#and this time it comes with a plausible explanation!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunnami · 7 months

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you'd be the love of my life when i was young

summary: gryffindors wear their heart on their sleeve when they fall in love. slytherins keep their heart locked far away to keep it from breaking.

pairing: poly!marauders x reader (sirius x reader, remus x reader, lily x reader, and james x reader)

tags: slight angst, fluff, lucius malfoy, happy ending

note: i have a chemistry quiz due in 50 minutes but this takes priority. . . i haven't written in a while so forgive my rusty writing skills, they've only been let out from the basement today. not proofread, we die like the marauders. (title is taken from the song, 21 by gracie abrams, because that's roughly around the age jily die. hehe.)

They said when you fell in love with the right people, everything would fall in place after.

What a load of bullshit.

You had come to a conclusion one winter morning, laying in the Gryffindor common room dressed in your woolly, green jumper. You rested on the worn-out leather seat, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you stared at the ceiling, thinking about how it was going terribly wrong. How funny it was, that the 30th of December greeted you with an existential crisis instead of presents and hot chocolate.

There was something quite wrong with you, you had noticed for the past few months.

Every time Sirius Black smiled at you, showing off his pearly canines and the crinkles by his deep-grey eyes, you would experience a painful, tightening sensation in your chest — like someone was squeezing at your heart. Most people knew Sirius Black, the prankster, but you were lucky enough to know Sirius, the kind and spirited boy who had a heart that loved fiercely more than anyone you knew.

Cosy afternoons found you in the library with Remus Lupin, and a strange feeling would erupt in your stomach whenever Remus leaned down, and you’d catch a whiff of pine needles and fresh mint. Shaggy, blond hair falling over his eyes as he came to life, talking about your common love for muggle books. He made time feel like an illusion, minutes fading away into hours as the two of you shared stifled giggles, cheeks numb by the time you left the room.

And James, oh James Potter. It was difficult to describe what you felt with him — but with James, the brightest colours in the world couldn’t even compare to him. James was like putting on a pair of brand-new eyeglasses and seeing everything clearly for the first time. And without a doubt, you knew that James would never let you get hurt. But these days, you were weak in the knees as you’d see him across the Great Hall, waving at you excitedly as he bellowed your name, and to come and sit next to them.

Last, but certainly not the least, Lily Evans. Her sweet, airy voice was a warm hug on a cold day. And her actual hugs were second to none — don’t tell Sirius, however, he liked to shift into Padfoot to steal Lily’s title as the queen of cuddling. Lily flowers were delicate, she was anything but. The spitfire of Gryffindor, who would raise her chin and defy anyone who would harass you for hanging out with them.

(“You’re our emotionally constipated Slytherin,” said Lily as she mushed your cheeks, cooing when you tried to glare at her, and the three boys guffawing in the background. They liked to tease you often, being a year younger than them.)

Were you dying?

That was the only plausible explanation to your palpitating heart and rickety knees.

No, it was definitely not because you had gone and fell in love with your best friends.

That was absurd.

You had tried venting to Lucius Malfoy once. Narcissa often doted on you, sneakily leaving treats on your desk before she left for her class, and fussing when you got sick — which was quite often. That meant, when you weren’t with the marauders, you were trailing after the Slytherin power couple, or Severus.

(Lucius curled his lips in disgust, Narcissa sipping tea by his side, failing at hiding her knowing smirk. “I am above such childish matters,” hissed Lucius, scowl deepening when Narcissa laughed heartily, looking happier than she had been since returning home for the holidays. “I do not know why you’d even think to come to me for this.”

You huffed.

Maybe you’d try Severus next.

Naturally, he stormed off the moment Lily’s name fell from your lips.

Your resident seventh-years were confusing.)

Fortunately, you were stripped from your thoughts when the entrance to the common room slammed open, the paintings clamouring as they were disturbed from their slumber. One by one, the marauders piled inside the room, a string of melodious laughter and boisterous conversations following their arrival. Hastily, you sat up, heart thudding against your ribcage. Silence, you wretched beast, you told it. Don’t let them see how I burn for them.

“There you are!” Sirius came into view first, grinning widely as he crossed the room to reach you. “Who said you could be this pretty in the morning, love?”

Ba-dump!

Sirius plopped down head first onto your lap, manoeuvring your hand to comb through his hair as he sighed in contentment. “Bloody hell,” He exhaled shakily, “Last night was the worst one we’ve ever been through.”

Your fingers ghosted through the new scar etched across his sharp cheekbones — it was nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix, but you still didn’t like the sight of them bruised and wounded. Swiftly, Sirius grabbed your hand and intertwined your own with his. “I’m sorry,” You whispered.

Sirius chuckled tiredly, tightening his hold on you, as though you were a tether that kept him afloat in his sea of nightmares.

(And you were. If only you knew.)

“It’s not your fault,” said Sirius.

Then, your eyes landed on Remus limping towards you, his bare skin littered with scrapes and marks, supported with an arm around James’s broad shoulders. He sent a toothy smile your way, despite the tired lines on his forehead and deep bags beneath his eyes. “Waited up all night for us, huh?”

“I just couldn’t sleep knowing you guys were out there,” You whispered sheepishly. “It’s too dangerous, what happens if something goes terribly wrong, and it costs you your life? We need to tell someone.”

“Everyone who needs to know, already knows.” Remus bit down a pained expression as he sat by your side, head lolling on your shoulder. “This is the best we have for now.”

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it at all.

Before you could reply, Remus turned his head, lips feathering against your exposed skin. His voice was low as he said, “‘Sides, it’s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

“Well, I apologize for interrupting your job,” You whispered back harshly, wondering if that was all you were to them, a younger friend they felt the need to look after. Oh, how mortifying that would be.

James chuckled from behind you, bending over the back of the couch, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering for a few moments that felt like an eternity. “You’re too adorable,” said James, tweaking your nose. “Our angry, little Slytherin.”

“I’m not little.” You glowered at him.

“Perhaps not.” James smiled cheekily. “But you’re ours.”

Often times, you had wondered how the five of you came to be so tight-knit, knowing their disdain for most of the Slytherins.

(Little did you know, you smiled at them once in Potions, and they were a goner.)

Something stirred deep in your belly.

You sucked in a breath. “Don’t say things like that, James.”

People could get the wrong idea.

You could get the wrong idea.

“Well, why not?” Lily appeared in your peripheral vision, the scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh rain filling the room. Like the three boys, her skin was sallow from lack of sleep, but her bare face and blinding grin left your heart racing. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

It could be, just not in the way you wanted it to be true.

You sighed. “Class is going to start in a few hours, I should get going.”

“Or,” James began wickedly, throwing a thick blanket onto the floor by the fireplace, and tossing a bunch of throw pillows at Sirius’s face. “We could have a sleepover right here.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Lily merrily, stealing James’s blanket as she placed a pillow beneath her head.

“I really have to go—” You reasoned pathetically.

“Stay,” whispered Sirius without even opening his eyes as he curled his lithe fingers around your wrist. “You being here makes us feel better.”

They were too cruel, saying all these sweet words, not knowing how it drove knives through your heart.

James yawned as he laid on the carpeted floor, hiking the blanket up to his shoulders as he threw a leg over Lily, pulling her close to his chest, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “D’you have your textbooks with you, love?” He asked you drowsily.

“No,” You answered, any other words lodged in your throat.

“That’s fine.” James hummed. “I’ll just get the cloak and sneak into the dungeons later to get the books for you.”

“Sleep,” Remus urged you, unaware how you shivered at his words.

“You can’t be comfortable like that,” You told him in disbelief, watching his neck bend at an angle to lay on your shoulder.

“Trust me,” said Remus gently, eyelashes tickling your skin, “I’m right where I want to be.”

You had grown silent for a few beats, unaware how Sirius’d opened his eyes, staring at your worried expression.

(How could one person be so perfect, he wondered.)

“You alright, darling?” He reached out to trace the curve of your jaw with his thumb, the palm of his hand holding your face as though you were a pureblood’s antique treasure. (Mine, mine, mine, his heart screamed.)

But like the Slytherin you were, you lied as easily as you breathed.

“I’m fine.”

As you laid in between Remus and Sirius, watching the peaceful rise of Lily and James’s chests, you had come to a daunting realization.

You were irrevocably and agonizingly in love with your best friends.

And because fate liked to spit in your face, the four of them were already in a beautiful, committed relationship.

Who were you to get in the way of that?

—

They would understand, you convinced yourself.

They would understand that you had to stay away from them. You had to protect your heart and keep it safe. The marauders were a dangerous bunch, and they had played the biggest prank on you, and by Merlin, would you fall for this particular prank over and over again if it meant you could hear their voices and fall into their embrace.

But you couldn’t stay. They would only crush your heart otherwise.

If Gryffindors wore their heart on their sleeves when they fell in love, Slytherins protected theirs with every fibre of their being, locking it in a cage where no one else can have the power to break it.

Like what any love-stricken teenager would do in the face of heartbreak, you began to ignore the objects of your affections — ignoring the way your soul called out to theirs.

It wasn’t as obvious the first few days. You would escape their company under the ruse of studying for McGonagall and Flitwick’s practical tests.

(“They’re notoriously difficult after all,” You told them, a nervous laugh accompanying your lie. Peter eyed you curiously, noticing small details the others could not see — your quivering lips, your nails digging into your palms, and the way your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs. “I just don’t want to fail.”

You could have cried at the way James held the back of your head as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ll do well, love. You always do.”

“You can study with me, if you want,” Remus quickly offered. “I’m not as good as James in transfiguration, but I can definitely teach better than those two.”

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed in mock offence.

“Thanks, it’s sweet of you to offer,” You told them, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “But—”

“Say less, darling,” Lily interjected kindly, wrapping her scarf around your neck. She smiled at you, holding both your cheeks in her palms. “They’re the worst lot to study around, I know. Just don’t study too hard, okay? Take breaks, have a cup of tea now and then, and remember it’s okay to ask for help — don’t give me that face — if it gets too overwhelming, just ask. We’re here for you in every way you need us.”

Oh.

You were well and truly screwed.

“Thanks,” You croaked.)

But it was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses.

(“Wotcher!” Sirius grinned, encasing you in a tight hug after bumping into you in the corridor. “Haven’t seen you in a while, busy bee. Fancy a lunch with us in Hogsmeade?”

You scrunched your nose, red and bitten from the winter frost, stepping away from him and ignoring the way his face fell. “I. . . I can’t. I’ve got practice with the Frog Choir.”

Sirius shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “S’alright. I can wait and pick you up right after, then we’ll swing by that shop you really like—”

“I can’t, Sirius,” You interrupted harshly, wrapping your arms around your chest as your gaze dropped to the ground. “Sorry. I just. . . I’ll just catch you some other time.”

Sirius flinched. “Sure, love. Other time, yeah?”

But only the wind replied.

Saturday came, and along with it was the long-awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. James, decked out in his uniform, bounded over to you at the Slytherin’s side of the Great Hall, oblivious to the death glares some of your housemates had sent his way. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, lifting you from your seat.

“It’s Quidditch day, pidge!” James tilted his head, awfully resembling a lost, confused puppy. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? It’s the game of games! Even Remus is announcing the game later.”

You bit your lip before responding. “I’m not going, James.”

“What?” He furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

Ever since you had become friends with James Potter in your first year, you had never missed a single game of his. Except for the one time you had fallen sick during his match against Hufflepuff — and the moment he knew you were ill, the game ended in less than two minutes, by his sheer determination to get by your side quickly and make sure you weren’t alone.

You sighed. “I don’t know, James, I’m just not feeling up to it today.”

It was a big, fat lie, and he knew it too.

You didn’t go to his match later that day.

It was one of the biggest losses James had ever experienced — he wasn’t talking about Quidditch.)

Your housemates were beginning to realize was something was off as well. They might not be particularly fond of the Gryffindors that captured your heart, but they were fond of you, and they guarded their own.

You had a stare-down with Regulus Black in the common room — and you weren’t about to lose — before he blinked and asked, “What did my brother do?”

“Nothing,” You replied, pretending to be engrossed with your herbology textbook.

Severus rolled his eyes before plucking the book out of your hands. “Spit it out, woman. We’ve had to watch you mope around pathetically for days now. It’s irritating the rest of us.”

You sniffled. “Then just leave me alone! No one asked you to check up on me!”

“Unfortunately, we can’t.” Severus took a seat beside Regulus. With a pained grimace, he said, “So you can. . . pour your heart out to us.”

“I can’t.” You wailed. “I’m a Slytherin, we’re the worst at that.”

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. We’re hopeless.”

“But,” He raised his wand, “We do speak in jinxes and curses.”

“Don’t you dare!” You blubbered, wiping at your tears — but somehow, without having to express it in words, they understood, and you had felt lighter.

Still, you missed them.

“This is pathetic.” Lucius enters the common room, Narcissa holding onto his arm, watching the scene before him with blank eyes. “Black, Snape, get out, you’re only making whatever this is, worse.”

Narcissa was by your side in an instant, dabbing at your wet eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief that cost more than your life. “Hush now, darling. What’s wrong, hm? Was it that idiot cousin of mine? Don’t worry, Lucius can tell his father, and we’ll have them begging at your feet by tomorrow.”

You cried louder.

“I jest, I jest.” Narcissa softly chuckled, pulling your hair away from your face as she tugged you close. “Please tell us what’s wrong. It’s been awful seeing you like this for the past few days.”

Lucius sat on the loveseat across you, resting his feet atop the glass coffee table. “Yes, I beg you — do as she says, for the love of Merlin. But, really, what else did you expect, associating yourself with that ragtag of miscreants?”

Narcissa glared at him.

Lucius raised his arms in surrender.

Narcissa clicked her tongue before returning her attention to you, eyes softening at your tear-stricken face. She smiled, albeit sadly, as she said, “Perhaps, I know what is wrong.” She gestured to the way you clutched at the front of your shirt. “It is the matters of the heart, is it not?”

You nodded weakly. “I love them.”

“And they, you,” said Narcissa. “So, what is wrong?”

“I love them!” You hiccuped.

“Unfortunately.” Lucius handed you a tissue. “The whole of Hogwarts knows this already, so I do not understand why you’re blowing snot all over my fiancé’s robes about it.”

“They don’t feel the same way about me,” You confessed with a sob.

Lucius stared at you incredulously. “Please do not tell me that you are this daft.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him through narrowed, teary eyes, Narcissa rubbing the tips of your numb fingers from crying so much.

“I did not sign up for this.” Lucius rubbed at his temples as he stood up. “I will only say this once, so make sure you are listening. Those Gryffindor idiots are so disastrously in love with one another — let me finish, damn you — and if you cannot see that they love you too, then it is your own fault. It physically pains me to see the way they smile when you are near. They would move the earth for you, and they would shake the heavens for you.”

—

Gryffindors must have hearts made of steel, because you didn’t know how they could be so brave, to look fear right in the eyes and say: I’m ready.

