idea struck your mind. “Need any more help?”

“Nah, jus’ ‘bout halfway done I think.” He answered, placing his hands on his hips.

“I could help with that though,” you pointed out, though surprised at yourself for even offering. “Kinda curious what else you got that’s ancient and obsolete.”

“Oh there’s plenty…” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck while he peered around as a thoughtful look painted his face. “Tell ya what, if ya find anything interestin’ that need to be off the shelves, I’ll let ya keep it for free.”

Bewilderment crossed your mind. “Wouldn’t you be losing money then?”

“A couple of ‘em won’t hurt business,” he said. “Better n’ throwin’ ‘em out or puttin’ em in storage, ya know?”

You didn’t want to decline his offer since he had a good point, yet you still felt bad regardless. “Alright, fair enough.”

And so you set to help him. All the while you two held a casual conversation. You learned his name was Arthur, and that he owned this place for a few years. Other than running this store he lived on a small ranch on the edge of town. You shared a little bit about yourself, including your career and a couple of shared interests you had with him.

Surprisingly enough, you’d pulled out many more old texts than you anticipated. Some were so worn and dog-eared that there was no resale value, and Arthur told you to just throw them away. Throwing away books? You instead convinced him to give them away, and he found an empty box and labeled it “Free Books”. You skimmed through them briefly to see if they caught your eye, yet none did and they ended up in the box.

After a little over an hour passed before the both of you picked the place clean. You dusted your hands off after placing the last few in the box. Arthur picked it up and carried it outside, placing it on the sidewalk. We walked back in and said, “Hope that gives ‘em some good use.”

“Hey, people will take anything free,” you pointed out. “Maybe even pull in more revenue for you.”

“Well here’s hopin’,” he sighed, briefly glancing toward the floor before meeting your gaze with a small smile. “Thanks for the help again, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome Arthur, I actually had fun helping you.” You answered with a grin.

He chuckled softly. “Fun, eh?”

You nodded. “Sure, you’re a nice guy and fun to talk to.” You answered.

You weren’t sure, but his face reddened a touch as he ducked his head. He laughed again, shy and…cute. “Thank you, though I ain’t that much of an interestin’ person.”

“Nah, I beg to differ,” you argued lightly. “Either way, I think I’ll be coming back. I like it here, and if you’d need any more help…”

“You’ve been more than helpful Y/N,” he answered, waving his hand as if trying to flit away your words. He then paused, realization crossing his face. “Actually…no, never mind.”

“What is it?” you pressed.

“Well,” he released a heavy sigh. “I’ll be honest, business ain’t as good as I’d hoped. I’ve been tryin’ to think of new advertisin’ strategies, pull in more customers. Problem is I ain’t too good at it.”

“So…you’re asking me to help you advertise? Or create one for you?” you questioned.

“I know it ain’t fair to ask,” Arthur answered quickly, his face shadowed with a look of guilt. “We hardly know each other and you jus’ moved here –”

“I’ll do it.” You softly interrupted.

He blinked, staring at you in surprise. “Whuh?”

“I said I’ll do it,” you repeated, smiling at him. “Luckily for you, I took a few advertising arts classes in college.”

The surprise remained on his face. “Uh –” he huffed, and cleared his throat. “I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’ –”

“I’m not, Arthur,” you assured him. “You were gonna ask for a reason right? I don’t mind. Besides, I haven’t used my art skills in years. Might as well put them to use again.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” You affirmed. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll give me something fun to do after work.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. He finally nodded and spoke, “Alright, as long as I ain’t troublin’ you with it.”

“No trouble at all,” you replied with another smile. “I’ll come up with something good, I promise.”

His smile matched yours. “Then I look forward to it.”

---

The next few weeks kept you busy. After settling in at your new job and coming home to sit at your computer to design flyers didn’t leave you much time for other activities. Still you stopped by the bookshop to plan with Arthur and discuss strategies, or suggested many ideas that he seemed to like. You laid out a few thumbnails of different designs for him to pick and choose, narrowing it down to two that he really liked.

You stopped by every day to update the progress, even when you didn’t have to. Admittedly you were enjoying his company, and you had a feeling he liked yours as well. After moving to a town where you knew no one and were far from your family and old friends, you were just fine with considering Arthur as one. As time passed on he’d become friendlier and more open to you, offering you a drink or snack even when you’d come by for a few minutes.

Sometimes you’d stay longer just as an excuse to be close to someone other than your new coworkers, and to admire how nice he looked. He always dressed in either button-up shirts or a nice T-shirt and Wrangler jeans like a cowboy, the fabric accentuating his broad frame in all the right ways. His sandy hair was trimmed neatly, and he kept his face somewhat clean shaven, although something about having stubble lined across his sharp jaw set a spark within you.

A relationship was the furthest thing on your list at the moment, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t admire how attractive he was.

Soon after you produced a finished product, and quite proud of the result after not having designed anything since your college days. It was a weekend which meant you were free, and upon printing out a nice colored version, you headed to the bookshop almost instantly.

Arthur loved it, as you had hoped. He paid for multiple copies to be printed and distributed around the town, and you spent the afternoon stapling them to telephone poles and handing them out in some of the shops. You thankfully had gotten a positive response from most of those you’ve spoken with, which gave you hope. You wondered how Arthur was doing on his end.

After a few hours you’d met back up at the shop, tired and arms empty, but Arthur looked as pleased as you did. You settled down in the back room while he handed you a water bottle from his mini fridge. You took it gratefully and gulped a swig, sighing in relief.

“I think we did good.” you said as he settled across from you.

He nodded in response, followed by taking a drink from his own bottle. “I think so too, lotsa people seem interested.”

“I would figure more people would come in here often.” You said thoughtfully.

“You’d think, but this place is more of a tourist trap than anything,” Arthur responded. “Can’t complain, but I understand. Ya get used to one place, it gets borin’ after a while.”

“Well, hopefully this will be the beginning of a new era for this place.” You enthusiastically gestured to the surroundings with a flourish.

Arthur smiled at you, chuckling as he took another drink of water. He didn’t speak, however your eyes met his. You’d never noticed before how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were. From a distance they appeared blue, yet you could detect hints of bright green surrounding his pupils. You wanted to view them even closer. Somehow you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

The entrance bell however sounded, pulling your attention and his toward the front of the store. The telltale signs of potential customers. Arthur glanced out in surprise, and immediately stood up to greet the newcomers. You stayed in the back room while he dealt with the customers, listening to their voices with a smile on your face. Who would have thought it would work that quickly?

You left shortly after, catching Arthur’s eye briefly as you walked by him helping out a young couple that wandered in. A gaze that lingered a second longer than you intended, however you felt it was best to leave him to deal with his shop at the moment.

—-

Two weeks passed and you hadn’t stopped by Arthur’s shop, mainly because each time you passed by, the building seemed to be teeming with customers. You felt more than happy, and proud of yourself that you helped a business owner earn more revenue after a dull streak.

You did find yourself missing his company. Each day he hung in your mind like a cloud. You certainly liked him enough to call him a friend, yet those gorgeous eyes of his would meet you in your dreams.

That following Saturday evening, you received a text from him.

Hey, would you mind stopping by?

He was vague yet direct. Perhaps he was going to ask you another favor? Either way you were excited to see him again, and to inquire how everything was going. You headed over just minutes after responding to his text, hoping your eagerness didn’t overflow into your phone.

The first thing you noticed was the closed sign hanging in the window, which explained the lack of people this time. It was just past 7 pm, and you walked up the door and knocked. Movement shadowed behind the glass and Arthur’s silhouette appeared just a moment later, meeting your gaze between the glass and smiling wide. He opened the door.

“Hey there, come on in.” He stepped back and gestured.

You walked in and turned to face him. “So, I’ve noticed business has gotten better recently.”

“All thanks to you,” he responded, the grin on his face only growing wider. He then lifted his hand to reveal he was holding a bottle of whiskey. “I wanna thank ya.”

You blinked at the alcohol, surprised by this but you didn’t have any objections. You smiled and nodded in approval. “You don’t have to thank me Arthur, but I’m not about to turn down a good drink.”

He chuckled heartily. “Sure I do, the booze is jus’ a bonus. C’mon.” He waved toward the back room and strode for it, and you were right behind him. Once he stepped inside he grabbed a couple of plastic cups, and filled the both of them with a few cubes of ice. He then poured in the whiskey before topping them off with some soda. He handed a cup to you, and then held up his own.

“To you, for your design and advertisin’ skills.” He said, although rather awkwardly. You figured he wasn’t good at that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind. Bringing your cup to tap against his, you smiled again and took the first sip simultaneously with him. The sweet soda tinged with the smokey bitterness of the alcohol was a pleasant mixture against your tastebuds.

It was quiet for a moment, and Arthur took another sip before drawing in a deep breath. He focused on you. “Drink’s good?” He asked.

You nodded, taking another sip of your own. “Very. Haven’t had a chance to have a good drink since I moved here. Had to resort to a few gas station beers.”

He snorted softly, a small smile of amusement appearing on his face. “Gotta introduce you to the good bar in town sometime.”

This piqued your interest. “Oh? There’s a bar here?”

“‘Course, every small town has a bar,” he pointed out. “It ain’t on any of these main roads though, it’s closer to the outskirts. I imagine ya probably didn’t explore that much.”

“Can’t say I have,” you said thoughtfully. “But I’ll take up the offer of you showing me.”

“Jus’ name a time, ya won’t be disappointed.” He confidently replied.

You finished your first drink after a little while and Arthur poured you a second to which you were not opposed to. The effects were taking hold of you before you knew it. Your lips were looser with each sip you took, and you found Arthur was the same way. The two of you spoke about random topics, anything ranging between favorite colors to what you cooked yesterday. Things that were otherwise too boring to discuss, yet somehow with Arthur they seemed more interesting.

A little while later, the conversation became deeper. Arthur spoke some about his earlier life and what kind of environment he was raised in, and how his teenage years were spent bitterly. You shared the reason why you moved: you were previously living with your significant other, only to find your shared bed occupied by two bodies when you arrived home early one day when you weren’t feeling well. The reveal absolutely crushed you, which led into an emotional spiral and you looking for a new place to live the next day.

It’d been a little over a month since then. Your mind was still heavy on the breakup until you stopped by here the first time. Arthur and his charming little shop seemed to absorb any lingering sadness you had. Seemed like both yesterday and ages ago.

Regardless of the story, the pair of you were chortling in good spirits. You ranted about all the negatives about your old partner, releasing the leftover bitterness you’ve suppressed and turned it into humor. It only heightened your mood more, and with each drink it only increased.

After a few more minutes it quieted down again, though the smiles remained on your faces. You since became immune to the sting of whiskey, immensely enjoying the flavors and the inebriation that accompanied it.

Arthur reached over and poured himself another helping. His sigh caught your attention. He stared down into his cup, fixated with a thoughtful expression.

“I gotta say, I’m glad you wandered in here that day.” He murmured, peering at you with a sidelong look.

“Yeah?” you chirped.

He nodded slowly, taking a swig of his drink before focusing onto you with a serious gaze. “I’ll be honest, I was thinkin’ ‘bout closin’ up.”

You were taken aback by this statement. “Why?”

“You saw for yourself. Hardly any business. Shelves lined with books decades old,” he snorted without humor. “Truth is openin’ this place ain’t even my idea.”

“Then whose was it?” you pressed tilting your head in curiosity.

“My fiancée’s,” he smiled bitterly, gently swirling his drink. “Eh, ex-fiancée. Had the grand idea to run a business together. Picked out this place herself. N’ like a fool I fell for it.”

Ex-fiancée. Your heart raced upon learning this new information, and you wondered what happened between them. Would it be too prying to ask? “So…what changed?”

Arthur shrugged. “She found someone else more interestin’. Said we had too many differences in our lives to really enjoy each other…” he trailed off to take another sip, his eyes shifting to gaze in the distance.

Your heart broke for him. Rather than wallowing in those feelings, you instead asked another question. “But why hold on to this place if it was her idea?”

His gaze pulled back to you. “Guess for a while I was hangin’ on to the dream that she’d come back n’ pick up where we left off. Obviously that didn’t happen. Stupid, huh?”

You frowned at this. Hell, you understood that pipe dream all too well. There was a brief time where you wished your ex would come after you like in the movies in some dramatic fashion, pouring out apologies and begging you to come back. Wishful thinking.

You noted his hand was resting against the table. In a quick movement you reached over and placed your hand comfortingly on his forearm, and offering him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not stupid at all. You loved her and you held on to the one thing that you knew she loved too.”

Arthur’s eyes dropped to your hand. “For too long,” he sighed. “After a while I knew there was no chance. Still I continued, kept this place open for my own sake. Came here every mornin’ with a rock in my stomach, least until recently.” He explained, his voice softening towards the end. He peered over to you again.

Your heart raced once again. The way he was looking at you… it was obvious as to why he mentioned that last bit. Hell, you knew for a while. He wasn’t subtle about trying to steal glances your way these past few weeks. As attractive as he was, you were denying yourself of your own feelings out of protection. It felt too soon after your last relationship, although it seemed Arthur had been single for a while. You were afraid you’d change your mind. “And why is that?” you asked, wanting to play dumb to hide your initial hesitation.

His arm moved – at first you thought he was pulling away, until his hand met yours. Palm to palm, skin rough but warm. His fingers entwined with yours and you automatically did the same. “I think you know,” he murmured.

His thumb smoothed against the back of your hand. Your eyes bore into his. Such a gorgeous light blue, glistening in the lamplight of this tiny room. Despite the table in between the two of you, it was hardly an obstacle to view him in better focus. Upon closer inspection, you could detect pools of green surrounding his pupils, reminding you of tropical beaches.

His lips were parted, wafting his gentle breath against your face. Scented with alcohol and the sweetness of soda, he seemed to be growing closer.

You closed the space immediately, the booze flowing in your system offering a boost of confidence. His mouth was surprisingly soft against yours, and within seconds he returned the favor. Your free hands joined, mirroring their counterparts with ease. He pulled you closer with no effort.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly to stare at you with a soft expression. He released your hand to cup your cheek gently, and you leaned into his touch with a smile.

“You don’t have to hold on to those thoughts anymore.” you sighed to him.

His smile mirrored yours. “Neither do you.”

---

It was nothing but pure bliss following that night. You’d fallen into a routine to spend some time with him every day, even when you had work. Arthur was such a sweet lover and was not hesitant to hold you whenever he had a chance. His arm around your waist, or pulling you into his lap. You helped around the bookshop more, even when he told you that you didn’t have to. Yet you insisted, and redecorated some of it to give a new energy while keeping its rustic look. It certainly attracted even more customers.

He took you to the bar as promised, and it quickly became a regular spot for casual dates. It was just as charming as he explained, accompanied with lovely patrons and entertainment. You were soon completely comfortable with this small town, completely integrated into its community thanks to Arthur. People often recognized your face from the bookshop, and the praise following was something he was elated to hear about.

A couple of months have passed, and you swore Arthur’s smile grew bigger each and every day. He looked forward to running the business again, and left those bitter thoughts of his ex behind with the help of you.

One particularly slow weekend day, you were spending time in the shop as usual. It was late afternoon and the last customer left an hour ago, thus creating a quiet and relaxing atmosphere. Closing time would be in less than an hour, and you just assumed no one else would be wandering in.

While Arthur manned the register, albeit with boredom, you began to observe some of the newer inventory. The shelves were thankfully lined with more recent texts to fill in the gaps of what you’d sorted through previously. Once again you found yourself coming across the book of Wicca again, the same one you were skimming through just months earlier. You were surprised no one purchased it with the heavy amount of traffic that passed through.

The book served as a better distraction than you realized. You pored over it, so focused on the information that you didn’t notice the presence that loomed over you until gentle hands found your waist.

“You can keep that if ya want.”

You blinked in surprise, turning your head to look at him. “No, I’d feel weird about it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s still your store, I just can’t take it.” You pointed out.

He shook his head and quietly laughed. “Ah, it’s alright sweetheart. I know you were interested in that. ‘Sides, it’s been sittin’ here for months, n’ I can always order more if people want ‘em. Pretty sure it’s here for ya.”

“I still feel like I should pay…or something.” You murmured, placing the book back on the shelf.

“Now I don’t wanna hear none o’ that,” Arthur lightly chided you, despite wrapping his arms around your waist. “I never did properly thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

You turned around in his grip, giving him a playful smirk. “As if all this affection wasn’t repayment enough?”

“’Course not,” he snickered, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “Think I got quite a while ‘fore I’m even,” he reached over and plucked the book from its spot, and pressed it into your hand. “Until then, take this.”

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around the spine, and you sighed again. He was adamant about you keeping this book, and there was no use arguing with him. No point in denying a free gift anyway. “Alright, I’ll keep it.”

He smiled in response. “Don’t ever think y’gotta pay for somethin’ in here. If ya like it, then help yourself.”

“You tell that to all the girls?” you asked.

“Only to the ones I like.” He replied with a wink.

You giggled, stepping back to lightly slap his chest with the book. “Alright you, I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, drawing you back in for a hug and another kiss. “See ya tomorrow, darlin’.”

Breaking from the embrace, you headed toward the exit. Somehow you hadn’t noticed how much darker it got outside until you saw the iron-gray storm clouds through the door. You opened it just as a loud thunder clap rumbled through the air, vibrating the floor beneath you. A split second later, rain began to fall.

Well shoot, you walked here today.

Arthur’s low hum sounded behind you. He stepped up beside you to observe the weather. “Guess you ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”

“Guess not.” You agreed. You weren’t opposed to staying longer, however you were hungry and some leftover pizza at home was calling your name. Hopefully this storm would be quick.

Arthur seemed to have read your mind. “Got some snacks in the back, c’mon.” He said, reaching your free hand and leading you through to the back room.

The two of you settled at the table with a shared small helping of cut fruit. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to curb your appetite for the time being. It was quiet aside from the raging storm, which settled to an even calmer atmosphere. You popped a grape into your mouth, peering over at Arthur as he munched on an apple slice.

His eyes met yours. “Somethin’ wrong with my face?” he asked jokingly.

You snickered, scooting closer. “Yeah, a whole lot of handsome.”

He snorted and shook his head with a dejected smile. You learned early on that his self-esteem was low, even though he hid it fairly well. Any comments toward his physical appearance was usually deflected.

“It’s true, you know.” You insisted. “You ever see how some girls stare at you when they’re here?”

“Nah, only ever got eyes for you, darlin’.” He answered.

“It’s pretty obvious,” you continued. “They’re not so subtle with their googly eyes, even when they try to be.”

Arthur laughed again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Guess I’m blind to it.”

“You must be, if you can’t tell how sexy you are…” you stood up briefly to slide into his lap. Your hands cradled his face. “Probably the most attractive man in this town.”

His cheeks flushed with a light shade of pink, ducking his head slightly to avert your gaze. “You’re jus’ bein’ sweet.”

“I’m being truthful,” You corrected, slipping your hand beneath his chin to tilt his face back up. Once he was looking at you again, your hands moved to his shoulders, down his arms and to finally take his hands. “I could stare at you all day, you know.”

He chuckled in response, entwining his fingers with yours. “I could say the same ‘bout you.”

“Ah, but this is about you…” you spoke softly, pulling his hands up to your mouth, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. “From your gorgeous eyes to your sexy jawline to your absolutely stunning body. And the way you dress? It’s like you do it on purpose just to make me feel all hot and bothered.”

“I don –”

You gently shushed him by planting your lips on his. Tasting faintly of fruit, your tongue swiped out to steal the flavor from his lips. You pulled back to see the flustered expression on his face, his mouth betraying a slight smile tugging at the corners.

He released your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer on his lap. “Guess I can’t complain if you like it all.” He murmured.

“And then some.” You added, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He drew you in for a second kiss, softer and sweeter than the previous. He held you close to him, his body warm and solid against you. Seconds ticked by as it gradually grew deeper and more fervent. His tongue slowly invaded your mouth which you happily accepted. His large hands smoothed up and down your back, both soothing and igniting your body. A soft moan slipped from your mouth, unintentional yet you didn’t regret it.

This caught his attention. He paused and parted the kiss, confusion plain in his expression. His eyes however betrayed his thoughts, aquatic pools shining brightly in the lamplight. He wanted more and was held back by his hesitation. It seems like you would have to take the lead.

You offered a soft nod to him, a silent acquisition of permission for his unmentioned desire. Removing your hands from around his neck, you reached down and peeled your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Arthur’s eyes widened, staring without shame at your chest, only reflecting the hunger in its prominence. He moved then to attach his mouth to the crook of your neck, kissing your skin lovingly. Your head tilted to allow him more access, quietly encouraging him to explore more of your body.

