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oh-no-a-whovian · 1 year

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I posted 1,786 times in 2022

60 posts created (3%)

1,726 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@shewhohangsoutincemeteries

@capsheadquaters

@bestblob

@dana-cz

@vampyr-boyfriend

I tagged 252 of my posts in 2022

#bruno madrigal x reader - 26 posts

#bruno madrigal - 23 posts

#encanto x reader - 19 posts

#disney's encanto - 16 posts

#reader insert - 13 posts

#bruno my beloved - 11 posts

#werewolf reader - 10 posts

#we dont talk about bruno - 8 posts

#asks and replies - 8 posts

#encanto bruno - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#when forced to play footy or basketball i avoided the ball completely cause i was scared of it and i hated everyone

My Top Posts in 2022:

Two more lonely people Part 6

NSFW 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) swearing, any others let me know please.

Word count: 3598

Masterlist PT1 Next

The chirp of crickets and your mother’s snoring echoes in your ears as you lie in your plush bed, staring at the ceiling since sleep refuses to take you. The curtains wave slowly like an oceans tide as the wind flows into your room, cooling your skin and the soft blankets around you.

Your mind keeps replaying it over and over, stirring the feeling in your gut without remorse, making you wet for a man not even here. He wants you too. He was in you, holding you up as you rode him in the clear flowing water, his eyes hazy with lust and moans filling the air. You doubt it’s love but you’re fine with that. You resigned yourself to never having that a long time ago. As long as you can have his body, you don’t need his heart.

You were worried about him as you walked with him back to casita. His mind was a mess the whole walk and once you were close enough the construction area he ran off, saying he needed some time. A couple of your neighbours that were working on casita nearby had watched him race off into his tent and looked at you quizzically. You just shrugged at them and walked away, it’s none of their business.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, even though you sought him out with your eyes among the others working on the build. He clearly found a spot nowhere near you. You understand why. He was freaking out, doing every little superstition he could to try ward away misfortune. You had to watch as he freaked out about every little bad thing that could happen as a result of what happened.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to worry. You love that family like they’re your own, each one a member of your pack that you would die for, even Alma. You especially care about Dolores and Isabela, and you care what they’d think about it. But don’t you have the right to have what you want if it’s in your reach? Is it really so wrong?

Leaves rustle outside your window as the curtains billow into the room again, revealing the waning moon hiding in the clouds to your wide eyes. You thought the sound outside to be just the wind, until the movement of the curtain stops and the noise of the bushes below your window continues.

You hop out of your bed and pad silently to the window, your head tilted at the sound as you pull on a thin robe. Nobody commits crime in Encanto, they know better, especially after the fucker who killed his wife a few years ago. You were told to escort him to the mountains and make sure he climbed and left Encanto forever. Well… for a brick he flew pretty good.

You doubt it’s a criminal outside your window, probably just a curious kinkajou or… Bruno falling on his ass… you huff out a laugh at the sight of him, staring up at you with wide eyes cause you scared him as you pulled open the light fabric curtain.

“For someone who spent ten years in living in walls you’re not very stealthy.” You whisper, hiding your smirk with one hand as you offer the other out the window, helping him up and in.

“Well, uh heh there’s no bushes inside walls.” He says quietly as he stumbles through the window into your room, nearly falling onto his face.

“mmmm well you’re not wrong” you plant your hand on your hip, watching him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, though you’re sure he can’t see much in the dark. You can see him clearly though. The warmth on his cheeks, his flustered fidgeting, the silver strands in his hair catching the moon light, you can see it all. “To what do I owe this midnight visit?”

“Well, heh funny thing… I was in my cot trying to sleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about um earlier, at the river, with you. I keep going back and forth about all the reasons I know this is wrong and all the things you said, telling me that it shouldn’t matter…” as Bruno rambles you smile at him, taking his hand to guide him to your bed so he can sit. You listen to every word as you play with his curly locks of hair, watching as he finds far too many words for his thoughts. “I really don’t know what side is winning but I can’t stop thinking about it and then I think about what it actually is. Is it lust, my loneliness from being in the walls for so long or is it something more? Then it just repeats, and I don’t know what to do. So, I thought a walk might help clear my mind, but then I just ended up here…”

“Trying to put a label on it this soon huh?” you joke, regretting it immediately as you watch new insecurities flow in behind his eyes. Shit “look, Bruno.” You start. “What do you want this to be?”

“I don’t know” he mumbles. He looks so lost as he stares into your eyes through the darkness of the room.

“Then don’t try to name it yet.” You tell him, tucking a lock of his hair away from his face. You aren’t sure if you want to tell him that it can’t be more. You’re a monster, it can’t be more. This could never lead to marriage or children. No one would approve because of the ages difference, let alone no one would ever want what you have in their blood line anyway. It’s like a disease and one wrong move could spread it. like a teething child biting someone at the wrong time. Probably should have thought of that before letting him paint your insides with his seed.

“Okay” he breathes. You listen to his heart race, echoing into your ears, and watch as his hands fidget together. You can sense every little change in his body as he gets excited by your proximity. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and the tiny shifts he makes to ease the sensation in his pants. Fuck you want him so badly.

“Can I kiss you again?” you ask as his warmth beside you stirs your body to life.

“Yes! I mean yes” he says a bit too loud, toning his voice down to mask his excitement.

“you’re adorable” you huff with a massive smile, leaning into him, and pressing your lips to his. Your right hand sits high up his thigh, your thumb rubbing small circles at the inseam of his pants. He moans delightfully into your mouth as you deepen the kiss, but you pull back, shushing him by pressing your finger to his chapped lips. You’re sure your smile is practically predatory as you push him back onto the bed, swinging your leg over his to straddle him, pinning him to the plush surface with his hands above his head. “Are you able to be quiet for me?” you hum in his ear as you grind your heat against his hardening length, teasing him with the tiniest bit of friction.

He nods fervently, his mouth falling open with a silent moan as he moves his hips up to meet yours.

“good” you kiss him roughly, the hairs on his chin scratching yours, leaving little red marks in their wake. You release your grip on his hands and trail the soft pads of your fingers down his sleeve covered arms. You can tell he’s trying hard to not make a sound as he watches you slide down his body in the darkness, the moon light barely illuminating the room.

You lift his ruana and shirt away, exposing his tummy and the waist band of his pants. A thin layer of soft dark hairs trails down from his chest and disappears into his pants, tiny silver hairs present even there. Pressing your lips to his hip bones, you work on removing his pants, tugging at his belt.

Once you got him free you dive in, teasing and licking and sucking, leaving him a desperate mess for half an hour. Taking him to the brink then pulling back just a little, testing the waters. His hard cock delicious in your mouth as you lave your tongue along the length. He fucking loved every second of it, silently begging for more when you pinned his hips to the bed.

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220 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

Two more lonely people Part 5

NSFW 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) Hope yall are ready for those lemons. PinV. Wrap it up! Some self-hate. Any others let me know please.

Word count: 5030

Masterlist PT1 Next

You feel refreshed and lively as you wake in the grass near casa Madrigal, not far from Bruno’s tent. You couldn’t exactly have exactly gone home still in wolf form. You couldn’t risk being spotted, not when the gift from casita excuse won’t hold while the others don’t have theirs.

You stretch your arms above your head, arching your back so only your head and butt are touching the ground, moaning in pleasure at the stretch. The early morning birds fly above as you stare at the blue sky as the sun starts to rise. Good thing no one from town has come up to casita for another day of building yet. God knows what they would have said if they caught you napping in the grass, especially if you were still in wolf form.

It felt amazing to run again after two weeks of barely leaving your bed. The feeling of wind in your fur and dirt under your paws again was amazing. And the fact that shifting seemed to fix what was broken is a bonus, you can actually help rebuild now. You had to fight yourself though, when the urge came to just howl into the jungle.

“Not sure lying in the grass is the best idea.” Bruno’s voice rings out, drawing your attention back to the ground, making you sit up to look at him, a big smile on your lips. “Fire ants aren’t pleasant.”

“I got a face full of them a couple years ago, so I’ll have to agree with you.” You laugh, taking his offered hand to stand.

“Oh heh… how’d you manage that?”

“let’s just say running recklessly through a jungle isn’t the smartest thing.” You tell him brushing a few leaves from your hair and skirts.

“are you… feeling better?” he asks, his little chuckle at your words making you smile.

“yeah. It almost feels like nothing was broken in the first place.” You explain. “should have shifted two weeks ago.” You yawn as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

“W-why are you here so early?” he asks, squinting as he realises no one else working yet. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s even awake, most won’t wake for another hour. The only reason you are is because your body had shifted back into human form. Dios you’re glad you keep your clothes unlike in some werewolf stories, otherwise this encounter would have been awkward.

“didn’t leave.” You shrug, wandering off toward the construction, spotting the rat that seems obsessed with you, cleaning itself on some rubble. It’s not the first time you’ve slept under the stars.

“Wait you slept here?”

“couldn’t risk being spotted by anyone in town. They think it’s a part of the gift after all.” You roll your eyes, lifting the rat to put on your shoulder and turning to the man. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t fond of the rat that keeps climbing onto your head. “It was either here, or somewhere among the trees.”

“oh” he replies as he fiddles with his fingers.

You stand together in silence for a moment. Would it be weird if you asked him if wants to get breakfast together? What way would he take it? what way would you mean it?

“I was gonna go and get something for breakfast…” you start “would you… maybe like to join me?”

“Uh mmm. I think it’d be better if I just get started for the day.” He tells you, pointing to the structure with his thumbs as he starts to back away. “Y-you know, there’s still a lot of work to be done and it isn’t going to do itself.” He laughs nervously.

“ok” you try to ignore the disappointment as he rambles on about why he can’t. “Maybe I’ll bring something back.” You nod, your smile disappearing once he turns the corner.

You’re really starting to hate this pull you have toward him, especially when you think he might feel it too just to literally run away.

You breathe out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to push away the feeling welling inside. Your mind keeps telling you that you’re being too much. That he doesn’t actually want the attention you’ve been giving. You get it though, you’ve been told many times that you show affection like a dog, jumping on and cuddling your friends like you hadn’t seen them in years. Doll and Isa have been perfectly happy with adopting it, but others have simply told you to calm down.