Because you surely weren’t. You were headed towards your usual spot in the courtyard by the clock tower, legs heavy and swell deep in your throat. Then, you found them, looking so achingly beautiful under the sunlight, huddled together for warmth as they smiled and laughed at lame puns and mistimed jokes.

Did you have a place with them?

You were about to find out.

“Hey,” You greeted once you were right in front of them. A month of evading them, and now you were here. It was like finding a piece of your soul that you had lost.

(For them, seeing you was like finally being able to breathe again.)

“Hey,” said Lily, devoid of any warmth, and that broke you.

Bravery was poison, you decided. A trap for weak-hearted fools like you.

Sirius shot James a look before clenching his jaw. “No choir practice today? No study sessions with Cissa or Reg? Wait, no, I’ve got it. Slughorn’s dinner party? Or is it detention with McGonagall today? Does her highness finally feel up to talking to the peasants?”

You inhaled sharply. “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”

But this — is what you deserved. You had hurt them badly, so it was only right for them to stomp on your heart for everyone to see, just as you did to them many times this month.

A sob tore from your lips as you swivelled on your heels, ready to flee the scene and never show your face to anyone else ever again. Yet, before you could leave, Remus clamped his hand over your wrist.

“Why?” He stared at you, searching for anything that could explain your sudden behaviour. Remus looked at you with such emotion, tightly holding onto you — but never enough to hurt, because Remus could never be capable of hurting you. He’d die before he would ever cause you pain.

(You made him feel unafraid of the moon.)

“Was. . . was it something I did?” Remus asked, laying his wounds bare for you to see. “Was it me?”

“I love you!” You shouted in the midst of panic — you had never wanted to cause Remus to doubt himself. Your loud declaration had caught the attention of some, but you stood on, curling your fists firmly. You needed to do this.

“I love you.” You said once more, breathlessly, staring right into James’s eyes. Such a beautiful shade of hazel. “I love each one of you. And it. . . it hurts right here.” Tears dripped from your eyes to the side of your chin as you splayed your hand over where your heart rested.

“Because you don’t feel the same.”

The four of them simply gazed at you, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

You took that as confirmation for what you had been fearing all along.

“And that’s okay if you don’t,” You snivelled, unable to see clearly with the streams of tears in your eyes. You thought of how Sirius melted at Lily’s touch and how Remus was the anchor to James’s wild streak. How they all complemented each other and fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. “Just give me a few months, and I’ll get over it. It’s a stupid crush anyway, it’s my fault. The four of you are perfect together, how could—”

“Shut up,” James hissed before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. Cherries and pumpkin pasties. He kissed you deeply once more before pressing his lips to your eyes, desperately washing away your tears with his devotion. “Was that it? We could have been doing this ages ago.”

“What?” You rasped, knees buckling at the weight of his gaze.

James only smiled, stealing your third kiss.

Sirius pulled your hand, his arm encasing your waist as you stumbled to his chest. Like James, he kissed you fervently, like he wanted to chase off all your fears and doubts. His lips were warm against yours — firewhiskey. You wanted to be burnt by his flames again and again. He held you close, committing every inch to memory.

(You were art that he wanted to worship.)

He kissed your forehead. “We love you, daft girl.”

He kissed both of your eyes, chuckling when a new wave of tears came. “We have loved you ever since you burnt my mother’s howler in fourth year, and gave us poorly-knitted sweaters for Christmas.”

“I love you,” said Sirius. “As certain as the spring that arrives after winter, I love you.”

You snuffled. “I. . . I don’t understand.”

Remus stepped in your line of sight to place his jacket over you — it was Sirius’s leather jacket, really, but Remus liked to claim it occasionally. He bundled you in earmuffs and rested his chin atop your head, exhaling in relief. “I thought it was me.”

You shook your head, clinging to the front of his shirt. “No, never. It was me. I’m sorry.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, eyes swooping down to your kiss-stained lips. (There you were, standing in the snow that threatened to melt, eyes rimmed with tears, hair wildly ablaze from the cold breeze, cheeks damp and red — but how devastatingly beautiful you were.) “May I?”

You nodded. “P-Please.”

Blueberries and dark chocolate. Remus whispered against your lips, “If it wasn’t already clear, the feeling is bloody mutual — we love you, just as the moon loves the sun enough to chase after it every day.” He grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, you were surprised to see him holding back tears of his own. “All my life, I thought I was this monster who didn’t deserve to live. But you, all of you, make me selfish enough to want to belong here.”

He kissed you desperately, words of adoration and love falling from his lips.

Finally, your eyes settled on Lily. You waited for her reaction with a bated breath.

You hadn’t expected for her to burst into tears as she rushed over to you.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” said Lily angrily before circling you in her embrace, burying her nose in your hair. You hugged her back, drowning in her scent and warmth. “You are deserving of all the things you want, so don’t run away — if you run, we’d follow you, idiot girl.”

Then, Lily captured your lips with her own.

She tasted like happy endings.

note: 4k words and 6 hours later, here we are! let it be known i was THE poly marauders enthusiast years ago. i always wanted one with lily in the polycule so here we are. this is me manifesting my college romance, y'all. look away. anyways, i hoped u enjoyed it!! brought a smile to your face and all!! might make a part two for more fluff and to establish more relationship dynamics since this was written on a whim ;D also i planned a cute scene with peter as well, so i'll just write that in part two el em ay yo.

#james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #lily evans x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #reader insert #marauders imagine #hp fluff #hp angst #marauders fluff #marauders angst

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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months

Text

Finally getting help (pt 2)

This one actually is edited thanks to @basementqueercock! Thank you friend!

part 1 | Masterpost

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Vlad had been making a stink at the Gala about the Wayne brats taking his godson from him without his permission when the music suddenly cut out. Bruce Wayne himself stalked towards Vlad with an expression that was honestly a little intimidating, even if Vlad obviously wasn’t scared of such an empty headed pretty boy even if he was one of the richest and most influential people on the planet. He was Plasmius! He could take a rich pretty boy is he had to!

“Ah! Mr. Wayne, thank goodness! Your children have taken my Godson off somewhere! I’m sure it’s just a harmless prank but he’s a bit fragile and unpredictable so I really think that it would be best if-“

“Is he fragile and unpredictable because he’s pregnant and you knew?” Bruce asked low and dangerous. Silence spread out around them, even though there’s no way they could have heard they saw the look on Brucie’s face. He rarely got angry but when he did it was serious, when he did it usually meant someone had hurt a kid.

Vlad blanched for a moment, Danny had been so tight lipped about it, so unwilling to tell even those he trusted how did These people know?! “What? What on earth are you talking about? Of course he’s not pregnant, I mean he’s a boy!” Vlad huffed and Bruce’s jaw tightened even more somehow.

“He’s not leaving with you. Get out.” He said low and menacing, then raised his voice. “Sorry to cut the party short everyone but something has come up, a situation that really needs my attention so I’m going to have to put an end to the party early.”

“What do you mean!? He’s MY God son! MY heir! You can’t just keep him from me!” Vlad said, he knew that his eyes were starting to glow a little red but he couldn’t help it. “He’s MINE! Return him to me or you will regret it I swear!”

“See him out.” Bruce said dismissively to a handful of guards who had approached at the start of the commotion A lot of the socialites were already starting to see themselves out, now was not the time to argue, or even stick around when it looked like this might get physical.

“I will be back! I will be back with lawyers and police and the brat’s parents,” Vlad vowed but couldn’t risk fighting the guards any more than a usual old man would on the way out with so many eyes on him. Well he just needed to find a place alone. Then he could transform and come back, possess Bruce Wayne and make him do something heinous in public to ruin him for this.. this- this INDIGNITY!

-------

Bruce was having a hard time keeping his Batman expressions off his face as he saw that everyone was out of his house and he knew his children were having the same trouble. Dick looked like he was ready to bash someone’s head in and Steph wasn’t that much better. Damian was standing by the door, seeing everyone out with frosty politeness that no one would mistake as genuine. Bruce felt just a little bad, it wasn’t anyone’s fault what they had found tonight. No one else knew about the clearly abused teen they were currently harbouring, but none of the family could help it either. Bruce would send all the guests gift baskets once they could announce what was going on.

Alfred was on the phone with Bruce’s lawyers, sending them the mildly distorted audio from Danny’s earlier conversation with Cas and Dick, and the footage from Vlad Master’s outburst. That had the same sort of distortion over it too which was odd, he’d have to look into it. Cas had already informed him she thought Danny was a meta of some sort, maybe it was connected to that? Or maybe they were aliens? Though Danny being trans was currently the most plausible explanation for his pregnancy. They’d find out more later. What mattered was the footage of both of those would be enough for Bruce to get emergency custody while the family was investigated.

Tim was with Danny in the room Alfred had fixed for him, helping him settle in and lending him some clothes. Tim was the closest to Danny’s age and also one of the calmer ones right now so he was in charge of trying to make Danny feel safe and comfortable while the family took up battle stations to deal with the legal and logistical elements of this.

Bruce made sure everyone was out, the perimeter was secure, and Oracle was at her computer watching the security feed for anything suspicious including the pattern of distortion Vlad and Danny seemed to emit. He wasn’t sure how paranoid he should be about all this, but he’d seen the way Vlad’s eyes sparked red when he was angry and Batman was sure he was a lot more dangerous then he first seemed. And not just in the way that he was apparently willing to impregnate a boy young enough to be his son.

Finally he couldn’t avoid going to check on Danny anymore. Not that he was Really avoiding it, just that he knew this was going to be an exhausting and difficult conversation and he needed to brace himself for it. With every step towards Danny’s new room he felt the weight gather on his shoulders of what this child must have been through.

He knocked, and let himself in. Immediately clocking the way Danny tensed at the sight of him. Of course a rich older man would set off his alarm bells. Bruce gave the softest smile he could and went to pull out the desk chair across from the bed Danny was sitting on, well out of arms reach so he wouldn’t seem like a threat as he sat down. He glanced at Tim who nodded and went and sat on the bed next to Danny. Solidarity, willing to stand up against Bruce if Danny needed it, safety.

“Hello Danny, it’s nice to meet you. My children told me a bit about.. your situation,” Bruce said with a small grimace. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions? I promise I won’t judge you whatever you say, and I promise I am on your side. No matter what I will try to keep you safe okay? Just tell me the truth, it’ll help me do what needs to be done.”

“Alright Mr. Wayne,” Danny said, though he was still wary.

“Thank you, please call me Bruce. So first, what’s your full name?” he asked deciding to start super easy.

“Daniel James Fenton,” Danny replied softly.

“Your parents names?”

“Doctors Madeline and Jack Fenton,” Huh the fact that he called his parents doctor like it was part of their name seemed to be significant though Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it meant.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 16,” He said. A little older than he looked but still no where near old enough to have the weight of the world on his shoulders like he did.

“And you’re pregnant?” Bruce asked as gently as he could, Danny nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Danny said softly and Bruce nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Did you take a test then?” He asked and Danny grimaced making a so so motion.

“It’s not… that simple,” He said softly.

“Can you explain it to me please?” Bruce asked softly.

Danny took a deep breath and licked his lips, hesitating, opening his mouth to stat, hesitating again and biting his lip. Bruce stayed quiet as he watched the conflict on Danny’s face. “You work with the justice league right?” Danny asked suddenly which seemed like a bit of a non sequitur to Bruce but he needed. “A bunch of the members aren’t human right?” Ah, Bruce nodded again. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am Danny,” Bruce promised, soft and reassuring. “People don’t have to be human or from earth to be people. Whatever is going on with you you’re still a person, and a kid, and deserve to be protected.”

“Okay,” Danny said as he scrutinized Bruce’s body language for any sign that he was lying. “Okay. I’ve never been able to trust any adults with this shit but I can’t keep doing this on my own so okay. I’m not human, not fully anyway, not anymore. These are..” He touched his stomach. “Like if you did an ultrasound you wouldn’t see embryos more like… Hang on Here.”

Bruce blinked as Danny suddenly, reached Inside himself, and before he could panic Danny had pulled out a perfectly round object that filled his palm. It shimmered with light from within, cold and sparkling with stars. “Our kind is more energy and light then anything else. This is Us, the mind, heart, everything we are is stored in our core the rest is formed around that. I mean for most of my kind, I’m still half human.” Danny said before replacing the orb inside him. “I have two other little cores inside me right now, feeding on my energy to develop properly, you could see them on an Xray. I don’t know how long they’ll take honestly.” He sighed caressing his stomach again.

“But I can feel them inside me, I can feel their worry when I’m scared, and their joy when I’m happy, and their love. They’re my babies.” He said with the softest most paternal smile on his lips. The bags under his eyes were awful, he was clearly exhausted and stressed, but his expression told Bruce Danny thought it was all going to be worth it for his children. It brought a lump to his throat he had to clear before he could speak again.

“Okay, do you have access to healthcare appropriate for your.. species?” He asked and Danny nodded. Though he was tight lipped still.

“There are protections for non-human species in America you know,” Tim said.

Bruce and Tim exchanged a confused look as Danny barked a laugh. “Not for MY kind, we were specifically excluded,” He said with a wry curl to his lips. “The shadow or echo left behind when a proper human dies, not sentient or sapient they say. Malicious and dangerous they say. To be captured or exterminated on sight. They would take me, experiment on me, probably put my babies in jars or something.”

Oh, oh fuck, he was shaking, eyes blank and glassy like he was heading towards a panic attack. “Danny! Danny look at me,” Bruce said as he leaned forward and Danny’s gaze flicked up to his face. “I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure they don’t get you. You’re clearly not what they say, and anyone who would hurt a child is not the good guy in this story.”

“Who are they?” Tim asked with an expression that promised swift and vicious retribution.

Danny took another deep breath. “The GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward. They’re a government agency, they’ve been hunting in my hometown for a while. Early on we tried to call the Justice Legue, but I think they were jamming the lines or something,” Danny said looking down and biting his lip.

Fuck this poor kid really couldn’t catch a break! Bruce was sure that the ‘ghosts’ these idiots were hunting weren’t really anything of the sort, but he would look into this and see what he could find. Tim was clearly itching to as well bad he wasn’t willing to leave Danny alone with Bruce, good lad.

“And what about your parents? Do you think you could be safely returned to their home?” Bruce asked, as much as he wanted to keep Danny reunification was supposed to be the goal of fostering.

“No!” Danny nearly yelped sitting up straight. “No! They work for the GIW! They design most of their weapons. If they ever found I’d been contaminated- I don’t want to think the worst of them but even if they still recognized me as their son the babies-“ He cut off, wrapping both his arms around his stomach and curling in on himself.

“Okay, we’ll call child protective services, my lawyer, and the Justice League. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Bruce promised Danny. “And you can stay here as long as you need to. Is there any other family you would want to go to?” Bruce asked, just to be sure, but he wasn’t surprised when Danny shook his head and grabbed a pillow to hug.