He did just that. His calloused palms roamed the expanse of your back. His fingers trailed with feather-light precision up your spine. You shuddered in his grip, arching your back and pressing against him even more. He rumbled softly in appreciation while his other hand found the zipper of your jeans. You anticipated feeling him venture further, only for him to grip your ass. He stood up, catching you off-guard and you expelled a yelp. His journey with you was short as he brought you back down, resting your back on the table before him. You locked eyes with him as he smiled down at you, reaching up to caress your cheek. He dragged his fingers down your midline to the hem of your pants, gripping them to tug them straight off.

You were now down to your underclothing while he was still fully dressed. He was certainly moving fast. “You’re gorgeous too…” he muttered, his gaze scanning you up and down with great interest. He rested his hands on your hips, standing in between your legs. He leaned down to kiss your collarbone, moving his lips in a steady line following his trail from earlier. Looping his fingers through your underwear, he pulled them down just as his face reached just below your navel.

He tossed your panties with your other discarded clothing. As exposed as you were, you didn’t feel embarrassed. Your yearning for him was driving you wild. He kissed your mound before taking his spot in the center, and a split second later the wet presence of his tongue appeared along your slit, searching for his target until he honed in on it.

Good lord, who knew he was so good at oral?

You covered your mouth while he worked his magic against you, moaning quite loudly through your fingers. He held your trembling legs tightly against his shoulders, occasionally peering up at you for validation. Your other hand carded through his soft hair, allowing your touch to encourage him further.

He toyed with your entrance, exploring your inner walls. It wasn’t long until he hit that spot, a toe-curling and edge-gripping sensation that had you squealing his name. You were thankful this place was empty for once. He rubbed your inner thigh, offering his own encouragement. Your climax was arriving almost too quickly for you to comprehend. “A-Arthur,” you gasped. “God –“

You could barely utter another word as your pleasure washed over you like a powerful tidal wave, snapping your legs tightly to him while he lapped at you, drawing it out until you were writhing and whimpering from overstimulation. He broke free from your grasp with ease, standing back up to stare down at you.

As your breath evened out, you sat up slowly. “Where did that come from?” you asked.

He chuckled, offering you that crooked smile you loved so much. “I do have some tricks up m’ sleeves.”

You giggled with him, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. He leaned into your embrace, joining his lips to yours for a short kiss. You brought yourself to your feet and pressed closer to him, highly aware of what rested against your thigh. Sliding your arms off, you knelt down. “I got tricks of my own too.”

Before he could speak, you palmed him through his jeans. He took a deep breath, easing out a quiet moan to you. You nimbly unzipped his confinements, reaching in to fish out his already hardened manhood. He was larger than you anticipated, but not enough to intimidate you. You wrapped your hand around, finding him thick in circumference. To describe him as well-endowed would only serve him some justice. Your fingers couldn’t touch.

You peered up at him. He was staring at you with curiosity, the rosy tint in his cheeks only increasing. There was still a hesitant energy to him, enough to not push you further.. You offered him a slow rub, memorizing every inch in your hand from root to tip. He released a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

A soft smile crossed your lips, and you brought yourself forward to kiss his hot skin. You parted your lips to slowly engulf him, keeping your eyes locked to his. Your tongue slid languidly along his silky flesh, drawing along the thick vein that lay on the underside. Soon you had a set rhythm, bobbing your head in an undulating movement. He moaned deeply, breaking his gaze to tilt his head back. His fingers tangled within your hair, a gentle hold that prompted you to take more of him.

The sounds he made were glorious. Guttural groaning with your name, pet names, wrapped with his pleasure. His palm pressed against the back of your head. As gentle as he was, you sensed an urgency behind it. And so you dove further, swallowing him whole with some effort.

“Oh –” he huffed, his hips shuddering with a small buck. “Shit, darlin’. S-sorry.”

You uttered a soft hum and rubbed his thigh soothingly in response. Pulling your mouth back, you deep throated him again. He swore out loud a second time and gripped a nearby chair. You repeated a third time, raising your hand to fondle his balls through his jeans. His breathing became erratic the longer you pleased him, taking him whole with long swallows and a wiggle of your tongue. He gripped your hair hard, though he broke any direct contact with your head, too lost in his ecstasy to aid your movement.

Though hardly any time passed when he spoke your name. “Sweetheart, ain’t g-gonna last.” He gasped out.

You stopped immediately, pulling your mouth off him with a pop of your lips on the tip, swiping off a small pearl of precum that formed. You sat back quietly on your knees as his breathing regulated, and he was able to straighten up and focus on you again. “God damn, your mouth…ain’t no other like it.” He sighed.

You smiled smugly and stood up, closing the space between you with a swagger. Your arms slung around his neck again while you gave him a sultry look. “Didn’t want to be done yet.”

Arthur caught on immediately, pulling you in closer with an iron grip. He ground against you, his rough jeans on your soft skin felt wonderful. His erection rested between your thighs, just inches of where you wanted it to be. “Didn’t think so.” He growled, setting a shudder through you.

With one swoop he propped you back onto the table. His lips hungrily latched to yours while his hands explored every inch of your bare body. His fingers found your center with easy, relaxed strokes. Your moans silenced in his open mouth. You could only hold on while he pleasured you with his hands, though your patience for all of him was wearing thin. His shirt balled up in your hands, fingernails digging deep into the fabric and against his skin.

You pulled back to gasp out. “Arthur, please!” you panted. “I need to feel you.”

He paused his ministrations, bringing his gaze to you. A sweet smile touched his lips and he moved to grip your hips, shuffling slightly to align himself to you. His hips rocked forward, allowing himself to poke between your folds. He invaded you slowly, inch by inch and spreading your inner walls. You hid a wince, underestimating his thickness. He watched your face intently as if to note any discomfort. Soon he was completely joined with you.

He caressed your cheek, asking a silent question of your comfort. You nodded to him and kissed his palm, then trapped his thumb between your lips to suckle on it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the faint surprise on his face, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

His hand left your face to take place once again on your hip. He brought himself back and forward in one smooth motion. The discomfort dissolved almost instantly as your body accepted him, soon replaced with waves of pleasure. You moaned loudly, gratefully, hanging on him while he rocked you to the very core.

He murmured a breathless swear, gripping you tightly while he continuously thrust into you. You were enveloped by your own ecstasy, whispering his name into the air. Lost in your pleasure, you almost didn’t feel him lift you from the table. He held you without effort, driving himself even deeper. His grunts and groans vibrated deep in his belly, vibrating against you.

“Sweetheart, ya feel so nice.” He crooned.

You couldn’t form a coherent response. You could only muster up a long moan the more he fucked you, the further he reached and the harder he rocked. He paused briefly to move from the little room out into the main area. You felt him press you against a bookshelf. The books housed in it shuddered and some fell.

“A-Arthur?” you panted in question.

“Scientology books, no one reads ‘em anyway.” He quickly answered.

You couldn’t help but to laugh, a hearty giggle that switched to a squeal once he pounded into you again. The bookcase creaked behind you, tapping against the wall. The small aware part of your brain wanted to be careful, that is until Arthur shifted to snake his hand between you, his fingers once again toying with your clit.

You stifled another squeal, keeping yourself from becoming any louder than you already were in case any passerby somehow heard you, despite the storm still raging outside. Arthur seemed to have other plans, ramming himself so hard that you could only shout his name. His mouth latched to your neck again, not hesitant to mark and abuse your flesh. He growled with a nearly animalistic tone, echoing deeply throughout the shop.

Your second was on a quick ascent, peaking and surging through your center and radiating through your muscles. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him. He grunted, unleashing a shuddering breath.

“Jesus, gonna finish soon.” He huffed to you, and caught your lips for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He held you again with both hands. His pace hastened and his hips became erratic, unshamefully moaning against your tongue.

Every one of your senses was overwhelmed in the most wonderful ways. Your taste and smell were overwhelmed with his essence, your nerves tingling as you came down from your high. Nails dug into his flesh, spurring him to finish even sooner.

The clear ringing of a bell pierced your otherwise distracted attention. The bell indicating the store’s door opening, followed by faint footsteps. It brought you back to reality quickly. Ripping your mouth from his, you tried to gasp out his name, only to have him nearly slap his hand over your mouth.

“Shh, nearly there sweetheart. Jus’ be quiet.” He grunted quietly.

Part of you was nervous about the idea of being caught by someone, yet another side seemed to enjoy the thrill. You barely managed a nod while he somehow quietly fucked you, keeping you pressed against the bookshelf and undulating rolling his hips. You locked eyes with him, hyperaware of the creak of the floorboards that sounded as if they were growing closer. Your heart raced despite the endless amount of pleasure racking through your body.

It almost seemed as if he wouldn’t finish in time, until he pulled out of you and stifled a low groan. Hot trails of his spend painted your bare stomach. His entire body shuddered and he eased your legs to the floor, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before ushering you to the back room.

Your legs felt like jello, but you managed to scurry back into the room, ducking from view of the shop while Arthur stuffed himself back into his pants and hastily adjusted his appearance before disappearing from your line of sight. You heard him greet the newcomers, his voice cheerful and not a hint of what just happened a moment before.

You swiftly and silently closed the door, cleaned yourself up, and redressed. A few quiet minutes passed by before Arthur opened the door back up. He smiled at you and let out a sigh of relief. “They didn’t catch us,” he announced.

“I thought it was closing time,” you said.

“Close, had ten til,” he rolled his eyes. “Usually how it goes…”

You sighed heavily. “Of course…” You stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Despite the fatigue that took hold of your body, you felt energized from the whole ordeal. “You sent them on their way?”

Arthur took a hold of your waist, pulling you flush against his torso. “Once they found what they were lookin’ for, though they did hear us a lil’…I had to tell ‘em I was rearrangin’ some o’ the shelves.”

You snickered. “Gotta say, it was a little bit of a thrill feeling like we were gonna get caught. Like we’re teenagers sneaking around or something.”

Arthur snorted and grinned at you with a sly smirk. “Yeah?”

“Sure, but let’s wait until after closing time. Don’t wanna scare off the customers.” you amended.

He nodded, his face twitching thoughtfully. “Next time, I think my house is more suitable,” he laughed. “More comfortable than a bookcase.”

“Oh I’d hope,” you replied, arching your back and feigning a look of pain. “Pretty sure that threw out my back.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise, though quickly realized you were joking and shook his head. That same adorable crooked smile returned to his face. “How ‘bout I massage ya to make it up?”

“How about we do that at my house?” you proposed with a cheeky wink.

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #modern!Arthur Morgan #modern au

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

Need You Now

Summary: The Vice Chairman reminds his secretary and lovely fiancee just who she belongs to. The office might not be the most appropriate place but he’s never been one to follow the rules.

Author's note: Honestly blame @truccieeboo she recommended this show and I ended up binge watching it in two days, I thought it would be cheesy and instead I fell in love and then my pervert mind came up with this. It’s my first venture outside of IOTNBO and that’s pretty huge for me. I didn’t think anything else would inspire me but this just came flowing out. It’s a bit spoilery if you haven’t watched it yet so read at your own risk I guess. Dedicated to @truccieeboo since I honestly have no idea if anyone else wants this lmao. Anyway I give you office smut!

I miss her.

That annoying thought has plagued his mind day, she'd sent him a text in the early hours of the morning informing him to go to work without her. She had spent the night at her place, packing for her move into his house, he had been adamant about them living together; the wedding was mere days away and he couldn't stand to be away from his beautiful fiancee. He'd offered to come and help her but his hungry eyes had accidentally trailed to the supple cleavage peeking through her blouse and she'd rolled her eyes and declined his selfless offer.

He was only human, a perfect one with the looks and intelligence of a God, but still just a man. Who wouldn't look at their woman like that when they were looking so delicious? She was breathtaking, those huge innocent eyes framed by wispy dark lashes, her pert pink lips and her rich coppery mane usually tied back in a flowing ponytail. Assigning a photo of her as his phone background had been a brilliant and idiotic choice simultaneously.

Currently it was idiotic. Director Sik droned on beside him, regaling his latest mishap with his ex-wife, his brain was capable of processing information like no other yet he found himself barely retaining a word his frie--acquaint--employee was saying. Instead he was entranced by her idyllic smile shining back from his phone screen. He could recall her adorable high pitched giggle when he'd told her to smile, shyly posing for him while he snapped the photo.

She was perfect. He still berated himself for the amount of time it took him to realize that, years spent repressing himself and living a lie. Years spent resenting everyone around him and suffering in silence until she helped him find the light, in some ways became his light. She was the best thing that ever happened to him, he would gladly relive that dreadful past to have her in his future.

And she's going to be mine, forever.

"I'll never let her go." The words spilled from his mouth, determination and promise coating them.

Yoo Sik looked at him in confusion, "What? What are you.... Oh! Are you giving me advice? Is that what I should say to my ex-wife? Should I go to her house and make a commotion and tell her that I'll never let her go?"

Yoo Sik suddenly stood up passionately, "You're right! I shouldn't let her go, I just need to walk right up to her and...."

He never heard the rest of that asinine sentence because she suddenly filled his vision. Clipboard in her hands as she immediately started firing off orders to the others, there was something captivating about watching her work; she'd come a long way from the meek incompetent girl he'd hired all those years ago. A strong confident woman now, his invaluable second hand and the love of his life. He happily watched her in action, then his vision blurred as she stepped from behind the large front desk and he was able to see her outfit, an outfit he'd never seen before, surely if he had he would have forbade her from wearing it outside of his house.

She wore a long sleeved soft peach chiffon button down, slightly transparent with a camisole underneath, curving around her perfectly round breasts but that wasn't what made him blood boil with possessiveness.

It was her skirt. She'd never worn a skirt that short before, it sat high on the tender meat of her thigh, miles of milky skin on display. When she turned to the side to speak to an intern, he noticed the high slits exposing more of that tempting skin.

What was she doing revealing all that skin to others? That skin belonged to his eyes exclusively.

Then he watched as the intern stared at her in a daze, before his eyes darted down to her bare legs, youthful hunger flashing in his pupil.

Slamming his fist on his table he stood up, anger emitting from his pores.

"--What? I'm just following your advic--"

"Director. Do you like your job?" He abruptly cut off his useless jabbering, finished with his one-sided conversation, he'd been benevolent enough to let Yoo Sik come in his office and whine about his pitiful life.

The director stared at him baffled, he stared back straight faced, full lips pressed into a angry line.

"....Yes?"

"Then get out. Right now." His clipped tone left no room for arguments, though he doubted anyone would ever be stupid enough to argue with him.

It would be their last argument in this world.

Director Sik jumped at his order, scrambling to collect the documents he'd brought with him as an excuse to commence their conversation.

"Say no more. Here's me leaving, liking my job."

Without another word he was up and sprinting towards the door, only his voice halted his movement, "Send in secretary Kim. Tell her it's an emergency."

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

Mi-So stopped in the middle of her sentence as she watched Director Sik all but fall out of the Vice Chairman's office, looking like a spirit was following him, face ashen in fear.

That could only mean one thing, her bulldozer was in a bad mood.

She hadn't seen him all day, coming to work separately -her idea- and then she'd been in meetings all day. Her skirt ride up her thigh and she pulled it down in exasperation, she'd made the mistake of packing all her office clothes away and in the morning had to pull on whatever was on top. This particular skirt had been a gift from a friend, as they'd all teased her and giggled that she could now be a sexy secretary.

She had never worn it here, too modest to have that much skin revealed. But this morning she'd been desperate, waking up late and she couldn't be tardy after telling him that she didn't need a ride to work. So she'd put on stockings to combat the skirts length.

No one had commented, at least not verbally. But she'd felt the eyes all morning, judging eyes from other women and....not so judging eyes from some of the men. One of the managers had made the grave error of brushing against her naked skin and she'd flashed her dazzling engagement ring, reminding him whose woman he was getting handsy with, then assigned him to organize three days worth of files. He'd scampered out the room with apologies and his tail tugged between his legs.

She didn't bother to mention that those files had already been organized by her days prior. He would learn his lesson.

Her mood had soured after that interaction, so seeing the Director so shaken up leaving the Vice Chairman's office was not a pleasant sight.

Finally he spoke stuttering before finding his voice, "Secretary Kim, the Vice Chairman needs you in his office. It's an emergency."

An emergency.

She jolted at those words, turning to the intern immediately, "I'm sorry I'll have to go. You can speak to secretary Kim Ji-A for more instructions." Bowing her head to both men, she circled around them stalking to the Vice Chairman's door, pulling it pen and striding inside, closing the heavy door behind her.

A familiar sight greeted her, the Vice Chair-- her fiancee sprawled on the sofa that sat centered in the large space, long legs spread open, the jacket of his suit hanging open exposing the pristine white shirt that laid underneath. His muscles peeked through the thin material, instantly her brain provided vivid images of his naked torso, the riveting dents of his six pack. He was a beautiful man, it was impossible to deny that.

Especially when he took every opportunity to remind her.

Daily.

Bowing once more, she broke the thick silence in the room, "Vice Chairman, you asked to see me."

Moments dragged by, when she lifted in her head in question, his gaze was intense, penetrative as he stared at her his pupils hard cold dots.

"Secretary Kim. How do you think I'm feeling right now?"

His voice was void of any overt emotions, but she was a master at reading him, being one of the only people that he showed his true self to. The tight line of his jaw was the first tell and his fingers clenched tightly in his lap was another. His eyes were the last, they churned with visible frustration and... jealousy.

"You're angry."

A slight smile overrode his face, pride shining through, before it was hidden away like a cloud covering the sun.

"Correct. Now do you know why I'm angry?"

Various replies filled her mind, but none quite sticking out as a justifiable answer based on his reaction, he couldn't be this upset because she didn't sleep over or that they couldn't arrive to work together. So as they had discussed before, she simply answered honestly.

"No. I don't know why you're upset Vice Chairman. Did something happen?"

"I'm not the Vice Chairman right now, I'm not angry at secretary Kim, I'm upset at Kim Mi So, my fiancee, my woman."

A shiver crawled down her spine at his words, her body heating up at the possession in his voice, she would never admit to him- Lord knows how big his ego would grow- but she loved how jealous he got, pulling her away from other men and glaring at them when their eyes lingered too long.

Once when an overeager coffee barista had gotten too friendly; smiling a little too brightly, offering her a free treat while stuttering out a compliment that never made it past his lips as her fiancee stepped in, swiping the proffered treat and silencing him with one dark glare. He'd slammed his credit card down on the table, arm curling around her waist as he dragged her away.

She'd let him pull her away, clinging to his arm and disarming him with a sweet smile. His jealousy fading away as he smiled back at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It made her feel desired and oddly protected, it didn't make complete sense to her as she prided herself on independence and self-efficiency but she accepted that he made her act out of character at times. His love changing her in ways she'd never expected.

"Why is my fiancee upset then?"

He growled at the word, fiancee, as much as she was his woman he was also her man. The perfect man, not only for his looks, abilities or impeccable style but his heart, loving her like she never imagined was possible.

When he was upset, she was upset. His pain was hers as well.

Finally, he catapulted out of his seat, stalking towards her with a dark glint in his eyes. He invaded her space, backing her into the wall heat radiating and burning her up. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, as he towered over her.

She gasped as she felt his finger on her knee, meandering up her thigh until he reached the end of her skirt, tugging at it, hard.

He then voiced her thought, her sudden realization.

"Why did you think it was acceptable for my fiancee to wear this to work? Just like that pretty smile is mine, this." He gripped her thigh in a tight hold, "This is mine, this is for my eyes only. Are you trying to drive me crazy?"

Arousal ran through her bloodstream as he roughly pulled her into his hard body, her breasts smashing into his muscled chest. Her lips fell open as he bent down only to scoop her into his arm, she scrambled before clutching onto his shoulders.

"What--why--what are you doing?" She panted taken back by his ardor, their engagement had tampered some of his heat and seeing it now in its full former glory was terrifying...but magnificent.

"Reminding you who you belong to."

He tightened his hold on her, hands clasped under the meat of her ass, stomping purposely across the room in wide strides, with a wide swipe knocking the documents that littered the desk before disposing her on the grandiose surface.

She glanced down at the discarded paper in concern but he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him instead.

"Focus on me."

As if she had any choice, it was hard to focus on anything else in the room, sometimes the world when he was in her orbit.

"Yes, oppa." She declared, demurely looking up at him from under heavy lashes.

The thread of control that seemed to remain snapped at her words, he lunged at her, cupping her face and smashing into her lips. She gasped at the force and like the business man she knew him to be, he took that golden opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

His taste overwhelmed her senses as he devoured her, hands sliding in her hair, tugging at her, twisting and moving her to his liking.

It took all of her strength but she pushed him away softly, remembering exactly where they were and what they were doing.

Ignoring his piqued glare, she tried to talk sense into him, "We can't do this here. We're at work. You can show me who I belong to tonight." She pleaded, trying to tame the wild beast before her.

His eyes searched her face, breaths coming out in harsh puffs and for a moment she thought he would listen and back down.

But he wouldn't be her Vice Chairman if he did that, she knew that better than anyone.

"You are the only thing on my agenda today. I can't wait until tonight, I need you now."