The rat on your squeaks in your ear, watching you curiously as it sniffs at the air. “Looks like it’s just you and me huh?” you say to the rat as you start your trek home.

~~~~~~

Bruno POV

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303 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

I’d rather be yours

18+

Summary: captured and kept as an elite’s plaything for months after the fall of Master chief and the UNSC Infinity, you’re finally saved.

Pairing: Master chief x fem reader

Warnings: swears, implications of imprisonment, implications of perverted alien. Please say if there’s others!!!

Word count: 1751

Masterlist

You’re trying so hard not to look miserable, you refuse to give these fuckers the pleasure.

You watched as Master chief was thrown into the icy depths of space and declared dead to all. An elite had grabbed you from your lab aboard the Infinity and taken you away on his ship, declaring you, his pet. You wonder if Chief would have saved you if he was still alive. You definitely wouldn’t have been a pet for six months if he was, you are sure of that.

You wish he was still alive. He was powerful, a hero to humanity and you’d developed a massive crush on him over time and fuck, watching him die hurt.

The elite as he goes about his business, ensuring everything in his hidden stronghold is up to par as you sit on the plush surface he’d placed for you, watching his move closely. You don’t remember his name, though you don’t really care to. you’re pretty sure it’s written on the damn collar around your neck so he can settle with that. He’s never gonna hear you say it.

The bastard is definitely a pervert though, going by the barely there outfit he decided to keep you in, reminiscent of an outfit from an old earth movie. You hate being what’s basically a whore for his eyes only, but what else could you do?

He rarely leaves you alone, too concerned that you’ll try something to escape. At least you think that’s why. He refuses to speak any English even though you know he knows it. You’ve told him many times that you are a scientist and not a soldier, but he doesn’t care, instead treating you like a big cat in captivity, nice to look at but best not to let it out of your sight or it’ll tear you apart.

After the first two months of being stuck in the stronghold, kept on a tight lease, you stopped fighting. You’d fought every day and fuck you were tired by that point. You’d bitten him, shouted at him until your throat was sore and all you gained from it was an electric shock. You had to try something else. Gain his trust until you could free yourself. No one else was gonna save you.

Alarms start blaring through the speakers and the alien looks up, glaring at the screens to spot the cause. Last time you’d heard the alarms, some soldiers were trying to take the outpost and were brutally slain.

“Lock down the strong hold! We cannot let them gain this location!” he shouts over the comms before rising to his feet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to your cage. Shouting things in his own language you could only dream of understanding. “stay” he growls at you.

“Like I have a choice.” You say as the lock clicks shut.

You try desperately to get a glimpse of what he’d spotted on the screen. Hoping someone has finally come to save you. You’d honestly started thinking there were no more humans left on the ring. Too many reports of captured troops and bases making your heart sink. You really thought that everyone was dead and that you were the last.

You huff and sit down on your cot, unable to see anything on the screens from your cage, resigning yourself to waiting. You’d try asking who has come to kick their asses, but you know your ‘owner’ would never answer. No one has full conversations with their pet after all.

You lie down on the uncomfortable surface, staring at the ceiling as you listen to the explosions outside the facility and the screams of distress from grunts over the radio. They’re getting what they deserve, each one of those bastard aliens out there. You just hope whoever it is will find their way in here and give that bastard elite what’s coming to him.

Each minute of gunfire drones on painfully slow but eventually it all goes silent. The screams, the explosions, the gunfire, even the sound of machinery seems to die out. The silence is almost painful, making your ears ring as you wait in hope.

Please save me. Please save me. Please save me!

A massive explosion rocks the building and the door to the room flies through the air past you with a grinding screech, as sparks shoot out from the force. The elite jumps from his chair, shouting what you’re sure is foul language as he raises his gun toward the smoke.

“Show yourself demon” he demands, stepping toward the smoke, ready to fire. You glance between the smoke and the alien with a furrowed brow, your hands now gripping the bars of your cage as you watch with bated breath.

You’ve only ever heard Chief referred to as demon. As far as you’ve heard he’s the only one they did. Is it too much to hope he survived the destruction of the infinity?

A noise echoes through the hallway as a sliver cord zips through the air, latching onto the alien’s chest. Before your eyes the armor you were so hoping to see appears from the smoke, his fist smashing into the elite’s jaws. They stagger together and the sound of plasma rounds fills the air, leaving burn marks upon the walls and narrowly missing your cage. the last six months will be for nothing if this encounter kills you first!

You don’t say a word as they fight, not wanting to distract your savior and be the cause of his death. The elite gets the upper hand though, as his four fingered fist collides with Chief’s green helmet, knocking him to the ground. Instead of taking advantage of his downed state, the alien races to your cage, ripping open the door and pulling you into his arms. Bastard must have realized there’s no way to kill the Master Chief. After all you just realized that too.

He holds you to his chest with one arm as he aims a plasma pistol to your head with the other. He drags you toward the exit, keeping you between him and the spartan as the man pulls himself to his feet.

You see the moment Chief finally realizes you’re there, his whole body freezing as his eyes lock on you, held tight in the grasp of your ‘owner’.

“you’re going to let us go demon.” The alien holding you demands, pressing the pistol to your head hard, making you hiss. “don’t move, or she’s dead.” He growls. You ribs hurt at the force the alien holds you and you try desperately to find a way to get free, clear the path for Chief to annihilate the fucker.

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333 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

Two more lonely people Part 4

NSFW 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) tiny bit of smut but nothing graphic. Any others let me know please.

Word count: 3252

Masterlist PT1 Next

Breathy moans and whispered praise, the way he begs shooting butterflies throughout your stomach. His curly salt and pepper hair spread out through the grass like a halo. The feeling of his hands gripping your hips tight as you slowly ride him, the feeling of him filling you, driving you wild. Ecstasy at its finest.

Evening air cools your skin and the tall waving grass tickles your legs, sending shivers up your spine and covering your skin in goose bumps. The feeling of him beneath you, moving inside you, keeps you warm to the core. You whisper dirty words in his ear and he moans your name in return, desperate to touch every part of you. So close. So very close.

A knocking startles you awake making you hiss in pain at the jolting movement. The sun shines bright through the blinds, a lot higher than when you usually wake up. It’s been a week since everything happened and most of the town is at the Madrigal’s casita, rebuilding what was destroyed, making the markets a lot quieter than usual, just light murmurs when normally there’s shouting and bartering all around.

“You better not be moving! I’ll get it!” your mother calls out to you, making you pause in your movements with a huff. The first few times that someone knocked on the door you had tried to get up and answer it, much to the annoyance of your mother. You’re not used to sitting for so long, usually helping in one way or another. And most of the visitors were for you anyway so you don’t see why you couldn’t just answer the door. Dolores, Isabela, Mirabel and Camilo, all visiting you multiple times with flowers or treats, anything they felt might help you heal and be back by their sides. Dolores even had your favourites made and Camilo tagged along to pretend he had helped. “Bruno! I heard you’d returned… what are you doing here?” you hear your mother say in a curious tone, your face flushing red at the mention of his name.

“I umm… I hadn’t had a chance to visit…” he says. “She uh saved my life and I w-wanted to thank her. Oh! I brought flowers!” you smile as you picture his face, holding the flowers out like they’re the most amazing things and that’s the reason your mother should let him in.

That man has been plaguing your dreams for the past week, a mixture of the moment you’d saved him and your minds own fantasies. Making you weak and desperate only to wake with moisture between your legs, unsatisfied. You’ve been wishing he would visit, secretly wanting to know he’s ok, though you’re not sure what to do now that he has. Especially since you just woke up from one of those dreams.

“[Y/N], sweetie, are you awake?” your mother asks knocking on your door.

“Yeah mama” you call out, coughing and swearing from the strain, wrapping your arm around your torso. You look up as your door creaks open, revealing your mother and Bruno with a bouquet in his hands, his eyes wide and shy. “Hey!” you smile wide at the sight of him and try to sit up, growling when they both race to stop you, concern plastered on their faces as you wince in pain.

“You don’t need to sit up on my account” Bruno tells you with a shy smile, staring down at the flowers he brought as he takes a step back.

“I’ll be out here” your mother announces, leaving you and Bruno alone in your room.

“Are those for me?” you tilt your head, looking at the bouquet in his hands.

“Oh! Ye-yes! I didn’t know what type you liked so I asked Isabela and she said that you prefer ones with not much pollen and that she’d have made some up if she had her gift, but she doesn’t so she couldn’t. so, I went to one of the artists in town and they made these ones out of silk and scented them with an oil, and I hope you like them!” he rambles, gesturing wildly as his thoughts run wild. You try not to smile to widely at the flustered man, but as he continues to hold the flowers instead of giving them to you, you can’t help the curve of your lips. He’s adorable.

“Can I have them?” you huff with a smirk.

“Oh yes! sorry” he flushes, handing them to you and backing up to a respectable distance again.

“they’re beautiful. Thank you.” You tell him, sniffing the oils upon the cloth petals, all your favourite scents soaked into the stunning arrangement. “You can sit if you’d like.” You offer, tapping the space beside you on the bed. He fiddles with ruana as he glances between the space you offered and the direction your mother had gone. “Come on” you tap again, watching as his resolve to keep the distance crumbles.

Trying not to jostle you, he sits gently beside you, knocking on the wood of your bed frame beside his leg and holding his breath for a moment. he’s trying to be such a gentle man, keeping a respectable distance from you, sitting by your knee instead of by your hip where you wanted him to.

“I’m happy to see you didn’t go back into hiding.” You tell him, nudging him with your knee and immediately regretting it as your ribs shift. Fuck it sucks that they all lost their gifts, just when you could use Julieta’s.

“Can’t hide in the walls when there’s no walls.” He shrugs, watching your face with concern as you breathe away the pain. “I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t of landed on you, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” he sighs, planting his face shamefully in his hands, pulling on his own hair in stress.

“Hey!” you sit up, ignoring his panicked look as you take his hands in your own. “Those chunks of building would have fallen that way no matter what. If I wasn’t there, then a lot worse could have happened to you, ok? I’m a lot more ok with being injured over you being dead.” You admit. You’d be devastated if any of them had been lost in the ruins of their home. “Besides, I quite like all the attention I’ve been getting.” Your smirk switching to a grimace as you scoot back to lean against the headboard. Breathe in and out, the pain will fade, just have to breathe. “All my favourite food and a tonne of gifts brought straight to my door; I’m living the life right now.” You joke as you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to lighten his mood, though the guilt doesn’t leave his face.

“Still… I cannot help but feel it is my fault. I am bad luck after all.” He admits, looking down at his hands in yours.

“Come here I want to tell you something.” You say, curling your finger to make him come closer. “Little more.” He moves even closer, his green eyes wide and unsure but also curious. Gently you place your finger under his chin like you had in his hidden room, pressing a little with your thumb holding him in place. “don’t you ever think that. You are not bad luck no matter how much you’ve been told so.” You demand, firm on your views, smiling at the blush that spread across his cheeks. Making a decision that you hope you won’t regret, you lean in, pressing your lips to his cheek, far closer to his lips that you probably should have.

His face flushes red as you release him and he backs up, stuttering gibberish and knocking on the wood of the bed once more. You can’t help but feel dejected as he unceremoniously says bye before practically running out of the house.

Is what you’ve been feeling really wrong? Are you just really that far off of your understanding? You’re not exactly inexperienced when it comes to men. A few one-night stands that you didn’t let get any further than that. But perhaps you were right… his reaction was just from being alone for so long. He doesn’t want you too, it was just in your dreams.

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342 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Two more lonely people Part 3

Lemon 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) thinking nsfw later on, idk yet but imma tag it as such. Any others let me know please. Because of the recent ios bs I will be using the old citrus system.

Word count: 4219

Masterlist PT1 Next

Herbs and spices waft through the air around the casita as you approach, the strong scents making you sneeze a few times as you adjust. Every damn time! Dolores tries to hide her amusement at your predicament, covering her mouth as she stifles a laugh.

“Laugh it up Doll.” You say as you rub at your nose furiously. “You’ve had to hear half the babies being made in this town. We both have downsides to our ‘abilities’”

“Yeah, yeah.” she rolls her eyes. “Try not to get caught. I’ll see if anyone needs help.” Your friend tells you as she wanders off toward the kitchen.

Breathing deeply, you make your way up to the painting that you’re sure hides the way to Bruno. You make sure no one will see you as you enter the wall, listening and looking out for any sign of movement in your direction. You’re not willing to be the reason he’s revealed to his family before he’s ready.

Gently you pull at the side of the painting, surprised at how it swings open so easily. The hole behind it is dark and barely looks big enough to even allow a person in but you can see a floor in the narrow space so you squeeze in. Dust floats through the air and spider webs hang above you as your eyes adjust to the dim light of the narrow corridor inside the wall.

You take your first steps hesitantly, noticing the bare boards and cracks in the walls and floor, threatening to break at any time. A musky smell floats through the air as you make your way through the path in the wall, the scent overpowering the smell of food that floats through the cracks from just the other side of the boards. Pipes and wires run through the space and loose nails stick out at precarious angles, more than one trying to tear at your skirt or impale your hand. It almost seems like a maze as you make your way through, curving in different directions.

The house looks normal and stable in any one of the rooms, so why does this space look so damaged? Doesn’t the magic maintain it? Shouldn’t it be perfect inside and out? Does this have something to do with the cracks that Mirabel said nearly tore the house down after Antonio’s gift ceremony? You feel uneasy as you run your fingers along a crack, your brow furrowed at the attempts to fix it, each part filled with spackle. Should you tell someone?

You stagger to a halt at the edge of a massive pit, so dark it seems almost bottomless and filled with an eery mist. God knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been paying attention to each and every step you took. You sniff at the air, checking if you should go down or try to make your way across the pit, the scent of the man you’re seeking floating across the gap, locked into the wooden beams from years of him passing through, telling you exactly how he crosses each time.

You breathe deep as you back up, hoping that you don’t lose anything in the basket when you make the jump across the gap. With three big leaps you cross the pit, stumbling as you land but steadying yourself, so you don’t fall and lose everything.

Eventually you come across a makeshift door, ropes holding the board in place so it can swing open and shut. Tiny squeaks sound out on the other side of the board, silencing when you knock upon the old wood. You can hear shuffling in the room, but you can tell he’s not approaching the door. Probably hiding instead or thinking that if he’s quiet whoever has found the door will think the room empty.

“Bruno” you call out as you push the door open a little. “it’s me.”

You cast your eyes across the room as the door swings open. Many eyes are locked on you, including a pair of green ones, their owner holding onto the armchair as he hides behind it.

“hi” you smile as you slowly step fully into the room, holding the basket in front of your legs. “Quite the place you’ve made for yourself here”

“Hmm yeah, it’s uh a fixer upper” Bruno says, pretending that he wasn’t hiding by leaning nonchalantly over the back of the chair. “Which you should probably…” he gestures to the door, his hand falling as one of the rats climbs onto your head again. Probably realised it’s not gonna be that easy. You smile.

“I brought you something” you tell him before he tries to kick you out, holding the basket up for him. “it’s not much, some food, a few shirts, a nice blanket I saw in the markets, and a glass bottle of water.”

“Why?” he asks with furrowed brows as he slowly approaches, glancing at the weaved basket in your hands. He flinches as he takes the basket from you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Why not?” you counter.

You watch him as he hesitantly carries the basket to his chair, placing it down and glancing back at you as he looks through it. You’re surprised that he didn’t try to reject your gifts, telling you it isn’t necessary and that you should just leave. Going by how people have spoken about him over the years he probably doesn’t want to add rude to the list.

As you look around Bruno’s space you notice something on the table by the wall. Just a little spot of colour on the plain wooden surface and as you approach it to get a better look your heart breaks. A little design like the plates the Madrigals use, with his name on is drawn crudely onto the table in chalk. Your fingers hover over it, not touching as you admire it. Your heart hurts at the sight of it and shatters when you notice the crack in the wall looking over the dining table of casita. He just wants to be with his family. He must feel so incredibly alone.

You hear his heart race a little and you turn to see him staring at you, one of the shirts you got him clasped in his hands. His eyes look so tired and sad, large dark circles making them look sunken. He probably hasn’t seen the sun in ages and god knows if he’s getting enough food. Is it wrong to want to just hug him right now?

“I uh hope you like the stuff… I brought some food, and that bag of oats and dried berries is for your rats, though I notice you have a lot more than the four from last night.” You ramble, lifting the rat from your head, sighing as it holds onto your hair, pulling as you remove it. “I should probably get going… someone probably noticed me arrive and they might start questioning where I’ve gone.” You smile, handing him the rat and moving toward the door.