“And I know Oracle and Red Robin will be itching to find out more about this ‘government agency’,” Tim said. “I want to go tell them Danny, if Bruce and I go will you be okay on your own or do you want me to ask Cas to come stay with you?”

“Cas please? If she’s not busy?” Danny asked uncertainly and Tim nodded. Bruce was getting up before Danny spoke up again. “I have a sister, Jazz. She knows about me not being fully human, but not about the babies. She’s a good person, and she’s almost an adult. I don’t know, I just need you to know she’s good, and I don’t want to mess things up for her,” Danny said worriedly.

“Of course Danny, thanks for letting me know,” Bruce said with a smile already making plans to get her out as well. “We’ll let you know as soon as there are developments.” He promised before both he and Tim ducked out. They split up, Tim going to find Cas and ask her to go back to Danny before they reconvened in the bat cave, they had a lot of research to do.

next>

#fanfiction #danny phantom #dc x dp #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #vlad plasmius #dick grayson #tim drake #barbra gordon #Danny is pregnant AU #Vlad is a creep #danny is a mother

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wicchyy · 4 months

Text

—0.5 flipped ; james potter

sum: you’ve been obsessed with James since you met him, but he doesn’t feel nearly the same. then, he’s flipped.

warnings: James throwing his breakfast in the trash

notes: this was inspired by the movie ‘flipped’. delulu girls win!!! sorry for being a bit too long, this is different from my usual works !

These are all the things people know about James Potter; he’s a skilled quidditch player, one of the smartest students in your grade, a lightweight, and he can manage his time well between practice, classes, and parties.

But those things, they’re just surface stuff. These are what you know about James Potter; he has the most beautiful brown curls, hazel eyes that change between brown and green depending on the sunlight, a delirious laughter, and the most flirty drunk you’ve ever known.

Sirius introduced you to James during your second year. And since the moment you saw him, robes askew, chocolate smeared all over his cheeks, and glasses slanted on his face— you’ve been in love with him since.

Maybe it was love at first sight, the plausible explanation. Or perhaps it was obsession. Either way, you haven’t paid attention to anyone other than James Potter himself.

“Hey, Siri. Hi, Remus. Have either of you seen James? I thought you lot finished practice minutes ago.”

Sirius nodded, chewing down the rest of his waffles before replying. “Mhm. Doing extra rounds, Prongs looks a bit stressed on the field today.”

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands together, “I’ll just bring some breakfast down for him.”

“Actually, Y/n! I don’t think you should—“ Remus interferes.

“Don’t worry, Remus. I’ll be sure to get two waffles. I know he gets hungry after practice.”

Remus tried to protest again, but Sirius waved him off with a look that said ‘what can we even do to prevent it?’

…

In the middle of December, snow covers the Hogwarts ground. You’re careful as you hold onto the napkin that holds James’ breakfast. The quidditch field isn’t far off the castle grounds, so you make haste of your movements and quickly head to the entrance of the Gryffindor locker rooms.

“James?” You shout, stepping inside until you see the one and only locker door open and the curly headed boy lying on the wooden bench in the middle of the room.

He immediately stands up, the voice all too familiar for him to not flinch. “Y/n?”

You appear in front of him with a wide smile, grinning happily as you set the breakfast in front of him on the bench. “Hi! You didn’t come for breakfast so I asked Siri where you where and he mentioned you’re practicing extra by yourself. So I figure you’d be—“

“Y/n!” James shouts louder.

“.. So I figured you’d be hungry.” You finished, your voice lower this time like you’d been caught red handed at something.

“Thanks. But no thanks.” He smiles forcefully. He grabs at the napkins holding the waffles and two pieces of strawberry, crumpling it in his hands and aiming it for the big black bin at the corner of the room.

Of course it lands perfectly inside, and he huffs an angry breath as he takes in your flushed, ashamed look.

“Look, just like you noticed, I wasn’t at breakfast. Because I don’t want breakfast. I’m not in the mood, yeah, Y/l/n? And I don’t need you trailing after me like a lost fucking puppy you want to feed breakfast. I’m not your anything, understand?”

Harsh. His words struck you in the gut. Maybe you should’ve listened to Remus earlier. James had never been practicing late unless he was ordered to. And you should’ve remembered it was winter as well. No one would willingly practice more quidditch than required in the harsh December winds.

“I— I’m sorry.” Your face flushed. You had to admit, you’d never been so embarrassed quite like this moment before. “I thought it’d be a nice thing.”

James stood up, picking up his towel, a spare shirt, and his knit beanie and stuck it in his locker before banging it roughly.

“If I haven’t made myself clear all these years, Y/n, let me make it clearer. I’m not interested.” He scoffed. “And I won’t be fucking interested because you bought me breakfast.”

You were left standing in embarrassment. Your eye making contact just a second with James, then to the bin where the breakfast you had bought for him was thrown in.

“Just back off, Y/n. I mean in.”

…

James had been feeling pretty guilty for the whole week. Yes, he was annoyed by you at the moment and yes, he’s always been annoyed by you. But all the times he’s ever been annoyed with you, none of those times has he said something like that. And after careful realisation, he’s understood that his words may have hurt you a tad bit.

He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how. Especially not to you. So he doesn’t. James doesn’t apologize for weeks, and then a month, and then he finally comes to terms with the fact that his brain somehow misses your annoying face, your annoying voice, and your annoying personality always annoying him.

“I have a question.” James interrupted his friends who were mountain deep in their homework.

“Hm.” Sirius shot lowly while he closed his subject book, “Go on. Think I’m done for the day.”

Remus shot his eyes at the interaction between his friends, leaning back on his seat to pay attention to James.

“So, you lot know about the incident a month ago, yeah?”

Sirius scoffed, “Mate, the bin waffle? Course we know!”

“Not really something to brag about, Prongs.” Remus chimed in.

“Look, I know. I’ve done some thinking and—“

“You wanna apologize to her?”

James stayed silent, “Well, I—“

Remus shot his friend a look of pity, “Honestly, you should’ve done it months ago. We know you may not like her, but she’s still mine and Pads’ close friend. And yes, she’s done so many things to annoy you but ..”

Sirius continued, “But it was a really shit thing to say. And you were fucking rude! I mean honestly, Prongs! Throwing out the waffles? Not necessary!”

“I know, I know. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about it recently and I want to apologize, really. But I dunno— things are just confusing.”

“How is it confusing? You just need to walk over to her and apologize.” Remus shrugs.

“That’s not it, Moony. It’s more confusing, like— I don’t even know how to explain it, y’know. Like, I used to be so fucking annoyed and pissed when she’s around. But now, it’s like somethings missing. Something like .. her.”

Sirius scoffs, “Shut the fuck up!”

James looks confused, “What—?”

“Shut up!”

“Literally not saying a word.”

Sirius stands up, “James Potter!” his hands banging on the table until the librarian is ordering him to calm down.

Remus looks up at him and pulls Sirius’ hand to sit back down at his chair. “Maybe you should tell him quietly.”

“I love how much you don’t notice, mate. You’ve got a crush on her, Prongs!”

James scoffed, his arms immediately crossing. “No I don’t.”

“Yes, you very much do.” Remus replied.

Sirius smiles, “You may not have liked her when she was bothering you, but you sure are thinking of her when she’s gone.”

“That’s nothing. It’s just cause I feel bad.”

“No you don’t!”

“I actually do, Pads. That’s why I’m bringing this up.”

Sirius scoffs with a wide smile, “No you’re bringing this up because you need to talk about it.”

“Well— yes. Because I need advice on how to apologize.”

“No, mate. Prongs, you’ve totally got a crush on her!”

“I don’t!”

“You’re so stubborn, mate. You know that saying ‘you lose them and then you know’? Thats you!”

Remus interjects, “Actually, the saying is ‘you don’t realize what you’ve got till it’s gone’. But yes, I do think it resembles this situation.”

“It doesn’t resemble anything. Besides, if she is here right now I’m positive I’d be annoyed just the same. I just feel bad for the .. waffle incident.”

“Wrong. Don’t believe it.”

Sirius looks across the table where James is and gives him a dumbfounded look. “Alright, fine. If you really think that, then what d’you say to a bet, huh? We prove that you’ve got feelings for her and if we succeed you pay for all your drinks whenever we go out for a whole month.”

James rolls his eyes, “And how would you prove that? She’s not even talking to me.”

Remus shoots Sirius a coy smile, the gears in his head turning as he makes up a plan in his head. “Well we’d just apologize to her for you and ask her to hang out with us. Then we’ll see your reactions and … other things.”

“Perfect plan!” Sirius chimes excitedly.

“I don’t agree to all of this.”

“That’s cause you’re scared to show us you actually do have a crush on Y/n.”

“One, I don’t. And second, fine. I’ll agree. But if this doesn’t prove anything and I’m right all along that I do not have a crush on her, you both will be doing my Arithmancy for a month.”

“Really? Why’d you even take that elective?” Sirius scoffs.

James smirks and extends his hand for a shake, “Deal?”

Remus shakes James’ hand quickly as his boyfriend beside him makes a sound of protest. “Moony! It’s Arithmancy, I thought we’d just have a counter agreement.”

“Come on, Pads, I’ll be doing all the work anyways.”

…

You clutched your books tightly, the familiar weight providing little comfort as you walked the corridors of the castle. Resentment and annoyance simmered within you since the incident with James.

As Sirius and Remus approached you after class, your expression soured. "What do you two want now?"

Sirius cleared his throat, putting on a cheery facade. "Hey, Y/n! Prongs wanted us to extend his apologies again for the breakfast thing. He's really sorry, you know?"

Your eyes narrowed at Sirius. "Sorry? James is sorry for tossing away the breakfast I brought for him without a second thought?"

"Yeah, he's been beating himself up about it. Really wants to make it right," Remus chimed in, attempting to sound convincing.

Your frustration reached its peak. "Is he? It's easy to be sorry now, isn't it? But where was his remorse when he threw the waffles in the bin like it was nothing? Tell James I don't need his apologies.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance. Remus spoke softly, "Y/n, we understand how you feel, but Prongs is really trying to make amends. It might help if you could give him a chance to apologize properly."

"Yeah," Sirius added, his tone earnest, "We all miss hanging out together, and Prongs, he genuinely wants to make things right. Look, we’re all hanging in the commons just after classes are done.”

You hesitated, torn between your anger and their earnest plea. After a moment of contemplation, you sighed. "Fine, I'll be there. But not because of James. I'm doing this because both of you are my friends. And I’ve missed hanging."

As you walked away, Sirius and Remus exchanged relieved smiles, hoping that this hangout might just make them win the bet.

…

i - reconciliation

You sat in one corner of the Gryffindor common room, a book in hand, although your mind was elsewhere. Sirius and Remus hovered nearby, trying to create a relaxed atmosphere, but the tension lingered like a thick fog in the room.

When James entered, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes fleetingly met yours before darting away, a visible unease surrounding him.

"Hey, Y/n!" Sirius exclaimed cheerfully, attempting to break the heavy atmosphere. "We’ve been thinking of names for Moony’s new owl!"

"Yeah .. definitely that," Remus added, striving to mask the tension in his voice.

James cautiously approached, his gaze finally meeting yours. "Y/n, can we talk?" His voice was quiet, carrying an earnest plea.

You hesitated momentarily, then nodded, reluctantly setting aside your book and following James to a quieter corner of the room.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," James began, his voice laced with genuine regret. "I was thoughtless and I hurt you. I don't expect forgiveness, but I want you to know I'm really sorry."

As James spoke, his eyes held a raw sincerity that tugged at your heartstrings. The hurt remained, but you found yourself softening, unable to resist the depth of emotion in his gaze. Your own feelings for him, buried deep within, began to stir, making forgiveness a more feasible option.

"You did hurt me, James," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But..." You hesitated, your resolve faltering as emotions swirled within you. His eyes, filled with remorse, seemed to tug your emotions. "I appreciate the apology. And I... I forgive you."

Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus tried to lighten the mood by engaging everyone in different activities. Yet, in the corner where you and James stood, the emotions were palpable, the unspoken tension slowly dissolving with your admission.

Conversations flowed more easily throughout the evening, punctuated by shared smiles and lingering gazes between you and James.

Beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding seemed to grow between you and James, sparking a flicker of hope for reconciliation.

Remus and Sirius settled into a quiet couple, minding their own business. You took the moment to excuse yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness. You’ve never been in the situation without being so all up in James’ business. James watched you leave, a mix of relief and gratitude evident in his eyes.

…

ii - jealousy

“What do you guys think of Cassius Flintwood?” James broke the silence at his table. His friends looked up from their work, giving James a puzzled expression.

“Nothing. Other than he’s probably the saving grace of Ravenclaw’s abomination quidditch team.” Sirius shrugged.

“Yeah, that. And he tutors Marlene, oh and Y/n— wait, are you asking cause you’re seeing him tutoring Y/n?”

Sirius gasps, immediately turning around to see where James’ eyes are making intense eye contact to. “Prongs, you’re jealous. Christ, this is perfect! Might as well just go get drinks right now, cause we’ve won!”

James rolls his eyes, head making contact with the wooden table as he lays his head down. “Shut up, Pads. I’m not jealous, jus’ asking.”

“Mhm. Definitely.” Remus chuckles.

“I’m so confused with everything. I apologized to her, we’re good. Why’s she .. I dunno, distancing herself still?”

“You dimwit.” Sirius says with a hint of shock, his hand slapping the top of James’ head. “You have a big ego James Potter. D’you honestly think she’d just go back to obsessing over you?”

James lifts his head up and rolls his eyes “No, that’s not what I meant. Just—“

“Look, mate,” Remus interferes, “If you’re that bothered by her and Cassius just go over there and study with them. Sure he won’t mind.”

“What? I can’t do that.”

Sirius narrows his eyes, “So you’re admitting that it does bother you?”

“No! She’s just having a tutoring session.” A tutoring session that involves Cassius touching her arm and making her laugh. She’s probably not learning anything right now. James’ annoying head thinks.

“Then stop looking at them.” Sirius warns.

“Y’know what, I’m tired. Might just fit a nap in before my late classes.” He begins to stand and collect his things. Just before putting everything inside his satchel, an idea pops into mind.

James glances at the thick Potions book beside him along with other books stacked below it. He lays his hand flat on the wooden surface and gives it a small shove, making the stack of books clattering on the floor and making a loud echo throughout the library.

Sirius just scoffs at his friends’ action, meanwhile a smile plays at Remus’ lips, clearly understanding the dumb little trick that James has just performed.

In a second, your eyes landed on James for almost the tenth time. When you see him finally collecting all the books from the floor, you make eye contact. His face is red, a hint of embarrassment showing on his cheeks. A small smile twitches on your lips, trying not to let it show to James.

James kept a steady hand in the table and lifted himself up, quickly putting his books inside his satchel and making haste of his exit from the library.

“Think we’ve got this bet in the bag, Pads.” Remus says.