A traitorous moan escaped her mouth at the declaration and he was back on her like a leech, sucking at the soft skin of her neck, just enough suction to leave a mark. She writhed under his ministration, heat gathering in her warm center. She couldn't help but squirm helplessly on the table feeling like prey under his gaze.

Suddenly his fingers were tugging at her shirt, rapidly unbuttoning her top and tossing it over his shoulder. His eyes dropped onto her heaving chest, locked on the flesh that spilled over the top of her tight camisole top.

His intentions were crystal clear, with a swift movement she grabbed the remote that controlled the blinds, slamming them shut. As soon as she did, he grabbed it from her grip and tossed that to the side as well.

He peeled the shirt down, eyes darkening as more of her skin was exposed, rolled down until it was wound around her waist.

"Beautiful." His voice was deep but soft as he molded his hand around the soft mounds, she knew this particular bra was one of his favorites, ice blue and lacy, thin enough that her nipples teasingly peeked through.

The first time he'd seen it, he had thrown her on his massive bed and taken her apart with his tongue and fingers.

This time was no different, he bent down to bite her nipple through the lace, mouth sweltering hot around her tight peak. Large hand, squeezing at the breast not in his mouth. Her heels knocked against his desk as she thrashed under his assault.

Her mind was racing as he wrecked her, she had been very vocal about them not slacking off at work, adamant that they shouldn't blur the lines and mix business with pleasure.

It didn't get any more blurry than what they were partaking in now. But she couldn't stop him, wanted him as much as he wanted her. For someone who had been previously inexperienced and too traumatized to even kiss her, he was quickly becoming a pro in all bedroom activities.

I, Lee Young-Joon , who is great at everything will become a sex God and blow your mind.

She'd carelessly laughed at his declaration before he set out to do exactly that and made her swallow her laugh.

He reached behind her expertly unhooking her bra, instinctively she clutched at her breasts covering them, his eyes sparkled at her coy action, teasing smirk spreading across his rosy lips, before he pushed her hands away.

"Those are mine too Mi-So-ssi."

She blushed, twisting her head away, before it snapped back as he latched onto her naked chest, ravenous as he suckled and fondled her.

Her pants and moaned permeated the room, loud even to her own ears.

He pulled off her breast with a soft pop, voice rougher now, "Those moans are mine too, give me more." Swiftly he backed away, prying her legs open, tugging her stockings down her legs in a fluid motion before pressing two fingers at her moist opening, massaging the growing wet spot in her panties. She moaned louder at the sudden sensation.

"Unbutton my shirt." He demanded, standing to his full height dwarfing her easily.

With trembling fingers she obeyed his command, slowly opening his shirt, button by button until his naked chiseled chest came into view.

"Enjoying the view?"

No hesitation she replied, "Yes. I am."

"I'll allow you to look then." He actually stepped back, hands held high as he let her take in his majesty.

She mentally chuckled but took her fill of looking, staring hungrily at his pecs before trailing down to his muscled torso, itching to do more than look.

They were in sync as she'd grown used to, he'd spent the time peering at her breasts and he closed the short distance between them, done with their staring contest.

Kissing him was always electric, sparks running through their lips like live wires, she would never get enough of it. Their mouths opened simultaneously, tongues swirling in a dizzying dance. He pulled her close, rubbing their chests together as she moaned into his mouth.

They kissed for what felt like hours, his lips devouring hers and she willingly surrendered to him, his hands rough as he explored her hot skin, rubbing at her slides before groping at her breasts in equal turns.

When he pulled back, she was light-headed, drunk on him.

"Look at my pretty Kim Mi-so. Mine."

"Yours." She echoed, quivering from his touch.

Then he begun to tug on her skirt, she shifted forward precariously on the table’s edge before explaining, "The zipper is on the back."

He nodded at her instruction, leaning over her shoulder and finding the zipper, painfully slow he pulled it down and with a deep breath he tugged it down her legs, taking her rolled shirt with it.

That left her nearly bare on his table, only her panties preserving her dignity.

The hunger that had simmered down flared up once more, viciously as he shoved her back onto the desk, her ponytail dangling over the edge. She couldn't see him but she left his hot breath grazing her inner thigh.

He spread her legs wide, her cheeks were burnt scarlet at his rough treatment.

Then her panties were moved to the side and she was exposed fully to his eyes.

He wasted no time, diving into her tight opening tongue relentless as he licked at her folds, sucking her swollen lips into his starved mouth.

Flattening his tongue he tasted her in broad strokes, drinking her juices and flicking at her clit. She shook on the table, arousal dousing her in red waves. A finger sunk into her and her back curved from the pleasure, he groaned from above clearly turned on at the delectable sight she made.

He plunged into her pussy, going deeper until his finger disappeared inside her completely, drawing back and sliding in again. As she loosened around his grip, he shoved another finger in, corkscrewing into her tight heat as his tongue continued to lap at her.

She vibrated on the desk, nonsense and incoherent words falling from her lips a jumbled mix of please, more and his name.

A third finger entered her and the stretch burned but they both knew she needed this, he was far bigger than three fingers. He had bragged many times about his impressive length that was like no other, she'd listened nodding along absently as she often did with him. But when she had first gotten a glimpse at him she saw how true his words were, even soft it had been intimidating. Long and girthy, she couldn't conceive how he would fit inside.

They practiced since their first time which had been painful to say the least, she tried to grit and bear it but he'd seen right through her. Stopping to comfort her. They'd learned that getting her extremely wet and working her open was fundamental. He took pride in this too, the foreplay and making her feel good.

A fourth finger slipped into her and she melted, her walls loose and open under his touch. With a suck to her hidden bead and a harsh thrust in her he pulled away. Dark eyes locked on her glossy ones, he openly preened at her pleasure wasted face.

"I'm very good at that, huh?"

She purred in agreement.

"Lee Young Joon what aren't you good at?"

Though he was talking to himself, her little arrogant lover, she couldn't argue with his statement. Her body felt like jelly from his attention.

He stood up again, circumventing the desk she watched in confusion until he reached his destination, his looming massive wheeled chair. He sat down grandly, legs opened wide as he gazed at her, it was hard as she was upside down.

With a strong pull he grabbed her, collecting her off from the table and plopping her into his lap.

His dress pants scratched against her wet heat and she grinded down onto him, lost in the pleasure, shyness all but forgotten. He watched her whine in his lap, hands tight on her hips, not controlling her movement simply holding on. His erection was stiff and hot under her, poking her where she needed him most.

With a grunt he reached down pulling his zipper down and freeing his cock, it slapped against her skin causing her to gasp in arousal, ashamed of how much she wanted him.

"Please." She begged, and he rubbed the head across her wet folds, teasing her with a light push in but stopping before he could penetrate her.

"Please what?" To anyone else he would look calm and collected but she knew better, the vein in his neck protruding as he fought to stay in control and tease her.

He looked at her in challenge.

She rose to the challenge.

"Please oppa, show me who I belong to."

With a wolfish grin he grabbed her panties, gripping the sides, and in a swift move of his hands, he ripped them clean off her skin the frayed material falling to the floor.

Fourth one this month but he always replaced them. So, kind.

Reaching under her thighs he lifted her up only to slam her down onto his rigid cock, groaning as she slid down his length, deeper and deeper until he completely filled her. Despite all his foreplay, she could feel him tugging at her walls and her head fell onto his sweaty broad shoulders.

Their position gave him very little leverage but he wasn't one to falter under disadvantages, instead he worked around them. He grabbed her waist, dragging her up his cock before ramming her back down. They both moaned at the sensation, he growled at her, "Ride me."

She scrambled to obey, grabbing the arm of the chair for balance and pulling her legs up to rest her weight on the seat, then she bounced on his thick length, driving it further into her, smothering her screams in his neck.

He reached up to tug her ponytail, roughly pulling her head back, glaring at her, "I told you those moans are mine. I want to hear them."

At her downward thrust he slammed up into her and a scream was ripped from her throat, ringing in the air and reverberating off the walls.

His answering smile made her heart tumble.

"Good girl. Louder." He grabbed her ass, drilling deeper into her and she couldn't stifle the shout his thrust expelled.

She rode him, hard but steady, legs shaking from exertion, he was perceptive as always and she found herself being lifted once more and turned until she was placed on the desk, her ass hiked up in the air.

Her empty hole was filled again as he slid into her, his hands forcing her to bend further until her chest was flush against the table, her ass high in the air.

She could feel everything as he plunged into her over and over, merciless as he drove his cock into her. He felt even larger from this angle and she scratched across the table, breaking apart under his onslaught.

The pleasure started to edge onto too much and she tried to move away, he grabbed her waist dragging her back onto his dick, fucking into her at a speed that made her walls ache.

"Don't run. This is mine. Mine, mine, mine!" He fucked deeper with his insistence, reaching under to rub at her clit smearing her juices over the swollen lump and she felt her orgasm approaching like a freight train. The wave of pleasure crested in a long sweep and then crushed down on her, shaking and sputtering as he shoved her over the edge.

"Ahh--ahhh Young Joon!!"

Those were her last words until her eyes rolled over and pleasure seared through her veins, her walls clamping around his thick length. He thrusted through her contractions, grunting into her ear, mine mine, mine, before following her over the precipice, raining down on her, his hot release coating her walls and leaking out the slides.

He collapsed onto her back, barely catching himself on the desk, arms bracketed over her shoulders.

Panting deeply he swiveled inside her, delighted at her tired moan but he too was sensitive and slowly he pulled himself free from her tight grip, spent cock flopping onto his leg.

Sighing he fell back into his chair as she laid boneless on the desk before he swatted at her ass, with a yelp she turned to pout at him.

"Get off the table or I won't be able to stop myself from taking you again." He warned her, staring down at her swollen and sullied opening, his own cum dripping from her.

She struggled to sit up, blushing at the promise on his face, scampering off and out of his reach, gathering her clothes off the floor. She pulled her skirt back up sans underwear, tucking her shirt back in and buttoning up, then found her shoes and stepped into them. Ignoring the uncomfortable wetness between her legs, she would have to make a trip to the bathroom.

In minutes she was semi decent again, not resembling someone who had just been defiled on a table.

Taking a deep breath to find her courage she looked up at him, still shirtless with his penis hanging from his pants, she pointedly looked back down at the floor.

"Will that be all Vice Chairman?"

"Yes Secretary Kim. You may go."

With a subservient bow, she turned on her heel heading to the door, her hand on the handle then she heard his voice again, dark and raspy, "Oh and Secretary Kim, don't wear that skirt to work again. Next time I won't be so lenient and I'll fuck you right out there in front of everyone."

She gulped at his threat, no promise. Breath hitching at the devious notion.

Swallowing hard she nodded, "Yes Vice Chairman."

Slipping through the door, she walked back to her chair, limping slightly. Body deliciously aching all over.

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

Back in his office Young Joon smiled as he bent over to pick up his woman's destroyed panties, pocketing them after a deep inhale. Today was starting to be an excellent day.

#whats wrong with secretary kim #lee young joon #kim mi so #office smut #i hate problems #perverted issues #laughed at all the narcissism #funnest part to write

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bxllafanficc · 3 years

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¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part four)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part five. Masterlist

Summary:After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Your POV*

Your eyes scanned through the fully stocked room that came to be yours a couple of days ago. Fairly large and a great window where the sun came to welcome you each morning. Not even the blinds could stop it. Now it was fairly dark inside since the sun was about to go down. You reached for the light switch and scanned through all your products and belongings for things that you could possibly move somewhere else.

The grunt of the Russian skater behind you caused you to turn around. As you did, he stopped and returned your stare, as if waiting for you to announce something. There was a lot that you needed to clean up. If you had known that you'd be expecting a roommate, you'd already have done so. Guess Victor forgot to mention that too, eh?

The visible twitch in the corner of your left eye was impossible to force back. Just at the mere thought of unintentional (?) screwups of the one and only Victor Nikiforov. Now, just because he was your childhood friend, it didn't mean that he wouldn't receive a massive ass-whooping if he as much as repeated the same mistake three times the same day now the few remaining hours of the day. If only you could get that message through.

And, you kind of did. Just not to the man you intended. Yuri at the receiving end of your stare was just about to open his mouth to say something, what you assume, sour when he noticed the twitching of your eye. Surprisingly, it shut him up before he started. He kind of shielded himself behind one of his bags and eyed you carefully.

Shit, wrong Russian dude.

"Sorry, that was meant for Victor." You let out a sigh and helped him with one of his bags out in the hall. You got a simple nod from the boy just before you passed him in the doorway.

He's been acting all quiet and confused ever since you tended to his wounds. Was something you said unclear? Maybe you should make sure the two of you were on the same page. 'Later...' you thought.

Yuuri and Victor hurried to the entrance of your room with a couple of more bags.

"So what do you think about it, Yuri? Pretty special eh?" It was Yuuri who spoke up, probably just as an act of friendliness. Though, you could understand how a punk like Yuri might take it as teasing.

"I'm not staying here. There's- there is no way I'm sharing a room with another person. I should have my own room. Why can't Victor and (Y/n) share a room and I get my own?!"

Ah, there he is. You were starting to get worried that he might actually turn nice. Then you'd have to call an ambulance just to ease Yakov's mind if he ever found out.

"With that thief? Nuh-uh. He already owes me an entire bottle of lotion, a mascara and a lipgloss. And for some reason, my throwaway razors are gone too. I'm not endangering any more of my stuff to him!" You shot a glare at Victor but he intentionally pretended not to hear nor see you. Seriously?

"Just lock them up or something, I don't care. Maybe I should just sleep on the couch. Give me one reason why it's worth sharing this room with you."

You didn't really know why you felt so opposed to the thought of him sleeping on the couch. You should be relived that you wouldn't have to share room with The Russian punk. But you still mumbled the one sentence after taking a brief moment to carefully word out your reason.

"What did you say?"

"... I have a cat."

The silence following almost made you feel like the scene of these weird soap operas that streamed on tv once in a while. But you did have a cat. A beautiful sacred Birman with the eyes of an ocean. And you knew about Yuri's fascination with them. Victor mentioned it somewhere along the lines when discussing his arrival days ago. And if you had to give him one reason, then that would be the one. It's probably the only reason too.

"Where." It wasn't a question. It almost made you giggle but you kept a straight face. Victor who knew the reason behind your words, almost cracked under the pressure.

"He's probable sleeping under the blanket on my bed, as always-"

Yuri pushed Victor aside with a stern 'move' and headed for your bed. A little anxious, you followed him through the entrance, afraid that he would be like one of those crazy catpeople who never stopped bothering their cat. You worried because you were one of those people. But because your cat was rather clingy too and you always had a bunch of stuff to do daytime, it kind of evened out the contrast. Two crazy people were too much, you figured.

"Well, we'll go off now and let you two bond now. Don't forget that we're having afternoon tea in an hour!" And with that, Victor and Yuuri was out of the picture. For awhile.

A round uneven pile under you blanket made Yuri stop at the end of the bed. You stood beside him as he lifted the blanket, revealing the fuzzy ball that was your cat. Round eyes stared up at the both at you and the cat stretched it's back, making a 'u' position.

"His name is Magnolia. You'll have to apologize to him for interrupting his sleepy time though." You half expected Yuri to scoff at your statement, thinking you were taking the animal too seriously. But the baby voice he used to communicate with Magnolia next almost had you taking a step back.

"Hi, Magnolia... 'm sorry, pretty boy. You'll have to forgive me, I'm afraid." He kept on talking to the sleepy cat as he extended a hand for him to smell. Magnolia yawned and gave the hand a sniff before sitting up, eyes intensely staring into the boy's soul. You could tell by the hesitation of Yuri's petting hand that he really wanted the cat's approval. He cat kept staring him straight in the eyes which usually means bad. Though, the purring heard from his belly said the opposite. You finally relaxed a little. Magnolia is very picky with who gets to touch him and you were expecting a bite, honestly.

"He's always been so stare-y... I've figured that he only stare at people he like or something he finds very interesting." You crouched down beside Yuri and rested with your arms at the bedside.

"Like owner, like cat, I guess then. I feel like he has the exact same piercing gaze you gave me earlier." Yuri grinned smugly at you and turned back his attention to the ball of fur who stood up, stroking its back to your chin. A little heat rose to your cheeks and you hoped Magnolia covered it up well enough with his body. It was kind of true. And you couldn't really deny it. You always did watch things a little to intense. But just because you found people very interesting, always seeking to improve your understanding and emotional range at any given time. So you shrugged your shoulders and coughed a little when the cat made sure to get his butt all up in your face too. This habit, you had noticed, was a trait almost every cat held within them.

"You're going to object or what?" Yuri caught your attention again and Magnolia moved away from your face just in time. So he was expecting some kind of denial.

"You're not wrong... You've just got the wrong idea of it."

"What do you mean?"

"You should probably start getting yourself settled here. We only have one hour."

"You didn't answer me." Yuri's remark left unanswered as well as you stood up and threw a bag at him. A light 'oof' slipped through him as the heavy thing hit him right in the stomach.

"Hey!"

You grinned and opened another bag, pouring the internal onto the floor. Tons of clothes splattered on the floor. Everything in-between black training clothes to underwear and a pajamas with cat prints. A keychain with a chibi cat and a stuffed animal of a tiger fell out on the floor lastly on top of the pile. Yuri quickly made his way to the clothes and gathered them in his arms, trying to hide them away. It was worth taking an extra look at the blush staining his cheeks. You wondered if you'd just met a fellow catmerch fan as instense as you. No, this was far crazier than you! Especially as you recognized the keychain being a print of his own cat that you'd seen on a social media Yuri Plisetsky fanpage once.

"Y-you can't touch my stuff! Nor see it!" His voice was a good blend of anger and a thick stain of embarrassment.

Maybe it wasn't ideal poring someone else's belongings onto the floor. But you knew that look that Yuri bearded only moments ago. The cat had taken him as his loyal servant and Yuri wasn't intending to move until he had satisfied Magnolia's every need. If you let that happen, it would take the entire hour you had to clean up the room. And you clearly didn't have that time.

"Just hurry up and help me then if I'm not allowed to touch it!"

"Fine! And move your stupid clothes and stuff over to your half of the room!"

(A/N: Shoutout to my cat who gave me the entire butt-in-face idea through experience. I really owe you one, you little jerk<3 Also, what have you thought of the story so far? I bet you Victor has planned a familiar exercise for tomorrow's day of training. Just a little helping hand to get Yuri back into shape, y'know;))

#inspiration #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yurianime #yuri katsuki #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky x reader #yurio plisetsky #yuri plisetsky #viktor nikirofov

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thefinalyeehaw · 3 years

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(Obey Me Fic) Deathly Hearts {Ch. 1 - Arrival}

Killian didn’t know what to expect of the Devildom. Her knowledge of the realm was solely based on books and tales of her father’s younger days as he had been good allies with the Demon Lord. Diavolo had spoken about his home realm during his stay, now Killian regretted not asking further questions. Especially after she agreed to become a lab rat to the demon prince’s social experiment. His decree caused an uproar in her father’s court, shouting of royal advisers and loud gossiping among members of the reapscape’s nobility flooded the otherwise organized hall.

Among the chaos, her father sat on his throne, quietly observing the unleashed mayhem as she stared, shocked at Diavolo. The demon prince stood unflappable, the midst of the yelling and arguing, his eyes trained on her. The golden hues pierced her icy eyes, and his radiant smile remained unbreakable as a few irate advisors began to hurl thinly-veiled insults, stabbing at the demon prince’s character and integrity. Killian knew Diavolo didn’t care; the advisors could throw stones at him like a humorless jester telling bad jokes, he would still stand tall and proud as he awaited her answer.

Killian felt her father’s steely gaze latch onto her; he also awaited her answer. Usually, Killian felt graceful that her father always let her make her own decisions, but at that moment, she wished he had said something. Anything.

As she expected, her father remained silent as he stood up, his towering frame immediately silencing the hall. Her father turned to her, his dark eyes joining a hundred pairs piercing her; All awaiting an answer.

She didn’t know why she said yes. Diavolo’s dream was one that Killian shared; she also envisioned unity among the realms. But a dream is just a dream, a wild fantasy that will never come true. Diavolo’s idea was too outlandish; she couldn’t fathom reapers that won’t be a Ravished or an outcast in the Devildom, let alone a human.

Demons would tear a human to pieces the moment they stepped foot in the realm of the demons. Killian has witnessed many aftermaths of demons’ ravenous hunger for humans, to confirm that fact. But Diavolo wouldn’t listen even if she begged him on her knees as it wasn’t her place, much to her dismay. She was only a guest at the Devildom. Her only goal is to participate as a student for a year and report back to her father about her own opinion on the program.

Nothing more and nothing less.

“Welcome to the Devildom, Killian!”