As you open the door to leave, he takes your hand in his, a small smile on his lips. “Umm thanks… for… thanks” he says shyly, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand without thinking. You glance down at his hand holding yours with a tilt of your head and parted lips. Your heart races at the feeling and you don’t want to pull away from him. “Oh! S-so-sorry!” he gasps, pulling his hand from yours when he realises that he was holding onto you too long. Rubbing his hand on the back of his head as he looks away from you, casting his eyes to the ground.

Gently though, you place your finger under his chin, making him look up at you as you smile at him. “It’s ok. I’ll see about coming back in a couple days with some more hmmm? If you don’t mind the company?” you see his eyes darken and notice as his whole body seems to react to the touch, is lips parting as his heart race. You hadn’t thought that he would react like that, and the realisation goes straight to the space between your legs, though you’re not sure why. “I should get going” you tell him, dropping your hand from his chin. Part of you wants to keep it there, to feel the scratch of the stubble on his chin.

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377 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

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moongoddessmox · 2 years

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What's Your Name? Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: 18+, smut, brief mentions of Hydra torture, angst?

Word Count: 4,000

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Black!Reader

Summary: The Winter Soldier may not remember his name, but he can't help but protect you from Hydra. Now that you're on the run with him, you can't deny the feelings that grow.

A/N: This sat for way too long being unfinished, smh. But here we are! I decided to say the reader is black because I am black, and I struggle with envisioning myself in reader inserts even without any description. I'm trying to unlearn a lot of shit from being underrepresented, and while I don't describe anything about the reader, I want y'all to know this is a black person and that all my stories are black people. Even if I don't say it. (That will be changing) As always, it is crossposted on mox-writes for notification purposes! Please reblog and comment! <3

Masterlist | Mox-Writes

You almost tripped into the motel room as the tall, bulky man with you practically tossed you inside. Fumbling toward the bed, you got your bearings by sitting on the mattress with a bounce. You watched his every move. He stood straight; he was emotionless and quiet as he shut the door and locked it, eyeing the surroundings from the window to make sure you weren't followed.

You weren't sure why he saved you, and honestly, neither was he. But when he brought you to the Hydra base and they started testing on you like they'd done with him, something ignited in him and he broke you out, killing anyone in his path. He hadn't said a word to you, only glared as if to see if you were okay–or it could've been with hatred, you couldn't tell.

That was seven days ago. You had been traveling with him to God knows where, tossed into rooms and being watched while you slept. There was one moment where he softened up, and strictly because he was injured. Hydra had found you two days in and had shot him square in the gut. After he managed to get you to safety, he attempted to patch up his wound himself but was doing a pretty lax job of it. You offered to help after seeing how haphazard his patchwork was, and after he gave you a steely glare of death, had actually allowed you to stitch it.

He still never spoke, just loomed and watched. And admittedly, you watched him too. He was a gorgeous man, his long dark hair and blue eyes were mesmerizing; the way he’d tuck loose strands behind his ear only for it to fall forward again with a glimmer of annoyance in his eye. He'd grown more scruff on your journey and you found it almost irresistible. Almost because he was the man that got you into this whole dangerous situation to begin with. However, you couldn't help but have growing feelings for him after he repeatedly saved you and brought you food. And it wasn’t like he was mean, though any little act of kindness was enough for you, your bar for men was practically in hell.

You didn't even know his name, only that Hydra called him Soldier, or rather, Soldat. You'd ask him, trying to engage him in some type of conversation, but he never budged. He never said a word, not even an affirming glint in his eye as you tried to guess his name. Paul? Jack? John? Demitri? Xavier? You tried the most to least common names you could think of, every day a new set of names would pop into your head and you'd try again. It was like talking to a brick wall. You'd flick through the channels of the crappy motel TV and ask, "is it Chuck? No, you don't look like a Chuck, maybe Dean? Sam? Nothing? Maybe you don't have a name, maybe you were born and they just called you Boy Number 11," you'd shrug and change the channel again.

As he took off his gun from around his body, he slid down the wall into his usual sitting position. He faced the door, gun in his lap and eyes trained on you. You sighed, knowing the routine all too well. You'd take a nap while he kept watch and would be woken up in four hours to be on the move again, in silence.

"Ya know, you could at least say good night, it's only polite," you shrugged, folding back the blanket and inspecting it for any stains or bugs. You didn't look at him, you knew he wasn't going to respond but you talked anyway.

“Don’t you get tired? I mean, you look exhausted, no offense,” you glanced at him, seeing his eyes shift from the door to you for a second then back to their previous spot. “Right, so you should at least take a nap. There’s plenty of space on the bed, I don’t mind sharing. Hell, I’ll even take the floor.” He didn’t move, not risking another look at you again.

Something about you made him feel different, like a memory that he couldn’t quite recall. It bothered him. He was trained to kill, to complete the mission, and report back to Hydra. But when he saw you in that chair being shocked, a strange feeling came over him, it was like he wasn’t who he thought he was but he just couldn’t remember anything other than what he was told. The longer you were together, the more he felt like that like there was something missing, some piece to a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. You were humanizing him and he didn’t realize he needed it.

You kicked off your shoes and took off your jacket, laying it on the smoke-stained chair that was pushed in against a table. You looked down at yourself, your clothes were dirty and bloody, covered in mud, dust, and god-knows-what. You were desperate for a shower and a clean set of clothes, but seeing as you were on the run, you didn’t exactly have a change of clothes to get into. Alas, you decided that this mysterious soldier would just have to put up with your attempt at getting clean, even if that meant staying in the motel for a few hours longer than usual.

“Look, I need to bathe and I don’t want to put on the same dirty clothes, so I gotta at least rinse them in the tub. Which means we have to wait for them to dry, just letting you know.” You gestured with your hands, giving a small shrug and heading toward the bathroom. The soldier didn’t protest, but you heard him breathe a lengthy sigh; at least it was a reaction.

You came out of the bathroom in just a towel. You scrubbed your clothes as best you could with a little bit of hand soap, rinsing them in the tub, and hanging them to dry on the shower rod. You walked past him, still sitting on the floor with his eyes trained on the entrance. You held the towel in place so that it didn’t fall, although you weren’t totally against the idea of him seeing you in the nude, he was pretty cute.

You sat on the bed, tucking yourself under the blanket and letting the towel rest beneath you, uncovering most of your figure. Your body ached, it longed for the comfort of a soft bed, something cozy and clean, something familiar. You felt a little better after your shower, and it was enough for you to drift off to sleep, saying an unrequited goodnight to your rescuer.

Two hours later, you woke up shivering. The crisp air of winter seeped through the poorly sealed window and door of the motel. You pulled the blanket up to your chin, trying to snuggle deeper into the bed for warmth that wouldn’t arrive. You looked over at the man on the floor; he was still awake and watching the door, it didn’t appear that he had moved much. He looked cold, his cheeks and nose were flushed pink, and you swore you could see the goosebumps on his neck.

“Ya know, you’re allowed to get in the bed, you look cold and there’s plenty of space up here,” you pulled the blanket to expose the empty side of the mattress, inviting him in. He only glanced at you, not saying a word–not that you expected him to. You sighed and let your head rest against the pillow.

“Or, you could come over here and warm me up. If you’re going to drag me around the country, you could at least do that,” you shrugged, turning over to face the other wall. You tried to wrap the blanket around you, curling up into a ball and closing your eyes. Unexpectedly, the bed dipped and you felt him sit with his back against the headboard. You perked up and turned over, seeing him sit with one leg extended and the other pulled up with his foot flat against the mattress.

You didn’t say anything, just smiled and pressed your body against his extended leg. He was cold like you thought, but the embrace of another body quickly warmed the both of you up. You gently put the blanket over his leg and he tensed up, flashing his cold blue eyes to your movements and grabbing your wrist. His grip was tight, the way you’d grab an enemy to stop an attack. His face was full of alarm and confusion.

“Relax, it’s okay, I just want you to be warm too,” he hesitated, it looked as if he was processing the moment, taking in what was happening and trying to analyze it in every possible way. Finally, he relaxed just a little and let you cover him but stayed in his position, still quiet. He held his gun against his chest, the long rifle an intimidating sight above your head. You hadn’t been this close to him the entire time you were on the run–even when you were patching up his wound, he kept you at arm's length. He was large and muscular, the dark clothes he wore hugging him perfectly. His left arm was metal and you could see your reflection in the silver.

You rested your head on his hip, slinging your arm over his thigh and gripping the blanket to trap the warmth. He looked down at you getting comfortable, he didn’t know how to register the newfound closeness; something was stirring in him that he couldn’t describe. His face remained flush but this time it wasn’t because of the cold, he was blushing.

After a couple minutes, you couldn’t get the weapon out of your mind. You tried to ignore it but the looming presence kept you from getting back to sleep. You looked up at the gun, uncomfortable with a loaded weapon being in bed with you. As your eyes trailed the length of the gun to his face, you saw him glance at you.

“I know you’re being protective and everything, and I appreciate that, don’t get me wrong. But the gun is kinda scary, Mystery Man,” you pulled your eyebrows together, waiting for him to say something or move the gun away. You saw a small hint of embarrassment? In his eyes and after a moment, he placed the gun on the bedside table. The corner of your mouth twitched, holding back a smile as you nestled back into him with a “thanks”. He rested his flesh hand on the handle of the knife that sat in a holster on his thigh, ready to extract and throw it if need be.

Despite his unsettling feelings over saving you, he didn’t want to scare you. It was a strange feeling for him, normally he wouldn’t care, normally anyone who had no purpose to him would be dead, but he wanted you to be safe. Especially the longer you were together. Your guessing game of his name went unanswered because he wasn’t even sure what his name was, every one that you said didn’t feel right, although the J’s and B’s felt a little closer, but it wasn’t quite there. All he knew was that he had a strange sense to protect you.

The new warmth and absence of the gun weren’t enough for you to fall back asleep. His closeness was drawing new feelings from your body that you tried to stifle to no avail. You wondered if he felt it too; you could tell he was getting gentler with you, some would say he even cared about you. You didn’t know how long it had been, if ever, since someone treated him well–especially sexually.

The arousal that filled your body as it was pressed against his couldn’t be ignored any longer. You chanced a glance at him, seeing his eyes look heavy as he watched the door. He looked so tired, you just wanted him to relax and get some sleep. Maybe I can help him sleep, you thought to yourself, flicking your eyes to the belt of his pants. You bit your bottom lip, playing out the scenario in your head and wondering if it was a good idea. You decided to try, slowly inching your fingers closer to his inner thigh. He looked down at the movement, feeling your hand slip across his body until it was pressed between his thick legs.

His eyes were wide, suddenly wide awake and surprised by what was happening, unsure how to react. He didn’t expect you to feel that way about him and he didn’t expect himself to feel it either, all he could do was watch as you trailed your fingertips up the zipper of his pants. You could feel him twitch under your touch, his pants getting tighter as he grew beneath them. You looked up at him to see him watching intently. The room was dark, the only light came from the moon through the blinds and cast a shadow over his face. Only his eyes were lit and they were filled with a confused lust.

“Is this okay?” you asked as you fiddled with his belt, watching for any sign that you should stop. He was nervous, uncertainty running through his mind as he battled with himself over the feeling. He wanted it, yes, but he had been so deprived of any kind of love that it felt out of place for him. He didn’t speak, only clenched his jaw and softly nodded yes, deciding to take a chance on the feelings that were rising in his body. You smiled, eyes glinting with adoration and kindness, taking it slow so you didn’t make him uncomfortable. You undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and slipped your hand into his boxer briefs. He was already hard and aching for relief. He was long and thick, a veiny shaft met your eager hand and twitched under your touch.

You curled your fingers around him, the tightness of his boxers pressing you harder against his member, making it hard to stroke him properly. The tease alone almost brought him to orgasm. It had been years since he felt any pleasure, just going from war to war and never having a moment’s peace.

“Can I take them off?” you removed your hand and gently tugged on his pants, asking for permission to reveal him fully. He nodded again. You wished you could hear his voice, to hear your name roll of his tongue as he fucked you, but he remained silent. He lifted his hips from the bed as you slipped off his pants, exposing just how big he was. Your eyes widened at the sight, swallowing hard as you imagined him fucking you.

As you crawled up his legs under the blanket, it opened enough for him to see your naked body. He watched you with lustful eyes, seeing your perfect frame come up his body. You stopped when your hips were lined up with his and sat down, his cock pressed against your throbbing wetness. He parted his lips and breathed deeply, the anticipation almost killing him. You watched his face, you could see him twisting inside, waiting to feel you around him. You pressed your hands against his chest, his leather vest still hugging his body, and leaned forward until your lips were almost touching his.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. His eyes softened. No one had ever complimented him like that before, it was odd for him to hear the words. He moved his hands to your hips, the moonlight gracing your bare body like a chiaroscuro painting.

“I wish I knew your name, I want to moan it in your ear as you fill me up,” you whispered low, grazing your lips across his cheek to his ear. He furrowed his brows, pained that he couldn’t tell you, he wanted to hear it fall from your lips but he just couldn’t remember. You rolled your hips, sliding your clit across his shaft slowly, coating him in your wetness. His grip on your hips tightened, lust taking over his body and sending tingles across his skin. You moaned softly, closing your eyes and pressing your cheek against his as you lifted your hips and lined up his tip to your entrance.

“Fuck me,” a name flashed in your head, like a sign from the universe, an instinct that slipped out of your mouth in the next second, “fuck me, James.” You looked in his eyes, realization washing over them, like a flood of memories being replayed in a montage.

“Bucky.” He spoke finally. His voice was low and guttural, it immediately sent goosebumps down your spine and twisted your stomach in knots. “James Bucky Barnes.” one of his hands went to your cheek, pressing your face down to his as his lips meshed with yours. You moaned against him, newfound confidence came over him and he panted into your mouth. You pushed your hips down against his body, sliding his thick cock into your vagina, feeling him stretch you out so perfectly, so deliciously that you gasped out your next moan.

Bucky, Bucky, it was so perfect. A name that finally fit. He was overcome by his emotions of simply remembering his name, it beckoned a gentle dominance in him and he took control. Bucky’s metal hand guided your hips back and forth, rocking you gently on his cock, slipping in and out ever so slightly to get you comfortable. You moaned against his wet lips, tongues clashing together and tasting every inch of the other’s mouth.

“Oh, Bucky,” you moaned in between kisses. His chest heaved as he heard his name, the intensity of his lust growing by the second. “Your cock feels so good,” you slid one hand down his chest, holding yourself steady as you slid further from his cock then back down. Bucky groaned, the cold air chilling the wetness on his thick member before being encased in your warmth again.

Bucky’s rough hands gripped your back, pressing you tight against his chest before rolling over and pinning you to the mattress. His long hair fell around his face and curtained yours underneath him. You could barely see his eyes until you tucked the right side of his hair behind his ear, exposing his skin to the moonlight. You looked at him in awe. He truly was gorgeous, the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Your hand stayed on his face and you stroked his cheek with your thumb. Bucky looked at you for a moment, taking in your beauty. He felt warm, comfortable, and stable when he was with you. Like he was meant for more than being the winter soldier.

After a moment, he brought his lips back down to yours in a soft kiss. A gentleness he didn’t know he was capable of. Your hands moved to the back of his head, holding his hair in place as his kisses became more ravenous. He kissed and sucked on your lips, moving down your jaw to your neck. Bucky was still inside you, his cock throbbing in your wet warmth, begging to be stroked again. He began thrusting his hips, his eyes capturing yours as he slid slowly out, pounding back in with a quick and hard thrust. You gasped at the movement, it knocked the wind from your lungs each time and he groaned into your neck.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to open yourself up more, allowing him unrestrained access to fuck you deeper. Bucky sped up, wet slapping filling the cold air as he grunted through each thrust. Your moans got louder, falling on his ears like sweet music, his name trembling out from your lips between moans and curses.

“B-Bucky, you feel so good, f-fuck, you fuck me so good,” your walls were clenching as he melted into your words. The affirmations only made him hornier. His teeth pulled your skin roughly enough to leave behind marks, a symbol of his pleasure that you would wear confidently. It only took a few more thrusts for him to feel the knot in his stomach tighten, his metal hand cupping your cheek and other hand on your thigh as he gave you his last rough thrusts, spilling his warm load into your dripping pussy.

The sound he made was feral, a loud gritted grunt that turned into a little guttural battlecry. You immediately felt your own orgasm snap in your stomach, spilling out onto his veiny cock as he rode out the rest of his high. Your legs were trembling around his body, becoming too weak to stay wrapped, and eventually fell to the mattress. Bucky stayed inside you for a moment while he caught his breath, panting into your skin as he settled back down to earth. After a moment, he rolled off your body and sat on the edge of the bed. You looked at his back, waiting to see what he would do next. Would he stay in bed with you? Go back to his spot on the floor?