…

iii - realisation

The Quidditch pitch resonated with the energy of practice, but James's mind was elsewhere as he maneuvered through the air on his broom. Sirius watched from the sidelines, unable to ignore James's distracted flying.

"Oi, Prongs, you’re flying like you’ve got a Bludger lodged in your head. What’s going on?” Sirius remarked, concern etched into his tone.

James landed his broom, "Just not in the zone today, I guess," he muttered, trying to downplay his disarray.

Sirius crossed his arms, gaze unwavering. "It's about Y/n, isn't it?"

James faltered, caught off guard by Sirius' directness. "Maybe," he admitted, a tinge of regret lacing his words.

Sirius arched an eyebrow, probing gently. "You miss her, don't you?"

James sighed, the weight of his unresolved feelings palpable. "It's more than that, Sirius. I've been a complete prat to her all these years," he confessed, his voice tinged with remorse.

Sirius's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You mean treating her like a pest?"

James nodded, guilt weighing heavily on him. "Exactly. I never gave her a chance and, Christ, I feel awful for it. She's been nothing but a good friend, maybe a tad obsessive but .. I've been too blind to see it."

“It’s fine, mate. Least you’ve figured it out now. Who knew the waffle incident would’ve caused this, huh?”

"I dunno though,” James admitted, a mix of regret and uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "It's like realizing something you should have known all along."

Sirius gave his friend a coy smile, "Give yourself time, mate. Just remember, she's not going anywhere. Maybe it's a good thing to figure it out now, yeah?"

James nodded, a mix of emotions swirling within him. With Sirius's encouragement, James readied himself to get back on his broom.

…

iv - confession

The first thing James saw when he entered the common room was you. Sat there in your too big sweater and a book huddled in your lap. His heart beats nervously as he walks closer to try and calm himself down.

“Y/n!" James greeted, trying to hide the hint of nerves in his voice.

You glanced up from your book, smiling warmly at his approach. "Hey.”

Taking a seat beside you, James fiddled with the sleeve of his robe, trying to find the right words. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Reflecting, you know?" he started, eyes darting to meet yours.

You raised an eyebrow, curious about where this was going. "Reflecting about what?"

James let out a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, you see, I've had this knack for making a right mess of things. Especially when it comes to... certain people."

Your lips curved into a small smile, sensing the playful tone in his words. "Certain people?”

"Right, so I've been a bit dim, maybe blind even. Overlooked something that's been there all along."

"James Potter, are you about to confess your undying love for someone?"

James laughed, a touch of color rising to his cheeks. That laugh that you could get high on no matter the situation. Well, it's not quite as dramatic as that, but..." James took a breath, looking straight into your eyes. "Maybe I've been a bit of a fool. Y/n, you uh … , are more than just a friend to me. You're, uh, rather important."

Your smile widened, realizing the sincerity behind his playful demeanor. "Oh really? Important, am I?" You teased lightly.

He nodded, his smile widening. "Yeah, you are. I guess what I'm trying to say is... I rather like having you around, you know?"

Your smile softened, this was the moment you’ve dreamt for probably millions of times. Truthfully it wasn’t as dramatic as you’d expect. But having to see James in his awkwardness, words falling clumsily from his mouth and making eye contact with you, it was a moment you’d dream of. That was how much you were in love with the boy.

"As long as you mean it, Potter."

💌 thanks for reading lovie! support me by reblogging <3

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demieyesore · 5 months

Note

would you do a fwb!theo x fem!reader?

Just “Friends” - Theodore Nott

Summary - Theo and you are friends with benefits and slowly everyone in your friend group is noticing

Warnings / Mentions - Slytherin!Reader, AFAB!Reader, GN!Reader, SMUT, Theo is a little bit of a munch, Sub!Theo undertones but he’s still the dom, he’s just very vocal and whimpers😭, P in V, unfortunately no protection so yeah wrap it before you tap it, hopefully Reader isn’t pregnant 💀

A/n - Okay so I just realized that I accidentally did GN!Reader 😭 because I didn’t use she/her, I just said “you” the whole time but the reader is still AFAB so hopefully that works for you😭🙏

Requested - Yes

POV - 3rd

Word Count - 1597

At first, it was just a physical outlet for both of you. But as time went on, you found yourself growing closer to the Italian boy. He was more than just a handsome face and good with his hands. He was intelligent, witty, and shared your love for mischief.

You both knew that your arrangement was just for fun and didn't want to complicate things by adding feelings into the mix. So, you kept your arrangement a secret from your friends. You would sneak off at parties to find him. Meet outside the school grounds. Find closets or the closest bathroom. You both did anything to make sure that you weren’t hooking up in the dorm rooms. Theodore’s roommate was Enzo Berkshire. While he probably wouldn’t say anything, it was just for the better that he never found out. Your dorm was out of limits because your dorm mate was known to be the biggest snitch in the Slytherin house.

But as the weeks went by, slowly turning to months ; your friends started to notice the subtle changes in your relationship with Theodore. They noticed how you would always sit next to each other in class, how you would always seem to be in sync during group projects, and how you would always choose each other as partners for activities.

At first, they shrugged it off as just a close friendship. But as they continued to observe, they couldn't help but wonder if there was something more going on between the two of you.

One day, during a study session in the library, your friend Pansy brought up her suspicions.

"I couldn't help but notice how cozy you two have been lately," she said, raising an eyebrow at you and Theodore.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to come up with a plausible explanation. But before you could say anything, Theodore spoke up.

"We're just friends, Pans. Nothing more," he said smoothly, giving you a reassuring smile.

But as the days went on, your friends continued to notice the little things. How Theodore would always brush a strand of hair behind your ear, how he would always be the first one to offer you a seat, and how he would always have a protective arm around you.

Then they began noticing when you would both slip off during a party.

Draco and Mattheo were utterly convinced something had to be going on while Blaise and Lorenzo brushed it off entirely. Pansy on the other hand didn’t seem to care too much about the situation besides being curious.

But due to the nature of Draco and Mattheo, they just HAD to figure it out. They were too stubborn to let it off the hook. So they planned a new party. They made sure it would take place in the Slytherin’s domain because they knew every possible place they could wander off to.

The night of the party, you and your dorm mate got ready. She was a lovely girl, besides not knowing how to keep her mouth shut. You had put on a dress that clung to your curves. It absolutely flattered you just from how it was designed. The color choice looked absolutely perfect with your skin and hair. Honestly, you never felt better than this.

You always loved getting dressed up for parties. It was just the party part that you didn’t quite care for. But you still decided to go, knowing that you and Nott would most definitely find a quiet place.

Once at the party, everything was good. There was drinking, loud music, and people playing different games. One of which was truth or dare. You, Theo and Blaise were the only ones in your group that weren’t playing.

You tapped on Blaise’s shoulder, him turning to look at you and leaning in so he could hear you over the music. You made gestures with your hands as you spoke. “Hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom!” Blaise held up a thumb to show his acknowledgment before you stumbled away.

Around 5 minutes later Theo came and found you at the bathroom. But not the regular bathroom, it was the prefect’s bathroom. Which not many people had access to.

As soon as Theo entered the bathroom, the kissing session started. His hands roamed over your body before settling on having one hand on your hip and the other on the small of your back. His hand placement made sure to keep you against him as the kiss got more heated.

Little noises escaped from the both of you. Your hands snaked up from their resting spot on his neck and to his hair. You deepened the kiss as you messed with a few of his hair strands.

Theo switched the position you were in, pinning you against the wall as he moved the kiss from your lips down to your jaw. Then from your jaw, to your neck and slowly made his way down. Theo knelt on the floor in front of you, staring up at you with dead eyes as he rolled the bottom of your dress up to your hips.

Your hands were still in his hair when he pulled down your underwear. He held onto your thighs and slowly started massaging at them. His mouth closed in on your cunt, running his tongue across your slit. Your breath caught in your throat.

The Slytherin boy immediately noticed and chuckled into your core, sending small vibrations throughout you. Your fingers tightened around his hair, pulling yet another sound from his mouth.

At this point he was beginning to make out with your heat. His tongue would flick over your clit and small kisses were placed all over you.

You could feel yourself tightening up and you tensed, “Theo-“ “I know..it’s okay.” He cut you off ; Giving you permission to release onto his tongue.

And you did just that, letting go and cumming into his mouth. Your back pressed closer against the wall as you tried not to shake too much. Once you came down from the orgasm he stood back up, making sure to hold onto you in case you lost your balance.

One of your hands was now placed on his chest while the other one kept you steady by placing it on his bicep. He took this chance to undo his belt buckle and free himself from the restrictive pants. His dick was hard and leaking in pre-cum. He made eye contact with you as he spit on his cock and stroked himself a couple of times. Lubricating himself so he could easily slide into you.

He grabbed one of your thighs and guided you to lift your leg up, you followed the nonverbal instructions and found yourself with your legs around his waist. Now being held up in the air against the bathroom wall.

His dick slid into you so effortlessly but he was still big. When your mind remembered how large he was, you subconsciously contracted around him. A deep moan drawing from his mouth as his head threw back. His eyes were shut as he fucked up into you. His mouth open as he was a very vocal man.

You on the other hand, tended to go nonverbal from the stimulation and instead buried your face into the crook of his neck. He was now holding you up by himself without the aid of the wall so he turned and let his back hit the hard surface.

Loud slaps and the Slytherin boy’s moans could be heard from the whole room. He was keeping up a good pace and began muttering more to himself than to you.

Talking himself through it which was low enough for you to still hear. “Gods-“ He moaned. “Oh fuck, I need you.” He slowly was begging for a release. His moans turned into whimpers and whines.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He whimpered out, his hold on you getting tighter. “Mmm- I love your pussy. Holy shit-“ He groaned out. He sped up his thrusts and you were both almost there.

“Oh- please- please please…” He begged out, chasing his own orgasm ; which seemed to have worked when he was no longer coherent enough to speak words, just whimpering and moaning at the feeling. You came for a second time and the pulse from your cunt triggered his own orgasm.

With one last thrust into you he came as you bit down on his shoulder. Feeling so much that you just had to do something to calm the sensation. Theo groaned as you bit down on him, one of his hands reaching up to cradle your head against him. “Mi fai impazzire.” (You make me crazy.)

After a couple of minutes you both calm down and get fixed up. Some of your hair is sticking to your face and his tie is all sorts of messed up. You turn to open the door as Theo is fixing his tie only to see Mattheo on the other side of the door.

He grins up at you before glancing to Theo’s undone tie and mess of hair.

“And you say you’re just friends?”

#slytherin boys #harry potter #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #smut

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alexlwrites · 2 months

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from my notes app:

Just picture it: Yoongi who just... never had a crush. Sure, he has felt attraction that sometimes evolved into something more through dates or other encounters. But a crush? Feet kicking, face blushing, giddy giggles? No, he couldn't say he ever experienced that.

Until you.

Until you showed up, a new manager at the company, and left him shaking in his disconcertingly large boots. You were bright, witty, charismatic and hard working and he stood there, arms hanging by his side awkwardly like a damn emoji, hovering around you unsure about what to do, what to say, how to act.

It was so frustrating! He never felt this way before and at 30 years old he felt as if he was going through a late puberty: voice cracking when he tried talking to you, waking up sweating from a dream way too realistic, poorly timed boners when he saw you walking around the office with skin tight pencil skirts.

His so called friend weren't making it any easier for him: Yoongi had officially become the butt of every joke as the members collectively regressed back to the 5th grade, murmuring everytime you showed up "here comes your wife, hyung, here comes Mrs. Suga".

Thankfully, you seemed unaware of their jabs, even as yoongi's pale cheeks blushed fiercely at the name.

He didn't know whether to be greatful or resentful for your obliviousness. On one side, you didn’t seem to hear the constant on going teasing from the other 6 raccoons he shared a band with, which saved yoongi from the swift death at the pearly hands of embarrassment, ripping his dramatic soul from his even more dramatic body.

On the other hand, you couldn’t seem to take a hint! He tried all of his best moves: standing there silently next to you, offering you a single tangerine, playing the guitar when you walked in whilst offering absolutely no explanation or context, even wearing his most scandalous, whorish outfit: a white tshirt that showed his collarbones instead of his usual 37 layers of clothing.

He didn't know how to make it any more obvious! Should he just take you against the wall of his studio (he totally should!, his lower brain unhelpfully provided as you once again strutted past him leaving him sniffing after your perfume like the fucking dog he was)?

He even tried asking his friends for advice, the lowest form of humiliation possible: Jungkook offered only baby oil and told him to lose a couple buttons. Hoseok made him couple matching beaded bracelets. And Namjoon, scorpio venus horndog, told him to actually go through with the wall taking idea.

Funnily enough, Jin was the one with the most plausible idea: give her a gift, bake her something! Homemade goods would show her how much you care.

So there he was, at thirty years old, holding onto a plate of cookies like a lifeline, cold sweating in front of your office, ready to flee the building and suck up those cookies like a hungry Kirby and mop in his own lameness like the international grammy nominee celebrity he was.

And then you opened the door and his body just reacted on his own, thrusting the plate towards you silently as his eyes screamed pure panic.

"For me?" You asked and he just nodded "Thank you so much, you are so sweet!"

Yoongi felt his lips curving and even without a mirror he could tell he had a dumbstruck smile on his face.

"What's the occasion?"

Ask her out, he urged himself. Tell her how you feel, how you can't stop thinking about her face, how her smile fuled his daydreams and her perfume haunts his days, bleeding into his psyche and sinking its claws into his heart, turning every song he wrote into a proclamation of adoration and lust, tell her how...

"Hm, for all y-your hard wo-work" he sputtered, mentally face palming himself at his own words.

Bugger.

Bugger it all to hell.

(Part 2>>>)

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts fluff #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader

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mcdynamite · 1 year

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Nancy Wheeler has always been observant. It's something she prides herself on, if she's honest. It's what she knows will make her an excellent investigative reporter one day. It helps her make connections that other people might miss and remember the smallest of details that could make or break a story.

Perhaps most importantly, it's what makes her good at reading people – their micro-expressions, their body language, what makes them tick. She's good at it with anyone, but especially when it comes to the people she knows best.

So it's only logical that she's the first to notice when Steve starts to fall for Eddie Munson.

The signs are subtle, at first, but they're there, and Nancy can see them from a mile away. She's got the added bonus of having been the object of Steve's affections, once upon a time, so she knows what to look for. She knows that with Steve, it always starts with the lingering glances. He's never been able to keep his eyes off the people he wants, and it's this that first clues her in on the whole thing.

She's at Penny's Diner with Steve, Robin, and Eddie, and their waitress is laying it on thick, flirting relentlessly with Steve, batting her eyelashes dramatically and swaying her hips more than is objectively necessary whenever she walks away. And sure, Steve hasn't gone for any of the girls that act this way around him in a long time, but he always, always looks. Hell, even Nancy looks, sometimes, when a girl is objectively pretty. She's big enough to admit (to herself, at least) that boys aren't the only dating pool she's interested in, now that she and Jonathan are done.