A smile graced her face, her eyes landing on Diavolo as the mist of his transport spell vanished. Standing in the center of a raised judge panel, his already large frame looked gigantic as the demon prince peered down at the reaper. She recognized his signature red ankle-length coat, the crimson of his clothes heavily contradicting the large assembly hall’s violet and black scheme. Diavolo’s face brightens as he takes in her form, his gold eyes practically glow with excitement in the dimness.

“I’m honored to be here. I was starting to think that you forgot about me.” Her mask’s lips curled into a grin as the magic-infused in the porcelain mirrors her facial expressions. Killian didn’t usually wear a mask; her arrival to the Devildom coincided with the Melachonia festival in her home realm. Not wanting to break tradition, she decided to partake in the porcelain mask tradition during those significant months, though its appearance made her stick out like a sore thumb.

Diavolo chuckled at her tease, “Killian, you are someone who isn’t easily forgotten,” His gold eyes twinkled gleefully. “I do apologize for the delay. We had some difficulties with bringing Mattie to RAD.” Diavolo’s gaze shifted past the reaper, who turned to follow his stare.

A small distance behind her stood a human; their aura confirmed it. The person flinched when they noticed her glance, their eyes widening at the sight of her mask. They stood shorter than her, about chin-height to her. Killian noted they were cute, admiring the human’s olive skin and dyed teal hair, styled into a chin-length choppy bob, framing their round face and button nose.

Killian smiled, forcing back a giggle as the human gasped at her mask’s movement. “Hello there, I’m Killian. Who are you?” Keeping her voice smooth and calm, not to frighten the human further. “I-I’m Mattie. Mattie Carson.” Their doe-like eyes were glued to the mask’s mouth, watching in awe as the thin line moved and took shape, mirroring every word the reaper spoke. Their cheeks flushed as a giggle escaped Killian, immediately averting their glance in embarrassment.

“I’m glad the two of you are getting along well,” Diavolo smiled, observing the duo’s interaction happily. The demon prince seemed elated by the newest students’ friendly exchange; joy practically oozed from every pore. “Killian here is a good friend of mine. Treat her kindly, and she will do the same.”

Friends? Diavolo’s comment surprised her. She never thought he would consider her a friend. During his stay, Killian always made an effort to be friendly with the demon prince as their first meeting didn’t leave the best first impression whenever she bumped into the demon in the hallways and at banquets. Their chats were amiable but not enough to warrant status as the demon prince’s good friend.

Nevertheless, Killian took the opportunity to joke, “Aw, you’re going to make me blush~” Amused at the faint flush on Diavolo’s face as he laughed, also amused by their banter. A loud cough drew Killian’s eyes to the demon standing next to Diavolo, wearing a black version of the prince’s uniform. The demon was almost as tall as Diavolo, incredibly handsome with flawless porcelain skin and silky black hair. Even from the far distance, Killian noticed the crimson gradient in the demon’s otherwise piercing grey eyes. Those scrutinizing eyes glared disapprovingly, unamused of her playful attitude.

Killian grinned, winking at the scowling demon. She watched gleefully as his glare deepened. Obviously, the demon didn’t like her, not like she gave a shit about his feelings. If the demon was judging her already without getting to know her, Killian didn’t want to waste her energy on trying to be liked by some demon with an apparent stick up his ass.

“I apologize. We got off-topic.” Diavolo’s laughter subsided; he gesticulated around the hall as if performing a magic trick. “I should explain where we are. This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo, though we just call it RAD. You’re standing inside of the assembly hall, the very heart of RAD. This is where we officers of the student council hold our meetings and conduct our business.” Killian glanced around the impressive room, and she noticed a few empty seats among the ones occupied by a few disinterested demons.

“I’m the president of said council.” Diavolo stated proudly as if demons were fearless enough to run against him for the seat. She counted the number of seats, growing more curious. There were eight seats, including Diavolo; three seats were vacated. Why isn’t the whole council here? Won’t it have been more proper to have the full council present for the new students’ arrivals?

“Why are we here?” Mattie asked firmly, some of the shock and fear melting from their body. Killian felt slightly happy at the human’s growing confidence; the human will need that moxie if they want to survive the Devildom for the next year. Although it won’t prevent them from being eaten, it was at least progress.

“I will explain everything to you.” The black-haired demon spoke, ascending down the center stairs of the panel towards the two. Killian willed herself not to step forward in front of Mattie protectively; her posture grew rigid and alert. Her thumb fiddled with the ring on her right index finger, containing her scythe. The smile on Diavolo’s face eased her a bit; she still won’t hesitate to attack if the demon tried anything funny.

“Mattie. Killian. This is Lucifer. He is a demon and the Avatar of Pride.” Killian studied the black-haired demon with mild interest, so this is Lucifer? Diavolo spoke a lot of his dear friend during his stay in the Reapscape. From his descriptions of the demon, Killian honestly thought Lucifer was an old grumpy cat whom Diavolo grew fond of. Finally, now that she put a name with the face, she thought of him more like an arrogant peacock, domineering over ostentation of peafowls.

“So, you’re Lucifer? Lord Diavolo spoke many praises of you to my Excellency.” Her father’s title felt odd on her tongue. She doesn’t remember the last time when she had to call him by that status as “father,” and the occasional papa was his usual title to her. But her father had requested her royal status to remain anonymous during her participation in the program; Killian needed to remember that she wasn’t the Grim Reaper’s daughter in the eyes of these demons. She was just a representative of the Reapscape handpicked by the demon prince.

“He’s also the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man...and not just in title, I assure you.” Diavolo added. Killian disguised a sudden laugh as a mild cough fit, nearly giggling as Mattie shot her an odd look. Diavolo slightly pouted, resembling a worried puppy more than a demon prince. Lucifer’s glare intensified; oh, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Killian didn’t care if his stare melted the flesh off of her bone. The accidental double meaning was too funny not to laugh at.

Killian let out a quick apology in between fake coughs, claiming she was okay. Reassured that the reaper wasn’t about to keel over and die, Diavolo continued to praise Lucifer. “Beyond that, he’s also my most trusted friend,” Lucifer grunted at his words, annoyance twitched at his features as his stare shifted to the prince.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Diavolo.” He cleared his throat; his red-grey eyes pierced the two exchange students. Mattie winced at the intensity while Killian merely stared back, unbothered by the demon’s biting gaze. Being a royal heir, she grew custom to the glares and gawking of nobles as she wasn’t introduced into palace life with open arms as a young reaper.

With practiced grace, Lucifer placed a gloved hand to his chest, slightly bowed his head towards the duo as he spoke, “Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome.” Killian blinked; that was one of the driest greetings she has experienced. She endured stabbings more heartfelt.

“On behalf of the students?” A faint frown appeared on the human’s face. Killian didn’t need telepathy to know Mattie found Lucifer’s welcome less than warm. Lucifer’s eyes briefly narrowed before he diverged into a monologue, “Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationship with both the human world and the Celestial Realm. As a first step towards this goal, we’ve decided to institute an exchange program.” Killian turned him out. She already heard the program’s nature when Diavolo did his sales pitch to her father, resulting in brief mayhem occurring in the royal court.

“You both need someone to look after you, and I think that someone should be my brother Mammon?” The name seemed familiar to Killian; where has she heard that name before?

“Your brother?” Mattie asked curiously.

“Yes. He’s the Avatar of Greed, and… how should I put it…?” He sighed defeatedly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if a headache was forming. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Reaching into a coat pocket, Lucifer retrieved two cell phones. “Here, take this device. It’s called D.D.D. It’s a lot like the cell phones of your worlds,” He plopped the phones into each of their hands; his aim missed Killian’s hand, the phone nearly slipped. Her quick reflexes easily caught the falling phone; she gave him a sharp look. If Lucifer purposefully missed, his face didn’t show its guilt as he further discusses the new cell phones.

With an annoyed huff, Killian decided to examine the new device. Her phone case was a dark red; she lifted the phone slightly. She let out a breathy laugh as she saw the case matched the color of Diavolo’s uniform. Killian playfully winked at Diavolo, noticing the man also looking at the case in her hand. Diavolo’s smile widened; she suppressed a crackle when he winked back.

Forcing herself to turn away as not to draw any attention, she turned it on to see the phone was already charged and unlocked. Killian quickly browsed the standard installed apps. Although it will take some time for Killian to get used to a new cell phone, everything seemed in place. She wondered if her other phone would work if she needed to call home. She knew there would be metaphorical hell to pay if she didn’t text Jules often. The reaper shuddered at the thought of being on the end of her dear friend’s notoriously short temper. That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with any time soon.

“Now, go ahead and try calling Mammon with it.” Lucifer instructed.

~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Reblog if you want me to post more.

Also, I wanted to explain a few things about Mattie (The human; the usual MC of the game), Killian (my reaper mc of sorts) and the story.

1. Mattie identifies as genderqueer; The pronouns of Mattie are They/Them, just like in the game. (Killian's pronouns are She/Her as she identities as cisgender).

2. This story will follow the overall plot line relatively close, it will kinda diverges from the original story in a few major events. there is also some side plot and funny (sometimes spicy~) filler chapters.

3. Mattie will not be the one romancing the boys, Killian is the romantic interest. Mattie will develop deep platonic relationships with the boys, I'm still deciding upon Mattie's sexual preference (possibly gray-ace?)

4. Since this is somewhat an AU; there will be chapters outside of the realm of the devildom, focusing on Killian's backstory and the Reapscape.

5. Last but not least, there will be some dark topics explored (mostly involving Killian's past) that I hadn't tagged yet. I will put trigger warning in the beginning notes of those chapters. If wanted, I can put line break around the sensitive materials.

#obey me #reapscape au #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo

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animebaby00 · 4 years

Text

No Buts To The Pumpkin Guts (Katsuki Bakugou x Reader) - One-shot

(Halloween 2020)

"Come on, Katsuki."

"No."

"Please ?"

"No."

"Pleeeease?"

"Jesus, Y/N for the last fucking time, no !"

You puffed out your lip, sitting on the floor by the angry blonde's bed where he sat, scrolling through his phone.

"You're mean." You mumbled with a pout

"What, just because I know the difference between something logical and something that's just plain stupid?"

"It's not stupid !"

The male groaned, running a hand over his face, "Why would I want to waste my time tearing the insides out of a round, orange piece fruit and stab a face into it?"

You blinked.

A very... interesting choice of words. But you expected nothing less from the famous Katsuki Bakugou.

Still, the answer was obvious.

"Uh, because it's fun ?"

"Tch...yeah. For annoying little brats.."

You made a disapproving sound in the back of your throat while throwing your hands up in the air in disbelief, "Ugh, I can't believe you ! How can you not want to carve a pumpkin !? That's like...not wanting to eat cookies during Christmas time!"

"Totally different scenario, Y/N."

You smacked your hands against the floor, "It is not !" You exclaimed, "It just doesn't make any sense to me as to why you wouldn't want to."

"A lot of things don't make sense to you, dimwit."

You narrowed your eyes eerily, earning zero reaction out of the blonde male. Then you let your head fall, a sigh leaving your lips.

But there was no way in hell you were giving up.

Oh no. You were just getting started.

Time for Plan B.

Which was also your angry pomeranian boyfriend's biggest weakness.

You worked your face in preparation, scrunching it up and holding your breath. You could feel your cheeks warm up while you clenched the fabric of the shorts you were wearing. Your quirk gave you the power of water production and temperature control from the pores of your body in the form of anything between geysered spouts or misty droplets, so naturally, making hot 'tears' spill over the edges of your eyes came easy.

You allowed your body to tremble slightly, causing your hair to fall more over your face.

A whimper left your mouth.

And that immediately caught his attention.

His body stiffened,eyes slowly moving to look at your shaking form on the ground, fists clenched as a tear dripped from your chin and onto the exposed skin of your thigh.

His crimson eyes widened as he lifted himself off the bed, crouching down so he was eye level with you.

"Shit, Y/N ! What the fuck ? What's wrong ?" He reached a hand out to grasp your shoulder.

But you slapped his hand away.

He gasped as you pulled your head up, eyes glossy and cheeks red. Your lip was quivering.

"What's wrong ?," You asked with a hiccup, "You have some nerve Katsuki. All I wanna do is spend time with you and you won't swallow your dumbass pride and carve a pumpkin with me !"

Bakugou's mouth dropped open slightly.

Were you serious?

He stared at you and your lips tightened as no words left his mouth.

'Okay. Now for the icing on the cake.'

"Fine then," you said in defeat, standing up "Guess I'll just do it by myself. Or maybe I'll go ask Izuku if he'll carve one with me."

The bitterness of your final words caused an immediate reaction. As you turned to leave, a large hand grabbed your wrist and you were pulled forcefully into a broad, warm chest, and no sooner than that, words were being barked loudly into your ear.

"Like hell you will! There's no way I'm going to let that shitty Deku get near you! Especially when you're all upset and shit !"

You rolled your eyes into his shoulder since Bakugou couldn't see, mentally groaning at his fruitless jealousy he held for Izuku since the two of you were just friends and would never be anything more.

But then he said the one thing that you were hoping he would say.

You could feel Bakugou's arms circle your waist tightly as you pulled your head back to get a look at his face.

His eyes were sharp with anger, teeth gritted.

"Go and grab two of those pumpkins from downstairs."

Your eyes widened.

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

You couldn't believe it. Was your trick actually going to work ?

"You mean...you'll carve a pumpkin with me ?"

Bakugou sighed, and flicked your forehead.

"Ow! Hey!"

"Don't tell me you're going deaf now too. I can carve a way better pumpkin than that stupid nerd any day! And you better not think otherwise. Now go. And stop crying." He wiped away a stray tear from your cheek.

"I don't like it when you cry…" he mumbled.

And cry no more because hearing those words leave his lips caused you to completely forget about the stinging pain on your forehead as a bright smile all of a sudden graced your face, any apparent sadness gone as you removed his hands from your waist and clasped them between your own.

"Yay ! Thank you, Katsuki ! You're the best ! Stay here, I'll be right back !"

You kissed his cheek and skipped out of his room in a fit of giggles, leaving the blonde alone in his room, highly confused.

He could feel his eye twitch in annoyance as he resisted the urge to chase you down and drag your ass back into his room.

But there was no going back now.

So instead he sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair.

'That damn put together.'

~~~~~~~

You returned about 5 minutes later, a giddy grin on your face as you entered Bakugou's room and shut his door

There was a small wagon at your feet that you pulled in with you, filled with two large pumpkins, a sheet, a big plastic bowl, and some carving tools.

Bakugou clicked his tongue at your joyful expression, "You're a real piece of work, you know that ?"

"Hm?", You said cheekily, bending down to pick up the folded sheet from the wagon, "Sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."

The blonde shook his head, body leaned against his bed post as he watched with arms folded across his chest as you lay the sheet out on the floor before also laying out the bowl and tools.

You sat down, dragging the wagon with both pumpkins inside closer to you.

Your eyes turned upwards to see Bakugou staring at you with an annoyed, stiffened face. But it didn't phase you in the slightest.

Honestly, you thought it was kinda cute.

You patted the floor next to you.

"Well ? Don't just stand there. We have pumpkins to carve !"

The male gave a reluctant sigh, dragging his body over to where you sat, taking a seat next to your form just as you placed the two pumpkins on the sheet covered floor.

"Here's your shaver and carving knife." you held your hand out with the tools for him to take, but just as he was about to, you teasingly pulled your hand away.

The blonde's annoyed expression deepened as a smirk found its way onto your lips.

"Can I trust you won't do anything bad...Explosion Boy ?"

Bakugou scoffed, "What the hell do you take me for? A murderer?"

"Wellll," you pondered, "I just thought about your description of pumpkin carving from earlier. What was it ? 'Why would I want to tear the insides out of a round, orange piece fruit and stab a face into it?' And your hero name for a time waaaas 'King Explosion Murder' if I'm not mistaken."

"Tch, shut up." Bakugou snatched the tools from your hands and moved his pumpkin closer to his body.

You watched with amused eyes, another giggle leaving your lips as you started working on your own pumpkin.

The two of you began carving away, slicing and sawing out the top in order to reach the stringy, seed filling.

You pulled the top off by the stem, revealing the sticky squishiness inside. Bakugou did the same.

Then you both proceeded to gut them until they were empty and scraped clean.

This was your favorite part. Probably the best part about carving pumpkins.

You reached your hand in, grabbing a handful of the gooey goodness and pulled out to see your hand covered in orange sliminess.

You squeezed your fist tighter, the guts oozed through your fingers, and a happy chuckle left your throat.

Then you heard another scoff.

"You are such a fucking child."

Eyes trailed slowly over to look at Bakugou, who was mindlessly cleaning out his pumpkin as well. But with a scooper.

"And what's the problem with that ? Being young at heart isn't a bad thing." You argued,"Besides, you're the one who asked me out so you have no choice but to deal with it."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, and you continued to watch him. His arm was bent at an odd angle as he attempted to remove more of the pumpkin's insides.

It looked kinda uncomfortable, and you decided it was pointless as well when he pulled the scoop out to dump it in the plastic bowl, only to see a smidge of it land on the rest with a soft *glop.

But just as he was about to go in again,

"You know using your hands is easier right ?"

He looked at you, lips pursed downwards, "I'm not using my hands."

"Why? You'll get done faster."

"I'm not making a giant fucking mess like you are, dumbass." He said gruffly, shoving the scoop back inside the pumpkin.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his stubbornness, but it was a constant normality. Bakugou hardly ever took advice from people. Even if it was from you.

A sigh left your lips as you made to continue working on your pumpkin….until your eyes became transfixed on something.

Specifically, the bowl full of pumpkin guts.

The lightbulb ignited, and boy did you know you would regret it.

But you just couldn't pass up the chance.

Your body scooted closer to him, and he seemed to catch your movement since his eyes looked your way in noticing your closeness, his scooping actions coming to a halt once again.

"What the hell do you want ?" He asked gruffly.

You giggled, "Come on Bakugou. You need to lighten up ! What's a little mess…."

Bakugou's eyes narrowed as you reached behind your back, wondering what shitty stunt you were about to pull.

He couldn't see what you were handling or grabbing at, but your next words made the hairs on the back of his neck rise with uneasiness.

You smirked deviously, "...when the mess is part of the fun?"

And then you brought your hand forward, your palm filled with gooey pumpkin insides, inching closer and closer to his face.

"Y/N don't you fucking-"

But it was too late. Your hand pressed into his cheek and moved down his neck, the stringy orange substance squishing against his skin. You went farther, all the way down to his chest, not even hesitant in stopping.

Until Bakugou grabbed your wrist, and you looked up at him, more specifically, into his eyes…. that were burning with intensity.

If looks could kill, you'd definitely be dead.

"Wipe that shit eating grin off your face, you brat."

You eyeballed his stare, your own eyes gleaming with mischief, "Annnnnd what if I don't ?"

He growled, "You better watch it, because after that little stunt you pulled earlier with and what you did just now," he pushed you backwards causing you to let out a yelp, and pinned you down to the floor underneath him, "You're going to pay."

You tried to squirm away, but it was completely useless. Your strength was nothing compared to Bakugou's.

His hand scooped up a handful of pumpkin guts, and you watched with amusement as he held it right above your face.

"What happened to not wanting to make a mess 'Suki?" You mocked.

"Hmph," he smiled amusingly, getting closer to your face, "That's the second time you've used my word against me today."

"Well, maybe you should watch what you say."

"And maybe you should stop being so god damn annoying."

"You like it."

Bakugou used his other hand to pin your arms above his head, "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But you better tone it down smartass, otherwise it's gonna put you in situations you won't be able to get out of...for example."

He raised his arm, putting his head near your ear like you did to him, "...like right now."

And he smashed his hand into your face.

You squealed, laughing, kicking and squirming and he spread the guts all over your cheeks, forehead, and neck, even going farther so some carded into your hair.

At some point, his hands left your wrists, and with your hands free, you were able to finally escape from under him, face sticky and tinted orange.

He smirked at you as you wiped at your forehead, collecting more goo on your fingers

He wanted to play THAT game, huh ?

So be it.

You reached towards the bowl, enveloping another huge handful of pumpkin guts.

You sat on your knees, eyes narrowing at your hot-headed boyfriend as a devious smirk grew on your lips.

"Oh, it is SO on."

~~~~~~~

You were out of breath, panting for air with adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Your body was laying halfway on top of Bakugou, the upper half of your torso and your head laying right between his open legs on his lower abdomen.

He was breathing hard and huskily as well, his stomach rising and falling from underneath your chin.

You'd think you both just run a marathon or went through some hardcore, intense hero training.

But no. You were both battling for air because of a pumpkin gut war, and if your tired out bodies weren't proof of that, your clothes and Bakugou's room was.

The simple t-shirts and shorts you both wore were smeared with orange as well as the skin of your arms and legs. There were guts mushed into your hair as well as Bakugou's, and the sheet you had placed down on the floor was no better. The floor itself? Let's just say you were thanking GOD his floor wasn't carpet.

But even in a giant mess, you were happy.

Out of breath, but happy.

"Idiot."