Bucky stood from the bed without a word, walking around it and heading to the bathroom. You furrowed your brows, was he really just going to discard you like that? Not even say a word to you? You curled up under the blanket, suppressing a sob that wanted to break out. After a second, Bucky came out with a warm, wet rag and stood beside the bed. Oh.

“Can I?” he spoke softly, motioning toward your messy thighs. You blushed, heat burning your cheeks at the thought of him cleaning you up.

“Sure, yeah,” despite having just exposed yourself to him, you couldn’t help the blush that tingled under your skin as he cleaned up the mess the two of you made, wiping gently down your thighs where your orgasm sprayed further than you thought. Once you were clean, he took the rag back to the bathroom and turned on the shower. No more than 3 minutes later, he came back out, towel around his waist, damp hair messily framing his face, and glistening chest on full display. He climbed back into bed next to you and timidly glanced over, a shyness in his eyes as he wasn’t sure if you’d want to lay on him.

You took the initiative to turn on your side and lay your arm across his body, he smelled nice. Granted, it was the cheapest motel soap imaginable, but it was better than the week-long sweat from before. You weren’t even bothered by it though, the pure lust you felt for him had taken a hold of your body and you didn’t care about his dirty vest or unbathed body.

Bucky was gentle as he wrapped his arm around your back, hugging you closer to him and letting his guard down just a bit. He still had his weapons in reach, but with you on his side, he felt a type of security he’d never felt before. You made him feel whole, special, and human.

“Uh, thanks,” he spoke softly. You looked up at him with confusion, unsure what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?” he looked down at you, blue eyes boring into yours like he found his purpose in life. He couldn’t describe the feeling that had his heart clenched tight, it was new and frightening. He wasn’t sure how to navigate it, he felt fear for the lack of control he had over it. Over love.

“For making me remember.” Your face softened, tears almost welling up in your eyes. You shoved your head back down to his chest, snuggling in deep and tightening your hold on him. You were glad he saved you from Hydra because now you saved him.

144 notes · View notes

theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

Text

After All (Part 12/?)

Pairing: Riff X OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racism, Alcohol Consumption

Summary: It was probably a bad idea, but at that moment, he didn’t care. What harm could it do? It was just one dance, after all.

Word Count: 9900 ish.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 11 /// Part 12 /// Part 13

A/N: As usual, thank you so much to everyone who has taken time out of your day to read this story and provide your feedback and support. I’ve had the idea for the events in this chapter since the beginning of the story, so I ended up re-writing things a few times in order to get them to where I thought they should be.

Please note that the dance in this chapter is not the dance depicted in WSS 2021 (aka the Dog Days Dance) . That dance is planned to occur in a later chapter. Also, don’t spike the punch, kids.

I hope you enjoy! :) And again, happy hump day. I’d insert a camel emoji if possible.

Part 12: Just the Two of Us

Roxie had anticipated Riff to find her on her way home from work later that evening, but he did not.

She entered her apartment quickly and quietly. Betty’s bedroom door was still cracked, suggesting that she hadn’t gotten back yet from her date yet.

Roxie walked into her bedroom and opened the door. Given the lateness of the hour, she had to stifle a yelp of surprise upon seeing Riff on her bed.

He was lounging on top of the sheets and leaning against the wall. In his hands was the book she’d been reading earlier in the day. At least he had taken off his dirty boots, which were beside the bed on the floor.

“Hey, you’re back,” Riff said calmly. His eyes never left the pages before him as he continued to read. “Can you believe it was the nanny all along?” he asked, referencing the plot of the book.

Roxie’s lips went into a straight line. “Is there a reason you’re in my bed, Riff?”

Riff closed the book and set it down gently beside him. He threw his legs over the side of the bed but made no move to stand up. He stretched his arms up high, making a bit of a show of it. “I don’t know… maybe I’m just tryin’ to relive old memories.”

Roxie felt her face go hot at his words and she took a step towards him.

Before she could get far, Riff stood up and held out a hand to protect himself. “Sorry, sorry. Only messin’ with ya.” Roxie watched as he put on his boots. When he finished, he stood up straight and looked at her. “I thought we could talk.”

“Why didn’t you meet me after work?”

“You said you didn’t want anyone walkin’ you home anymore,” Riff noted.

Before Roxie could formulate a response, the door to the apartment opened. She turned quickly and shut her bedroom door.

“We have to be quiet, my roommate is in,” she heard Betty say on the other side of the door.

A second voice, a man, replied, “I don’t know, are you sure you’re able to be quiet?”

Roxie grimaced and looked at Riff, who had apparently heard the conversation as well. Riff pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the window and Roxie nodded in response. He opened the window quietly and stepped aside to let her climb out first.

Once she had climbed out the window and onto the fire escape, Roxie gathered her skirt and carefully sat down on the metal landing with her back resting up against the railing.

Riff followed her and closed the window behind him. He sat down as well, but he leaned against the brick of the building instead. As he sat down, Roxie noticed him flinch slightly.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Riff said dismissively. He made an effort to make the movement of his arms coming around to support his side look as casual as possible, but he wasn’t as smooth as he thought.

“Let me see,” Roxie demanded, though she did not move from her sitting position beside him.

Riff hesitated, but when she refused to look away from him, he relented with a defeated sigh. He carefully lifted his t-shirt a few inches up along his right side.

Roxie had seen enough bruises on Riff and the other Jets to know a forming one when she saw it, and she saw several running down Riff’s side. He dropped his shirt a second later. She should have known the scratches on Riff’s face weren’t the extent of his injuries from the run in with the Sharks and the mob, especially when she considered how Baby John came out of it.

“Let me go see if I have any more frozen vegetables,” Roxie said without a second thought. She moved to stand up, but Riff lightly grabbed her wrist, much like he had earlier that evening, and stopped her in her tracks once again.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her quietly. “Let’s just enjoy the air for a bit, hm?”

Riff sighed and withdrew the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Roxie watched him carefully, still contemplating going back inside to rummage through the freezer.

Without looking at her, Riff held a cigarette out to her, effectively distracting her from her train of thought. After a moment, she took it delicately from him, and he took one out of the pack for himself.

“Ya know,” Riff said as he reached into his back pocket for his lighter, “I should start chargin’ ya for these.”

Roxie shrugged and watched as he lit both of their cigarettes. “Take it out of my paycheck,” she replied with a smirk.

“Fine, I will,” Riff said. “As soon as business picks up, you’re gettin’ a cut.”

Roxie was quiet for a moment as she took a drag. “Is that your way of apologizing?”

Riff took a drag of his own cigarette and exhaled smoke a moment later. “No.”

As Roxie waited patiently for Riff to find his next words, her eyes wandered up to the sky. The sun had been set for hours, and despite the smog and clouds, a few stars were visible in the distance. New York City wasn’t ever truly quiet, but that night, it was more quiet than usual.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Riff admitted earnestly.

Roxie looked back at Riff and she noticed that he had been looking up at the sky as well. It was a bit rare for Riff to actually admit he’d done something wrong, and even rarer for him to admit it so openly.

“Michael is… well, it doesn’t really matter what I think,” Riff continued. He finally looked away from the sky and met her eyes. “I’m really sorry ‘bout it. I know it’s not an excuse, but I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

His cool blue eyes locked with her own, telling her all she needed to know without any additional words. She wished the whole argument never happened at all, but at least he was sincere in his apology. Now she owed him hers.

“Thank you,” Roxie murmured. Louder, she said, “I’m sorry about what I said, too. You and Michael were given different lots in life. It wasn’t fair for me to compare you to him.”

Roxie knew Riff wasn’t always the most optimistic person considering the hand he’d been dealt in life. But for someone who had such a rough start and upbringing, it was still worth noting how far he had come. Several people, like Schrank, Krupke, and probably his own father would have likely expected him to have been killed by now, but Riff persisted. His own blood family was all dead or had abandoned him for one reason or another, so he found his own family in Tony and the Jets. The New York Committee for Slum Clearance was determined to uproot the neighborhood, tear down the auto shop, and rob Riff of the last physical place he had to call home, and he was making the effort and taking every chance he could to prevent that from happening.

She dared to wonder what all Riff could have accomplished by then if he had been given Michael’s opportunities instead. That wasn’t to say that Michael hadn’t made the most of his life. But what if Riff had loving parents who were still alive? What if Riff had a family with more money than they’d ever need? What if Riff had the support system in place to encourage him to finish high school and move onto something better?

It was almost a shame that fate had stuck him in the West Side.

“We good, now?” Riff asked hopefully as he exhaled smoke, oblivious to the fact that she had been lost in her own thoughts about him.

Roxie looked at him, cigarette perched between two of her fingers, and Riff looked right back at her. The longer she remained silent, the more vulnerable she felt under his gaze. She nodded slowly and Riff smiled in relief.

He took another drag. “I do have a question, though.” He looked away from her once again, seemingly focusing on something in the distance as he exhaled the smoke. “Does Michael treat you well?”

Roxie was taken aback by his question. Riff sounded sincere, but there was something else there, too. He almost sounded somber. Roxie quickly decided not to read too much into it, and instead merely gave him a nod as her response. No use in getting your hopes up.

“That’s all that matters then,” Riff said resolutely.

“Right…” Roxie trailed off. Now wasn’t the time to discuss her concerns about Michael. Not only was Riff probably not the most appropriate person to have that conversation with, but she was also nervous to say anything that would risk ruining the moment they were having. She took another drag of her cigarette to distract herself from her racing thoughts.

“You won’t hear another bad word about him from me,” Riff swore.

Roxie scoffed lightly as she exhaled smoke. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Riff shrugged and looked down, suddenly interested in his boots. “You just… you deserve someone who respects you and who can take care of you. You always have.” Riff took a drag of his own cigarette quickly, as if to prevent himself from saying anything else.

It was quiet for a few moments as Roxie mulled over his words. “That means a lot coming from you, Riff.”

“Yeah, well…” Riff scratched the back of his neck with his free hand awkwardly.

“I won’t say anything about Grazi, either,” Roxie added after a few moments of silence. “Though, she was hanging all over you…”

“Yeah, she was,” Riff laughed.

It was almost humorous recalling the situation in hindsight. Roxie could’ve been a stranger and still probably would’ve thought Grazi’s display was inappropriate under the circumstances. Riff was trying to focus on bookwork for the shop, and meanwhile Grazi was trying to stake a claim on him. Despite herself, Roxie chuckled at the thought.

“I do have one more question, though,” Riff informed her then.

“Yeah?”

“Why does he call ya Roxanne?”

Riff’s question caused Roxie to snicker. “He thinks it’s ‘more mature’.” She wasn’t sure why Michael had insisted on calling her that. He was a bit older than her, but not by more than a few years.

Riff rolled his eyes. “Please, you're nineteen, not ninety.”

Roxie laughed, and the corners of Riff’s mouth twitched, almost threatening to break into a smile at her response. “That reminds me,” she said suddenly, “Did Baby John make it home alright?”

”Yeah, he’s fine,” Riff assured her. “The cops cleared out about an hour after you left. I called and the guys showed up shortly after that.”

“Good,” Roxie replied sincerely. She flicked away some ash. “He’s so young,” she stated casually, though something deeper was on her mind.

Riff seemingly understood what she meant. “Yeah, well… we all were young once.”

“How old is he?”

“He turned fifteen earlier this year.”

“Riff!”

Riff shrugged.

Riff and Tony had been about that age when they started the Jets. But that was Riff and Tony, and Roxie knew the kid had to have been nicknamed “Baby John” for a reason. From the few interactions she had with Baby John, she could tell he didn’t have the innate anger that most of the other Jets seemingly allowed to control them. How did someone like him even get involved with the Jets, anyways?

Riff must have been reading her mind, or at the very least, her concerned expression. “Believe what ya want, but he’s actually safer with us than without,” he told her matter of factly.

Roxie said nothing in response as she thought over his words. Maybe he was right, but she wasn’t so sure. The Jets, as much as she had cared for some of them, seemed to create a whole lot of trouble for themselves. Roxie took another drag of the cigarette and flicked away more ash as she remembered something else that had been on her mind. “Speaking of that…”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking about how I said I didn't need anyone to walk me home anymore. I changed my mind about it.”

Concern began to creep into Riff’s cool disposition. “Did something happen?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “But with everything going on around here lately, it seems naive to hope nothing will ever happen.”

Roxie had wanted her independence again, but looking back on it, it had been stupid idea. What if something had happened to her in the week or since their argument? She could handle herself in most situations… but with everything that had been happening in the neighborhood lately, she’d be lying to herself if she said she wouldn’t feel safer with Riff or one of the guys walking her home.

“Rather be safe than sorry, right?” Riff asked with a small smile.

There they were- those same words he’d said countless times before about the very same topic. That had to be intentional, right? Roxie gave Riff a small nod as her eyes watched him earnestly for his reaction.

Riff sighed in a slightly dramatic fashion in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Alright, I’ll start walkin’ ya home again. And if I can’t, I’ll ask Ice, or Diesel, but-“

“-Not Action.”

“Not Action,” Riff repeated. He snickered to himself as he took another drag.

Roxie took a drag of her own cigarette and looked at him with curious eyes. “What?”

“I can’t wait for you two to finally address whatever problems ya have with each other,” Riff admitted, smiling at the thought. “It’s only been brewing for… what, several years?”

“What?” Roxie questioned in slight disbelief at his suggestion, though she was beginning to smile.

“I just hope I’m lucky enough to witness the moment the two of you go toe to toe,” Riff clarified, still smiling. “Don’t worry though, my money is on you.”

“That so?”

“With your sass? Absolutely.”

A comfortable silence fell over the pair.

Once again, Roxie looked up to the sky. Smoke from their cigarettes created a haze, but the stars were still there. As a warm summer breeze blew some hair that had fallen away from her face, she realized just how content she felt.

No more arguing. No more distractions. No Sharks. No Jets. No Grazi. No Michael.

Just the two of us.

In that moment, Roxie felt the happiest she had ever felt in a long, long time. If someone had told her months before that some day she’d be spending a nice, calm summer evening enjoying the presence of Riff, of all people, she would have laughed. But now that such an evening had occurred, she found herself hoping it wouldn’t be the last one.

“Riff?” Roxie asked quietly into the growing darkness.

Riff, who had been looking at the sky as well, looked away and rolled his head over his shoulder to look at her with a lazy smile. “Yeah, Roxie?”

“I really missed you.”

There was deeper meaning behind the words; her confession referred to more than the time that had passed since their argument. She didn’t want to elaborate on the thought any further, but felt it was important enough to let him know.

Thankfully, Riff could still read her like a book.

“I really missed you, too.”

————————————————————————————

“Are you sure you won’t go to the dance with me?”

Valentina had let Tony leave from his shift at Doc’s early once again. She’d done it a few times before, and almost always when Roxie came around. Tony highly suspected that she was giving him some slack because of who he was hanging out with. If Riff had been the one to come calling, and not Roxie, Tony would still be sweeping the floors.

Tony wanted some air, but he worried about straying too far from Doc’s. His parole officer was supposed to have a surprise visit any day. After some wandering around the neighborhood, the two finally made their way to the abandoned pier.

It was dangerous, they both knew it. Half of the pier was caved in on itself, and the other half that remained mostly intact was still littered with various crates and barrels, or boasted large holes in the wooden planks that led straight to the water below. Fragments of walls that still stood were filled sparsely with broken glass.

The danger of the abandoned pier had drawn them, Riff, and the rest of the Jets to it when they were younger. Now that Tony and Roxie were older, the danger seemed to be less apparent. Nothing bad had happened to any of them so far, though Tony could recall a time or two when Gee-Tar almost fell through one of the holes on the pier’s floor and nearly plummeted into the water.

Roxie stood by one of those very same holes. As she asked Tony her question, she looked down into the ocean below as if mesmerized.

“Did they teach you to swim at that fancy school of yours?” Tony asked her. Roxie looked up to him with a confused look on her face. “If not, I’d suggest takin’ a step back. If you fall in, I’m not jumpin’ in after ya.”

Roxie frowned but did as her friend asked. “Come on, Tony,” she said pleadingly as she took a step around the hole and towards him. “It’ll be fun.”

Roxie had mentioned it, and Tony had seen the flyers around the neighborhood for the “Midsummer’s Dance”. He had plenty of fun at dances before- Grazi was an excellent dance partner- but there were several reasons he couldn’t accept her invitation.

“I’m really sorry Roxie, but I can’t,” he said, somewhat remorsefully. “My parole officer said no goin’ out.”

“Are you sure it’s not because of Riff?”

After they had first met to catch up, Roxie knew that Tony was planning to visit Riff. The next time he saw her, she pestered him with all sorts of questions about how it went. Tony told her the truth, despite the disappointment on her face as he recounted what happened. Of course she was upset; she probably wanted the three of them to be friends, together, once again. Tony wanted that too. Riff would have to come around eventually. In the meantime, Tony knew he had to do what he needed to for himself.

“We aren’t exactly on speakin’ terms right now,” Tony acknowledged.

Roxie sighed. “Riff needs you, Tony.”

“Why does it matter to you so much?”