But that day at Penny's, Steve doesn't give the poor waitress so much as a second glance, because that day, Steve can't seem to stop looking at Eddie.

At first, Nancy is sure she's imagining it – the way Steve's eyes linger on the dungeon master like he can't bring himself to look away – but it gets harder and harder to deny the longer they sit there sipping their milkshakes. Eddie is debating something silly with Robin, and Steve is just... watching him.

Steve's got this fond little smile on his face, and it's a look Nancy recognizes immediately. It used to be directed at her. And honestly? She's a bit relieved it's not, anymore, because she loves Steve, but not like that. Not the way she was worried Steve still loved her... the way she wonders if Steve might be falling for Eddie.

She sort of keeps an eye out for things, after that day – the little things that give Steve away when he's crushing hard on somebody. The lingering glances. The soft smiles. The brief touches. The flimsy excuses for stepping into Eddie's space, like the day Steve sees Eddie struggling with the lighter, and instead of just lending Eddie his own, he steps forward until their shoes are practically touching and holds up the flame for him.

She sees it all and wonders how in the world nobody else has caught on yet. Even Robin, Steve's best friend in the entire world, seems puzzled by the sudden lack of dates on Steve's calendar. Sometimes Nancy wants to grab her by the shoulders and tell her to just think a little harder.

(Nancy wants to grab Robin by the shoulders for other reasons, too – reasons that involve pulling Robin closer and kissing the living daylights out of her – but that's neither here nor there.)

But no matter how long Steve's pining lasts, no matter how obvious he's getting, nobody else seems to notice. It's mildly infuriating, but Nancy isn't about to talk to anyone else about it. It's dangerous being queer in this part of Indiana, and even though she knows that their little monster-fighting family won't care, it's still not her secret to tell.

It all comes to a head at a bonfire one night, midway through the summer, when the kids are once again grilling Steve on his sudden lack of a dating life. And it's Max who first cottons on to the most plausible explanation.

"Oh my God, wait, you like someone!" Max gasps midway through Dustin's interrogation.

There's a brief silence, and then the kids are all shouting.

"Oh, shit, Max, you're right. He totally does!" Dustin cries.

Steve tries to protest, but it's useless, because ever since Steve shed his royal persona two years ago, he's been a truly terrible liar. He looks like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and vaguely panicky, but Dustin Henderson has never been very good at letting things go.

"You have to tell us who it is!" Dustin presses. "We're your friends, Steve. Friends tell each other things. Unless..." Dustin gasps dramatically. "Unless she's someone we know..."

That shuts everyone up all at once, even Robin and Eddie, who have been having their own little conversation off to the side. Everyone stares at Steve, and then half of their eyes go to Nancy herself, and the other half land on Robin. It might make Nancy laugh, if Steve didn't look so close to throwing up.

"Right, well this is stupid," Steve says, smacking his hands on his knees and pushing up out of the chair. "I'm going to get another drink, and when I get back, we're dropping this."

He turns and hurries into the house, and Nancy glances around their little circle. Robin looks confused, but mostly worried. Eddie looks vaguely sick. And most of the kids just look shocked. They all start to murmur amongst themselves after the door slides shut behind Steve's retreating form. Nancy sees the way his whole body seems to sag, watching through the glass, and decides she's had enough.

She gets up, ignoring the way the murmuring gets louder as she walks, and follows him.

She finds Steve bent over the kitchen counter, palms pressed into the granite and head bent towards his chest. He looks like he's on the verge of panicking, and her heart aches for him. He's been through so much – some of which Nancy knows is her fault – and God, she just wants him to be happy for once.

"Steve?" she says softly.

Steve flinches at the sound of her voice, like he was so lost in thought he didn't even realize she'd followed him.

"There's something I wanted to-"

"Before you say anything, it's not you," he interupts flatly before she can finish. He pushes off the counter to look at her with sad, earnest eyes. "I know things were, like, weird when we were in the Upside Down, and we never really talked about it, but... I don't feel that way about you anymore. So you don't have to worry."

Nancy just blinks at him.

"That... that's what you wanted to talk about, right?" he asks.

"No, actually," Nancy says carefully. "I sort of knew you didn't feel like that about me, and I don't feel that way about you, so that's a non-issue, but..."

Steve looks relieved for a second, then tenses up again. "But...?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"I, um... I think I might have an idea who it is – if Max is right, that is, and you really do like someone," she says.

Steve sighs. "It's not Robin, if that's what you're thinking."

"No," Nancy says softly, shaking her head. "No, it's not."

Steve frowns and averts his eyes, arms crossing protectively over his chest. He doesn't say anything.

Nancy considers her options. She wonders how she should play this, how to go about bringing this up. In the end, she just goes with her gut.

"Did you know I like girls?" she asks. It's the first time she's said it aloud to anyone, but it feels good. It feels like the right time. Besides, she wants to do this for Steve – to make him feel more comfortable. It's the least she can do.

Steve's eyes snap up to look at her again.

"I still like boys, too, but yeah... I like both, so..." She takes a deep breath. "If there was anything you wanted to tell someone about how you feel about... someone else... I'm not going to judge you."

Steve bites his lip. He looks painfully conflicted, and a little bit like he might cry. "I, uh..." he stammers. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath… clears his throat. "Okay first of all, thank you for trusting me with that, and you know I support you. I just want you to be happy, Nance."

Nancy nods, because she knows. She's always known. "That's what I want for you, too," she says. She takes a step forward and takes one of his hands in hers, because Steve's eyes are getting watery, and she hates seeing people cry. "You don't have to tell me, but if you want-"

"I think I like Eddie," Steve says suddenly, voice whisper-soft. He looks terrified when he meets Nancy's eyes again. "I, um... yeah. I like Eddie."

Nancy offers him what she hopes is an encouraging smile and nods. "Yeah, I kinda figured."

"Shit, am I that obvious?" Steve says weakly, and Nancy can't help but laugh softly.

"God, no," she says. "Well, to me, you are, but to everyone else? God, they're clueless. I promise you that nobody else has any clue, and it's been driving me crazy."

To her relief, Steve huffs out a soft laugh, as well. "Yeah, well, you've always been sort of freakishly observant, haven't you?"

It's true. She's always been like this, and that's precisely why she feels confident enough to make her next statement.

"You should tell him, Steve," she says.

Because Steve isn't the only person she's been watching for the past few months.

She's been watching Eddie, too, so she's seen Eddie's dopey, smitten smile whenever Steve makes a terrible joke. She's watched Eddie pull his hair in front of his mouth bashfully after Steve teases him. She's seen the blush on Eddie's cheeks whenever Steve steps into his personal space.

Steve Harrington isn't the only one who's been busy falling in love.

As usual, nobody else has noticed.

"No, absolutely not," Steve says, pulling his hand away and running both hands through his hair instead. "Are you crazy, Nance? He'll hate me!"

Nancy is pretty sure she deserves an Oscar for keeping her expression neutral, because the urge to roll her eyes is physically painful to resist.

"Steve," she says calmly. "I love you, and I love Eddie, but the two of you are idiots if you can't see how hard you've been pining over each other, and I am not above physically knocking your heads together to get you to realize that."

Steve's eyebrows disappear behind his hairline, and Nancy almost laughs. "Jesus, when did you get so threatening, Wheeler?" he grumbles, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. It's quickly swept away by fear, though, and Nancy's heart breaks a little when Steve looks at her with those puppy-dog eyes of his and asks, "What if you're wrong?"

She's only just opened her mouth to reply when the sliding door opens again, and someone else joins them in the kitchen.

Eddie's eyes dart back and forth between Nancy and Steve assessingly, and Nancy has to bite back a laugh because oh. Eddie was jealous.

"Sorry to interrupt," Eddie says, one eyebrow raised. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He focuses his gaze on Steve, eyes softening. It's disgustingly adorable, how earnestly concerned he looks. "You doin' alright, Stevie? Kinda left in a hurry back there."

Steve glances at Nancy, face becoming redder by the second. Nancy smiles.

"Well I'm going to let you talk," she says casually. Steve's eyes nearly bug out of his head, but she puts both hands on his shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes before he can protest. "But to answer your question from before... I'm not wrong," she murmurs softly, so only Steve can hear.

She pats him gently on the cheek and turns on her heel before Steve can respond, catching Eddie's eye on the way out. He looks perplexed, and she just smiles.

The kids hardly notice when she rejoins the circle around the fire. They've already moved on to topics that don't involve their babysitter's love life, but Robin still looks worried. It's cute. God, Robin is so cute, Nancy can hardly stand it.

"Is he okay?" Robin asks quietly. "He looked pretty upset when he left, and then you guys were gone for a while, and Eddie thought maybe you were getting back together, but I told him that was ridiculous, and now neither of them are back yet, and-"

"They're fine, I promise," Nancy says with a grin, interrupting Robin’s rambling. "They just... needed a little nudge."

Nancy gets to see the moment it clicks for Robin, and it's only a little bit hilarious. "Wait..." Robin says, mouth dropping open. "Steve...?"

Nancy nods, smile widening.

"And Eddie?"

"Yep," Nancy says. Robin looks on the verge of a massive freakout (a positive one, obviously, but a freakout nonetheless), and Nancy doesn't want her to unwittingly out both of the boys to the kids, so she changes the topic. She figures if she's making Steve deal with his feelings, she might as well do the same. You know, solidarity, and all that.

"By the way," Nancy says coolly, quietly, "did you know I'm bisexual?"

She has to cover Robin's mouth with her hand to stop her shriek of surprise, but it's worth it, because Robin instantly turns into a blushing, stuttering mess, and it's so stupidly endearing. Nancy wants to kiss her until neither of them can remember their own names.

It's even more endearing when Nancy tells her, "Yeah, so I'd really like to talk later, after the kids go to bed, if that's okay?" And Robin looks like she might faint when she blushes and whimpers out a yes.

Nancy just grins and threads their fingers together, hands tucked out of sight from the kids.

They're still sitting like that when Steve and Eddie finally come out of the house after a very long time, both boys looking flushed and a bit disheveled, but happy.

"Thought you were getting another drink?" Erica snarks at Steve when they sit down, and Nancy snorts, because Steve definitely returned empty-handed.

Steve's eyes widen and he looks at Eddie sheepishly. "I, uh... got a little distracted."

Only Max seems to recognize the implications, because her jaw drops, but Robin nudges her with her foot before she can say anything, and Max instantly shuts her mouth. She's still got a knowing look on her face, but Nancy knows she won't go outing anyone to the others. She's a good kid.

"God, you have the attention span of a puppy, Steve, I swear," Dustin grumbles, and the conversation quickly moves on.

Nancy is mostly quiet for the rest of the night, silently observing all of her friends and reveling in the feeling of Robin's hand in hers. She watches as Max tentatively rests her head on Lucas's shoulder. Watches Lucas's eyes widen and sees the internal freakout happening in his mind. She sees the way Eddie and Steve sit closer than before, practically on top of each other, faces flushed with happiness while they all make s'mores. She watches her brother look hopelessly confused sitting between Will and El, because he hasn't yet realized that while he is in love with one of them, it's not the one he thinks it is.

And at the end of the night, after the kids are all settled in the massive living room and she and Robin head for the guest room, Nancy catches Steve's eye. He and Eddie are holding hands now that they're out of sight of the kids, and Eddie can't stop staring at Steve like he's some sort of miracle. But just this once, Steve tears his eyes away from Eddie to meet Nancy's.

He smiles, mouths thank you, and gives an approving nod when his eyes land on her hand, which is still wrapped around Robin's.

Nancy just smiles and nods, and watches as Eddie impatiently tugs Steve into the bedroom and shuts the door. As Robin does the same to her, pulling her eagerly into the guest room, she has a wild thought.

If the investigative journalism thing doesn't work out, there's always the option of matchmaker.

She's apparently pretty damn good at it, after all.

And she's always been observant.

#steddie #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #pov outsider #pov nancy wheeler #nancy is a good friend/wingwoman #background ronance #ronance #getting together #stranger things #mcdynamite writes

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daisybvck · 4 months

Text

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 : Bucky Barnes x reader

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : Your superior agent Bucky Barnes just wants the best for you, right ?

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 : 18+, smut, Bucky Barnes as a fucking whole, dubcon/noncon, cockwarming, manipulation, praise

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Bucky had invented a way to manipulate you into fucking him. And honestly; he was pretty proud of himself. When he approached you last week and offered some one-on-one training, you jumped at the chance. No one else is able to perform domain expansions like him, who were you to turn down additional support? You'd do anything to get ahead in your training, and the better you were, the better help you'd be in the field

You were grateful, albeit a little confused when he didn't invite you out to go into the compound gym Instead, he drove you to his apartment.

But that's okay... Right?

He probably has tools and things here he needs to get before he heads out. Although you've never actually seen him use anything besides that blunt butterfly knife. That's okay too, just because he doesn't use any other weapon isn't to say he doesn't have others. It's the only logical explanation as to why you were in his apartment right now. He was finding a spare tool just for you!

Alas, that suspicion was dashed as you watched Bucky remove his tie, calmly. Before you could ask what he was doing, he tied the silk accessory around your neck. You would have objected; but you were just totally lost for words at what was happening. When there was a secure knot around your neck, he tugged you closer to him.

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Please remove your clothes... Slowly." he demanded. He backed away to form a gap between you both. He wanted to see you do as you were instructed and enjoy the display. He began unbuttoning the top button his dress shirt.

"I don't_"

"Speak up if you have something to say he interjected, insulting your whispering tone. You couldn't help it. Your throat practically closed all on its own.

"I don't- why are you- how is this going to help?" you stuttered. His vision sharpened in on you. The stuttering displeased him, immensely. “I'm just not sure how removing our clothes is going to make me a better sorcerer.”

"Are you questioning me?"

"No! I just-" you choked as you found yourself being dragged closer to the blonde man before you once again.

He looked down sternly into your eyes, his lips in a tight line as he planned his next words. You knew he was preparing to chew you out. But what he was actually doing was attempting to come up with a plausible lie to manipulate you into thinking this is acceptable conduct from a superior.

"The avengers are all about endurance. Whoever has the weakest will to go on, less energy to fight, will lose. This is to help you. But if you're too selfish-” he trailed off, knowing the idle threat of removing the opportunity from you would have you at his beck and call.

“I’m not selfish! 'm sorry Bucky, just didn't understand!”

“Please... Please help me. I'm so grateful, promise." you whimpered pathetically. You even began to remove your clothing for him, just as he'd asked. Better late than never, he supposes.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

He joins you in continuing to take off more articles of clothing. He's satisfied with the speed you find yourself naked. While shirtless, he pauses to inspect your body.

He has waited an awfully long time to see you like this. In this vulnerable, intimate state. And you're too dense to realise it's all a rouse. But he'll never tell, and he's sure you'll keep it secret too. God forbid any of the others discover his sick little plan. If you're both careful, both smart about this, you could probably do this forever. You feel a little embarrassed under his harsh gaze, using your arms to cover whatever intimate areas as best you can.