You moved your head, "What ?"

"That's it. I just wanted to call you an idiot."

You smacked his leg with a huff, "You've already called me that over a dozen times today. Or are you just calling me that because you're jealous that I won our little pumpkin brawl ?"

"Hah ? What are you talking about ?" he pushed his body up with his arms, "I totally kicked your ass."

You tapped your chin, "No...If I remember correctly you went down first. "

"Well, then your memory is shit."

"Oh is it now ?"

Bakugou gripped your chin, "The shittiest."

Your lips pursed into a smile,"Care to help me... refresh it then ?"

He answered you by roughly pressing his lips to yours, hands holding the sides of your face while you gripped his shirt.

He moved his hand to the back of your head, carding his sticky fingers through your hair as you pushed your body more into his.

However, the heated bliss ended much quicker than you would have liked. Bakugou pulled his lips away from yours, moving his head to the side so that his lips were near the crook of your neck.

"And by the way, Y/N…" he whispered gravelly.

"Hm ?"

His lips tickled the skin by your ear, "You're cleaning ALL of this up."

"Hahaha, thanks that's….WAIT WHAT ?!"

#bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #reader #reader insert #halloween #pumpkins #pumpkin carving #pumpkin guts #oneshot #character x reader

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

in aeternum, little lamb

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 4756

Prompt: “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

———————

It was raining. Again.

Usually a rainstorm was serene and peaceful, normal for London, but there was a certain sticky humidity in the air that made going outside a chore. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that has settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the city. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every person making their rounds through their daily lives.

Anne’s forehead was dotted with beads of sweat by the time she arrived at the theater, only then really regretting her decision to walk to work. She hadn’t been expecting the humidity to be that bad, but here she was, feeling like she was leaking steam from every pore.

“God, this weather is miserable,” Jane was grumbling in her dressing room when Anne peeked in. She was currently attempting to tame her wild blonde hair (and losing the battle), which had a small (read as: large, high, anything but small) tendency to frizz up in high vaporous atmospheres like the one drenching London on that day.

“You look great, Jane.” Anne laughed, leaning on the doorframe. She gets a piercing grey glower shot in her direction, but isn’t phased by it. The coldness of the stare almost eased her internal temperature.

“Why is it so damn humid?” Jane finally exclaimed. “We live in London! Not Florida or whatever the fuck it’s called—”

Anne bit both lips, trying to hold back her laughter at the proper fit the queen before her was throwing.

“It’s supposed to be rainy and cold. Not rainy and a LITERAL SAUNA!”

Kitty, who was sitting nearby at her own makeup table, giggled softly. She got up and picked up a brush to help with her mother’s wild hair, which was definitely puffing up as if she were an angry cat or a distressed Studio Ghibli character.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Anne laughed slightly. “Well, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. You two need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “A word with Mother Nature.”

Anne laughed again, waved a hand, and walked off to the break room.

Well- it wasn’t really a break room, per se. Theaters didn’t really have those. It was just an extra dressing room that nobody used and had a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee machine inside. In some way or another, a round bar table, small couch, and two beanbags ended up inside- Anne couldn’t really remember how they got there, but they were there and, thus, the room became a nice place to chat and relax when nothing was going on. Kitty had once even hid under the twin beanbags during a game of hide-and-seek (which was also her idea).

Upon stepping inside the break room, the scent of coffee bombarded Anne’s nose. The coffee machine was still on, but little was left in the pot. She walks over to it, thinking it was enough to sate her- she didn’t really like coffee, but she needed the extra rush to help her combat the dreariness the weather was inflicting upon her.

“Sorry,” A voice from behind suddenly said. “If I had known you wanted some, I would have made more.”

Anne actually jumped and she whirled around to see none other than the music director sitting in one of the beanbags. She jumped, too, and straightened up, nearly spilling the mug she had placed beside her pillowy seat.

“Sorry!” She said again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Anne placed a hand over her racing heart and waved the other dismissively, laughing.

“It’s alright!” She assured the girl. “I didn’t see you at all!”

Joan smiled slightly, humoring her comment, then slumped back over to continue reading the book she had in her lap.

Anne studies her for a moment- as everyone said, Joan wasn’t much for conversation, despite always lurking on the edges of a group discussion. It was like she wanted to join in or just talk to someone, but didn’t have the courage to do so. Perhaps she was worried about being ignored or rejected, so, instead, she just watched in silence.

Maybe that’s why a few younger stagehands who were working there for college credit started calling her the “Theater Ghost.” Anne couldn’t really deny that that title wasn’t accurate- her not noticing the girl at all just proved that it was.

“Did you drink all of this?” She asked, trying to strike up a conversation to make things less awkward. Tenseness was as thick as the humidity outside in that room.

“It’s not that big of a pot...” Joan sort of mumbled.

So, yes. She did.

Anne frowned slightly. She vaguely knew of Joan’s caffeine addiction, but never really saw it first hand. She just knew that the girl drank more coffee than everyone working on the show combined.

“I see,” Anne chuckled. “Well, alright.”

She turned around while waiting for the pot to fill to see that Joan was looking at her. However, when she noticed, Joan snapped her head back down to her book. Anne furrowed her eyebrows.

“What are you reading?”

“Huh?” Joan seemed...surprised that Anne was asking her something. “Oh, it’s just- it’s just some silly book.” She kicked her leg anxiously against the beanbag, seemingly trying to hype herself up for something. “It’s, umm- it’s called Wings of Fire.”

She brandishes the book, keeping one finger inside the pages to mark her spot. On the cover was a flying gold and black dragon with four insect wings, spines along the back, and funny little glasses on the snout (something about dragons having eyesight care and possibly dragon eye doctors stood out as silly to Anne).

“It looks good,” Anne said after inspecting the picture.

“Oh, it is!” Joan said, perking up slightly. “It’s about these ten dragon tribes and five baby dragons were supposed to be born on The Brightest Night and be the Dragonets of Destiny to stop the war between three Sandwings fighting to be queen. So they’re kept underground, but their caretakers are kinda abusive and mean. Probably because the Skywing egg was destroyed so they had to replace it with a Rainwing egg, which are supposed to be the laziest tribe and that makes Kestrel- the really mean guardian- mad. So she’s kinda a jerk to the five dragonets. But then they break out of their cave before they’re supposed to leave when they’re six, because they have to wait until they’re seven, only to be captured by the Skywing queen! And they’re forced to fight to the death and they’re almost killed because this one character, Peril, can burn everything she touches! But then it’s revealed that Clay, he’s the Mudwing, has fireproof scales! And Glory, she’s the Rainwing I was talking about, can spit venom!! Then they escape and go to the Seawing kingdom and Tsunami- the Seawing- is actually the missing Seawing princess and a statue was killing all the other eggs. Then they go to the rainforest and Glory becomes queen and Starflight goes blind in the fourth book and the end of the war happens in the fifth!!” She’s babbling about a hundred miles per minute- Anne can barely keep up. “We should- we should read it together! If you’re interested. Like a book club! Except I’m on the twelfth book right now and I don’t know how fast you can read and I just basically spoiled the entire series, hahaha...but only for the first five!! But the next arc isn’t that good if you ask me. It completely throws everything that has happened out the window and just puts new characters in a school? Which they barely even stay at! So why even make the school, Tui? And my favorite character in that segment is in a coma for, like, three of the five books in that arc!! Arc three is pretty cool, though. I like the new tribes. And Sundew is supposed to be a lesbian! With an actual girlfriend! And it’s a main plot point!!” She’s beaming now. “I just—I think you would really, really like it and, I dunno...it would be fun! I can read it aloud? N-not because I think you can’t read or anything, I just—like talking. To someone. And to make sure you don’t doze off and miss any of the really good parts! Because there are SO MANY even though Tui doesn’t seem to remember any of her world building half of the time, but—”

“Joan?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Joan’s face flashed deep crimson. She hunched her shoulders around her neck and ducked her head, almost using her book as a shield to hide herself. It seems she just realized that she had been talking the green queen’s ear off.

“Sorry,” She whispered. “I-I just thought that you wanted to...” She shook her head. Her hands clench around the sides of her book. “Nevermind.”

“Joan-”

“Your coffee is gonna get cold.”

Anne looked at the full coffee pot, then back to the girl, and then walked over to get herself a cup. She can hear Joan shifting anxiously in the beanbag behind her.

Honestly, she found the girl’s deep interest in what she was reading quite endearing, she just didn’t know how to reply to her monologue in a way that showed that she actually was interested in what she was saying.

“Maybe send me the link to the book sometime?” Anne offered while heading for the door. “Or if you have a physical copy...”

“Yeah,” Joan smiles thinly- weakly. “I have some at home. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, and— Anne?”

Anne stopped right as she was walking out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Joan looked down shyly, shifting her legs.

“For talking to me.”

———

“She thanked me. For standing there while she was ranting about a book!”

The other queens looked rather amused by the story they were given during dinner. It wasn’t exactly the reactions Anne was hoping for- was nobody else concerned by the oddity of the situation?!

“Joan’s a...quirky kid.” Jane merely said. “She’s always been a little strange, Anne. I’m almost positive she was raised by literal street rats, so that might have something to do with it. Rats aren’t exactly much for conversation.”

Anne looked at her in shock. Of everyone to say such a thing, she hadn’t expected it to come from Jane “Protective and Loving Mom Friend” Seymour.

“Did you just—”

“Anne,” Jane sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. She worked for you! She’s just a weird kid. Kids are weird!”

“‘Weird’ is when a kid likes to watch snails go over salt and get burned, Jane. Thanking someone for listening to them talk about a book is concerning.” Anne argued.

“Cathy does it all the time.”

“Cathy doesn’t thank us!”

Anne was really getting worked up over this and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She really only got this way for Kitty or Maggie- she theorized it was those maternal instincts kicking in or just a natural protectiveness for an ex-maid in waiting.

Whatever it was, it sure seemed to be amusing to the others.

“Okay, calm down, Anne.” Cleves said, laughing slightly. “We get it, you think it’s worrying. No need to start a food fight over it.”

“I’m not going to-” Anne broke off into agitated grumbling, which caused even more giggles in reaction.

“I said thank you to Catherine when I read to her yesterday,” Cathy said.

“That’s because you were asking her opinion on a chapter you wrote!” Anne struck back. “It is NOT the same thing!”

Cathy shrugged and took a bite out of her pork chop.

“It’s nothing you should stress about, Annie.” Kitty said. “Maybe some people are just meant to be alone!”

Anne gave her a look of disbelief.

“Like Henry.” Cleves put in helpfully.

“Like Henry, yeah!”

Now, don’t get Anne wrong, she loved her little found family with the queens very much, but, at that moment, she wanted to hit all of them with the salad bowl at the center of the table as hard as she could.

Maybe not Aragon, though (unfortunately). The woman hadn’t told Anne to forget about the situation or just move on- she was thoughtfully silent, eating her dinner in reserved peace. Whatever her opinion on the argument was, she didn’t say it.

Anne sighed, putting her head in one hand as she picked at her dinner until Aragon finally spoke up to tell her to get her elbow off the table. She begrudgingly obeys.

Like that, the conversation is dropped and something new, something Anne really didn’t care about was talked about.

After dinner, Anne decided to do some snooping on her laptop. First, she looked up historical information on Joan, only to find nothing. Every website was just the same thing over and over again- literally. It was just copied and pasted from the extremely short and vague Wikipedia page on the girl. The names of her parents weren’t even recorded, nor was any childhood information. There was barely even anything on her time as a lady in waiting, which only covered her work under Jane and not either of the cousins.

She had a son named Hercules, though. If that meant anything.

Next, Anne went to Joan’s Instagram page. It had several hundred followers, mainly from the fans who insisted on following everyone associated with the show, and was filled with the normal posts the actors usually had- although there were very few compared to the queen’s and other ladies in waiting’s accounts. Most of the photos were of her work or her playing the songs on her piano or of selfies of her in the band costume.

In almost all of them, she was completely alone.

Anne searched for something- she didn’t know what exactly, just something- in the seventh-five posts on the account, then went to the photos Joan was tagged in. There weren’t many- just group photos and a few good shots of her from a MegaSix and a single appreciation post (she vaguely remembered Joan telling them about it and how giddy it had made her...nobody had really listened to the babbling at the time).

And then Anne found a certain photo- the first one she was ever tagged in: it was a photo of her costume laid out on a table with the caption, “Here’s the lady in waiting costume! I’ll be posting about SIX more on my other account, so follow if you’re interested!”

The name of the account was @force-be-with-ewe.

Anne clicked on it.

force-be-with-ewe

i just really like drawing sheep

Johanna-She/her-Asexual lesbian-Musician and artist

That’s the first thing Anne saw when she clicked on the account, along with an adorable profile picture of a sheep playing a piano, then the whopping twelve followers (most of which were ghosts or bots) and three hundred and nine posts.

It took Anne just a moment to realize that this was Joan’s personal account.

And she went through all of it.

The profile was a mishmash of drawings and piano videos and sheep. The latest post was actually a photo of a bird with a caption talking about how the little guy had been visiting Joan’s bedroom window every morning and “giving her a reason to get up because she had someone looking forward to seeing her.” She maturely and proudly dubbed the bird “Minecraft.”

After that were drawings of dragons with #wingsoffire and #wof in the descriptions, leading Anne to believe that they were characters from the book she had been told about earlier that day.

And they just kept going.

Among videos of Joan playing the theater keyboard when presumably nobody was around, were drawings of sheep playing various instruments and sleeping and being adorable, drawings of more dragons, drawings of a few Pokémon (mainly Snom, Wooloo, and Sobble). There were stunning drawings of giant creatures from a game called “Subnautica” and beautiful drawings of castles and scenery. There were even drawings of the queens!

Usually fans would tag them in art, but it appeared that Joan was too shy to do that. So, instead, she just left them floating in her profile with no ways to see the masterpieces, since there weren’t any hashtags on those.

Anne was genuinely amazed by the attention to detail in the sketches of her and her fellow queens and even more amazed by the drawings with watercolors. She swore the painting’s eyes had more color than her own and the costume was as vibrant as the actual one in real life.

It was beautiful. They were all beautiful.

Why didn’t Joan want anyone seeing these?

Anne kept scrolling and eventually came upon rather...concerning posts.

The first was of a messy, but haunting colored pencil sketch of a pitch black ram with inky, bleeding red eyes that seemed to stare through the screen and directly into Anne’s soul. The caption simply said, “Black Philip.”

Another was a drawing of a blonde girl, presumably Joan, leaking coffee from every single orifice on her face and was drawn with such detail that it would easily make an emetophobic’s stoamch churn with nausea.

And then there were a few of an ice dragon, slightly similar to one of the dragon tribes from the book, but this one notably had more icicle spikes, frayed scales, and jagged wings. It was moon silver in color with ice blue hues and eyes like a raging blizzard.

All the drawings done with this beast, which was apparently named “Killer Frost” (and has no ties to the Flash character of the same name), were normal- just it laying around, flying, standing atop icebergs menacingly or breathing a freezing death breath. But there were a few that stood out to Anne as worrying.

The first was of Kitty, actually. She was wearing her show costume and her eyes were closed with a peaceful expression on her face. And then there was the glittering paw of the ice dragon reaching down from the top of the image and cupping one of her cheeks with its serrated, barbed claws. The caption read, “The Chosen One.”

The second and much more concerning drawing was captioned, “Envy truly is a deadly sin.”

It was a drawing of Killer Frost crouched in a feral position, staring forward with blazing eyes, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, absolutely soaked in blood.

There was just blood everywhere. Blood on the body, blood on the claws, blood dripping in horrifying realistic threads from the mouth, blood all over the blank, white floor beneath the beast, blood squirting from the remains of the carcasses that had presumably been gored.

The image left Anne with so many questions- What did this represent? Who were those corpses? Was Joan jealous? And if yes, who was she jealous of?

One thing was certain, though- Joan was startlingly good at drawing gore. A sketch of Killer Frost holding its own gooey, bloody esophagus and larynx in another photo just proved that. There was even one of the dragon ripping its own throat out while the faint outline of what appeared to be three ghosts encouraged it.

It was strange to see such mishmashes of horror shoved in between adorable sketches of sleeping baby lambs and fluffy Wooloos. It also left Anne with growing worry for the artist.

When she finally finished going through the profile, Anne decided the follow the account and became the thirteenth follower.

This time, thirteen would not be an unlucky number.

———

Five books were left on Anne’s dressing room table the next day, all with a colorful dragon on the cover, and a note that read, “I didn’t know if you only wanted one book or all of them, so I just left the first arc. Let me know what you think! :) -Joan”

“Fan mail?” Cleves asked, peeking over to the table from where she was getting ready.

“Nah,” Anne replied. “Just some books.”

“Sounds very cool,” Cleves chuckled before returning to dousing her hair with hairspray.

“Extremely.” Anne said, then set out to find and talk to Joan before the show. She could get her hair and makeup done later!

Except she couldn’t find the girl anywhere. She asked around, but nobody knew where she went. And she was definitely there because Anne saw her onstage right before the performance, but, by then, it was too late to speak to her. Anne just decided to see her afterwards, which was easier said than done because, once again, Joan was nowhere in sight.

Anne was about to give up, since it was almost time to leave, but then she spotted the girl in the break room playing a card game by herself at the round bar table. She considered charging in and barking at her about where she’s been, but she didn’t want to freak her out, so she just walked in calmly.

“Hey, Joan,” She said cooly, noticing the way the music director’s hand froze as she was setting down a card. She grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and sat down at the chair across from Joan. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just...playing a card game my brother taught me.” The girl replied meekly.

Joan had a brother? The articles on her said nothing about him...

“You had cards back then?” Anne asked, as if she hadn’t been born in the same time period.

“No, we used strips of wood we would tear off from people’s houses and carved symbols on them with knives.”

Anne blinked.

“...Oh. That’s...”

“Concerning?” Joan finally glanced up from her deck of cards to look at Anne. A ghost of a smile graced her lips for a moment before she tilted her head back down with a light laugh. “I know.”

“Mind if I play?”

She’s glanced at again- scanned, as if Joan was expecting her to pull something and make a joke out of her. But then she gave in and began collecting the cards from how they’re laid out on the table.

“This game is too complicated to explain,” She said. “But we can play Speed?”

After a quick rundown of the rules, Anne agreed and the game began.

And honestly? It was great. Joan genuinely laughed and smiled as they playfully bickered and argued over the card game. She almost looked like a happy little lamb frolicking in a field of flowers.

On their third round, Kitty peeks into the break room.

“There you are, Annie!” She said. “I was looking for you!”

“Oh, hey, Kit!” Anne said. Out of the corner of her eye, she definitely saw Joan clench her jaw. The drawing of Kitty and Killer Frost’s claws and then the bloody sketch briefly flashed in her mind. “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving,” Kitty informed. “We had dinner plans tonight, remember?”

Joan sighed softly and began to pick up the cards. Anne gently pressed her hand down.

“I think I’m going to pass tonight, Kit.”

Both blondes looked shocked- Joan more than Kitty from the way her head whipped up fast enough to give her whiplash.

“How come?” Kitty asked, clearly confused. “I thought you really wanted to go to this pub...”

“I know, but I’m hanging out with Joan right now.” Anne said. “Just bring me home something if you can!”

Kitty blinked several times, glanced at Joan, then nodded and walked out.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Joan whispered.

“I wanted to, though.” Anne assured her. She gently took the deck of cards from Joan’s clenched hands and began dealing them out. “Wanna keep playing Speed or try War? I’ve played with Aragon before. I swear, she ALMOST broke my nose in anger!”

“You followed me last night.”

Anne blinked.

“Yeah, of course,” She said. “I had no idea you could draw so well. You’re very talented.”

A hot pink blush dusts Joan’s cheeks and she looked away. She anxiously plays with the corner of an ace of spades. The slight drizzle that had been tapping on the window starts to pick up.

“I-”

She’s embarrassed, Anne realized. Embarrassed and horrified because she knows Anne saw the gruesome drawings she had made.

She believes that Anne thinks she’s sick. Or a freak. Or a monster.

Anne would admit that they’re a little weird, but a lot of artists liked to make horrific art. Nothing wrong with that, especially if they were vents.

“Joan-”

“Why are you doing this?” Joan asked quietly. She looked up and centuries worth of loneliness and neglect and pain reflect in her stormy grey eyes. “What do you want?”

Finally, Anne understood.

“Look,” Anne said. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

Joan froze. She just stared at Anne in shock for a long time before tears fill her eyes and start to run down her cheeks. She tries to stop them, but it’s clear she’s been bottling this all up for a long time and won’t be able to hold it back any longer.

“Y-you want to be my friend?” Joan whispered.

“Yes, Joan.” Anne answered her honestly, not missing a beat. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

The most heartbreaking whimper Anne has ever heard strangled itself out of Joan’s throat. The tears start to come down faster.

“N-nobody— Nobody has ever w-wanted to—”

“Oh, Joan...”