Tony also knew that Riff and Roxie had reconnected. She told him they were just friends, but he hadn’t missed the way Roxie’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of his old friend’s name. If he didn’t know any better, he almost would’ve thought she had feelings for him.

“You are my friends,” Roxie insisted. “And while you two are bickering, I feel like I’m stuck in the middle.

Tony could sympathize with her, if only a little bit. When Riff had broken up with her, Tony felt like he was stuck in the middle too. But no one else was going to put him and his best interest first except for himself. “We’re not bickering,” Tony corrected her politely but firmly. “I’m tryin’ to turn my life around Roxie. I can’t go runnin’ around with the Jets no more.”

“I know, I know,” Roxie agreed, then sighed tiredly.

“I’m sorry I can’t take you to the dance,” Tony repeated, going back to the original subject. “What about that fella you’ve been seein’?”

“I don’t think he likes dancing.”

“Well, you ought to ask him anyways. He’d be stupid to say no to a chance to have a girl like you on his arm for an evenin’.”

Roxie remained silent.

Tony could tell something was up with her from a mile away. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I like him,” she answered quietly.

“Come on, why not?” Tony asked, truly baffled. “Have you even given him a chance?”

From what Roxie had told him, the guy seemed to have it easy. He had a fancy job at that university and made his own money, but even if he didn’t, his parents were flooded with cash. Roxie talked about him highly, and if he had ever treated her poorly, she never mentioned it.

Tony didn’t pretend to understand girls’ thought processes, but with everything he did know, he couldn’t understand why Roxie wouldn’t be swooning over the guy.

… Unless there was already someone else.

“You should give him one last chance, Roxie,” Tony advised seriously. “Maybe the guy will surprise ya.”

Tony watched as Roxie contemplated his suggestion. Hopefully she’d listen to him and give the guy another chance. Maybe he’d win her over, and that would be that.

The alternative was the increasingly likely but also worrying possibility that Riff and Roxie were already in way over their heads.

————————————————————————————

After they had talked things out, Roxie’s visits to the shop resumed. The scratches on Riff's face and the bruises on his side healed, and soon the only thing that remained of that one evening were the memories that lingered in his mind.

Riff was happy enough to have Roxie around again, but a small part of him was made even happier when he realized that Michael had been coming around far less. He figured Roxie was still seeing him- she never mentioned otherwise- but his absence made it easier for Riff to keep his promise. How could Riff talk bad about the guy when he could pretend he simply did not exist? And when Roxie did mention Michael on the odd occasion, any uncomfortable feelings Riff felt quickly disappeared when he forced himself to remember that Michael had to be good for her.

The next few weeks passed at an almost alarming rate. Soon enough, and before anyone knew it, it was the middle of summer.

The heat of the season was nearing its peak. Almost all possible efforts were made, but unfortunately, the auto shop had become somewhat of a hellish environment. Despite the heat, Roxie was diligent about visiting the shop whenever she could. Her efforts were paying off too.

Riff was really starting to pick up everything she showed him with the books. Soon, he probably wouldn’t need her assistance at all, but he’d let her make that call. Who was he to discourage her from spending time with him?

The shop’s business was also picking up and more money was beginning to flow in. They’d already made a sizable dent in what his uncle owed in past due taxes. Riff figured that soon he’d be able to start paying Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar a more sizable chunk of change for their work.

Roxie had calculated how soon the owed taxes could be paid and showed the results to Riff as he leaned up against the workbench on the shop floor. Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar had gone to get a Coke from Doc’s, leaving the two of them alone in the shop.

Riff smiled as he looked over her notes. When he was done, he handed the paper back to her. “Next week, I want ya to see how much of a cut you can take without setting the loan payments back.”

Roxie rolled her eyes. “That really isn’t necessary. We had a deal, remember?”

Riff remembered, but still. “I already told ya, I don’t do charity.”

“Fine,” she huffed jokingly, playfully snatching the notes from his hand. “But it will have to wait until next week, with the dance this weekend and all.”

Right, the dance. Riff was still taking Graziella. She had seemed a bit off the past few weeks, but he tried not to worry about it too much. If something was wrong, she’d tell him at some point. Graziella was not one to cave under pressure and talk about what she was thinking until she was good and ready.

“So, you’re goin’ to the dance?” Riff asked with a smile.

“Of course,” Roxie replied easily. She didn’t look at him as she placed her notes on the workbench behind him. “Velma would drag me along even if I didn’t want to.”

Riff wanted to smack himself for even asking, but before he could help it, he added, “Is Michael taking you?”

Riff could’ve sworn he heard Roxie half-sigh, but whatever it was was muffled by the sound of a car whooshing by outside. “Yes,” she replied, facing him once more. “Someone has to dance with me all night.”

“You’d only need to ask, Roxie,” Riff teased. The thought of Michael actually dancing and letting loose was very humorous. Still, for Roxie’s sake, he hoped the oaf would bite the bullet and suck it up for an evening. She deserved more than to stand by the punch bowl all night as all the other girls had fun.

Roxie eyed him suspiciously for a brief moment before snickering. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m sure Grazi will keep you more than occupied.”

Riff opened his mouth to respond, but shut it a moment later.

“You know, I asked Tony if he’d take me to the dance, but he said he couldn’t.”

Riff’s own smile fell a bit at the mention of his old pal’s name. Weeks had passed since he saw Tony and the two of them had yet to make up. Maybe Tony was waiting for him to come around, but Riff was still waiting for Tony to realize what he was walking away from.

On the other hand, Roxie had been seeing Tony frequently. She told Riff upfront about it. He hadn’t asked her though, and she had every right to talk to whoever she wanted. Riff would never hold it against her. But a small part of him couldn’t help but envy that their friendship was still intact while he was left wondering what in the hell had gotten into Tony that could’ve made turning his back on him so easy.

Riff had been in jail for a month, and as soon as he got out, the only people he wanted to see were his guys- the Jets. Tony had been in prison for a year. Why didn’t he feel the same?

“I wish you two would make up,” Roxie said pointedly.

Me too. “He’ll come ‘round,” Riff said, moreso to assure himself. He needed to change the subject, but there was only one thing that came to his mind. “Where’s Michael been lately?”

Roxie shrugged. “Busy,” she answered vaguely. “He’s taking me to lunch today though, so I’ll need to be heading out soon.”

Riff forced himself to remain neutral as he began to process the thought of seeing Michael for the first time in a few weeks. “Well, ya got a few minutes?”

“Probably. What’s on your mind?”

Riff eyed the truck that had been brought in that morning. Diesel had left the hood of it popped open. Riff took a step towards the vehicle and gestured for Roxie to follow him. “You’ve been teaching me all this stuff… how about I teach you somethin’ for a change?” he asked playfully.

————————————————————————————

Michael had a feeling he’d be walking into a furnace as soon as he entered the auto shop, but at least he’d be getting out of the bright sun.

He was going to meet Roxie and take her to lunch. She was at the auto shop with Riff. Apparently, they had worked out whatever issues they had. But everything was fine.

Everything is going to be okay.

A few weeks back, Roxie started to decline his offers to visit. Being the gentleman that he was, Michael respected her wishes. He thought Roxie just needed some space for a bit, and believed that after a while, she’d call and ask him to come visit her again.

But she didn’t. A few weeks passed and he realized he hadn’t heard from her at all.

So one weekend he convinced Carol and David to surprise her with a visit. Carol knew that Michael hadn’t been visiting Roxie, and he only imagined she told David as much. Michael insisted that she needed space following an argument she had with a friend, and that was it. They believed him.

Michael brought flowers like he usually did and the three of them took the same subway they had before. On the way over to her apartment, he saw a flier. It was for the “Midsummer’s Dance”, an event that was open to the public.

Roxie had mentioned attending dances before. Personally, Michael always thought they were a bit frivolous. They were a poor excuse for the boys to try and one up each other by convincing the prettiest girls to dance with them and for everyone to spike the punch someone so generously provided for merely a few laughs. There were more important things in life to focus on, especially at such a young age. But perhaps Roxie still had an interest in such a thing.

When the trio arrived at Roxie’s apartment, she was surprised, but welcomed them inside.

Michael nearly tripped over his words in the process but he suggested that they all go to the Midsummer’s Dance and even offered to escort her himself. Roxie had eyed Carol and David nervously, and looking back on it, he probably shouldn’t have asked her in front of them, but eventually she told him yes.

Now, he was going to take her to lunch, and the dance was just a few days away. Things were going to pick up. She had had the time she needed, and he’d take the dance as an opportunity to show her just how serious he was about her.

When Michael approached the auto shop’s open garage door, he paused at the sound of two familiar voices. Eaves-dropping wasn’t exactly proper, and it certainly wasn’t something he wanted to make a habit of, but something in him felt tempted to in the moment.

Michael peaked his head around the garage door and immediately spotted Riff and Roxie. Their backs were to him as they both looked underneath the hood of some truck. Michael could hear them perfectly fine from his vantage point.

“When would I ever need to know this?” Roxie asked Riff with a laugh.

“Hey, when you get stuck on an abandoned road in the middle of nowhere ‘cause of car trouble, you’ll thank me,” Riff assured her, waving a wrench lightly in her direction.

The two exchanged a look, and even though Michael could only see the sides of their faces, he could tell they were smiling.

Michael chose to ignore his rising suspicions. Roxie had said that they were just friends, and he had no choice but to believe her. He chose that moment to enter the garage fully.

Roxie and Riff jumped slightly, but upon seeing who it was, Roxie gave him a small smile. “You’re here,” she stated. “I just have to go grab my purse from upstairs and I’ll be right back.”

Both Michael and Riff watched as she excused herself quickly and prompted headed upstairs to the apartment above. Michael knew that Riff’s room served as his office too, but he didn’t necessarily like the fact that Roxie had left her belongings there.

“So, uh, Roxie told me you’re takin’ her to the dance,” Riff said to him once the apartment door closed shut. The other young man tinkered with something underneath the hood of the truck in front of him, not bothering to look at Michael.

“I am,” Michael replied proudly.

Riff didn’t react. Instead, he finally stood up straight and turned to face Michael. “I guess I’ll see ya there then,” he told him evenly through a smile.

“I guess you will,” Michael said, standing up straighter as well as the pair locked eyes.

The silent square up was broken by Roxie exiting the apartment upstairs and rejoining them.

“I’ll see ya on Saturday, Riff,” Roxie called to Riff with a smile as Michael attempted to guide them out of the garage.

Riff smiled back at her. “See ya, Roxie.”

————————————————————————————

Once Velma knew that Roxie was going to the dance, she had asked if Roxie wanted to come over to her apartment to get ready with her beforehand. When she found out that Michael was going to be taking Roxie, she insisted upon it. How could she pass up the chance to meet the fella and his friends that Roxie had talked highly about?

Velma and Roxie were in her bedroom. Velma was putting the finishing touches on her hair while Roxie was fidgeting with her dress. Velma could tell something was wrong with her friend, but she had avoided asking her about it, hoping that it was just nerves and that Roxie’s mood would lighten up with some time.

In the living room, her father read the newspaper from his spot on the couch as he waited for Diesel, Michael, and Roxie’s other friends to arrive. The TV loudly played some show he only ever paid half-attention to in the background, so Velma shut her bedroom door.

When she looked back at Roxie, she couldn’t help but frown out of concern. “Are you alright?”

“I feel rotten.”

Velma did a double take. “Come again?”

“I shouldn’t be going to the dance,” Roxie clarified.

“What’s wrong? Are you nervous?”

“No. I shouldn’t be going to the dance with Michael.”

Velma tilted her head as she tried to make sense of her friend’s words. “Well, then why are you?”

Roxie sat down on Velma’s bed lightly. “He asked me about it in front of David and Carol. I couldn’t turn him down in front of them. But the truth of it is, I’ve been thinking of calling things off with him for a while.”

Velma crossed the room to sit down on the bed beside her. “Why on earth didn’t you say something?”

“I should like him, but I don’t. And you were so excited to meet him… I guess I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Velma thought over what Roxie said for a few moments. She was sympathetic, but there wasn’t much to be done at that point. “Well, it’s too late now,” Velma declared. “They’re already on their way. But put your chin up- just get through the evening, and if it’s what you want, you’ll never have to see him again.”

“Really?”

“You can’t always help who you do and don’t like,” Velma reasoned, speaking from personal experience. “Besides, if you need a breather at any point tonight, just come find me and we can gossip in the bathroom for a bit. Diesel will be fine as long as there’s a snack table.”

Roxie laughed.

————————————————————————————

Roxie had not mentally prepared herself for the awkwardness that ensued as the mismatched group walked to the local high school gym for the dance.

The introductions had been made. Michael, Carol, and David were pleasant enough to Velma and her father, but when Diesel arrived, Roxie could tell exactly what they thought of him based on the looks on their faces. She wanted to call the entire thing off then and there, but Velma insisted they head out before she had the chance.

Diesel was oblivious to what had happened. On the walk over, he offered his flask of what surely was some alcoholic substance to Michael and David. Michael declined immediately, but at least David took him up on his offer. David had always been the best sport of three.

Meanwhile, Carol asked Velma how she knew Roxie. When Velma explained that they had been friends since they began school, Carol replied, “Strange… I don’t remember Roxie mentioning you.”

It was probably the truth, and even though it was because of how their friendship ended when Riff called things off, Roxie still felt guilty about it. Thankfully, Velma gave her an understanding look before telling Carol in a joking manner, “If you knew Roxie at all, you’d know she’s a private person.”

When the high school came into view, Roxie imagined the relief was visible on her face. Music could be heard from within. Diesel and Velma entered the doors first, followed by Carol and David. Roxie braced herself and forced herself to give Michael a small smile as he held his arm out to her.

The gym was decorated festively. Brightly colored streamers ran along the ceiling and balloons filled the gaps. On the left hand side was a food table and a large punch bowl. On the right hand side was the stage where a live band was playing an upbeat song. It was crowded and various people were scattered here and there wherever they could find standing room.

Roxie’s attention was immediately drawn to the middle of the gym, where the Jets and their girls danced.

Little else was visible other than the waves of blue as the guys and the girls spun around one another. Other various colors littered the outskirts of the dance floor, but it was clear who was running the show.

Diesel and Velma headed over to join the rest of the Jets hand in hand.

To her surprise, Michael extended a hand towards her and gestured his head to the dance floor. Roxie knew her feelings for Michael were not likely to change by the end of the night, but if he was offering, she’d be damned if she missed a chance to dance. She took his hand and followed him to the dance floor. Carol and David followed suit.

As Roxie danced with Michael, she spared glances at the nearby Jets and their partners.

She met Ice’s gaze a few couples away and the two exchanged nods.

At some point she saw Baby John and gave him a wave. His partner, a younger girl, watched him with a smile as he waved back.

Roxie made the mistake of accidentally bumping into Action’s dancing partner, who she did not know or recognize. Action must have been in a good mood though, since he said nothing and merely twirled the girl a few feet away.

Roxie couldn’t help but continue to look around the nearby dancers until she saw them.

There was Graziella. She looked gorgeous, though that was nothing new; she’d always been one of the best dressed when it came to dances. Her bright blond hair was curled. The teal dress she wore was fashionable and her matching shoes allowed her to spin with graceful ease.

Then there was Riff. Riff had never been one to care much about physical appearances, but when it came to dances he had always dressed the nines. His hair was styled neatly and purposefully. He wore one of the very few nice jackets he owned, one of the ones he wore exclusively for dances. Roxie recognized it immediately, although the jacket fit him considerably better than the last time she’d seen him in it. Suave was the word that came to mind as he danced with Grazi.

Song after song played, and before long an hour or so had passed.

“Mind if I take a break?” Michael asked her as another song concluded.

Roxie nodded and followed him away from the dance floor. David and Carol remained for the next song. They were one of the few non-Jet couples to claim space on the dance floor.

“I’ll be right back,” Michael said to her once they had broken away.

Roxie watched as he slipped away from the crowd and entered the hallway, presumably heading to the bathroom.

Left alone for the first time in the evening, Roxie took a quick look around. Other than the Jets, there were only a few faces she thought she may have recognized from high school. Either way, Velma had been right. Those in attendance were mostly teenagers and young adults. However, there were a few official-looking people who seemed a bit older and a singular police officer that roamed around.

Roxie waited around a few minutes but when Michael had yet to return to the restroom, she headed for the snack table instead. As she approached, she spotted Snowboy lingering suspiciously near the punch bowl. She slowed her steps so as not to alarm him. Snowboy looked both ways to ensure that no one was looking before withdrawing a flask from his pocket, opening it, and quickly dumping its contents in the bowl.

Unable to help herself, Roxie closed the distance between herself and the table and cleared her throat. Snowboy flinched and quickly shoved the flask inside his jacket. When he saw who had spotted him, he visibly relaxed.

“Ms. Roxie, fine evenin’ we’re havin’, aint it?” he asked casually.

Roxie smirked. “Where’s Gussie?” She’d been looking to catch up with her, and Natalie, preferably without Graziella’s presence making her nervous.

“Touchin’ up her hair,” Snowboy replied.

Roxie eyed the punch and picked up a cup from the nearby stack on the table. “Do you mind?”

Snowboy glanced at her, the punch, and then the cup. When he realized what she meant, he smiled mischievously. He grabbed the ladle, took the cup from her hand, and began to fill it with the combination of punch and whatever he had added to it. “You’re still fun, ya know that?” Snowboy teased as he handed the cup back to her.