He tuts once and shakes his head.

"Don't do that. You have a fine body, beautiful in fact." he admits. You don't really want to uncover yourself, but you do as he asks regardless. He raises his index finger, whistling as he spins it through the air. You obey his speechless command and spin around. You're unsure if he wants you to do a 360° or 180°.

"Stop." he speaks while your back is facing him.

He comes up behind you, palming his hands over the flesh of your right cheek. He knows you're only doing it because you're uncomfortable, but he's revelling in the way you're squirming around under his touch.

Has it been a while for you, perhaps? Just as it had been quite some time for him? You yip as you feel his palm collide with your soft flesh.

"I want you to remove my trousers and underwear for me.” he informs you. You're spun around to be facing him, and soon he's pressing down on your shoulders, indicating that he wants you on your knees. He doesn't mind that you are fumbling and taking too long. He knows this is a lot for you to handle out of the blue. He can see in the way your whole body shakes that you're terrified, but he'll be gentle with you - mostly.

Finally his member springs free and thumps against his chiselled body. Even he cracks a little smile on that serious expression when he notices your eyes bulge in fascination. The little patches of drool forming in the corner of your mouth don't go unnoticed either.

It's so pretty. The prettiest you've ever seen. If Nanami didn't know any better, he'd thinking you were falling in love. He couldn't believe you were genuinely salivating over his dick like this. What else were you meant to do?

The tip was pink and pretty, the type of pink that makes you feel giddy. The head wasn't particularly large, but the slit was delectable, too. A gorgeous hole that you wanted nothing more than to tease with your tongue. And it was already leaking for you. So pearly and drippy. The length was admirable, too. It was a just perfect girth; and not too veiny. Two distinct veins ran along the underside his his length.

You couldn't take it anymore. You had to have it, to taste it. But before you could swallow him up, he yanked on your makeshift leash and tugged you away from his erection.

"Not today.

"But-"

"This is business, not pleasure, remember?" he reminded you. You nodded, dumbly. How could you be so stupid? It was so amusing to him. His sweet, naïve girl. “When I sit down, you're going to sink yourself down onto me." he instructed. You squinted at him in confusion, it seemed like an over explanatory way of saying he wanted to have sex with you.

"You want me to ride you." It's a statement, not a question. Because that is what it sounds like he wants, but he shakes his head. What a silly girl you are. There's more to life than fucking.

"I just want your cunt wrapped around me."

Your knees were either side of his thighs as your pussy enveloped his desperate, wanting cock. It shocked you that Bucky was such a gentle kisser, very sweet and tender. Even as he moved from your lips to other parts of your body, he was never rough with you. Featherlight kisses worked down to your neck, your shoulders, and eventually the soft flesh of your breasts.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

This is the extent of your encounter, this is all you'd been doing with him for the last half an hour. His lips and wet tongue felt perfect around your protruding nipples; but now it was nowhere near close to enough. You were so full, full of him, and yet there was no relief. His cock head was nuzzled snuggly in your cunt. It would be so easy for him to fuck up into you, granting both the release you desperately craved. But he had forbade it. He stilled your attempt at riding him by digging his fingers into your hips and slamming you back down in place.

"Sit still for me sweetheart.?

"'s too hard! Too hard Bucky!"

It was embarrassing. Wriggling around in his lap like a desperate virgin. It was out of your control now. Your cunt was soaking wet because of him and he could feel the way your sopping walls clenched around him. Even he has to admit that he can barely hold himself back anymore.

"You're never going to reach my level if you can't endure.

A little pathetic aren't you, hm?" he taunts. It's mean an unnecessary, but it's all part of a larger scheme. If you feel like you've failed, you'll be desperate to do it again and prove him wrong. And he can keep up this charade for as long as he can get away with.

"I- I can't! James please, I can't wait any longer. Fuck me! I need it, need it s'bad!" you are nearly screaming as you beg and plead with him to make your dreams a reality. He hushes you as he repositions himself ever so slightly. He needs to get a more comfortable angle if he wants you to see what he's truly capable of. Bucky kisses the shell of your ear a few times and coos. He's going to make it better, he's going to make you feel better.

"So obedient for me angel, aren't you?" he whispers to you, bouncing you lightly on the length of his cock. It's not enough, you know it and he knows it. He's just getting started. He picks up the pace as he aligns his mouth to whisper into your ear once again. "You're such a good girl when you're begging for cock. the vibrations of his voice traverse directly into your ear and make you shudder. He grunts harshly as his whispering results in your cunt clamping him in a vice grip once again.

"Wanna be a good girl... Wanna be a good agent!" you explain. He shushes you again and praises you for your determination. His thumbs are put to use when tears spill from your eyes; the pleasure of his cock finally pleasing you feeling so heavenly and so intense all in one.

"Good girls... Good agents can endure their training”

“Good girls aren't desperate to get fucked by their superiors." he hums. He does feel a little guilty. He's chastising you for no good reason, after all. He wanted

this just as much as you did - if not more so, in fact. But the way you sniffle at his words dashes any guilt he felt.

You really are a good girl.

“sorry B-Bucky. I'II do- I'II do better n-next time!”

“Promise!" you stutter, hoping to get your point across.

You know you're understood when his index finger and thumb find your chin, tilting your face to his. His lips meet yours in another sweet, delicate kiss.

"Ah, yes." he begins, "Clever girl. Next time."

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hedgehog-moss · 10 months

Text

I was woken up last night by a sound like a machine gun being fired... loud clak-clak-clak that went on for like 10 seconds and I sat in bed completely bewildered because my brain couldn't come up with a plausible explanation for it. Then I remembered about the thunderstorm warning and thought oh shit, the greenhouse. It could possibly be the sound of thick glass cracking and breaking after a branch fell on it...?

I ran outside in my pyjamas and found the greenhouse intact—then thought oh shit, the chicken coop. Had no idea how a chicken coop could produce such a noise but I ran there anyway, and the coop was fine. It was a dry storm, lots and lots of wind but no rain or hail and I stood there uselessly for a moment, trying to think of other explanations with my 3am brain (not easy), then went to check on the llamas just in case, and I found all three of them standing with very alert ears, staring at a fallen tree—one of the four very tall wild cherries in their pasture.

So that was a relief ! From where I was I couldn't see if the tree had crashed on the fence and destroyed a chunk of it, it seemed possible but I decided that was a problem for tomorrow-me, and in any case it could have been worse. The fact that Pampe was still here boded well (for the integrity of the fence)—but seeing as the llamas were lined up in front of the tree like mourners paying their respects at a funeral, maybe she just felt that taking advantage of the tree's misfortune to immediately escape via the opening created by its prostrate body would be inappropriate.

First thing I saw this morning when I opened my bedroom window was the fallen tree, and I started feeling less optimistic because from afar things really didn't look promising for my poor fence.

(And from up close either)

But the tree missed the fence by just a few metres!

Its branches were tangled up with the other trees' branches and I think some of them slowed its fall until they broke one by one, which would explain the prolonged cracking noises, it wasn't just the trunk. But only 1 branch fell on the fence and it wasn't a large one, so there's no damage!

The God of Fences was on my side last night. :)

Consulted on whether he had been frightened by that loud sinister noise in the middle of the night, Pirlouit declined to comment, as he has more tragic problems right now. Our neighbour made hay recently which means Pirou now has several tonnes of hay staring at him and taunting him just outside his pen, out of reach. He is in a bad mood for reasons that have nothing to do with a stupid tree. It's like if you had to live right outside a pastry shop's window, except worse because you're a donkey (they already find life unfair as it is.)

I wonder if the wild cherry tree will soldier on...? Its roots + part of the trunk are still intact, and there are fallen trees in the forest with only 1 toe still in the ground who take their fate pretty philosophically and just start growing perpendicularly, like okay I guess we're sending our branches in that direction now. I'm going to leave it here and see if it rallies. I think it actually looks pretty breezy right now, it kind of looks like this:

Good luck, wild cherry! Let's see if you still have some life in you...

Oh and since we had a new obstacle, I tried to check if Pandolf remembered the word "Saute !" (Jump) and he does! We did it a bunch of times because I was trying to make him understand that I wanted 1 majestic jump and not his lazy 2-steps solution, but I didn't manage to explain it.

Maybe if I said "no :/" instead of "good great what a dog!!" he would think harder about how to improve his technique, but I'd rather fluff up his ego. Even that ridiculous failure at the end was met with a "yes amazing!!" response from me and he felt like an agility champion instead of a bumbling bag of fur. I'm going to try and get him to find his balance and walk on this part of the trunk, so I expect to see a lot more of his "argh, oops, wait" facial expression :)

#crawling along #j'espère que tout le monde a de l'électricité & pas trop de dégâts avec ces orages dans tout le pays...!

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

you know that photo of princess diana asleep at some “royal engagement” and it turned out she was pregnant at the time ? anyways I can’t help but imagine what would happen if aemond wife were to fall asleep at some engagement, meeting, etc

One Eye Open When I'm Sleeping

ONE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYEEEEEEE

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond has been noticing a shift in your sleep pattern. He had his suspicions but didn't make note of it to you up until he unceremoniously announced it to everyone.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, wife!reader, misogynistic rats, mentions/depictions of pregnancy symptoms, ready to stab at any given moment & protective!aemond, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i resuscitated myself into my aemond craze. tbh idk what happened with this fic i hope you enjoy tho nonnie. ALSO I LOOKED UP THE PICS OF DIANA AND SHE IS SUCH A PRINCESS SUCH A BABY GIRL IF SHE GOT SHIT FOR THAT I SWEAR I WILL PUT A HIT ON EVERYONE WHO SLANDERED MY QUEEN Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @risefallrise @sloanexx

Aemond drew circles on your back as he looked down at your sleeping form. Normally, you'd both be up and about at this time, awake far before the sun reached this height in the sky.

His reason was sleep did not come easy and came fast with him. Or at least that was before his darling wife came into the picture.

You on the other hand, his darling wife, were an early riser by choice. Not only do you enjoy watching the sun rise with a chirp and a smile at the start of the mornings, but you had also been accustomed to do so because of your mother.

This was why your continued slumber, flush, snoozing form snug against him, was something he had mentally been noting. He had no complaints. Why would he when his beloved bride was so comfortably nuzzled in his chest? Which also, in turn, allowed him to sleep longer. He noted it anyway still, at the forefront of his mind.

He noted your appetite changes also. And to this he was less permissive, especially in moments where you felt sick.

In this moment, he had the staff lined up by the side of the table as Aemond chewed his first meal of the day slowly, watching you intently as you did the same.

You licked your lips and offered a guilty look to the servants.

Aemond knew you would wait for the world to be in ruin than ever complain about anything.

"Wonderful meal," you smiled, turning to Aemond with a pleading look to let them be.

With a single nod he did, eyeing the head cook that eyed him back on her way out.

Aemond had various possible explanations for your eating patterns, for the queasiness, the lack of appetite, the intolerance for some food, and the immense cravings for others. One in particular, the most obvious and plausible of them all, you were with child.

He grabs your cup of wine before you could drink from it and offers a smile. You roll your eyes at him, thinking he was merely trying to tease you.

Aemond made it a point to divert the attention from you to the staff though. If you feel the need to vomit because of the meal, then they shall be reprimanded, and if you feel like you could eat the whole day, then they shall be rewarded.

Today it seems Aemond would need to speak with them and your intolerance to spinach.

And speak he did. You scowled deeply at him after for doing so and nagged his ear off for being so 'cruel' to the staff for the past week, simply because you were feeling under the weather. You told him the maesters gave you medicine for your ailment and that it was a problem with you and not the food.

Little did you know there was actually no real 'reprimanding' going on, at least not in the way you pictured it.

They were in on it.

The servants, the maesters. Aemond had been investigating with them the subtle changes you've been having. It was the head cook, Susana, who also happened to be a mother of five, that informed Aemond she was nearly certain you were with child.

All that was left was the maesters to verify it. Aemond's decision not to tell you until he heard the word from your measter stemmed from knowing how you'd be if in case he was wrong with his hunch. He knew he wasn't, but he wouldn't risk getting your hope up nonetheless.

But damn, he hadn't planned for you to learn of it like this. Though, had he not said it, he'd just killed the man in cold blood instead.

It happened so quickly.

"Say that again," Aemond blurted, face twitching, hands stretched out at the side of his body.

The lord ,who made the mistake of singling you out in the middle of the meeting, the meeting you were not even a part of, all because you were an easy target, scoffs and gives Aemond an incredulous look.

You had woken up from the nap you hadn't realized you took in the middle of it all because of Aemond's loud voice.

The lord pointed as he fumed, "your insolent, pretentious wife has done nothing but mock my house since the moment you've arrived!"

Aemond lets out a chuckle. Make no mistake, he was severely unamused.

He was about ready to lunge at him from your side of the table, but then you had managed to perk up and grab his hand. You look at up at him from where he stood next to your seat, hand quivering in your touch out of anger.

It was a wonder Aemond managed to speak in such a manner that did not give himself away, "I assure you, my lord, if my wife wished to mock you, she'd have done it before you bored her to death with your prolonged distractions in a manner so kindly, you'd not even realized she spat at your face."

The lord scoffs in utter disbelief, "you fucking c-"

"I, on the other hand, would gladly openly mock you and your pathetic excuse for a treaty," Aemond mutters, shaking your hands off him. "You think me a fool for your conditions? Any moron with one eye could see how you're trying to play me-"

"Aemond," you whisper.

But it was too late, Aemond lunged to him, slid across the table, and tackled him to the ground, pulling out a blade he kept always in his back pocket. His eyes were blown as he overpowered the man with a raging intent to seriously harm him. He mutters under his breath, "beg for your life."

"Aemond!" you cry out, running to him as the rest of the people in the room do the same.

Aemond watches at the man's face struggles against him. The prince chuckles dryly, "shall I execute you in front of your men?"

The man growls, "get him fuck off me!"

A few men begin to close in on him.

"If any of you touch me, I will slit his throat from ear to ear," Aemond raises his voice.

You begin to panic, "Aemond, please, enough of this."

"No," he barks back, eye not leaving his target, "he ought to beg me not to skin him for not only insulting me," he presses his dagger closer to the cretin's skin, "wasting my time in showing amity by even bringing my wife along this damned trip, but also for demeaning the one person that has kept me patient this whole bloody time!" Aemond rages. He begins to see red, "that person carrying my child, you dumb fuck," he grit his teeth, fury ablaze all over again.

Your eyes widen at your husbands words. You gasp when the man yelps when Aemond nicks his jaw.

He scoffs, "you call her insolent and pretentious, for what? Expressing indications of child bearing?!"

The man in Aemond's clutch begins to lose the color of his face.

Aemond looks down at him.