Anne quickly got out of her chair and walked around to Joan’s side of the table. She wrapped her arms around the girl and she immediately slumped into her embrace, clinging back like Anne was her life line.

“Oh, Joan,” Anne said again. “Oh, you poor, sweet little thing...”

Joan began to openly sob against her shoulder. Her hands claw at the back of Anne’s shirt, desperate for a good hold.

“I’ve- I’ve been alone f-for so long—” She wept.

“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her. She began to rub her back soothingly. “I’ve got you now, honey. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

That elicits a sharp whimper from Joan, who burrows herself even closer to the queen’s warmth. And she stays like that, half slid out of her stool, clutching onto Anne Boleyn like her life depended on it until she was able to choke back the rest of her tears.

“Feeling any better?” Anne asked. She was still rubbing Joan’s back, as the girl had yet to pull back from the embrace.

Joan shrugged weakly. “A-little.” She croaked. “N-not...not good. But better. B-because you’re here.”

Anne’s heart simultaneously broke and melted.

“You sweet girl,” She said lovingly. “I want to be here for you from now on. Is that alright?”

Joan nodded. “Please...”

“Alright,” Anne said. She gently pressed Joan back and gave her her water bottle, which she never actually opened. “Drink something for me, sweetheart.”

Joan obeyed and took a few small sips of the water. It soothed her dry throat, which was weak from the outpour of emotions.

“Good girl,” Anne said encouragingly. “Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t we go back to my house and watch a movie? I know there’s a tray of lasagna we could heat up! If you want to, that is.”

“N-no, that’s-” Joan sniffled. “I would really, really like that...”

Anne smiled warmly at her.

“Wonderful.”

———

When the other queens came home later that evening, none of them were expecting to see Anne sitting on the couch with the music director’s head in her lap, but that’s the sight they were greeted to.

They both looked content, Anne with a loving smile on her lips and Joan with a peaceful expression settled on her face as she slept. One of Anne’s hands was stroking through Joan’s hair and the other was holding a book, which she looked up from when the front door opened.

“Hey, ladies,” She said, momentarily setting down Wings of Fire- The Dragonet Prophecy. “How was dinner?”

———

A day later, Anne got a notification on her phone saying that @force-be-with-ewe had posted. When she checks it, she sees a digital drawing of Killer Frost being nuzzled lovingly by a large, emerald green dragon.

The caption simply reads, “Thank you for giving me a chance”

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #anne boleyn #jane seymour #katherine howard #joan on the keys #anna of cleves #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #nana boleyn #in aeternum little lamb

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plumblossomkun · 5 years

Text

Spirit

word count: 2232

synopsis: in which you can’t find a costume for a Halloweekend party, and the cute employee at Spirit Halloween, Wong Yukhei, is all too glad to help you.

warning[s]: flirting, mentions of alcohol, a single profanity, and a kiss.

a/n: another cute one! i was sitting in my cog. psych class this morning writing little notes on what i wanted to write for this fic and i think my professor saw me getting a little excited over it because she gave me a ? look and i was like dfghjkl i need to not think about fanfic during my one class on MWF

Every year, come late autumn, the mall pitches a large tent in the parking lot and fill it with all sorts of cobwebs and costumes. Atop it all, the grim reaper logo flies on a pumpkin orange banner bearing the name of the store, Spirit Halloween, and its catchphase, So much fun it’s scary!

“Y/n, are you ready to find yourself a costume for this Halloweekend?” Mina asks, gripping your elbow. “I can’t believe you’re actually coming along to the party this year.”

“I can’t believe my dad’s letting me,” you sigh as she drags you through the open door. Immediately your nose is flooded with the strange, zesty smell of dry ice as white smoke pools around your feet, and you cough.

A honey-haired, tall boy looks over from the cash register to your left. He waves at the two of you, with the brightest, most honest smile you’ve ever seen. “Welcome to Spirit!”

“Hello,” you reply, dipping your head in greeting.

“He’s cute,” Mina murmurs, eyes flicking from top to bottom as she appraises him. “Too bad I have a boyfriend.”

You snort. “You say that every time we come across someone remotely attractive, like you’re not whipped for Kazumi.”

“I can appreciate handsome boys.” She rolls her eyes, then gasps, spotting something at the other end of the store, pointing excitedly. “Y/n, look, there’s couple costumes! Should I force Kazu to wear one with me?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Oh my god. I think I see a honey and bee set! Meet me at the register in 30?”

“Got it. I’ll go… look for a costume.”

“Text me if you find anything exciting!”

Half-heartedly, you examine a simple witch costume, one with a long, flowing black skirt and a pointed felt hat. You’ve been a witch before, more than twice, at least, and you don’t mind the low cut neckline if it means you’re not going to spend another day looking in vain for another costume that won’t have your father up in arms.

“Finding everything okay?”

You glance at the speaker; it’s the cute boy from the register grinning down at you. He towers over you a little, and he notices when you flinch at his presence and takes an amiable step backwards, chuckling.

“I think I’m good,” is your automatic response, staring down at the plastic bag containing the witch costume.

Meekly, you add, “...If I change my mind, I’ll come find you.”

“Of course. Anything you need, you come to me, doll.” He grins, giggling a little at his own audacity, and then heads off to talk to a couple of girls in the next aisle poring over little devilish pieces and pairing lipsticks with their outfits.

Mina holds up the witch costume next to you, screwing up her nose in focus. “I don’t know, girl. I know you don’t wanna look too slutty, but you know, it’s Halloweekend. Go crazy. Go stupid.”

“I know, I know.” You take the costume back from her, and place it back on the hooks. “I just, I don’t know. I haven’t felt super excited about Halloween in a while.”

“That’s okay~” she reassures you, patting your cheeks. “Take your time, you still have one more day!”

“Yeah…” you sigh. “Did you find what you wanted, at least?”

She lights up immediately, and holds up an Adult Avocado and Toast couples’ costume. “He’s going to hate this so much, but what do you think?”

“It’s very… Californian of you.”

She laughs. “That settles it. I’m getting it. Are you going to buy any makeup or anything?”

“No, I asked Lisa to do my makeup.” As you talk, the two of you navigate through the aisles towards the cash registers at the front. “That’s another reason I want to find a costume fast; she told me it would be nice if I told her as soon as possible so she could come up with a look.”

“Hello!” the cashier greets you. “Did any employees help you today?”

“Ah, yes,” Mina taps her lip with her debit card. “I think his name was Yukhei.”

The cashier smiles fondly at the name as she rings up the purchase. “That’ll be 49.99.”

Mina swipes her card, and turns to you as the transaction loads. “Are you gonna come back tomorrow?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Other than skipping the party? None.”

The next day you show up at Spirit alone. You’d tried to get Lisa to come with you, but she'd had refused in favor of studying for the Physics midterm, and Mina’s shift was going to run long past Spirit’s closing time of 9pm.

You hold your breath when you pass through the fumes of the fog machine this time, striding through it so quickly you miss a certain someone waving at you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he calls after you, his voice reeling you back. “Why in such a rush?”

Biting your lip, you backtrack to the register. “There’s a party this weekend…”

“And you’re in desperate need of a costume,” he finishes, eyes gleaming. “Well, you’ve come to the right guy.”

He offers you his hand to shake and introduces himself. “Wong Yukhei. You can call me Yukhei, or Lucas, my English name.”

You take his hand and shake. His palm is warm and callused against yours. “Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, what are you in the market for?” he asks, rounding the register to walk side by side with you down the aisle of trick or treat bowls, the ones that have little gimmicky skulls and bony hands that react whenever you reach into them. “Cute? Sexy? Spooky?”

“I don’t know,” you say, picking up a Scream mask attached to a pump meant to push a red liquid faintly resembling blood into its plastic chamber and turning it over in your hands just to do something with them as you approach the Adult Costumes section in the back. “There’s a party this weekend, and I don’t know what I want to be.”

“What costumes have you worn before?”

“I’ve been a black cat and witch more times than I can count. I was a fairy when I was a kid, once.” You replace the mask on a shelf with similar pieces.

He laughs. “Those aren’t bad. I’m sure you looked great.”

“Yeah, but they’re safe choices.”

Yukhei reaches up to grab a costume from the top row of hooks, but pauses before he grabs it, looking you square in the eye to say, “Nothing wrong with safe, doll.”

He says that, but with the smell of cedar and vanilla radiating from him as he leans down to hand it to you, you think, maybe safe is a little too boring for you.

Lisa gently pulls the hair back from your face and draws it into a loose plait. “You found a costume, huh?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers twitch as you remember how you’d taken it home and torn the plastic bag apart to really try it on for the first time, and looked in the mirror. You’d spun and marveled at yourself until you grew dizzy, and then you’d laid on your bed and laughed.

“And what else did you find?” she prods, pinching your cheek. “Cuz I heard from Mina…”

You roll your eyes. “What did she tell you?”

She pats primer on your face, and you wince at the feel of the cold cream. “That you had goo-goo eyes for a tall and tan hottie.”

“I did not!”

She snickers as she looks through her foundations to match your skin color. “Did you get his number?”

“Why would I ask for that? He was just helping me out. You know, like a normal retail employee would.” “Well, sweetie, when two people are physically attracted to each other, it’s only natural that they want to get to know each other in a more intimate way. Whether you want to hold his hand or hop on that dick, I’m not judging.”

You splutter. “I’m not going to do that!”

“Alright, alright,” she relents, spinning a brush between her fingers with a giggle, “but if anything happens, I wanna hear all the details.”

At ten past nine, you show up to the party with Mina on your right. Kazumi trails behind the two of you, tugging at the green felt avocado costume on his frame and grumbling.

The house belongs to one of Kazumi’s friends, whose parents are gone for the weekend on a business trip. It’s a lovely little villa in the midst of nowhere, with a chic, modern inside, and a wooden deck complete with a firepit, where most of the invitees sit, soaking up the autumn breeze and firelight.

“We’re going to go get some drinks,” Mina announces, turning to take her boyfriend’s hand. She looks you up and down with a grin. “Go get em, tigress.”

“You’re ditching me already?” You cling to her sleeve; while you love your costume, you don’t love the idea of walking around the party by yourself no matter what you’re wearing.

“No, I’m letting you free. Find a corner and wait for the boys to come to you, darling.” She blows you a kiss and plucks your fingers from her costume to head into the kitchen. “You’ve always been beautiful. Now unleash your inner hoe.”

The jungle juice is way too strong for you.

Still, you take sips from your half-filled cup every now and then to keep your hands from shielding your body, letting the sharp heat of the liquid sear the hesitation from your fingertips. The tight black lycra material of the SWAT catsuit on your body makes you feel like you’re exposed, every curve, every bump, every out-of-place spot on your body on display for everyone to see.

The firelight doesn’t quite reach you in this corner, though, on the cushioned wooden bench just to the right of the screen doors, so you’re not all that worried.

The polished wood of the deck creaks as a tall silhouette approaches you, and you curl your legs under your body to let them squeeze past you and the group of frat boys cheering loudly for their friend chugging the contents of a vodka bottle.

But the person sits by you instead.

“I thought I recognized you,” a familiar voice purrs. “What are the odds, though?”

You meet Yukhei’s glittering chocolate eyes with a gasp. In a leather jacket, distressed blue jeans and a pair of aviators clipped onto his shirt, and with his hair slicked back over his forehead, even in the faint light, he looks more attractive than he has any right to be.

“Greaser?” is all you can manage to say.

“Guilty as charged.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender, touching the rings in his earlobes when he says, “You look good.”

“Thanks.” Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you fiddle with with the plastic cuffs on the belt hanging low on your hips. It feels strange to be talking to him as a person and not as a customer, though his easy, goofy grin is still the same. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Yukhei laughs, fiddling with the dozen rings on his fingers. “You should have a little more confidence, babe.”

You choke on your punch. Doll had been a safe nickname, but babe? “I’m… what?”

He shakes his head, gesturing to all of you. “Come on. You don’t think you look good?”

When you open your mouth, ready to deflect his compliment, he covers your mouth with a hand. In the firelight, the edges of his face are outlined in amber and carnelian, and heat floods your cheeks when you notice that he’s not smiling, for once, and instead looks entirely serious when he tells you, “You’re beautiful.”

He sits back, taking his hand from your skin as if the brief moment of contact has burned him. He turns his head towards the firepit, and you can see that he’s scrunching his face up awkwardly, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He scoots closer to you, so close that your legs touch from knee to hip. “Sorry, I don’t want to invade your personal space, but I really can’t hear you.”

“No, it’s okay.” It really isn’t; his sweet, woody cologne envelops you, washing over you like the heat of the fire, and you unconsciously lean into him, cheek brushing his shoulder as you repeat your thanks.

Yukhei chuckles, and you take a deep swig of your drink in the hopes that it’ll keep you from drowning in his smile.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. And eventually, you give in and rest your head on his shoulder, watching the embers dance in the firepit and the rowdy group of boys begin to wind down for the night, sitting on the edge of the deck and pointing up drunkenly at the constellations in the sky.

It’s a little uncomfortable, resting on his collarbone, but when his arm sneaks around to wrap around your shoulders, you don’t mind at all.

And when his eyes meet yours and crinkle in a smile, and one of his hands comes up to cup your face gently, you close your eyes and lean into the kiss.

You leave that night with the taste of chocolate on your lips and his hand in yours.

#neotober #cznnet #tbh i spent way too long on this one but i kind of really wanted them to kith #nct fluff #nct imagines #wayv fluff #wayv imagines #yukhei fluff #wong yukhei #huang xuxi #xuxi fluff #lucas fluff #nct lucas #superm lucas #wayv lucas

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s7vencity · 4 years

Text

Vmon/Taejon 001

It’s late.

Well not so late that the herbal shop would be closed and in turn render Taehyung’s trip completely useless.

But late enough for Namjoon, the owner to raise an eyebrow as to why anyone would show up five minutes before he’s about to lock up.

The door chimes when Taehyung pushes it open and a gush of wind rushes in along with him, causing the various charms hanging from the ceiling to sway about gently.

He’s immediately hit with the scent of dried herbs, wood and incense and relaxes his hunched shoulders at the warmth slowly seeping into his pores.

“Ah Taehyung-ssi, I should’ve known it was you, hello.” Namjoon appears from behind the beaded curtains, giving him a dimpled smile as he settles near the counter.

His tall broad frame is drowned by an oversized black top with exaggerated sleeves that cover his hands entirely. A single choker sits around his neck and the way the lights above him bounce off his blonde hair, gives it a soft glow.

Taehyung thinks he’s beautiful.

“Uh h-hi, sorry for coming so late.” Taehyung squirms a little in embarrassment, his cheeks pink as he looks at Namjoon from behind thick lashes, feeling shy under his gaze.

“It’s alright, I’m used to your strange hours by now, although this is the latest you’ve ever come.” Namjoon chuckles; he doesn’t look annoyed, even though he probably should be.

If anything his smile just seems to grow wider and Taehyung simply rules that to him being a loyal regular customer, rather than getting his hopes up that he’s been looking forward to seeing him.

“Yeah it’s sort of an emergency, I’m out of chamomile buds you see and it’s for a potion.” Taehyung hasn’t been able to sleep properly for about a week now, his usually glowing sun kissed skin looks dull, the dark circles under his eyes are prominent and overall, he just feels like a zombie.

Being a university student through assignment season and working a part time job has made insomnia his best friend.

Luckily for him, he’d finally managed to perfect the recipe to his sleeping potion and now that he’s submitted his last essay for the semester, Taehyung wants to spend the entire weekend catching up on precious sleep.

He was about halfway through taking out all the ingredients to start, when he noticed he was low on chamomile buds, which is a vital part of his potion.

Taehyung knew Namjoon’s shop would be closing soon and that it’d be cutting it close running there now but he really needed those buds (and would take any excuse to see him too).

So with a tired groan, he clumsily shoved on his boots and coat, grabbed his backpack and keys then bolted out of the door.

“School giving you stress huh?” Namjoon asks sympathetically and Taehyung sighs with a nod. “I remember those days, pulling all nighters and long library sessions, it’s not easy. But you’ll get through it, you’re a hard worker and I believe in you.”

Taehyung’s face flames at the compliment and he averts his gaze, mumbling a pathetic string of sounds that loosely resembles a thanks and Namjoon giggles.

If it isn’t already obvious, Taehyung likes him.

He always tells himself that he’ll be confident, that he’ll look Namjoon in the eye one of these day and tell him he’s the cutest witch he’s ever seen and finally ask him out on a date.

But then the second he sees Namjoon’s pretty dimples, those deep brown eyes and plump rosy lips. His brain scrambles, he starts to sweat and his heart feels like it’s going to explode because there’s absolutely no way that he could do it.

Namjoon comes round from behind the counter and beckons Taehyung to follow him.

They walk towards two large floor to ceiling wooden shelves, covering the old burgundy walls. They’re stacked with jars filled with a variety of natural herbal ingredients that Namjoon grows in his garden at home.

He’s a green witch who’d gotten the genius idea to combine his love for nature and plants to start a business, making his trade by selling great quality herbs for the local witches.

Jimin recommended his shop to him after Taehyung complained about needing a new place to buy from because he’s sure Ms Kang was ripping him off (which she was).

Taehyung had then been confused how he’d never heard of Namjoon’s shop, especially since it was so close to his apartment. But Jimin said he’d only been there for a few months yet already his business was booming because of the quality and reasonable prices. Plus the owner was apparently a sweetheart.

So he trusted his friend’s judgment and decided one day that he’d visit. It’s a quaint little place that has all the essentials he would need; from herbs, to candles, crystals, essential oils.

“Hi there, do you need any help?” A deep voice had asked from beside him and Taehyung turned to tell the person he’s fine but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Namjoon had smiled at him, his hair was ash blonde at the time and he had glitter on his lids. He was wearing soft green overalls and a cream t-shirt underneath it with a choker around his neck.

The crush was almost instant.

“Is it just chamomile you need?” Namjoon asks, grabbing a jar from the shelf, his sleeves roll back revealing his large slender hands and glossy black nails as he turns to Taehyung expectantly.

“Uh yes, I stocked up pretty recently so I’m good for a while.” Namjoon nods and hands Taehyung the jar as they head back to the counter so he can pay.

Suddenly there’s a loud rumble coming from outside, followed by a few splats of rain hitting the concrete.

“Oh no.” Taehyung groans, just his luck, of course it’d start raining when he was out with no umbrella or coat that has a hood.

“It’s raining?” Namjoon frowns, seemingly sharing Taehyung’s pain. “I only bought a light jacket today and I don’t have an umbrella, fuck I’m going to be soaked.”

He sighs frustratedly, pouting a little as he bags up Taehyung’s shopping and takes the money he hands over, punching the code for the till to open in a sulk.

Taehyung looks at him nervously, he remembers Namjoon telling him once that he lives at least 30 minutes away from his shop, which is the only downside of the location. With the way the rain was starting to come down, there’s no way he wouldn’t get sick by the time he gets home.

Honestly, Taehyung would never forgive himself, if he didn’t at least try to help him.

He bites his lip, feeling nervous at what he’s about to ask. His heart pounds loudly in his ears and he almost forgets to say thank you when Namjoon hands him his change and shopping bag.

“Do you maybe want to go back to my apartment with me?” Namjoon’s eyebrows raise in surprise and his eyes bulge like saucers, making Taehyung’s ears burn violently at how suggestive his words sound. “No, no, not like that, I-I mean, it’s just that I live fairly close to your shop, if you wanted to maybe wait out the rain... I’d be happy to have you.”

When Namjoon doesn’t respond after a long moment, Taehyung wants to curl into a ball of shame and humiliation. Why did he have to open his mouth, who even says that? Now he just looks like a creep.

Oh God, what if he’s banned from his shop now because of this? He’ll probably wake up tomorrow to posters of his face everywhere saying ‘beware of this pervert’ and be shunned from the town or something.

If only the ground would swallow him up right now.

“Okay.”

“Oh God I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’ll leave no-.” Taehyung freezes, looking up at Namjoon with wide eyes. “Wait what?”

Namjoon chuckles and Taehyung’s stomach flips at the sound.

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind coming with you.”

“Really?” Taehyung can imagine the shock painted on his face right now, as he looks at him with big hopeful eyes and parted lips, Jimin always told him he resembles an excited puppy when he does that. Which must be true because Namjoon looks endeared.

“I was wondering when you’d asked me out, sure it’s not how I’d hoped but it’s a start.” He smiles adorably and Taehyung can’t help it, he smiles too, in fact it turns into a full boxy grin.

He can’t believe it, of all the impossible things that could happen to him, he never thought Namjoon would be interested in him too.

He always believed his lingering smile and attempts to prolong conversation were just him being friendly. How he always seem to have what Taehyung needed and sometimes gives him a discount without a reason.

Which he knows now.

For once it’s Namjoon’s turn to blush under his intense gaze and he scratches at his nape to avoid Taehyung’s eyes.