Roxie laughed once before taking a drink. Maybe a little alcohol would make the rest of the evening a bit more tolerable.

A sudden whoosh of air signaled the arrival of Diesel and Velma, who had apparently been dancing vigorously. Velma was laughing as she smoothed over her hair and Diesel nearly seemed out of breath.

“Everything alright?” Velma asked Roxie knowingly once she realized it was her.

Recalling her friend’s offer from earlier in the evening, Roxie nodded. “Even better, now,” she said purposefully as she lifted her cup in Velma’s direction.

Velma and Diesel looked at Snowboy, who still had the ladle in hand and was smirking at them. Once Diesel pieced it together, he grinned and grabbed two cups for Snowboy to fill.

————————————————————————————

“I’m gonna go powder my nose,” Graziella told Riff as another song came to a close.

Riff, slightly out of breath from the lively dancing, nodded. “I think I’m gonna go grab some punch. I’ll meet ya over there.”

Riff weaved in and out of the Jets as he attempted to make his way off the dance floor. Eventually, Krupke crossed his line of sight. The man was standing on the outskirts of the dance floor watching the dance-goers with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he wished to be anywhere else.

Upon seeing Riff, he nodded curtly. “Riff.”

“Sergeant Krupke,” Riff greeted jovially. “Where’s Schrank at? He stick you on chaperonin’ duty?” Riff hadn’t failed to notice the surprising lack of police presence. Normally the dances were crawling with officers eager to catch the underage kids drinking alcohol. But Krupke seemed to be the only one around.

Krupke sighed. “Someone’s gotta make sure you Jets don’t start nothin’.”

“Ya best take it easy then,” Riff suggested. He held his hands out widely for emphasis. “In case ya didn’t notice, seems this dance is Shark-free. I thought Puerto Ricans loved dancin’, but maybe not so much.”

Krupke grumbled something inaudible.

“Well, have a good rest of your evenin’, officer,” Riff said, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed.

“Stay outta trouble!” Krupke called warningly after him.

When Riff arrived at snack table, he immediately spitted Snowboy, Diesel, Velma, and Roxie.

He thought he had caught a glimpse or two of her earlier in the evening, but he hadn’t been sure. Now he was.

The navy blue dress Roxie wore contrasted pleasantly with her light eyes. Blue was an interesting color of choice, given the Jets’ association with it, but Riff was well aware that that had always been her favorite color. The simple, silver necklace he knew once belonged to her mother adorned her neck. Roxie smiled as she laughed along with the others and drank her punch.

When Riff approached the group, Snowboy spotted him first. “Glass of punch, boss?”

Riff didn’t have to have seen Snowboy do it to know he had spiked it. He shook his head and turned to Roxie.

Roxie glanced at him quickly before taking another sip of her punch.

“I thought the whole point of that fella of yours escortin’ you tonight was so that you weren’t stuck on the sidelines,” Riff told her.

“He’ll be back,” Roxie replied off-handedly.

Riff felt the curious eyes of Snowboy, Diesel, and Velma on them, but he paid them no mind. “How long has he been gone?”

“Long enough, I suppose,” Roxie replied neutrally.

Music filled the air once more as the band began another upbeat song. It was almost a shame the two of them, stranded without their respective partners, would have to sit it out.

An idea struck him.

Riff held a hand out to Roxie. “How ‘bout a dance?”

Roxie looked at him with wide eyes as if she was expecting a punchline. When he said nothing, she asked, “Are you serious?”

“Come on, just one dance,” Riff pleaded, not dropping his hand. “For old time’s sake.”

It was probably a bad idea, but at that moment, he didn’t care. What harm could it do? It was just one dance, after all.

Roxie finished the remainder of her punch and set the empty cup back on the table. Her cheeks had a red tinge, and Riff suspected that soon she’d be giggling at the drop of a hat. Roxie never had much of a tolerance for alcohol, God bless her. “Why not?”

Roxie took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The Jets who saw them coming parted like the Red Sea as Riff led the two of them to the middle.

Many eyes would be on them, but Riff mentally braced himself to deal with any consequence at a later time. Besides, who was to say he’d ever get an opportunity like this again?

“By the way, you look stunnin’ tonight,” Riff complimented sincerely as he placed a light hand in a respectable position on her waist and took her other hand in his.

“You don’t clean up so bad yourself,” Roxie whispered with a wide grin as she placed her free hand on his shoulder.

It’d probably been close to two years since the two had danced together, but for Riff, it felt as familiar as tying his shoes.

Though the beat was energetic, the two kept up with one another just fine. Riff had no trouble reading her mind, and Roxie had no trouble reading his. Spinning, twirling, gliding- every move was effortless. The tiredness Riff had begun to feel from the dancing earlier in the evening seemed to disappear and his desire for a drink was long forgotten. Everyone else faded in the background as the two focused on one another, only looking away when the move called for it.

For a single song, Riff lost himself in the music. For a single dance, Riff forgot when it was. It could’ve been two years ago; in the midst of it all, he wouldn’t have known.

In that moment, there was nothing but them. No New York Committee for Slum Clearance. No Sharks. No Jets. No gangsters who wanted their heads.

Just the two of us.

Time seemed to stand still.

————————————————————————————

The scene Graziella saw when she returned from the bathroom was not one she had been expecting.

There they were- Riff and Roxie, in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by almost all of the other Jets and their girls.

It wasn’t the fact that they were having one dance. Grazi could understand that. What concerned her most was the way the two looked at each other. Their smiles showed not just on their faces, but in their eyes, too.

Roxie’s reaction a few weeks back when Graziella had been hanging all over Riff more than solidified her thoughts on the matter.

Whether she knew it or not, Roxie had feelings for Riff.

Grazi hadn’t known then where Riff’s head was at, though she had her suspicions. But as Grazi watched the two spin about one another before her very eyes, and as she watched the way Riff looked at Roxie, she realized that she had her answer.

Whether he knew it or not, Riff had feelings for Roxie, too.

It was with a sinking feeling that Grazi realized that despite all of her efforts, it was too late. She wanted to protect Riff, and she still would if she could, but the matter was soon to be out of her hands entirely. The two would either figure their feelings out or have another fall out. And Graziella would have to stand by, watch, and deal with the consequences. Again.

At least Grazi had the remainder of the evening. One last night before shit could really start to hit the fan. Grazi could only hope that for her sake, for the Jets’ sake, and, most importantly, for Riff’s sake, that whatever was going to happen between Roxie and Riff wasn’t a mistake.

Someone cleared their throat from beside her. Graziella glanced up and saw it was the man Roxie had been dancing with. Riff had mentioned his name before.

“You must be Michael,” she greeted.

Michael nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Graziella,” she answered with a small smile.

“You’re Riff’s girlfriend, right?”

Graziella chuckled once. “‘Girlfriend’ is perhaps too strong of a word, but we are good friends.”

Whether Michael had picked up what she suggested, Grazi was unsure. He looked out onto the dance floor and watched Riff and Roxie with an odd look in his eye.

“How long have you and Roxie been seein’ each other?” she asked conversationally.

“Just a few months,” Michael responded dryly, still focused on Riff and Roxie in the distance.

“That’s good. I’ve known her for a few years.”

Michael finally looked away from the dance floor and down towards her. “Did you know her when she and Riff were seeing each other?”

Grazi hesitated. Was that something Roxie had told him? “Sure… but that was way, way back in the day,” she answered carefully.

“They seem to be close, still,” Michael continued.

Grazi shifted on her feet a bit nervously, which was not commonplace for her at all. Something about this guy was off, she could feel it. “You can’t hold that against her,” Grazi insisted cautiously. “They grew up in this neighborhood together. They’ll always have a soft spot for each other because of it. But I don’t think she even realizes it.”

Much to her relief, the song ended, and Riff and Roxie slowly took a step back from each other and turned to leave the dance floor.

————————————————————————————

Roxie’s face hurt from smiling.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the gym was overheated, or maybe it was just the excitement of the dance. Regardless, she was lightheaded in the most pleasant way. When the song concluded, and her dance with Riff was over, she felt disappointed.

She removed her hand from his shoulder and the two simply looked at one another. Their free hands stayed intertwined for another moment before finally falling down to their respective sides.

“Thanks for the dance,” Roxie said, still smiling, still looking into his eyes.

“Anytime,” Riff answered without missing a beat.

Reality began to set in as another song began.

Reluctantly, Roxie turned to leave the dancefloor, and Riff followed suit. It wasn’t but a moment later that she spotted Michael.

He was talking to Graziella.

Roxie bit the inside of her cheek and did her best not to feel nervous as she approached the pair with Riff on her heels. She had nothing to feel guilty about, right? It was just one dance.

A fun, freeing, memory-inducing dance that she found herself wishing for more of, but one dance, nonetheless.

Graziella smiled at the pair when they approached. “How about we grab that punch now, yeah?” she suggested to Riff.

“Sure, girly girl,” Riff replied. He took one last glance at Roxie. “I’ll see ya around.”

“See you,” Roxie bid as she watched the two of them walk away and head over to the snack table hand in hand.

“I think we should head out,” Michael said then.

Roxie frowned and turned to him. “We’ve only been here for a little bit.”

“I’ve got a longer way to go home than you.”

It was the truth, but Michael had never brought up his commute against her before. Something was off. “Fine,” Roxie reluctantly agreed. “Where are Carol and David?”

“They already left.”

“What? I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“I’m sure you’ll see them again,” Michael dismissed quickly. “Let’s go.”

Michael wrapped his hand around Roxie’s wrist and began to lead her away. Not wanting to cause a scene, and despite her pride, she kept up with him. As they headed toward the exit, she looked around the gym. She wasn’t sure who she was looking for-, but maybe Velma, so that she’d know she was leaving. Instead, the only person whose eyes she managed to catch was Riff, who had finally made it over to the snack table with Graziella.

As soon as they made it outside and were far enough down the street that they wouldn’t be overheard, Roxie yanked her wrist free from Michael’s grip. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed.

Michael looked down at her with a blank look on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Riff used to see each other?”

Oh. That.

Well, it explained Michael’s odd behavior, but Roxie still had a mind to slap him for almost literally yanking her out of the gym.

How did he even figure it out? She hadn’t told him that she and Riff never dated, but she also didn’t tell him about it outright. But if he had made more than just small talk with Graziella… maybe she told him intentionally. Maybe it just slipped out. Maybe he pieced it together on his own.

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Roxie replied carefully. “It was a long time ago and he is seeing someone else now.”

“So I’ve been told,” Michael said. He chuckled dryly and shook his head.

“Why does it matter to you? I told you Riff and I were friends, and we are.”

“Lying by omission is still lying, isn’t it?”

Roxie probably should have brought up the relationship she used to have with Riff to Michael at some point. And if she had been serious about Michael, she would have. But her mind was made up; she didn’t have feelings for him, and she was just trying to make it through the evening. Why was he so upset? She’d told him she needed space weeks ago, and they had barely seen each other since.

“Tell me,” Michael said then, “If you had to choose between RIff or me, would I even stand a chance?”

Roxie hesitated. She knew the answer with absolute certainty, but if she told Michael, she worried it would just make him angrier.

“I knew it,” Michael sighed. She braced himself for an angry outburst from him, but none came. “You know, for a while there I actually thought I could see myself marrying you some day.”

Marrying me? From Roxie’s perspective, their relationship was never that serious, but perhaps Michael had a different point of view.

“I should have known it was a risk, dating a girl from this neighborhood,” Michael continued. “But you seemed so different when I met you. You were so driven. Now you’re complacent staying here and seem to be perfectly alright with throwing your life away.”

Roxie scoffed at what Michael was insinuating and she felt herself growing more irritated by the minute. “I’m sorry I don’t have parents to pay for my education. Some of us have to work just to survive, and if we want to actually make something of ourselves, we have to work even harder.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “And being friends with Riff and his gang of delinquents will help you better yourself? I may not live in this neighborhood, but I’ve been around enough to learn a few things. The Jets are nothing but trouble.”

Roxie glared at him as she allowed the anger bubbling inside begin to take over. People like him, people who had everything handed to them in life, they didn’t understand people like her. And unless they had ever been in their shoes, they never would. Michael had no room to judge what Riff and the other Jets had to do in order to survive. Michael had no room to judge what Roxie had done and was willing to do to survive herself.

Maybe some girls were willing to marry someone from a higher class in order to try and take a short cut to secure a better life for themselves, but what sacrifices did they make by doing so?

Roxie had no intention of ever finding out.

She didn’t need Michael, or any man to come save her. The West Side was far from the greatest neighborhood in the world, and especially was not the greatest neighborhood in New York City, but it was her home. If she was going to leave the neighborhood some day, it would be by her own will, or not at all.

“This conversation is going nowhere,” Roxie told Michael through slightly gritted teeth. “You should leave.”

“You don’t want me to walk you home?” Michael asked.

Roxie fought the urge to laugh bitterly. “I’ll figure it out. I’m a smart woman, with or without you.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Fine. I’ll make up an excuse to tell David and Carol.”

“You do that,” Roxie quipped, already expecting not to hear from either of them again. Though she would miss David’s jokes, she could live without Carol’s critiques.

Michael turned away from her and began walking down the sidewalk. “You and Riff can have each other,” he called over his shoulder. “I hope, if only for your sake, that he doesn’t get himself killed before you wake up and come to your senses.”

Roxie watched Michael walk further and further away until he disappeared into the night. When he was no longer visible, she was still angry.

She could turn around, go back to the dance, and pretend that nothing had happened. But eventually, someone, probably Velma, would notice Michael’s lack of presence and ask her what happened. She knew she wouldn’t feel like explaining the situation, at least not for a while.

Instead, Roxie headed home alone.

As she walked, making a point to stick to well-lit sidewalks and be as quiet as possible to listen for anyone who may be following, her thoughts drifted to what had occurred earlier that night. Not even half an hour had passed since that dance with Riff. For how truly happy she felt afterwards, Michael had gone and destroyed that feeling in about five minutes.

Something Michael said echoed in her mind.

You and Riff can have each other.

If only it were that simple.

A/N: Thank you for reading! :) Please feel free to interact or provide feedback. If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment, message me, or otherwise let me know.

Taglist: @whisperofsong @disguisedbassethound @lingerasthesmokeoncedid @westsidelegendary @sallymakesstuff

Part 13

Masterlist

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dilfdarling · 2 years

Text

Curiosity

[Dr. Curt Connors x Fem!Reader]

Summary: Searching for Multiverse Men leaves you in a more than awkward position. But, you are not complaining.

Warnings: Monster Fucker Tendencies, Reader can't stop thinking with her Coochie. Set in NWH Verse, so it contains spoilers!! BEWARE OF SPOILERS IF YOU AREN'T WANTING TO SEE ANY AND YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THE MOVIE YET ❤

Word Count: 1.3k+

Author's Note: There will be a smutty part two if there is interest in that! Let me know what y'all think about this! I've never written for Dr. Connors before, but... i love him now....

You were wandering places you really shouldn’t have been, looking for trouble you really should not be inserting yourself into.

You were humming as you hoped from rooftop to rooftop. It was dark out and you were absolutely miserable searching for any clue of anything going on. You needed to be able to alert MJ if anything was going wrong.

You crouched when you saw some men at the entrance of an alley, most definitely drunk. You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes, wondering if they had noticed you or if they were yelling at thin air.

“Hey!” Most definitely yelling at you.

“Bitch! I’m talking to you!”

You let out a low growl. You turned away, knowing you had better things you needed to be doing, and before you could launch yourself onto the next rooftop, something slammed into your head, knocking you off the roof and into the alley.

“Fucking cunt!” One of the men stumbled towards you.

“How the fuck did your drunk ass hit me?” You were seething.

Blood was dripping down your forehead now. Warmth covered your eyebrows, and traveled down the bridge of your nose. You were seeing red, metaphorically and literally. You sat up too quick, way too quick, vision blurring.

You were snatched up and your throat was grabbed. You were too confused to be doing anything other than dangle there, a deer in headlights.

“Aw, your friend Spider-Man not here to save you?”

“I- I don’t… Need him!” You began to flail. Violently.

You were a full grown adult, Peter was a teenager, you could handle yourself. Even if you weren’t too great at it yet.

One of the men screamed, causing the other one to let you go. You groaned and rolled over to your back, eyes shut, trying to process what was going on.

“Did I just-”

“No.” You were grabbed again, but this time by your waist, and it was definitely not by a hand, “It was me.”

You were pressed against the brick wall, once more, and your eyes shot open. A giant, scaly hand was holding your wrists above your head, and the other was right beside your neck, claws digging into the brick wall.

Your eyes shot down to your waist, noticing a giant tail wrapped tightly around it.

“Dr. Connors?”

“An astute observation, dear.” He gave you a wicked grin, his scales seemingly pulling at the sides of his mouth. “Now, don’t tell me you were out looking for us without any backup?”

You wanted to headbutt him, he was only a few inches away from you, but something in you really liked the way his claws were scraping against your wrists. You swallowed hard, unable to answer. Curt laughed, a low grumble emitting from his chest.

“Lizard got your tongue?”

Your eyes shot to the entrance of the alley, and you, momentarily, thought about bringing up a portal and leaving. You had a feeling Curt would not let that happen. You would have to get out of his grasp long enough to do that.

“No way out, girl,” Curt grew closer, his nostrils right at your neck, “Besides, I have a feeling you do not want to leave.”

His tongue ran up your cheek and towards your forehead. Some of the blood, your blood, covered his tongue. Your hands tensed, you wanted to bring them to your mouth, muffle the moan that was about to rise from your chest. But, he didn’t let that happen. You were stuck moaning, your eyes shut tight as his tongue left your warm, exposed skin.