"I- I did not realize-"

"Of course you didn't realize, you dimwitted ninnyhammer," Aemond hisses, "you treat your own very evidently expecting wife with worse disdain."

"Aemond, please," you mutter rather weakly.

He snorts at the sound of it. He weighs his options.

He stills when you call out to him again.

Fine. He shoves the man back and gets off him, eyeing him darkly as he made his way to you. Once he did, he puts keeps his blade and takes your face in his hands. Part of him begins to be eaten away at the sight of your teary eyes.

But then he's infuriated all over again.

"Your grace, I-"

"Do not speak to me unless you want to lose your tongue," Aemond deadpans as he turns over his shoulder. He grabs your hand and walks out, "you needn't worry about a deliberation for your treaty. May the Seven help you with your endeavors against the crown."

#aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemon targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x you

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

Text

Title: Extra-dimensional.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Spot x Reader (Spider-verse).

Word Count: 6.0k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Semi-Public Sex, Tentacle-Adjacent Sex, Prolonged Stalking, Psychological Abuse, Themes of Grief, and Kidnapping.

You were starting to think that your apartment might’ve been haunted.

The science-focused part of your brain was forced to look at the evidence, to acknowledge how many well-accounted-for articles of clothing and minor keepsakes had gone missing over the past few weeks, to count how many times you’d caught shadowy figures flickering in the corner of your eye, to take stock of all possible causes and admit that, tragically, a temperamental spirit was the only remotely plausible explanation, even if you had to use the term ‘plausible’ more loosely than you’d like to. It made sense – or, it made as much sense as invoking supernatural entities could, anyway.

On the other hand, the part of your mind that paid rent every month and vacuumed twice a week really, really didn’t want your apartment to be haunted and vehemently denied that ghosts – unseen, untouchable, unsolvable ghosts – were something you’d have to deal with a down payment like yours.

Both parts of your brain could agree that leaving a fully in-tact, as-of-yet unopened bank vault would be a weird thing for a ghost to do, though.

Teeth grit, still dressed in the clothes you’d worn to the memorial, you stood with one foot planted on its overturned side and another lodged in your carpeting, the end of a crowbar you’d borrowed from your loudest downstairs neighbor lodged between the door and the wall where a badly beaten mechanism bound them together. You’d already called the cops, as little as you wanted to do with them or the quote-on-quote ‘heroes’ who’d failed to save him, but the operator had laughed you off of the line and despite the hours you’d spent buried in the deepest trenches of any search engine that would have you, the only report you could find of a bank robbery had taken place in London, on the other side of the world. You’d considered, briefly, that grief had driven you to hallucinations and this was just the first sign of an upcoming downward spiral, but that idea had been swiftly vetoed when you’d tripped over the damn thing and decided it was very much, very unfortunately real. The idea to pry it open had come a few minutes later, after deciding that you probably had a legal right to anything to investigate anything that spontaneously appeared in your living room – ghosts or no ghosts.

You heard something snap, felt the reverberation of a fracture underneath your palms, but the vault didn’t budge. The only thing that changed was your crowbar – the bent claw replaced with a jagged, broken-off tip when you managed to dislodge it from the vault. You winced, swallowing back in an agitated grown. Trial One: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. So far, the vault reigned victorious.

You tried to take a deep breath, to count to ten and tell yourself that this was no different than a failed experiment, a half-baked test that just hadn’t gone your way, but you could still hear church bells ringing in the back of your mind, still picture two empty seats at the front of the chapel – one for Dr. Octavius and the other meant for the CEO of the Alchamax, neither brave enough to show their face. You weren’t even sure why you were so angry. It could’ve been the clipped speech delivered by a company representative who’d barely known him, the closed casket, the way your coworkers could barely bring themselves to meet your eyes despite your stunted attempts at making conversation through the knot lodged in your throat. It could’ve been everything. It could’ve been something else entirely. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. There were already tears streaming down your cheeks, dripping down your chin as you pulled the crowbar back and swung it into the vault’s door. The force of the collision rattled through your body, but you steeled yourself and did it again, then again, then again, until the smooth, black metal was dented beyond any hope of repair and your crowbar was warped and misshapen. Finally, when you were panting and breathless, when your hands threatened to cramp and your shoulders ached in their sockets, you drove the blunted crowbar into the vault’s door with what was left of your quickly draining strength. In the end, your aggression was rewarded with a metallic clang, the sound of something cracking open, and then, what was left of the vault door fell open – nearly taking out one of your feet before you stumbled out of the way.

You clenched your eyes shut, forcing out a ragged exhale and re-tallying your score. Trail II: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. Although the vault put up a good fight, the crowbar’s endurance ultimately persevered. Interference from external factors and researcher’s bias will be considered later on with the assistance of a glass of wine and a mediocre romcom you’ll cry your eyes out to.

Once you’d managed to dampen the lingering heat of your grief-fueled anger, you turned your attention to the bank vault’s contents – the fruits of your labor, the results of your little experiment. You weren’t sure what you expected. Jewelry, maybe, artifacts or century-old paintings some underground dealer had to ditch in a stranger’s apartment for reasons you couldn’t begin to comprehend. Part of you, the part of you that remembered the number written across your last paycheck, couldn’t help but hope for something simple; a disorderly pile of unmarked bills that you’d count and stow away and pretend you weren’t dying to waste. That part of you wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Neatly stacked in the overturned bank vault, only slightly disrupted by your attempts to pry it open, were stacks upon stacks of neatly organized dollar bills. Or, that wasn’t quite right, actually. They were bills, but they weren’t dollars.

You took one of the bundles in your hand. English pounds – sorted by color and bound together by paper bands toting a logo you didn’t recognize. Huh.

Maybe your next call should be an international one.

By the next month, you’d escalated from a vaguely haunted apartment to a full-blown spectral presence that you just couldn’t seem to shake.

Spectral presence. You still weren’t convinced it was a real term, but you’d picked it up after a conversation with one of your coworkers (former coworker, now, you had to remind yourself, one of your former coworkers) when you both stepped out of a quickly lulling group session and you’d off-handedly mentioned your little ghost problem. In the moment, you’d laughed and shrugged and promised to let them know if you ever called an exorcist, but the phrase had stuck, resurfaced the next time you couldn’t find the threadbare t-shirt you’d been wearing for the better part of a decade and cemented itself in the forefront of your consciousness when the aforementioned shirt reappeared on your balcony, a jagged tear running from the collar to the midriff and the hems eaten away to nothing. If that didn’t count as a presence, you weren’t sure what would.

That was the first time your little ghost problem had followed you out of the house, but it wouldn’t be the last. You could practically feel it, now; constantly looming over your shoulder, constantly watching, constantly leaving little trinkets in places it knew you would be. If you could even call them that. They were more like… oddities – rings made of a kind of metal you couldn’t recognize, puzzle boxes you couldn’t seem to figure out, things that should make sense but just didn’t when you looked into them. The only one you’d been able to make sense of so far was a pair of glasses, one of the lenses sporting a hair-line fracture. You’d spent the rest of that day huddled in your closet, the door shut and the lights off. You considered that you could have a stalker, someone or something who loved you enough or hated you enough to follow you around, leaving things you didn’t want to see in places it knows you’d find them, but you didn’t know how a stalker would even start to get their hands on something like that. You didn’t know how anything of his could’ve survived that explosion, but you weren’t in a place to ask those kinds of questions, anymore.

Currently, you weren’t in a place to do much of anything. You’d spent most of the night before sleepless and huddled into yourself, and now, you were glassy-eyes and exhausted, staring down an aisle’s worth of produce blankly as you tried to ignore the chill fanning over the nape of your neck. You kept your tongue caught in your teeth, counting out the micro-seconds between one breath and another with a precision refined by years of measuring the time between stimulus and reaction, holding yourself stiff enough to drown out the unsteadiness. It’d pass, soon enough. It had to pass, eventually. You just had to—

Something brushed against the small of your back and you straightened, snapping over your shoulder and finding, predictably, nothing. You tried to write it off as just another figment of your stress-induced paranoia, a symptom of so many late nights and so little external stimulation, but any hope of calming your racing heart was torn away with you by the feeling of something settling against the curve of your shoulder-blade, then dipping lower, following the curve of your spine before sliding to your hip. It was a phantom sensation – cold and weightless, hollow and so close to intangible – but you could feel it clearly enough to recognize that it was pressing against you directly, frozen tendrils sapping the warmth from your skin without clothes to buffer its awful touch. There was something else to it, too, a sort of buzzing that you couldn’t seem to compare to anything but static. It burnt. It didn’t feel like anything at all.

If you’d been braver, you might’ve glanced down, tried to see if the fabric of reality had opened to reveal some terrible, eldritch thing, but you weren’t and it was all you could do to clench your eyes shut, to cross your arms over your chest and pray that would be enough to protect you from the thin trail of frigid, searing static slowly creeping up your side, drifting to your navel, following the curve of your chest until it was resting just underneath the base of your throat. You weren’t sure what you were afraid of. That it would hurt you, maybe, that the thing that was haunting you for months would realize it could touch you and take the next logical step. You didn’t want to die in a grocery store. You didn’t want to die at all. You didn’t want to—

“Do you mind, dude?”

The static disappeared, dissolving into the open air, and your eyes shot open, immediately finding a strung-out teenager standing next to you, awkwardly attempting to reach for something you must’ve been standing in front of. More out of reflex than anything else, you stepped back, muttering an apology under your breath before retreating out of the store entirely. You decided, when you were a block away and just starting to catch your breath, that you’d never be going back. You decided you were never going to think about what’d just happened to you again.

And, later on, when you realized that you wouldn’t be any safer at home, you decided not to think about your little haunting at all.

~ It was creeping up your spine, again.

“You’ve got more than enough experience for the position we’re offering.”

Lingering at the nape of your neck, pausing, then circling to your chest to trace over your collarbones.

“And I saw your resume, too – very impressive stuff. We’d love to have someone with your qualifications on our staff.”

It usually waited until you were alone, locked in your apartment or curled up under your sheets. It hadn’t touched you again in public since your first physical encounter – something you were thankful for and horrified by in equal measures. You didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was a conscious entity. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean if it knew what it was doing to you.

“There’s just one question. You mentioned that you were formerly employed at,” A pause, a polite smile that meant ‘depending on your answer, you might not be in my office for much longer’, “Alchemax?”

You forced yourself to smile, too, shifting slightly in your uncomfortable leather seat and hoping that would be enough to dispel the trail of frost now gliding down your chest. “Unfortunately,” you started, and your specter dipped lower, past your stomach and into the space between your thighs. You clenched your legs shut, then thought better of it and crossed them, but that did little to stop the chill now washing over your lap, fanning over the inside of your thigh. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it groping. “I wasn’t in that department, if that’s what you’re wondering. Our work was supposed to be completely theoretical. None of us knew what was really going on until – well, until everything knew.”

Your total rejection of autonomy appeased the interviewer, who rewarded your sacrifice by nodding his head and shuffling the papers on his desk before launching into some lengthy monologue about benefits and turn-over rates that you couldn’t bring yourself to concentrate on. Your crossed legs offered little protection. The entity’s touch expanded, infecting everything it contacted with that awful static and turning your skin warm, hyper-sensitive. A strange, alien weight fell onto your clit, pressing down harshly enough to earn a sudden gasp, to make you jerk forward and wrap your arms around your stomach. The interview went silent, his expression turning to one of sympathy-tinged confusion. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m just—” You tried to straighten your back, to brace yourself on the arm of your chair, but the entity dipped lower, two finger-like projections tracing down the length of your slit and you forced yourself to stand in spite of your unsteady legs. “It’s just been so humid, lately. I think I might need to step out and get something to drink—”

“Please, let me.” No, no, no. You needed to be somewhere else, to find a broom closet to hide in until this was over, but you couldn’t say that, couldn’t explain that all you wanted to do was get away from here and run farther than this entity would be able to follow you. You couldn’t say much of anything as you fell back into your seat, as your interview offered a curt apology and fled his own office before you could do the same. You might’ve thanked him, but you couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to hear anything over the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

As you feared, the entity seemed to know that you were alone. Its formerly ginger touch turned aggressive, dull fingertips (because they were fingers, you couldn’t deny it any longer, couldn’t claim this thing was as far from human as you hoped it would be) burrowing into the inside of your thigh harshly enough to bruise before pulling back and turning their attention back to your cunt, your clit. It was more than just the ghost of sensation, now – the pad of a thumb pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing loose, quick circles into your clit. Your body, senses dialed up by paranoia and defenses thinned by exhaustion, reacted instantly, an unfamiliar warmth pooling in your core as you dug your nails into the leather seat and tried to hold yourself still, tried to stop your stupid, stupid body from doing anything that’d suggest you wanted to be molested by a ghost.

You grit your teeth, to clench your thighs together, but your resistance only seemed to make it more aggressive. You felt a hand curl around your ankle and jerk your leg to the side, forcing your legs apart. It was quick to fill the empty space, three fingers pressing into your entrance as the heel of a palm continued to torture your clit. Whatever chill it carried, you were burning hot enough to balance it out, now, to leave you struggling to ignore the slick starting to dampen the inside of your thighs, the wet sounds that echoed off the blank office walls as two fingers slid into your pussy – only vaguely muffled by fabric still between you and it. Suddenly, the material of your dress-pants felt thin, transparent, and against your better judgement, you forced yourself to look toward the door. The interviewer had closed it on his way out, but it wasn’t locked. You doubted it was soundproof, either. If you were lucky, they’d be short-staffed, and no one would have a reason to pass this specific office though this specific hallway. And, if you weren’t…

You choked back a ragged groan as the fingers inside of you started to move, started to do more than just grope and tease and haunt. Rather than numb, rather than paralyze, the static seemed to tote a much, much worse side-effect. There was a sort of… buzzing vibration, a resonating tremor that made you want to lean back, go slack, and let the sensation wash over you. You couldn’t, though. Even if you forfeited the job, gave up on the idea of ever working in this industry, you knew you’d never be able to show your face in public again if someone walked in and you had to explain what was happening to you right now. That was, if you even could explain what was happening to you right now.

You caught the inside of your cheek in your teeth, biting down until you tasted blood. The digits quirked upward, rubbing against your pulsing walls before scissoring apart, stretching you open. There was no pattern to it, no method you could track and prepare yourself for. If you didn’t know better, you’d call it experimental. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it clumsy.

You could feel your face heating up, a knot of tension growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, but rather than sped up, push forward, force you further towards that inevitable ledge, the entity’s hand pulled back, rubbing one more careless pattern into your clit before falling away completely. You let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and disappointment, letting one last disgusted shudder run through you before straightening your back and—

And forcing a palm over your mouth just in time for a tongue, wet and thick and cold, to run over your cunt, hauling you back to the edge just as quickly as you’d pulled away from it. It was rough, the texture too savage to be human, and so wet, the slick you’d been trying to ignore was immediately replaced with thick, freezing saliva. Even the length seemed designed to torture you – long enough to lap over your entrance and your clit in the same slow, aching stroke; to thrust into you and fill the space its fingers had left empty. Memories of a course on specialized biology resurfaced in the fog of forced pleasure and helpless confusion, something about the evolution of a giraffe’s tongue and then, in another lecture, of the practice of masturbation among dolphins as a marker of their intelligence. You’d hated that fucking class. You hated that you were thinking about it now, instead of doing anything useful.