“I’ll just go close up and get my coat.” He says, before disappearing behind the beaded door leaving a grinning Taehyung who punches the air happily.

#vmon #bts taejoon

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trashpandaorigins · 4 years

Text

The Body Keeps the Score Ch 12 Old Wounds

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

It's not your eyes, it's not what you say

It's not your laughter that gives you away

You're just lonely, you've been lonely, too long

All your actin', your thin disguise

All your perfectly delivered lies, they don't fool me

You've been lonely too long, let me in the wall, you've built around

And we can light a match and burn it down, let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flame In front of us, Dust to dust.

Dust to Dust - The Civil Wars

Zen Whoberi - 10 Terran years earlier

“Come on baby,”

Gamora tossed her head, trying to get the hair to loosen from her sticky cheeks, sweat perspiration out of every pore.

“Mama I’m hot!”

Her feet tumbled over the dust, body aching.

“I know baby, come on this way, quickly!”

“Why’s that man sleeping in the dirt?”

Another scream sounded, Gamora turned to look. A woman arched backward, spinning and crumpled to the ground. The armored alien reloaded his weapon and ran towards a burning hut.

“We have to run now Gamora, come on!”

Her feet were hoisted off the parched ground and her mother ran. Gamora clutched on tight, over the shoulder of her mother’s robes. Burning, everything was burning. A chorus of wails sounded, followed by the sounds of gunfire, shouting, smoke. Colors blurred.

“Consider yourselves lucky,” a voice boomed through the flames of burning homes. Gamora tried to turn her head, in every direction people ran, people fell, people cried. “You have been chosen for a higher purpose. To bring balance to the galaxy. Thanos thanks you. Your sacrifice is appreciated.”

“Mama!”

“Shhhh Gamora,”

“Mama I’M HOOTTT!”

Fffffoooooosh!

Gamora turned, and let out a high-pitched scream. A wall of fire, swelled and roared, dancing red and orange burning, burning burning. She was falling into the yellow scorched earth. Her mother falling, more shouts, more pleas. The flames. The flames. It was so hot, she was falling. No. She was burning.

She was burning.

“Groot! Grooot!”

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Gamora squinted through the smoke, heart hammering in her chest. The Benatar tipped and surged with the efforts of Peter and Rocket trying to pilot the ship. Another blast of heat assaulted her, she swerved to the side, cursing against the weight of the smoke. Down through the halls into the rear storage unit.

“Groot!”

“Ack, ack...I...I..a..am...ack...G..groot!”

“Groot! It’s Gamora! I’m here, it’s okay!”

Black smog closed around her, obstructing the hall. Breathe, walk slow, feel your way. You know this ship backward and fowards...just...fuck. Her leg folded, sending her shuffling forward in a deluge of burning heat. The metal in her body rose in temperature, oddly comforting at first, warm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Groot!” she reached her fingers out, straining for any purchase in the disorienting smoke.

“Groot! Can you hear me?!”

“I...I am Groot!”

Momentary relief cooled her fear, though the itching of her cybernetics mounted, turning at last to white hot agony. Breathe, you’ve had worse. Focus. What is the objective? She shoved a large container aside with a grunt. No sign of Groot. The ship bounced,

“Fuck!”

The metal in her hips and each of her sides ached and burned.

“I am Groot!”

“It’s okay...hey, don’t say that! I’ll be right there, come on, where are you?”

She waved the thick plume away from her face, Groot’s small face looked up at her through the containers, he himself squished between two large boxes of Estervine foodstuffs.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Stinging hot metal pricked at her face, up throughout her entire body, through her legs and torso. She gritted her teeth, reaching out and snatching the crying flora.

“You can’t just run away like that you could be hurt!”

Groot only cried, small fingers twisting through her hair.

---

“I got him,” Gamora leaned against Peter’s seat, legs trembling. “There was an explosion.” I...I think...I couldn’t see….

“Yeah we got that,” Rocket’s growl elicited no response. Not even his sharp claws grazed her as he snatched the saping away.

Quill looked at her, with no small amount of concern. How nice it would be to just fall into that chair, that embrace. She could rest ….he would not judge that would he?

“You good Gamora?”

She itched her skin, its heat unbearable but managed a nod.

---

Solitude, finally. Gamora shifted her weight upon the log on which she sat. The cooling pen she held shook uncontrollably. She gnashed her teeth in frustration. You can do this. You’ve done it before. The dark dank cells of Thanos keep. She sniffed, wincing at the searing burning in her arms. From far off the sound of Peter’s music echoed through the trees. I should be helping. But no, she attempted again to pinpoint the tool towards her wounds; the post-combat ritual from her days as a living weapon was hard to overcome. Fight, if wounded, get away, hide. Hide so he cannot find you. Cannot torture you. But he always found her in the end. So she learned to wound others worse instead. Nebula.

She blinked the tears from her eyes, each sting of the cooling device making her heart race. The agony of the cybernetics throbbed through her in waves of heat.

Shit….

“You’re never gonna cool the entire thing at that angle.”

Rocket.

Gamora wiped a hand across her face, summoning a breath. Straightening her back. Pretending to be well. Another old ritual.

“Are you offering assistance?”

“Since you’re askin’. Gimme that.”

She sighed, too tired to argue.

She winced at the small claws on her skin, instinctively gripping on to her arm with surprising strength. She stiffened, watching him concentrate as he held the object, carefully dragging it over her cybernetics. His motions were slow, deliberate. Careful ...gentle. The cold blast hit against her skin, she flailed.

“Stop moving,”

The raccoonoid’s paw curled around the ball of her shoulder, too small to fit around the whole thing but steady all the same. She sighed, the slow relief of dissipating heat most welcome. Gamora swallowed as Rocket worked the tool farther up her arm. Watching his whiskers twitch, his eyes narrow. He switched the angel on the grip, hovered the pointed end over her wound for a moment, then slowly continued. Remarkably careful, she noticed, in contrast to all the other times Rocket handled any type of machinery.

The breeze stirred, sending the trees rustling, a tuft of her hair billowed. Without thinking she pulled her locks back, holding the tangle bundle behind her head, careful not to get in the raccoonoid’s way.

“Hang on, this might hurt. Move your head.”

I’m surprised, he warned me…

A zap of stinging cold shot through the delicate cybernetics, close enough to the nerves making a wave of shocking chills wrack through her along the metal highways under her skin.

“Ahh!”

The cry escaped her without pretense. Heat immediately heated her cheeks in an angry flush. Never show pain...showing pain means more painful procedures...breathe. Breathe...don’t…

“S’alright, it hurts,” Rocket whispered uncommonly soft; an apology. Gamora unclenched her jaw. She never allowed herself to feel agony. Yet here was Rocket, of all beings in the galaxy, giving her permission to do just that.

The ringtail continued his sutures slowly examining his handiwork after every other stitch. Gamora opened her mouth to say something-exactly what she wasn’t sure-but he spoke first.

“When Thanos made yah….did he keep all your insides intact?”

The assassin frowned, my insides? Of course he did, I needed to be enhanced and trained not torn apart. She stole a glance over her shoulder at the strangely quiet raccoonoid.

Rocket is bipedal, his intelligence, voice, dictation and syntax humanoid. Those eyes though, large and red and lacking any iris or pupil, large red, unfocused orbs glowed ominously in the dark. They were inexplicable, alien. Left over from a time and a place Gamora had no desire to dwell on. Those foreign orbs of fiery anger made his face even more difficult to distinguish even for someone as skilled in interpreting behavior as Gamora.

“My cybernetics are muscular and skeletal,” she finally answered, the words heavy on her tongue. He asked no further questions, for that she would be eternally grateful.

The pain in her cybernetics no longer stabbed, but ached with a dull throbbing that she managed to ignore with practiced callousness.

“That’s good at least,” he managed after awhile. “I don’t know how much of me is actually me. Sometimes I wonder if I even got a heart that’s my own or if that’s just a piece of metal too.”

Her own heart synched in her chest at the confession. She shifted her weight uncomfortably and he tied off the last suture on her arm.

“All set,” he finally declared, examining the outcome of his efforts.

Gamora sat stiff. Glancing at him in the darkness. The breeze stirred. The branches of the trees cast shadows like dancers on the leaf strewn forest floor. She looked at her teammate with sympathy.

Though Rocket’s red eyes were unnervingly unreadable, the rest of his body language was screaming. Mechanized shoulders slumped, tail low and between the legs, ears flat and dropping. Part of her wanted to know what had been done to him. What process he had to go through to become the thing he was today. Did they train him with weapons of steel and iron? Did they punish him if he failed in combat? Gamora wondered if he was like her. The only battle she ever lost was the one waged on her own body. And after that she vowed never to lose again. No matter the cost. Did Rocket ever make a similar declaration to keep himself alive in the endless nights locked in a cage . Ha ...there wasn’t a cage in the world that could contain Rocket. Gamra wondered if he too was made to watch what they did to him as they did it? If he looked at his scars the way she looked at her own.

She turned, daring to lower her eyes to where the metal bolts fused into his clavicle. The metal had rusted over the years, like her own implants the skin around the foreign substance had swollen and puffed with red irritation not even a thick layer of fur could conceal. Gamora’s breath quickened, reaching out to brush the cold bolts. The right one….it’s crooked, not flush against the bone. She squinted, hand held awkwardly hovering above the metal. It was stuck in without much thought, quickly. Several patches of black, crusted gunk were...holes where they didn’t re-graft the skin to the metal. It would risk infection, she remembered Ebony Maw’s voice, all new cybernetic modifications must be properly inserted, the flesh and bone and muscle reattached with exceptional patience and diligence. So why would Rocket’s creators….unless Then it dawned on her….how did I not realize it sooner?

“You were awake when they did this to you.”

He was moving when they inserted that right bolt.... Properly graphing the skin would take too much time...impossible if the person was struggling.

Gamora looked at him, eyes narrowing, trying to discern his face.

What did they think when they stood over him, strapped helpless to a metal table? Gamora wondered not for the first time. Did his creator...creators...truly revel in the distorted beauty of what they were making or were they more like Thanos? Were they trying to destroy a part of themselves instead? Had he been painfully aware of his creation like she had been at times? Forced to look at herself in a dirty mirror or had he been granted the small inadequate mercy of ignorance at what was being done and undone to him...Not fully realizing the extent of his torture until it was already done. If he had been aware, like she was ...did he see with his creator's eyes like she had? Believing them. Did he try his best to fulfill their demands because complicity was better than punishment? Did he genuinely believe his creators as she had? Taking their praise to heart?

She could tell him, here and now, that she too had been held down by impossible machines, made to fight and kill people who never did her any wrong. Every bolt of electricity, every stain of blood on Ebony Maw’s grey fingers. The words of it, the truth of every blinding light and blackened cell threatened to bubble up through her mouth and spill out, unearthing every horror she’d ever experienced. No. Don’t do that. Don’t. Rocket had had enough pain in his short life-span. She wouldn’t make him bare witness to hers.

And yet…

Gamor seized his paw….hand? She wasn’t totally sure on the appropriate wording but she took it nonetheless, with perhaps too much earnestness then she’d otherwise care to show. In the dark of the night, she could not see how much her own hand trembled. The mind she kept so tight under lock and key ran rampant. Did his creators profess to love him? The most dangerous lie there was. Did they give him false praise with the same empty words as Thanos? Did his creators believe that they were helping him? That they were modifying him for his own good? Had he come to the realization of his abuse in a single instant or gradually as she had? Was he determined to live his own life as his own person or...as was becoming more apparent, had he only learned to hate himself for what was done to him? Gamora did not know the answer to that question herself. It changed everyday.

The small, firm squeeze of Rocket’s grip brought her back to reality. She squeezed his hand back, not wanting to let go. The padding on his paws was leathery and rippled with millions of adept sensors. But warm. Little claws sharp, but not painful. They curled into the back of her hand, clinging. She allowed herself to stroke his fur, surprisingly grounding and rhythmic. Gamora lifted her eyes to his animal face once more, trying to read the ringtail, but he was an enigma.

“Thank you,” was all she could manage, though she wasn’t quite sure what she was thanking him for.

“Don’t mention it."

She let go of his paw, though she did not want to. But who knew how long the raccoonoid would stand it? Was he shaking? Or was it her? Either way, she didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want her hand to be the hands of his torturers. She nodded to him and curxft acknowledgement and stood up, striding back toward the Benatar.

---

In the safety of her own quarters, after slipping past Peter and the others; there was no way she could face the man right now, she was far...far too raw, Gamora wrapped her fingers around her own thumb, trying to replicate the feel of Rocket’s rough little paw. His fur was surprisingly silky and soft, contrary to everything else about the brash small beast. It was not lost on her that Groot was the sole person with whom Rocket permitted such intimacy. What had changed she could hardly guess. Maybe he had allowed her hand to remain for the same reason she had taken it in the first place. Because she was frightened. Frightened of being alone, of being incapable of compassion. Frightened that Thanos had succeeded in making her an unfeeling servant of his wrath. She’d taken his hand because he was there, because she had to to prove to herself that she could. Because her hands were one of the few parts of her not melded with metal.

She sat on her small cot, her wound aching but much more subdued and clean than before. Gamora rubbed her thumb into the palm of her hand and leaned over to unlock the safe beside her bed, rummaging around for some loose bandages. Something metal cold and unforgiving graced her fingers. She frowned, scooting closer and bit her lip realizing: the device the Halfworlders had given her. Gamora scrutinized the thing, similar etchings of circles, rusted, she touched the matching with the same hesitancy as Rocket’s cybernetics. It was a disturbingly similar style to the raccoonoid’s enhancements. Clearly developed by the same sadists. Her fingers curled around the small device, knuckles turning pale with anger. She set it down on the bedside table.

“Aaaaargggh!”

Gamora whipped out the knife on her belt, arching the blade through the air in a single motion and stabbed, denting into the flimsy metal of the table; inches from the halfworld machine, shaking from side to side with the force of impact.

Gamora cursed, and allowed herself to flop down casually on her bed, letting her eyes close-the aches of her cybernetics a pulsing lullaby sh had learned to find soothing.

---

Knock knock,

The assassin shot upright, grabbing her dagger and stalked to her door,

“Who is it?”

“Its...it’s uhh me!” Peter fumbled. Gamora sighed with relief, allowing her heartbeat to soothe back down before opening the door.

“What is it?”

“I uhh….I think...that...umm…”

“How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours, it’s uhh….just that you might want to see this.” He ran a hand through his hair in that nervous gesture she couldn’t help but find adorable.

“See what?”

“The uhh...there’s a ship here.”

She frowned, brows drawing together. Peter blinked, pursing his lips.

“They're from the Nova Corps.”

#the body keeps the score fic #my writing #gamora #rocket raccoon #groot #starmora #drax #peter quill

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raspberryparker · 5 years

Text

chocolate orange | one

Peter Parker x Fem!Omega!Reader — A/B/O Verse AU

← previous | mini-series masterlist | next →

word count: 5,732 i’m so sorry summary: peter hasn’t presented yet so he’s blowing off some steam in the tower. there may be a lack of control on his part. maybe. warnings: see masterlist one paragraph where blood is drawn so if you’re scared of needles, please skip it; light mention of blood, obviously

read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist! like my work? consider buying me a coffee!

━━━━━━━━

Plaster dribbled down the wall like pebbles as the sound of the harsh impact echoed around the darkness in the room.

His chest rose and fell rhythmically with each heavy breath he took in through his nose. They were the type of breaths that moved his whole body, his abdomen tensing as he exhaled angrily. He felt the beads of sweat along his hairline slide down the side of his face, cooling the skin of his neck before dipping below the muscle tank he wore.

Peter didn’t remember how it had happened, but as he pulled his fist from the new hole in the wall and stretched his fingers, the tendons screaming in protest and his knuckles raw and bleeding, he wasn’t surprised.

He felt the pain in his hand before he realized what had happened. And as he gathered his surroundings he saw where he was, what he'd done, plaster gathering like dust on the floor, and a new fist-sized hole in Tony Stark’s expensive wall.

He blinked rapidly, shaking his hand out and looking at his palm in absolute bewilderment. The skin was angry and red, the creases more defined, and he felt the blood pumped by his thundering heart throbbing in his fingertips. Stumbling backwards on the mat, he almost fell flat on his ass as he panted heavily.

He’d lost control.

Peter could hear the chain holding up the punching bag behind him creaking softly as it swayed back and forth, the thing he was supposed to be throwing punches at now forgotten. After all, he’d only come to the Tower that night to blow off some steam. But he’d let it go too far. Peter let his thoughts stew in his mind as he railed on the punching bag before him. His fists were beginning to cramp but he’d been relentless, refusing to ease up on the jabs even though his arms ached and groaned with every reach. It had all happened so fast. He hadn’t even noticed the unbridled rage that was fuelling his every move until it was too much, seeping from his pores and pouring off him in waves of steam, before he consequently well and truly lost all control.

He tried to focus his breathing and ease his racing heart, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a palm to his forehead. He couldn’t go on like this.

“You know,” the all too familiar voice chimed from behind him. “Someone’s gonna have to pay for that.”

Peter whirled around, surprised he’d allowed someone to sneak up on him. Usually, the prickling sensation on the back of his neck would have alerted him to someone approaching but he hadn’t felt anything. Nothing other than the irrepressible fury that screamed through his veins, anyway.

“M-Mr. Stark.”

The words sounded breathy, more like an exhale, as all the wind was knocked from him when he saw his idol, mentor, and the reigning Alpha in his life standing behind him with arms crossed. He’d thought he’d been careful; he’d instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to not inform Tony of his arrival or what he was up to, but of course, the older man always had the upper hand.

The man in question looked far from impressed. Peter had never seen him dressed so casually, but he quickly chastised himself for being stupid enough to think that he’d be dressed formally in the middle of the night in the comfort of his own home. Tony’s arms were crossed over the old, faded Slayer t-shirt as he leaned against one of the pillars in the Training Facility, the loose jeans he wore ripped at the knees on both legs, and he was missing his usual tinted glasses. A teasing smile found its way onto his lips, but Peter didn’t seem to see it.

“M-Mr. Stark, I’m s-so sorry,” he stammered, stooping to pick up the bits of plaster and clean up the mess. “I-I’ll take care of it, I’ll fix it myself if I have to, I promise I-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony muttered, his voice taking on a higher pitch and soft tone. He was trying to calm the panicking teen in front of him, stepping forward slowly with his hands outstretched. “I was just kidding. You know how many times someone’s punched the wall in here? I practically have the repair guy on speed dial.”

Peter felt his breath leave his lips in a stuttering sigh, the tense posture he was maintaining easing from his frame. His shoulders fell slowly and he allowed his head to follow suit, looking down at his hands now covered in white dust and crumbly pieces of wall. He let them fall to the floor with a soft clatter. He jumped as Tony’s hands landed on his upper arms and he looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Christ, you’re shaking like a leaf,” Tony muttered, fingers squeezing Peter’s biceps softly in an attempt to ground him. “What’s wrong, kiddo? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I-I just—”

“Come on,” he said softly. Tony let one hand go and guided Peter slowly to the edge of the mat to their left. “Sit down. Take a breath. You don’t have to tell me but you do need to calm down a bit.”

As he settled onto the mat, Tony sitting cross-legged beside him, he played with the elastic of his light grey sweatpants, the floor cold under his bare feet. He wondered why Mr. Stark was being so calm and comforting, and then quickly remembered the news stories that flooded the tabloids and entertainment channels years prior when Tony himself had struggled with anxiety. One particular public breakdown stuck out in Peter’s mind, and suddenly he felt his heart tug for his mentor, in both sorrow and thankfulness. But Tony had gotten better, and if there was anyone Peter could trust, it was him. He steeled his nerves then, taking a sharp, shaking breath through his nose. He noticed absently that Tony had unintentionally started trying to calm him with his scent, the smell of fresh laundry and pillows reminding him as much of home as Aunt May’s comforting scent did.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Tony just about rolled his eyes, but a fond smile took over his expression.

“I told you it’s fine,” he said. “It’s a wall. It’s replaceable. But—” he poked a finger softly into Peter’s shoulder. “—you’re not. So, what’s up? There a reason you’re sticking your fist through my wall at three in the morning? And why is it so... F.R.I.D.A.Y., hit the lights, half the brightness.”

The large room lit up around them, the dim light warming the cold atmosphere of the floor. Peter hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten to turn the lights on. He’d been so preoccupied with his goal that it completely slipped his mind. He could see Mr. Stark better now, the light revealing just how tired he looked. The dark crescents under his eyes held creases in them, and for the first time that evening (or morning, he supposed) he wondered why Tony was also awake this late.

“I just wanted to blow off some steam,” he admitted, playing with his fingers in his lap. “There wasn’t exactly a lot to do tonight. I did my rounds but… it was too calm. And it probably sounds really bad, but I usually take out all of my feelings on those people who deserve it.”