“Please,” Your voice was just below a whisper, embarrassment taking over, “I won’t tell anyone I saw you, just let me go.”

Your cheeks were burning, teeth ripping through your bottom lip, and eyes reluctantly focused on Curt.

“Okay.” His hands dropped to his sides, his tail dropping you, causing you to hit the ground. Hard.

“What?” You were shocked. Too shocked to run away.

“You have five seconds,” He looked at you like he knew something you did not.

He began counting and you were frozen. He was counting, almost, slowly. You were unsure if time was slowing or if he was showing mercy.

For the first two seconds you weren't processing anything. Then you realized you needed to run.

“3,” He cocked his head at your frozen form. “2-”

You took off in a dead sprint. Unsure what had come over yourself earlier, you were running like a caged animal set free. Not too sure of where you were going, but you most definitely needed out.

You froze, and brought your arm up to make a portal, but you didn’t. You thought about all the places you could go. But, suddenly, you thought about getting railed by some Mad Scientist Lizard Man and that seemed hotter than every other outcome.

“1.”

You turned your head around once you heard footsteps and did not even have time to turn your body. Curt was coming towards you, on all fours. A train off the fucking tracks, and his body quickly slammed into yours.

His claws were digging into your skin and hurried towards the back of the alley, you in tow. You were pressed against the brick once more and realized you were back at square one.

This time, though, you did not want to leave. You did not want him to let you go.

His grip on you was tighter than before, and his nails were becoming more dangerous.

“Oh, I do not think you understand what you’re getting into.”

“No,” You shook your head at him, “But, I’m curious.”

“Curiosity killed-”

“I know, curiosity killed the cat. But-” Your throat was closing, nervousness beginning to take a physical form, “Satisfaction brought it back.”

“And, if you are not satisfied?”

“Guess I’ll just be dead.”

Curt let out a low growl. His chest rumbled. You were unable to tell if he wanted to launch you across the alley, or if he wanted to strip you right then and there. Maybe both. But you hoped it was only the latter.

Your phone began to ring and your wrists were dropped. You were still being held against the wall by his tail, but you did not complain.

“Go ahead,” Curt dipped his head towards you. “Answer it.”

You were stuck again, a deer in headlights. Your eyes wide from fear and curiosity, hands trembling, chest raising up and down rapidly as you tried to steady your breathing.

He nodded towards your pocket and you did as you were told. You picked up the phone and saw it was MJ. You answered the phone with a shaky voice.

“Are you alright?” MJ was quick to ask.

“Yeah,” You lied.

“We can’t get a hold of Peter-”

Curt dipped his head by the ear your phone was up to, listening in carefully.

“Do we need to press the button?”

Before Dr. Connors could say a damn thing to you, or signal for you to say no. You answered her.

“No, not yet. Wait for Peter’s que.”

“But you’re the adult!” Ned yelled.

MJ shushed him, “Okay… Be careful, please.”

She hung up and you were left in a tight grip, facing Curt Connors all by your sexually-frustrated self.

“I could kill you.” You whispered to him, “I could just end it right now-”

“But you don’t want to.”

Every muscle in your body tensed.

“Whether it’s because of your spider friend, or your own feelings,” He inhaled again, giving you another signal he knew how aroused you were. “You do not want to murder me.”

Your hands were held above your head once more and your wrists were red from his claws grazing them.

“As if I would let you anyway.”

You decided to not be prey beneath him anymore. Your gaze turned from fearful and wide eyed to confident and narrowed. You came to a conclusion, just as he had.

He didn’t want you dead either.

#spiderman no way home #spiderman #curt connors #spiderman imagine #curtis connors #curt connors imagine #curtis connors imagine #aaaaa this was too fun to write!!!#i love writing villains so much #ones that will not kill me #but dick me down instead :)

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mox-writes · 2 years

Text

What's Your Name? Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: 18+, smut, brief mentions of Hydra torture, angst?

Word Count: 4,000

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Black!Reader

Summary: The Winter Soldier may not remember his name, but he can't help but protect you from Hydra. Now that you're on the run with him, you can't deny the feelings that grow.

“Can I?” he spoke softly, motioning toward your messy thighs. You blushed, heat burning your cheeks at the thought of him cleaning you up.

“Uh, thanks,” he spoke softly. You looked up at him with confusion, unsure what he could possibly be thanking you for.

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iridescentxstars · 4 years

Text

fill me up — park chanyeol

➳ published: 07.12.19 ➳ hybrid!au || teacher!au || genre: smut || rated: m ➳ pairing: park chanyeol x reader ➳ summary: You don’t know why your heat hit early but you do know that one man is the reason for it - and he’s going to be the one to fix it. ➳ word count: <1k ➳ warnings: breeding kink, semi public sex, dirty talk ➳ author’s note: this is revenge against @yeoldontknow and @fairyyeols

It hit you like a tonne of bricks, you weren’t even aware that you were meant to be on heat yet but there’s something in the air that has your body reacting so intensely that it causes you to go into heat early. Lifting your nose, you sniff around for the source of the problem but you don’t have a chance to identify it because you are grab from behind and pulled into a classroom. You’re about to fight the attacker, teeth bared and ready to bite but then you smell his scent and your body goes weak with need.

“I’m sorry,” his breath comes out in a pant, his hands fumbling with the lock on the door before he turns back towards you, “I’m so fucken sorry but your scent is driving me insane.” You see his soft white feline ears amongst his cotton candy pink hair before you have to brace yourself against the wall, moaning weakly which causes the other hybrid to reach for you.

You can’t help bury your head into his neck, sniffing and beginning to kiss along the sweet tasting skin while his large hands roam over your back, “you’re the new substitute teacher,” he hums, nodding his head as he cups your cheeks and brings your lips to his. “You’re a hybrid, too?”

Groaning at how you keep talking while he’s trying to relieve this pressure that’s building inside him, your arousal is driving him insane and all you are doing is trying to talk. “Yes, yes,” he urgently pushes you against the closest desk and encourages you to sit on it, “please, can we talk about this afterwards.” You almost giggle at how desperate he sounds, though you are quite in a situation yourself, it seems that Chanyeol is struggling to contain himself.

This sparks an idea.

Slowing your movements, Chanyeol whines because he could have been fucking you but here you are, taking your time despite the lunch break being over in twenty minutes and this classroom potentially being filled with students afterwards. “I want you to fill me up,” you begin to speak in a sultry tone, hands moving down his torso before playing along the band of his jeans, “I want to be filled with you all through this final hour of the day, then when the days over, I want you to fuck me in every single classroom – filling me with so much cum that my pussy leaks with it.” Chanyeol shakes at the thought of you walking out of the school with his cum dripping down your thighs, how you’d sit in your car afterwards and play with it as you fuck yourself to the thought of him but the best part about it is that his animal side thinks purely about how sexy it would be to fill you with a small hybrid of his own.

Hybrids rarely mate for life, the women fall into heat and is mated by whatever male hybrid is nearby but Chanyeol caused your heat, his scent alone made your body react and yours sung to him like a sweet siren song. He doesn’t care whether he’s known you for barely a day, that’s his human side’s problem, all he knows is that he wants to take you up on whatever offer you give him and fuck you until you can’t walk anymore.

Pushing your skirt up, he moves your panties to the side and inserts two long fingers into your welcoming pussy. “Keep talking like that and I won’t let you walk tomorrow,” he growls, watching you brace yourself and closing your eyes at the feel of Chanyeol’s scissoring fingers inside you, “you want to be filled with me, I’ll make sure you’re filled by only me and that no one could possibly make you feel as good as I do.”

You moan, enjoying the way he sounds and the way his fingers feel inside you. You hear him playing with his jeans, pushing the fabric down enough with one hand to release his cock and you clench around his digits at the thought of him finally easing this burning arousal with a good, hard fuck.

“Please,” you whine, looking at him while Chanyeol prepares himself, “make me yours, fill me up and make sure I can’t walk tomorrow.” He pulls his fingers out but you aren’t given time to feel the loss because he’s already pushing into you and filling you to the brink with his thick girth, “please do whatever you want to me but first,” you wrap your legs around his waist and try to keep the banging of the desks to a minimum as he sets a fast pace, “finish what you started.”

Little did you know, as Chanyeol grips your waist tightly and pounds into your aching pussy, that this was only the beginning.

#exowritersnet #chanyeol smut #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol scenarios #pcy scenarios #exo smut #kpop scenarios #exo scenario #iridescentxstars ©#group ; exo #scenario ; chanyeol #g ; smut #au ; hybrid #au ; teacher #hybrid ; chanyeol

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ddaengyoonmin · 5 years

Text

Chapter one

Genre: DystopianFuture!au; Prison!au; historical and mythological characters; based on the Fate/ anime series. Fluff, Angst, Smut (it’s gonna be real smutty in some chapters 😳) Action and fighting will be a definite theme.

Pairing: poly!Ot7xreader -there will be some three(maybe even more)some smut in future chapter

Warnings: Mentions of killing and murder; swearing; explicit talk of sex and being horny;

A/N: While there are going to be a lot of famous historical and mythological characters in this series, I am not sticking 100% to factual backstories from history or stories that they come from. So when that all comes in please don’t be in my asks saying “but that never happened to *insert famous figure*!!” It’s just going to be lightly based on them if that makes sense... 💜

I’d recommend reading the prologue in my master list before starting chapter one

Word Count: 5.6k

Their home was small, definitely too small for seven people to be all in one house. Two bedrooms and a small kitchen, living room area, two bathrooms to share between them and a garage to keep the car that each household was issued. Yoongi often missed his life outside of Red Brick. Especially on days where he was woken up by Jin’s snoring from the bunk above him.

He shared his room with Jin, Namjoon and Hoseok, his three younger companions Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung shared the other room.

It seemed Yoongi was the first one in his room awake, the bright light of the start of a new day was trickling in through the tiny window in the middle of the wall. Yoongi pulled himself up from the bed, sitting up groggily and letting out a deep sigh. He stood and peered out, observing the small neighborhood that had been his home for the past 3 years. He’d now adjusted to life here, it was simple. There were 5 different neighborhoods of prisoners, many houses packed with too many people the same as his. It could be worse, he’d heard in the past that prisons were just small cells and you wouldn’t be allowed to do most of the things they were still able to here. Like driving their own car, or even making their own food wouldn’t have been allowed. He can’t imagine how suffocating that would’ve been.

But then again, those prisons didn’t have the Escape War.

Growing up he’d seen it televised, it was gruesome and sickening in his opinion. He’d never participated in the bets or buying subscriptions to watch the season. One season when he was a small child he remembered being at a friend’s house who had their TV turned on to the Escape War. He had marveled at the appearance of a tall muscular man, adorned in magnificent gold jewelry and a red robe fit for royalty, he was one of the servants. His friend had informed him he was a Rider Servant, the spirit of Alexander the Great. Yoongi had instantly taken a liking to the way the Alexander stood confidently and strong while he walked down the streets of Red Brick, when suddenly a large gold spear flew through the air, impaling Alexander in the chest. Yoongi froze at the sight, they had shown it all, the blood splattering and dripping down his front, and the look on Alexander’s face as he died. Then, as was custom to do, the gold spear wielding servent slaughtered the remaining members of Alexander's team, ending with the master. Right before the master was pierced through the heart with the golden spear he mouthed something out that was barely audible, it sounded like “Fuck you.”

It was a cold and ruthless game, yet the society that Yoongi had grown up in loved it. Every eight years it was the talk of the country. During the battles and even after there were action figures, posters, t-shirts featuring the servants and their masters. Fan clubs for teams existed even after the team themselves had been killed in the War. It was like they didn’t see them as real people and more like characters in a fictional television series.

They would start hyping up the battle a few months before it was set to start. Without fail, every eight years on the same week in the month of June the seven masters would be chosen. News outlets everywhere would announce the names. It would really get crazy once the servants were revealed, then the bets and deadpools started taking place. People had come up with strategies they claimed was the best way to tell whether a servant was strong enough to win or if they’d be one of the first to lose. Sometimes a servant would surprise everyone. In one famous war, before Yoongi was born, that was still talked about to this day, the team assassin class servant had won. No one had expected it, and most had actually placed them as the first to die. Mostly because the servant that had been summoned was a small child, she was the spirit of Jack the Ripper. Many had laughed and said it couldn’t possibly be true and she had no chance of victory. For one the Jack the Ripper everyone had heard about in history was assumed to be a man, and secondly how could a small child possibly be the power defending a whole team of adult men. Little did they know that the young girl Jack was one of the most merciless killers they would ever witness. That war only lasted eight days, as opposed to the average of forty days. Jack had snuck in to the rooms of the sleeping teams and servants and silently slit their throats in their sleep. The camera crews aren’t permitted in the houses of the prisoners for privacy reasons, so none of it was able to be televised. The media had gone crazy and the fans of Escape War were furious. Yet it still remained one of the most talked about seasons of Escape War ever.

The longest war took about four months, most of the teams were terrified and tried not to engage in battles with the other’s. The warden and his servant who always held the title Ruler Class Servant, had to actually try and instigate some situations where the teams would be forced to battle so as not to upset the media and the viewers.

Yoongi hated him. The warden, the one who made millions off of the deaths of the prisoners he was tasked to watch over as the one in charge of Red Brick. He would sit in the top of the tall ornate church, that doubled as his office, and watch the whole thing take place. It sat in the middle of their town, with a tower so far up that nothing big could be missed from above.

“Yoongi hyung, I think somethings wrong with the car” A whine rang out from outside of the paint chipped white wooden door to Yoongi’s shared bedroom.

Yoongi turned towards the voice had just snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What do you mean something's wrong” he groaned

The tall, heavily tattooed boy swung open the door and stomped into the room.

“It won’t start” he pouted, “I was going to go to the store and pick up our rations for breakfast but it made a weird noise and didn’t start up”

“Jungkook, for fucks sake, do you have to wake up the whole house about it?” Jin hissed from the top bunk above where Yoongi now sat.

“I’ll take a look at it Kook” Yoongi assured.

Jungkook nodded and rushed out of the room quickly.

“He’s gonna get his fucking ass beat if he keeps barging in like that for shit this early in the morning” mumbled a sleepy Namjoon who had apparently also been awakened by the youngest boy’s loud complaints.

Hoseok on the other hand was still knocked out. That boy could probably sleep through the entire Escape War, Yoongi thought, chuckling slightly to himself.

Yoongi met Jungkook outside by the car, it seemed Taehyung had also joined the younger boy in investigating the issue, he had the hood of the car opened and was staring at it blankly. Brushing his chocolate hair out of the way as it continued falling into his eyes.

“Step aside, let me check it out” Yoongi nudged Taehyung over and took a look for himself. After some observation he came to the conclusion “Looks like it might’ve blown one of the fuses and is stalling out now because of that, I think we have some spare ones back in the house.”

Yoongi had always had a passion for working on cars out in the free world, now, here in Red Brick it had become his job. When prisoners of Red Brick are admitted in they are assessed on their skills and usefulness then assigned jobs in the city in order to keep the town thriving and for the most part completely dependant on itself and the prisoners to keep it running like a normal society.

Jungkook and Taehyung worked out in the fields doing a lot of the farming work that went on in the prison. Jimin had landed a highly sought after job in the church/main office of the prison, helping with paperwork and secretarial duties. Hoseok helped run the gym and athletics area of Red Brick, it was a pretty shit gym, but the prison was required by law to have one so prisoners could get their allowed 30 minutes of exercise a day. Namjoon helped out at the library, shelving and labeling books, and Jin had a job doing electrical work on the houses and buildings in the city.

“So you can fix it?” Jungkook excitedly questioned.

“Yeah it’s pretty simple actually if we have the right fuse for it here, if not I’ll have to take our bike over to the repair shop and pick one up, I know they’ve got one there”

Taehyung threw his tattooed arms around Yoongi’s stomach in a tight embrace, “You’re the best hyung”

Yoongi pulled on Taehyung’s arms “Off me” he grunted.

Taehyung giggled and held tighter with a grin wide on his face “Uh uh.”

“You’re fucking annoying” Yoongi grumbled, finally shoving Taehyung off of him.

Jimin had just walked out of the house and made his way to the car, “Sup?” he greeted

“Yoongi’s fixing the car again, don’t hug him for it though, he’s grumpy today” Taehyung replied.

Jungkook nodded in agreement.

“Aww, what's eatin ya up hyung?” Jimin cocked an eyebrow up, biting his silver lip ring as he did, a regular habit of Jimin’s.

“Nothing” Yoongi quietly answered, pushing past the three younger men to go find the fuse.

The three boys exchanged looks of questioning between each other at the grumpier than usual attitude of their older room mate.

They stayed by the open hood of the car waiting on Yoongi to return. When he did he tried his best to ignore them, pulling the lid off of the fuse box and pulling out the fuse that he was pretty sure was the troublemaker and replacing it with another new one.

“Hyung...is that…” a shocked expression growing on Jungkook’s face as he pointed to Yoongi’s hand.

Jimin and Taehyung quickly leaned in to see what Jungkook had been motioning to.

“Holy shit...it is isn’t it?” Jimin gasped out

Yoongi recoiled his hand, taking it in his other hand and covering the mark, holding it into his stomach. “Yeah...this morning” he muttered

Taehyung gazed wide eyes at the older man, “Were you gonna say anything?”

Yoongi shrugged, shutting the hood and turning to lean against the car.

Jimin mimicked Yoongi’s shrug in a mocking manner, “That’s all you have to say?”

“This affects us all too hyung!” Taehyung shouted.

“What affects us all?” A voice rang out from the open door of the house.

“Yoongi has the masters mark Namjoon hyung” Jungkook replied, a small frown on his face and his mind racing, knowing the implications of this new tattoo that had suddenly appeared on Yoongi's hand.

Namjoon’s face fell, his hands that were pressed to his hips dropped in shock. “Oh... well fuck.”

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The day was filled with the seven of them talking about what to do now that Yoongi had been chosen for the Escape Wars.

“I say we all join in the team.” Jin suggested. The seven men were all sitting around in a circle in their small living room area. The tattered olive green couch holding the three youngest, Namjoon sat in a matching recliner chair while the rest of the boys sat on the floor.

Yoongi shook his head “I don’t want to bring you guys in to this. The chances that we all would die is pretty high and I don’t want that to be because of me”

“But the chance of us being able to walk free? Our records wiped clean? A fresh start? I’m willing to take that risk” Jimin replied seriously, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Women! I never thought I’d see a woman again for the rest of my life. I’d die for the chance to get some pussy again” Hoseok chimed in. The idea that he was literally ready to risk his life to get laid made Yoongi roll his eyes.

“I second that!” Taehyung agreed nodding his head quickly “It’s been three years since I’ve even seen a woman”

“Pigs.” Yoongi spat out at them, but he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Ah Yoongi hyung doesn't understand. He usually prefered men anyways” Jimin winked Yoongi’s way flirtatiously, biting his lip ring as he did.

Yoongi blushed slightly at Jimin's actions. “Anyways.” He started, wanting badly to change the subject “I still feel like if anything happened to any of you...I couldn’t live with myself”

“We aren’t gonna let you do this alone Yoongi. Anyways, It’s required that you pick a team of at least three others besides yourself. We’re with you Yoongi, on the outside we were all a team, and we all ended up in here together. No one ever ratted anyone else out, we always stuck together no matter what the consequences would be” Namjoon stated

“All for one and one for all!” Taehyung exclaimed thrusting a fist in the air.

“We’re gonna be on TV” Jin realized, suddenly propping himself up and putting a hand to his face, making his best handsome pose.

Yoongi sighed as the conversations between the seven got loud and carried away with excitement. He was anything but excited.

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The next day Yoongi had been ordered to go to the church to let the warden know who all would be on the team with him. Yoongi wasn't enthused to have to sign off on the deaths of his best friends, but they didn’t really give him a choice, using the guilt that Yoongi was the one who technically got them all caught by the police landing them all in this prison, and now he could have his chance of redemption by being the one who could lead them to freedom.

The church was the most beautiful building in the city, most of the other buildings were run down and falling apart. The church on the other hand was constantly kept up with, the light tan brick walls were decorated with paintings and the floor was a beautiful white marble. It even had a working elevator that could take you to any of the 10 floors if you had the right key. Which none of the prisoners had. Jimin swore that once the warden let him use the key and he got to see the town from the top floor, no one had believed him.

Yoongi filed into the room he was instructed to enter. Six other men walking in behind him. They all seated themselves in the metal folding chairs that had been brought out for them.

The other chosen masters seemed nervous as well, with the exception of one, a tall man with dyed blue hair and a cocky grin on his face.

“I would say good luck but I look forward to killing ya. This ass is walking out those red walls bitches” The blue haired man winked at the other six.

Yoongi wanted to jump over the others and punch that cocky look off of his face. The only thing that restrained him was the idea that unfortunately he would probably have a chance for some bloody revenge on this asshole. He wasn’t excited at the thought of that, but it brought him a little peace that at least one of them probably deserved it.

One of the six was an old man, he had a long white beard and his hands were shaking in his lap.

Please please please don’t let me have to fight him. Yoongi silently prayed, he was in a church so he supposed it couldn’t hurt. Yoongi had beat up his fair share of people on the outside, even killed a few when it came down to it. But, he’d always drawn the line at violence towards Women, children or the elderly. Even a hardened criminal had to have some morals.

Finally the warden walked in, he was a short man probably in his fifties with a constant stern look laid on all of his features. He had short black hair and was wearing a gray suit and tie. He stood in front of the seven masters in seated in the room and cleared his throat preparing to start his speech. Yoongi noticed the warden’s own mark on his hand, each of the other’s tattoo’s were a slightly different design and the wardens seemed to be the most simple, just a single red circle with two parallel lines going through it.

“Welcome masters of the 10th Escape War! Now that I have you all gathered I will explain some of the rules. First off, no killing guards or any prison employees that aren’t prisoners, including the camera crews. Do your best to avoid killing prisoners not entered in the war, you won’t be faulted for accidental casualties that may occur from your servant’s power. If I see you being purposefully reckless, or commanding your servant to cause mass destruction or causality to the prison population when not engaged in a battle with another team, my Ruler class servant will be commanded to step in and take your servant and your whole team out of the running. Besides that you may use any means necessary to kill another teams servant and members.”

he paused and scanned the room, making eye contact with each of the men. “You may know some of these details but I prefer everyone to be on the same page. The marks on your hand are called command seals, they can be used only three times to order your servant to do anything you want them to. Some of you may have greater need for them depending on the stubbornness of your servant, some servants may be less inclined to obey you. I advise you build up a good relationship with them so as to improve the chances they will fight for you with all of their strength and skill.”

The warden clicked open a briefcase that he had carried in with him and pulled out a sheet of paper. “You can now write down here who your teammates will be. If your team wins every name you’ve placed on this sheet of paper will be absolved of all crimes committed and will be released from this prison. Your servants will most likely appear within the next few days. The battle will start a week from today. Good luck” He finished off, his tone as dry as the entirety of his speech.

Yoongi patiently waited his turn in line behind the other masters to sign his friend’s names on the paper. Hoping and praying that they would survive, hating that to do so would mean all the men in front of him would be dead.

“Can’t wait to kill ya” the blue haired man taunted the rest of the masters, purposely bumping into Yoongi’s shoulder as he walked past the line of men after signing up his team.

Yoongi bit his lip, his fists clenched, holding himself back from retaliating. A young scrawny man directly in front of Yoongi didn’t have the same self control, he jumped out of line taking a fistful of the blue haired man’s yellow shirt “Not if I kill you first mother fucker” he jeered.

“Save it for the War” One of the guards standing in the room yelled out, hand clutching the gun on his hip in warning.

The blue haired man shrugged the other off of himself with a cocky smirk “I look forward to it”

When it was finally Yoongi's turn to sign the paper, his hand was shaking, he struggled to remain composed as he signed his friend’s names. Once completing his task he let out a long sigh, hoping that he didn’t just kill the six people he cared for most in the world by doing so.

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When Yoongi arrived home his roommates were all gathered the same way they had been before in the living room.

“So how’d it go?” Jungkook asked excitedly before Yoongi had even walked all the way in the door.

“Fine I suppose…” he answered with a small lift of his shoulders. As well as it could considering what it was, he thought.

Namjoon then spoke up, “As soon as the servant gets here we’ll have to start discussing strategy. What were the other masters like?”

Yoongi settled down in his usual spot, cross legged on the floor next to Namjoon and his favorite chair. “Um, one was pretty old, like grandpa old. One was a fuckin’ rude cocky motherfucker with blue hair, I think we should watch out for him. One was this blonde scrawny little guy but he had some fire in his belly I’d also watch out for him. The other three were pretty forgettable, uh actually I think one had some kind of gang tattoo I recognized from some of the fuckers on the outside that used to mess with our crew.”

“Damn” Jin shook his head. The rest of the group was quiet for a moment.

“Oh, they let me know on the way out that none of us have to go to work, they’ll have people covering the essential stuff but most things are going to be closed during the War” Yoongi added

“Makes sense” Jungkook nodded in understanding.

“So when does the servant get here? I can’t wait to see what kind of badass dude is gonna be tearing up these streets with us” Taehyung exclaimed his tone ecstatic. “I wonder what class we’ll get! Riders seem pretty cool, but a saber is said to be the one that’s won the most wars so that would probably be sweet”

The rest of the group nodded, “Saber for sure” Hoseok agreed.

Yoongi shrugged “I don’t really care” he mumbled. His friends were way too enthusiastic about this in his opinion, Yoongi was too filled with worry and dread of the weeks to come to discuss these things in anything less than a serious manner. “I’m just gonna go to bed” he announced.

“Aw c’mon hyung. This is fun! The Escape war was the best thing on TV, aren’t you even a little bit excited?” Jimin whined

Yoongi instantly shook his head. “No. Not at all, and I think it’s ridiculous that you are” He stood up and went to bed leaving the other boys talk without him. He was getting a headache from it all.

After Yoongi had left the six men continued discussing their memories of the previous Escape war they could remember.

“There’s been two since I was born so far. I was too young to remember the first one though I was only five” Jungkook recalled

“I can kind of remember that one! Lancer Leonidas and Rider Alexander’s battle that happened right by neighborhood two, that was some of the most epic shit ever!” Jimin added in.

“Or the war after when that Berserker Lancelot brought out that rotary cannon and just mowed down Archer Robin Hood’s team. That shit was insane! Each servant is so unique too! With all those different types of skills and powers” Taehyung said, wide eyed and hitting Jungkook on the shoulder enthusiastically as he spoke.

The older boys chucked at the excited younger members of their team.

Suddenly there was a loud crash from the direction of the garage, it sounded out like a canon and black smoke started to creep into the house from under the door.

“Holy shit” Hoseok muttered

“Yoongi hyung! Wake up get down here!” Jimin yelled out.

Yoongi had already shot out of bed at the sound and was rushing into the living room to join the rest of his roommates.

“Do you think that was…” he stuttered out at the other men.

“What else could it have been?” Namjoon replied. They all slowly stood and stepped lightly and cautiously towards the door to the garage.

“Yoongi hyung should open it, it’ll be his servant after all” said Taehyung, poking Yoongi in the shoulder.

Yoongi nodded, carefully putting his hand on the doorknob, he was shaking with fear and anticipation of what laid behind this door. What kind of terrifying person was waiting for him. Would they even want to listen to him? What was he even supposed to say?

He opened the door nervously, and there you were.

He didn’t understand the feelings that came over him, flooding every part of his body. He tensed up and was frozen to the spot.

You were laying on the floor of the garage looking like you were asleep, a beautiful white silk dress draped over your body, clinging to you erotically, flowing down past your bare feet. A golden headband was tied around your head beautifully.

You were by far the most beautiful woman Yoongi had ever laid eyes on. In that moment his mind was flooded by impure thoughts, he wanted to take you right there, ravage you and make you scream out his name. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way the dress clung tightly to your breasts. Every part of his mind was screaming out at him to grab you, take you, claim you as his right there in that garage. He was shocked at himself for that, he wasn’t usually this vulgar, but he couldn’t help it. It was almost like some spell had been placed on him that told him that he needed you, and if he didn’t have you he might die.

The other members were each going through a similar ordeal, all of them hungrily staring down your still sleeping figure like a pack of wolves ready to pounce on their prey.

“Fuck.” Hoseok hissed out.

“I-” Jimin started “I need her. I need her now.” his pupils blown out as he bit at his lip ring.

All of them were breathing heavily, erections growing larger and harder the more they stared.

Jungkook couldn’t hold himself back, he started walking towards you, hands stretched out to grab you and feel you like he was craving.

“NO!” Taehyung yelled out “Mine!” he grabbed the younger man aggressively and yanked him back from you.

“Not yours, mine!” Namjoon shot out.

It was animalistic how they were behaving now, and they couldn’t help themselves.

“Stop!” Yoongi screamed out. “Get ahold of yourselves. Doesn’t something feel off about this?”

The six other men stilled from their arguments. Hoseok had his fist cocked back about to punch Jin, Taehyung and Jungkook had each others shirts balled up in their fists, Namjoon had been about to turn and scream at Jimin. They all turned and looked at Yoongi, panting heavily.

“Yes. Something's wrong. I can’t control myself right now” Jimin whined “What’s happening to me”

“I think it’s her power. I think she's doing this to us on purpose or something” Namjoon guessed.

“Yoongi wake her up and make her stop, I don’t wanna do something to her I can’t take back” Jungkook gasped out.

“Like I would let you do that before I got a taste” Taehyung smirked letting go of Jungkook's shirt and shoving him.

“I-I don’t know how” Yoongi stammered.

As he spoke your eyes started to flutter open.

“Oh wow…” Hoseok gasped.

“She’s so perfect” Jin whimpered.

“Hello” you mumbled sweetly, propping yourself up, letting out a yawn, stretching a hand into the air as you did. “I am your servant. Which one of you is my master?” you cutely cocked your head to the side.

All seven men were restraining themselves, using every bit of self control they could muster not to get down on their knees and beg you to fuck them right there.

“I am” Yoongi quietly answered.

“Hello master” you beamed, standing up and stepping towards him.

Yoongi inhaled sharply as the distance between the two of you grew smaller. “What are you doing to us…” he managed to get out.

“What am I doing to you?” your brow furrowed in confusion “I don’t understand…” you scanned the room, the faces of the seven men in front of you were carnal, and they all looked like they were in pain. You could see obvious bulges in the front of each of their pants, begging to be released.

“Oh” you murmured “Oh I understand now. I’m sorry I can’t help it”

Yoongi grew frustrated at you “What do you mean you can’t help it? Just like, turn it off or something. Whatever this is that you’re doing to us needs to stop! How are we supposed to win this war if all we are thinking about it fucking you”

You shrugged shyly “It’s not something I can help...I was like this in my former life. You see, I’m a Caster class servant and the Goddess Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty and...pleasure”

A series of moans were let out throughout the group at your mention of pleasure.

“I can’t help it, its my power, it seems to affect humans more than it did other god’s. I’m really sorry but you’ll have to just find a way to ignore it i suppose.” you trailed off.

“Ignore it?” Taehyung whined out “I don’t know if that's possible”

“Can I use a command spell to make you turn it off?” Yoongi tried.

You shook your head looking down as you shuffled your feet on the ground “I’m afraid that won’t work. I’m not lying. It’s really something that can’t be turned off.” you frowned “Please don’t be mad at me” you added, noticing the seven men all glaring at you.

Yoongi never thought it could be possible to hate someone so much while at the same time wanting to fuck them this badly. It was a frustrating feeling, he just wanted it to go away.

“Master?’ You sweetly spoke at Yoongi.

Dammit he thought, and why did you have to keep calling him that. As if he didn’t already want you enough, he know felt like he would explode in his pants right then and there.

“What.” he managed through gritted teeth.

“What would you like me to do?” you stepped closer to him staring up doe eyed and batting your lashes.

“Go.” he grunted out “Please leave and go inside and wait for us there. Now.”

Hoping that maybe putting some distance between you and the rest of the group would help them all think clearer.

You nodded and without hesitation left the garage to go inside.

As you did that, the group simultaneously let out a large exhale as if they had been holding their breath the entire time they’d been in your presence.

It did help a lot, having you leave. Yet something still was pulling each of them to follow after you and have their way with you.

“What the fuck…” Jin was the first to speak.

“Yeah, agreed, what the fuck” Namjoon spoke holding the front of his pants where his erection still hadn’t faded.

“Yoongi hyung?” Jimin glanced at the older man “What do we do?”

Yoongi was pissed off at the idea that he was supposed to have answers. He didn’t ask for any of this, he didn’t want any of this.

“You deal with it. I don’t want anything to do with her. Keep her away from me and just let me know if you want me to use a command spell. This is bullshit” He spat out, then stormed out of the garage, avoiding where you were now sitting on the couch in the living room and storming out the front door to the car. He didn’t plan on going anywhere, he just wanted to sit and try and clear his head from this chaotic mess he had on his plate.

Back in the garage Namjoon had started coming up with a plan and some rules for dealing with you.

“None of us, including myself are allowed to have sex or anything of the sort with the servant. Okay?” he sternly commanded the other men. “I don’t want fights breaking out among us during all of this, the last thing we need is jealousy ruining our chances of winning our freedom. Our goal is to fight the other prisoners not each other. Agreed?”

The other men groaned and nodded reluctantly in agreement.

“I think that this could actually work out well. If the other teams get the same effect from her that we all just did it might make it difficult for them to want to kill her. So while their guards are down we’d be able to take them out” Namjoon theorized.

“True” Jin nodded “That’s actually not a bad thought Joon.”

“This is gonna be so hard” Jungkook pouted

“We’re gonna be so hard” Jimin joked with a smirk, earning himself a punch on the shoulder from Namjoon.

“We’ll figure this out okay? Remember the rule. No one touches her.” Namjoon sighed. Hating himself for his own rule he’d just made. It was the best option in this situation, he couldn’t risk all of his friends fighting over a girl right now when they were about to be participating in this life or death battle. He himself knew that if any of them ended up sleeping with you he’d answer with his fists. He wanted you so badly, even knowing that it was just a spell you had put on him, he couldn’t help the voice in the back of his head screaming, ‘mine mine mine mine mine’

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #jin x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #bts x you #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #ot7 x reader #bts imagines #bts au #ot7 au #bts x y/n

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