Tony chuckled softly next to him, his hand coming up to rest on Peter’s opposite shoulder. “It doesn’t sound as bad as you think.”

“I guess,” Peter shrugged. He brought a hand up and scratched at his head, his hair unruly and fluffy from hours confined in the mask of his suit and from exerting himself on the equipment around him. “I just… I get so angry.”

“Why?”

Peter glanced up at Tony, his brows furrowed in fear.

There was one specific reason for his frustrations, but the anxiety of looking pathetic in front of the person whom he never wanted let down stopped him from speaking. He never wanted Mr. Stark to think any less of him, and they’d been getting closer and closer and more comfortable with each other as the man continued to mentor him over the years. He didn’t want to undo it all by seeming like a helpless child. He’d just got Tony to consider him (somewhat) an adult.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony said, squeezing his shoulder. “You can tell me.”

“I…”

Peter screwed his eyes shut, spots growing like ink blots behind his eyelids from the force of it, and took a deep breath.

“I’m natureless.”

When he opened his eyes again, his irises adjusted to the light and he only saw Tony blinking at him, a blank expression on his face. He panicked for a moment, wondering if he’d heard him correctly.

“And?” Tony asked.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, voice cracking. “I’m eighteen.”

“Right, right.” Tony let his hand fall from Peter’s shoulder, looking away from his face as his brow furrowed. “When are kids supposed to present, again?”

“Uh, between fourteen and sixteen.”

“Oh,” he said then, glancing up. “You’re really late then.”

“Two years,” Peter nodded.

“But you could just be a late bloomer,” Tony said. “It’s not impossible. Why’s it got you all worked up?”

“It’s not me,” Peter mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not exactly, popular,” he snapped, his brow furrowing as he spit the words out. The Alpha raised his eyebrows, surprised at the outburst. Peter looked away sheepishly. “I’m sorry. But… I don’t have a lot of friends at school. Only Ned knows that I’m Spider-Man but I didn’t even mean for him to find out. To everyone else, I’m just a nerdy loser. And being a loser and scentless isn’t exactly a great combination.”

He sniffled harshly, feeling his eyes sting. Peter shut his eyes, refusing to cry in front of Tony, and he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand before going on.

“It pisses me off. But I can’t do anything about it, so instead I let loose by kicking criminals in the face. When that wasn’t an option, I came here. But I guess I lost control.”

Tony laughed then, clapping his hands together. “Better out than in.”

Peter allowed himself a smile at that, looking up at his mentor.

“Well, if it’s really bothering you,” he began. “I can take you up for a visit to our resident mad scientist. He might be able to pinpoint why you’re so late. Those seven Ph.D.’s must be good for something.”

“Dr. Banner’s here?” More importantly, he was still awake? Why was everyone in the Tower such night owls?

“Always,” Tony smiled. “And don’t worry about bothering him. He’d probably not get to sleep around seven anyway.”

“Okay,” Peter smiled, allowing himself to relax some as Tony stood up. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” the Alpha muttered, ruffling his hair. “No, seriously—”

“I know,” Peter laughed. “Don’t mention it.”

Tony smiled then, wide and toothy as he looked down at the boy. “And go take a shower. You stink something fierce.”

━━━━━━━━

The water soothed his aching muscles as he stood below the steady stream in the white tiled shower. Shutting his eyes and taking in a breath through his mouth, drops of water slipping past his lips and wetting his tongue, he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair as he allowed his mind to wander.

His presentation hadn’t always been a concern for him. In fact, he’d been perfectly healthy. On his fourteenth birthday, May had taken him to the government regulated checkup with a pediatrician to check on his progress as all children were made to do at the age of presentation. The doctor had given him the all clear, and though it was impossible to tell one’s classification before they presented, he had said that it was most likely that Peter would turn out to be Beta or Omega.

That thought haunted him for the next two years, even during the time he was bitten and gained his new abilities. It always bothered him.

How he wished he’d present as a Beta. Though male Omegas were not uncommon and were more and more respected and accepted by the day, it was still hard for them within a traditionalist society. It was the same way for female Alphas, but they didn’t have it nearly as bad. Peter thought about MJ and how she’d stayed home for a month when she presented as Alpha during Sophomore year. She came back to school angry and tense, refusing to speak to anyone until her friends had reassured her that they didn’t think any less of her. In fact, the classification suited her. She brushed off the compliments, but she calmed down about it over the next few months. If Peter had presented as Omega, he might have done the same. In any case, he didn’t blame her.

The summer before Junior year, Peter turned seventeen. He woke up that morning in early August and felt… nothing. He almost cried as he lay awake on his bed, staring at his ceiling. But he never did.

May had been concerned, insisting she take him to see someone and bathing the apartment in the scent of a stressed out Omega, but he’d brushed her off. Assuring her that it was fine, and knowing full well that May simply didn’t have the income to accommodate a trip to the doctor, he went on with his life. But there was always that nagging thought at the back of his mind.

If he thought that no one would notice, he’d been sadly mistaken.

“Well, well, well,” Flash jeered at him from across the school cafeteria on the first day of school. “Penis Parker. How’d summer treat you? What’d you present as? Oh, wait.”

Peter flinched at that, ducking his head and focusing on the carton of chocolate milk next to his tray. He noticed the anger coming through in MJ’s scent, a warning for anyone around to back off and leave them alone. That only made him sink lower. He didn’t need her to protect him.

“So not only is Penis Parker a loser,” Flash said far too loudly, so much so that he had the attention of almost everyone in the small cafeteria. “But he’s natureless, too? I never would have guessed. Actually, it suits you, Parker. Just more proof that you’re below the rest of us. Not even an Omega.”

“Fuck off, Flash,” MJ snarled from the other side of the table.

“Oh yeah, get your Alpha bitch to protect you.”

MJ moved to stand, but Ned’s hand on her arm held her back. She glanced at him and caught the look he was giving her, bristling as she settled back into her seat. She stabbed a fork into her apple and held it up lazily.

“He’s not worth it,” she muttered. Ned nodded across from her.

As Flash walked out of the room, he glanced over his shoulder, throwing back a final insult.

“What a pathetic excuse for a pack.”

As he glanced around at his friends, all grumbling into their food about what an asshole Flash was, he realized that no, it wasn’t a pathetic pack. It was the best family he could ever ask for.

Across the table from him, Abraham and Betty, a Beta and Omega respectively, sat quietly next to Ned, cautiously looking at Peter with sorrowful eyes. Betty offered him a small smile, which he returned unenthusiastically. She poked at her mac and cheese with a plastic fork, her appetite gone from the outburst. Pushing it weakly toward Abraham, the boy took the extra food with a large grin.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Ned said. His brows were furrowed and his cheeks were red from the anger he felt, though he did a decent job of hiding it. “He’s just another knothead jerk.”

As a Beta, Ned was probably the most level headed of their small pack. MJ was the Alpha, but no one kept her in check the way he did. Though he was still the giddy, comic and Star Wars obsessed boy that Peter knew in his childhood, since his presentation he’d been able to keep calm when it was the most critical. He’d presented around the same time as MJ, and they found comfort in each other when struggling to fit into their new classifications.

And Peter was only slightly jealous.

From beside him, a quiet voice chirped up, having been silent during the whole ordeal.

“Yeah,” Y/N said. Peter turned to her and almost melted at the soft smile on her lips. “I know we say this every time but that only means there’s some logic behind it.”

“Oh, definitely,” MJ agreed from the other side of the Omega, a mouthful of apple muffling her words. “But if it comes to it, I will rip off his knot.”

“I don’t think we have to go that far,” Betty interjected with a nervous laugh.

MJ shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

Peter felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over at Y/N. That same smile was still playing on her lips. He felt his heart tug longingly toward her, and he had to look away before he started blushing like a fool.

“Thanks, guys,” he muttered.

“We always have your back,” Y/N said.

He wished she wouldn’t do that.

It wasn’t even that big of a deal but almost everything she did made him fall more and more helplessly in love with her, if that was what he could call it. He didn’t even know what he felt for her; he just knew it was strong and it was persistent and it would bring him to his knees if she would do so much as ask. It consumed him almost entirely whenever they were together, and even when they were apart. He’d never been this infatuated with anyone before. He’d had his crushes, sure, but this was different.

The word was right there at the front of his mind, but he knew that if he even thought about it, he’d lose it.

They’d met through Betty in Sophomore year. The two girls had a U.S. History class together when she transferred to Midtown Tech in late October. He still remembered when Betty had introduced her to the group during lunch. She and Betty stood together, holding hands. She’d looked so sheepish smiling softly behind her hair. So shy. But it was normal, and it also wasn’t surprising that she was clinging to Betty so closely. A new school full of new smells and new people would make anyone anxious, but Omegas felt those emotions much more strongly than Betas or Alphas did. Seeking comfort in another Omega, Y/N opened herself up to Betty and allowed the physical closeness to calm her. And once she’d gotten accustomed to the small pack and they’d accepted her as one of their own, it was virtually unnecessary. But Peter did see them wrapped up in each other whenever one of them was stressed or anxious. It always made him smile.

Y/N was another reason that Peter feared presenting as an Omega. Though relationships between people of the same classification weren’t unheard of, they were infinitely more complicated and painful if both parties didn’t try their absolute hardest to make it work. And he didn’t want to put her through that.

He still saw her smile when he closed his eyes, her perfect lips and bright eyes, and still smelled the scent of berries and citrus breeze, so familiar he could almost taste it, when he thought about her. He felt guilty for feeling that way, knowing what his presentation would most likely turn out to be. He should have saved himself the pain if it did turn out the way he expected.

But he couldn’t help it.

She smelled like summer, and home, and—

Peter shook his head, water from his hair spitting against the walls and the door of the shower cubicle, rubbing his eyes as he tried to rid himself of the thought. He wouldn’t allow himself to think it. That much he wouldn’t do.

The ride up the elevator after he got dressed, his hair still wet and dripping slightly along the floor, was uncomfortable for Peter. He’d told F.R.I.D.A.Y. that Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner were expecting him, and the AI had instructed to get into the elevator. His stomach flipped, and this time it wasn’t from the speed of the car as it rose (which used to knock him off his feet but he’d since gotten used to). No, this time the weight that rested at the bottom of his abdomen was an all too familiar feeling of anxiety and fear. He was worried about what Dr. Banner would tell him; if he’d just confirm his fears that he was defective in some way. That would have been just about the last thing he needed.

As the elevator doors slid open, for a moment Peter thought F.R.I.D.A.Y. had taken him to the wrong place. He’d thought she was taking him to the medical lab, and what lay in front of him looked far too homey to be anything as sterilized as a lab. The centre of the room was clear, but the rest of it was full of counters and tabletops with hologram charts floating above them, and the far window to his right that stretch across the entire wall overlooked the lounge and bar where Tony hosted his infamous parties. It was warm inside, and smelled like fresh baked pastries and candles. Peter could see mugs lining the counters and tables, loose stacks of files and papers weaving between them.

The music was pounding as Peter stepped into the new environment, a heavy drum beat followed by screeching guitar riffs ringing through the room and making the vibrations in the floor run up through his feet and legs. Glancing to his right, he noticed Mr. Stark leaning against a countertop with a coffee mug in one hand and a muffin in the other, crumbs clinging to his beard. Dum-E was whirring slightly to his left, a broom in his grip and a dustpan taped to his base as he clumsily tried to sweep up the muffin crumbs that fell from Tony’s bites. He was wearing the Dunce cap again. Peter tried to suppress a smile.

To his left, past the clearing in the room, there was a small set of stairs that led into a glass-walled room. Peter recognized it as the medbay, the white bed in the centre of it looking like something out of a futuristic movie. Actually… everything before him looked like it came out of a movie.

Dr. Banner stood in the doorway of the medbay, his expression pinched and his hands on his hips over the white lab coat. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was moving, trying to say something to Tony but the other man was completely oblivious.

Tony noticed Peter approaching, and smiled around the rim of his mug, leaning down to press a button on a glass tablet sitting on the surface of the desk. The music came to an abrupt halt. Dr. Banner visibly relaxed, hanging his head.

“Thank you,” he sighed, hopping down the steps. “Finally, my head can stop pounding.”

“It wasn’t for you, Doc,” Tony smiled. He stood up from his position and walked toward Peter. He held out the muffin. “You want some? It’s blueberry. Who knew the Doc could bake, huh? Thing’s delicious. Actually, wait, what am I saying? You can’t. Sorry, kiddo.”

“Ah, Peter,” Dr. Banner said, walking across the lab to approach him. “Good to meet you.”

Peter took the hand Dr. Banner held out to him, his brows furrowing at the same time as his eyes widened, a confused expression on his face. There was way too much happening around him.

Here he was shaking hands with someone he had learned about in school. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep his cool. And now he really wanted that muffin, but was unsure why he couldn't have it.

“It’s very nice to meet you, too, Dr. Banner,” he replied.

A smile made its way onto the doctor’s face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please, just Bruce is fine.”

“O-okay.”

“Hope you haven’t eaten anything in a while,” Tony said as Dr. Ban—Bruce made his way to the other side of the lab. “Bruce’s gonna take your blood. I’ll give you a muffin after because, unfortunately, we’re fresh out of lollipops.”

“He’s not a kid, Tony,” Bruce called from where he was setting up a microscope.

Tony held his hands up in defence, the coffee almost spilling from the mug. He set it down on the nearest table and jerked his head, motioning for Peter to follow him.

“You nervous?” Tony asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Peter was still following him. They crossed the room and went up the steps, entering the medbay. Now this looked more like a lab. Everything was white and smelled like lemon scented disinfectant.

“A little,” he admitted. “But I just wanna know what’s going on.”

“As anyone would,” Bruce said as he walked in behind them. “You can go ahead and take a seat, I’ll just be a second.”

Peter sat on the white cushioned bed, a hologram screen beeping softly next to him. He felt like a kid again, waiting in the doctor’s office as his legs dangled over the side of the examination table. But this time it was different, and he knew it all too well.

Bruce stood beside him wrapping a strip of something similar to velcro just above his elbow and tightening. Peter could feel it restricting the blood flow, but also saw the veins in the soft skin of the inside of his elbow protruding.

“I’m not gonna take much,” Bruce assured him. “Just enough to run some tests. You can look away if you want.”

Peter did. Having Bruce leaning over his arm like that, he was finally close enough to be able to tell what the doctor’s classification was. Peter finally realized where the smell of freshly baked pastry was coming from as Bruce poked his arm softly trying to find the best place to draw blood from. After all, the muffins hadn’t been that fresh. The comforting scent of a Beta was all he needed to calm down enough to allow himself to breathe through his nose and distract himself from the thought of the needle millimetres away from his skin.

“Okay, you ready?”

Peter nodded, shutting his eyes.

He felt the pinch of the needle pressing into his skin and flinched, holding his breath until the pressure on his arm subsided.

“There we go,” Bruce muttered. He removed the strip around his arm and Peter immediately felt relief flood through the limb. “You can have that muffin now.”

“Catch.”

As he stood from the bed, Peter caught the blueberry muffin that was thrown his way without looking up, too preoccupied with observing the redness of his arm. A minuscule drop of blood formed on his skin and Peter watched as the tiny wound sealed up within seconds. He heard Tony start the music again, but this time at a much more acceptable volume so they could still talk. Glancing around, he saw the both men had already left the medbay and were standing next to each other in front of a glass screen suspended about one of the counters.

Peter rubbed at his elbow with his wrist, muffin still in his hand as he stepped toward them.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said. “You want a biology lesson from the Doc?”

“Sure,” Peter replied, feeling giddy that a man he’d looked up to for years was about to teach him something.

“You know how classification is determined within the body?” Bruce asked.

Peter shook his head, peeling back the paper liner from the muffin and taking a bite from the bottom. Tony was right; it was delicious.

“I didn’t exactly pay too much attention during that class,” he admitted sheepishly, voice muffled by the muffin. He left out the part where he admitted to sleeping through it because he hadn’t slept the night before because of his rounds.

“Well,” Bruce went on. He moved from the counter to the table behind it, typing something into a hologram keyboard built into the countertop and observing the monitor of the same quality above him as he spoke over his shoulder. “Everyone’s born with all three classification hormones. Even if you’re an Alpha, there’s at least a little bit of Omega and Beta hormones in there too.”

Peter hummed, chewing thoughtfully. He knew that much. That was one of the reasons it was so hard for doctors to tell someone nature before they presented.

“During puberty, one of those hormones starts getting produced more than the others,” Bruce went on. Turning back to them, Peter could see he’d prepared a microscope slide with a drop of his blood, sliding it into place on the lit stage and peering through the eyepiece. He spoke even as he was spinning through the lenses. “Like how girls produce a little bit of testosterone even though their main reproductive hormones are estrogen and progesterone. It’s the same principle. The classification hormones are also why growing pains include the reproductive organs. Your body’s changing to adjust to your new nature.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Peter muttered, picking out a blueberry and letting the sweet dried fruit sit on his tongue.

Bruce hummed to himself as the three of them stood in silence, the quiet music and the clicks of the microscope the only sounds in the room.

“I gotta say, Peter,” Bruce said, looking up at him. “This is one of the most interesting blood samples I’ve ever seen. The radioactivity alone is astounding. And I think I know what’s wrong.”

Peter felt his stomach drop again as Bruce motioned for him to follow to the largest screen in the room. He left the rest of his muffin uneaten, suddenly lacking an appetite. Bruce tapped on a glass tablet similar to the one Tony was playing his music from before the screen lit up with floating words and numbers and graphs.

“Usually this would take a really long time, but we’ve got the equipment to give us quick results,” Bruce said.

“Thanks to whom?” Tony asked mockingly as he came to stand behind Peter.

Bruce rolled his eyes and went on. “You do have the three classification hormones, there’s nothing to worry about on that front.”

Peter sighed in relief, allowing his shoulders to relax as he watched Bruce focus in on one particular bar graph.

“It’s the levels of those hormones that are throwing me off, though,” he said. “You went to the checkup when you were fourteen, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied. “They said… they said I’d be either Beta or Omega.”

“Well, they were right.”

�� He knew it was coming. He knew what Bruce was about to tell him but it didn’t stop the drying of his throat and mouth as he struggled to breathe. He swallowed thickly, looking up at Bruce and seeing the concerned expression on his face.

“From what I can tell,” he said. “You were supposed to be an Omega.”

And there it was. Out in the open for the world to see. Peter looked down at the glass on the surface of the table, feeling dejected for a reason he could not understand. He knew deep down, and for a long while, what he was supposed to be. But denial is a funny thing, when it's strong enough, that is. One particular thought nudged at the back of his mind as he took in Bruce's words, the tang of orange peel bitter on his tongue as his favourite scent enveloped him. This time, however, it was not welcome. The last thing he wanted was to think of her right now.

“How old were you when the spider bit you?”

Peter almost didn’t hear him, too entrenched in his own thoughts. The hand on his shoulder shook him from his trance. He felt Tony's fingers squeeze him softly.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“How old were you when you got your powers?” Bruce repeated.

“Uh,” Peter mumbled, trying to think back. “About fourteen.”

“So I was right,” Bruce smiled.

Peter frowned, confused once again. Bruce gave him a reassuring look and pointed to one of the bars on the graph.

“This is your Omega hormone level. And this,” he said, pointing to the bar next to it that was just about the same height. “Is your Alpha hormone level.”

“M-my what?” Peter stammered.

“Yeah,” Bruce smiled. “That little tiny one is your Beta level. I think it’s safe to say you won’t be a Beta. But I had theorized that it had something to do with your abilities and I think I may have been right.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, a scared expression on his face.

“It’s nothing bad, don’t worry,” Bruce grinned. “In fact it’s fascinating. Think about it,” he said and held his hands up, gesturing as he explained. “Your abilities, what are they? Enhanced strength, speed, agility, senses, reaction time, and ability to fight, among others. Now, what classification do those sound like they would belong to?”

“Alpha.” The word dropped from Peter’s lips as almost a whisper, and he glanced back up at the graph as he began to understand where Bruce was going with his explanation.

“Exactly. My theory is that even though you were set to present as Omega, as soon as you got bit something clicked—” he snapped, and Peter jumped slightly. “—and your body panicked. It went into overdrive, producing more and more Alpha hormone to try to accommodate your newfound powers and characteristics that are more suited for an Alpha. At this point, it’s too hard to tell what you’ll present as. It’s pretty fifty-fifty. But I have to say, you would be a rather strange Omega. Hopefully, your scale tips the other way, for Spider-Man’s sake.”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered, Tony’s hand still firm on his shoulder. "I hope so too.”

━━━━━━━━

A/N: i blame my friends for encouraging me. i know a/b/o isn’t everyone’s thing but it’s my guilty pleasure and so i had to indulge. this idea has been stewing in my head forever. don’t hate me please. my sexual preferences are showing, aren’t they? also the lab is based on the one in aou which i just watched so

part two and three are coming out tomorrow and the day after!

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