Its tongue was wider, more flexible than its fingers had been. It didn’t have to stretch you open, no, not when it was big enough to keep you full as its tapered end curled and probed against the walls of your cunt. Two fingers pressed into your clit, drawing loose patterns while its tongue split you open so gracelessly, so brutally, it almost circled back around to feeling good. You didn’t try to stop yourself from grinding into it, anymore, letting your legs twitch and your hips buck freely as it worked, as it tore you apart with all the care of a predator gnawing at slabs of raw meat. Every scrap of your limited energy was devoted to keeping yourself quiet, to stifling the needy whimpers and little whines that managed to escape despite your best efforts to silence them. That terrible buzzing seemed to grow stronger, now intense enough to send pulsing jolts of pure electricity from your pussy to your core, and you doubled over, blunt nails biting into your own skin as that thing finally shoved you over the side and brought your body to a trembling, blinding orgasm.

It nursed you through your climax, and as the euphoria faded and the aftershocks dulled into sharp, searing pangs, you managed to speak, your voice hushed and shaking for reasons that were entirely beyond your control. “Go away,” you forced out, praying that your interviewer had left the building, that there had never been a research center here at all and you were just sitting in a condemned building crying about nothing because grief had driven you insane weeks ago and you were just too lost in your own delusions to notice. “Please, go away.”

There was a second of hesitation, a lingering chill against the inside of your thigh, and the entity chose to show its first sign of mercy and finally, finally leave – its cold tongue lapping over your cunt one more time before disappearing completely. You had a second to pull yourself into a more dignified position, another to make sure you didn’t look like someone who’s just gotten finger-fucked by a ghost in the empty office of a higher-up who had to already think you were some mad-scientist reject before the door swung open, your interviewer stepping back in and smiling at you as if nothing in the world could’ve possibly been wrong.

His eyes flickered over your hollowed expression, your wide eyes, your unsteady posture as he handed you a lukewarm bottle of water. You could only wonder why it’d taken him so long to get. “Are you…” A pause, a slight wince. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice. “…feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” you said, your voice hoarse, barely audible. You managed to brace yourself on the arms of your chair, pulling yourself upward and leaving the bottle forgotten in your lap. You didn’t want to drink anything. Not until your hands stopped shaking, at least.

“I think we were talking about my qualifications?”

You got the job, despite everything. They asked you to start as soon as you could, but you’d made your excuses, cited a half-remembered clause that’d come with your suspension package and got whoever was in-change of that kind of thing to hold the position for another month. You couldn’t imagine willingly stepping back into that building again, not yet. You couldn’t imagine doing much of anything, not when he still hung over your life like the smoke of a funeral pyre.

It'd been a bad idea, looking back on it. You should’ve worked harder to get yourself out of your stifling apartment. You should’ve done more to keep up with the friends you’d pushed away after the incident, to make sure you didn’t leave yourself socially isolated and alone. You should’ve left town. You should’ve fled the country.

You should’ve done everything in your power to make sure you didn’t end up where you were now, facing down the thing that was currently standing in your bathroom doorway.

Your ghost, you figured – even if it’d been weeks since you genuinely thought you were only dealing with a run-of-the-mill haunting. It looked… blurry, for lack of a more creative descriptor; the white, chalky outline of a humanoid figure standing sharply out against the entirely black background. If it had a body, it was lost in the shadows of the hallway beyond, the shadows it’d created when it appeared out of nowhere and took every light bulb in your apartment out with a single pulse of extra-dimensional energy. Right now, the only source of light was the phone you were clutching in your right hand, your left similarly preoccupied, busy keeping your suddenly very, very thin towel wrapped around your torso. It probably didn’t matter. As far as you could tell, this thing didn’t have eyes, let alone genitalia.

That was what the rational, scientific part of your brain said, at least. The rest was replaying the memory of the way its hand had felt as groped at your thighs and couldn’t seem to comprehend much else.

You half-expected it to lunge at you, or rather, to creep at you, to disappear and reappear just outside of your peripheral, too far to see but close enough to sense. In the end, it only had to take a step forward, its movements slow and jerky, as if it wasn’t used to carrying its own weight just yet. Did it even weigh anything? Could you weigh something that clearly wasn’t supposed to exist? It didn’t really matter. You already knew it could touch you. You already knew it could kill you, if it wanted to.

Another step, then another. It closed the distance between you easily, coming to a stop less than arm’s length in front of you. You could see it more clearly, make out a smear of color in the void, like light catching on an oil spill. The white lines that bordered its form were moving in a way you hadn’t been able to make out from across the room, too; trembling and shaking, constantly shifting as if it was only ever a second away from falling apart entirely. If you weren’t so scared, you’d be tempted to reach out, see what happened when you made contact with it, rather than the other way around. If you weren’t so afraid, you might’ve been able to do anything.

It lifted a hand, reaching towards you with those same unnatural movements. Its fingertips brushed over your skin, painting a strip of frost across your cheek, and you felt your blood turn to ice. You couldn’t hear the buzzing, but then again, it might’ve just been a sign that you’d already gone deaf with fear.

You opened your mouth, but speech was hindered, your internal monologue limited to a never-ending mantra of ‘go away go away go away go away go away’. Eventually, you managed to spit something out, even if your voice was barely above a whisper by the time it reached your lips. “I don’t want you here.”

There was a second of stillness, of silence. You started to wonder if you’d made it angry, if it could be angry. You started to wonder if it could understand you at all.

Your makeshift flashlight wavered, sputtering a few times before giving out completely. You scrambled to turn it back on, to not be left alone in the dark with a monster, but your apartment flickered back to life and you found yourself standing alone, the entity having blinked out of reality in the time it took your eyes to adjust to the light. The only proof that it’d been there at all was your dead phone and how violently your hands were still shaking.

You considered leaving your apartment. You considered leaving the city – renting a car and driving as far as you were able to. You’d sleep in whatever shady, cheap motels would have you, start a new life across the country with only your meager savings and multiple PhDs to keep you afloat. You’d change your name. You’d get away from here, away from it. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, now that the infestation had spread to your sanctuary, too.

You took a shuddering breath, then set your phone down and let your towel fall away. You didn’t bother getting dressed before climbing into bed and curling up underneath your sheets, hoping in-vain that your comforter would be enough to hide you from any unseen voyeurs.

Some part of you must’ve already known that it wouldn’t.

You couldn’t remember waking up.

You must’ve, at some point. But, if you had, you would’ve remembered being brought here, would’ve been able to recognize the feeling of countless hands wrapping around your wrists, your ankles; countless mangled tendrils tangling around your fingers and dripping down your arms, snaking up your legs until you were entirely at its mercy. The numbers didn’t add up. There were too many hands, too many moving parts, too many things for your confusion-addled mind to keep track of. You couldn’t seem to figure out if you were suspended mid-air or if the gravity was different, if you were genuinely as weightless as you felt. That, more than anything, fueled the growing nausea twisting in the pit of your stomach, the growing sense of wrongness that threatened to tear away what little stability you had left. What little sanity you had left.

You tried to look past the awful things wrapped around you, to ground yourself with something beyond shifting colors and distorted limbs, but whatever pocket dimension you’d been dragged into didn’t offer much comfort. An expanse of white stretched on as far as you could see, only interrupted by free-floating pools of pure darkness; drops of ink spilled across an otherwise blank canvas. Occasionally, the landscape would waver, leaving you in a pure void broken up by streaks of colorless flesh that’d burn themselves into your sight and linger as phantom visions for seconds after the false reality corrected itself. Even the feeling of its skin against yours was off-putting, unsettling, lacking the warmth that would’ve accompanied the touch of anything human. Where there should’ve been comfort, there was nothing, a total absence of life and familiarity to a degree you’d never experienced before. Where there should’ve been intimacy, there was strangeness, and you’d never taken well to strangeness.

A pang of pure ache ran from your cunt to your core, a sort of numbing electricity that made your legs twitch and your body seize. Right, you’d managed to forget. It was touching you, beyond just the hands shackled around your wrists and ankles and the amorphous tendrils laving over any part of you they could reach. Two fingers kept your pussy spread open and vulnerable while a thick, tapered tendril thrust into you at the kind of idle, languid pace that was simultaneously infinitely merciful and too agonizing to put words to. That was one of the only things you could feel – the agonizing stretch, the tight knot of tension sitting in the pit of your stomach. If you’d been able to move anything beyond your eyes, you might’ve gagged. If your body had been something tangible, something real, you might’ve felt sick.

The tendril curled inside of you, and every fiber of your being seemed to wither. Struggling was pointless, but you still had to try, thrashing against your restraints, digging your nails into that obsidian flesh and praying to whichever deity would listen that it wouldn’t think to fight back. Fortunately, your blunt nails and weak thrashing didn’t seem to faze it. You weren’t sure if it knew you were there beyond some unconscious tactile sense, like a freshly triggered venus flytrap closing around its victim. You weren’t sure which was more horrific – the idea that there was some sentient, self-aware being knowingly and decisively doing this to you, or the passing thought that you’d just been caught in the mouth of some mindless creature that happened to like the way you tasted.

You decided not to think about it. You decided not to think about anything. You decided that, if you kept your mind totally blank, if you refused to count how many times you’d caught a lingering shadow in the corner of your eye or felt a stray hand brush against the small of your back, if you refused to feel its disembodied tendril filling your cunt, then none of this was happening, then you weren’t trapped in an plane of endless nothingness and you weren’t being fucked by the monster that’d been haunting you for months, now. You clenched your eyes shut and promised yourself that you couldn’t feel its dulled tip rubbing against that sensitive, softened spot inside of you, that your hips didn’t buck as another hand appeared from a puddle of kaleidoscopic ink and pressed three fingers into your abused clit, that it didn’t matter if warmth was starting to pool in your core because it couldn’t matter.

Ignoring it wasn’t an option, though. It wouldn’t let you ignore it – its pace changing, speeding up, getting rougher as you failed to stifle your reactions, failed to swallow down the little gasps and moans that slipped past your parted lips. It was almost brutal in its unyieldingness, fucking into you with enough force to bruise as you writhed and scratched and screamed. There was no remorse, no care, just its forceful affection and your body’s response. Another tendril wrapped around your midriff, another hand falling to your chest, and you let out a long, wordless cry. The entity reacted immediately, the blunt head of a tendril forcing its way past your lips and lodging itself in your throat, forcing you to gag around its bulk. It smelled like ozone – fresh and thrilling and terrible all at once. It tasted organic.

This one, mercifully, didn’t seem to want to hurt you. It seemed content to explore you, to twist around your tongue and prod at every corner of your mouth. Still, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chest as you attempted not to choke, as you tried not to let the deformed mass fucking into your cunt tear you apart. Your vision was distorted, blurred and darkened around the edges, but you forced yourself to open your eyes, to stare blankly at the new well of ink forming some indescribable distance above you. It was bigger than the others, soon interrupted by a border of white appearing in the darkness, the shape wavering, sketchy, like chalk line drawn with an unsteady hand. Eventually, you made out a shape not unlike the one you’d seen in your apartment all those weeks ago, the ghostly entity that’d barely had to lift a finger to terrify you. This one was different, though – harsher, flitting and flashing in and out of existence faster than you could comprehend. If it’d been a breath away from falling apart the last time you saw it, reality was struggling to hold itself together around it, now.

A head emerged from the darkness, then a neck, then the entity’s broad shoulders. A hand materialized, extending from the pull of darkness and reaching towards you, towards the mess of dark matter and appendages that now all-but entirely encompassed your form. Its fingertips brushed against your jaw, then cupped your cheek, it’s touch careful, ginger, cautious. As if it was trying to be gentle with you. As if it was trying to be loving.

You’re not sure what part of your exhausted mind made the connection, which piece slid into place first. You let your head lull to the side, your jaw fall limp around the tendril in your mouth. You grunted, a premature attempt to speak that it could separate from all the other meaningless, ragged sounds that’d been forced out of you by its invasive touch, and the tendril pulled back, wrapping loosely around your neck. It still took you a moment to find your voice, but you managed to spit out something nearly coherent.

“…Jonathan?”

For a moment, the hands wrapped around your limbs loosened, the tendril attempting to split you in two faltering and before going still.

Then, there was a resounding, resonating purr that seemed to emanate from every corner of the micro-dimension. When the tendril started to move again, it thrusted into you with twice the force, twice the mania. This time, you didn’t have to pretend. You were floating on air, your thoughts blank and your mind empty – your body numb and unfeeling. This time, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away.

This time, you didn’t even bother to try.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse #yandere spot #spot x reader #jonathan ohnn x reader #yandere jonathan ohnn #yanderecore #yancore

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cupids-chamber · 8 months

Text

| Mammon x Reader — “ Missing you “

Commissioned by an anonymous user Light angst to fluff / Gender neutral reader Commission me here_

Mammon didn't approve of your departure, he was heavily against the sheer idea of you leaving even if it was just to visit your friends and family. He especially disapproved of the fact that you were leaving alone, and without him. He really wouldn't have minded if he was allowed to leave with you, but you didn't seem to bring that up as a suggestion, then again explaining how you and him are involved might've been a bit of a hassle to explain at family dinners. It's not everyday your friend or child comes up to you to explain how they're dating one of the Seven sins, a literal demon.

Or it could be the fact that you were worried you'd burden him. That seemed much more plausible but he couldn't help but overthink it as the days passed by and the day of your departure came closer. He did have a small problem with his elder brother around this time, so he could see why you wouldn't bring it up, but Mammon couldn't help his intrusive thoughts get the better of him every now and then.

But even so, Mammon was at his utmost behavior (as much as he could be), when you left. Though he looked like a sad pitiful puppy, left out in the rain the moment you said goodbye to him (Though a parting kiss on the cheek helped soothe his worries momentarily). He didn't adore the idea of you leaving, and the moment you had left he had wished for your fast and hopefully safe arrival back home. However, he couldn't help but grow more worried as the days passed and your original 3 day trip turned into a week.. and then two.. and then it even became three..

At first he ignored the thoughts that raced through his head, as it would cause him to grow more worried and impatient, and frankly he didn't wish to do anything abrupt and upset you as a result. In the beginning, he started playing off your increasingly long absence as a situational thing, maybe your friends— possibly family, pleaded with you and convinced you to stay a couple days extra. That didn't seem unusual, after all you've been stuck in the Devildom for quite some time, he could see that happening.

But as the days, and weeks passed and your absence was almost a month in length he couldn't help but grow more worried. Sleepless nights wondering where you were, as he hyper fixated on any mistake he could've possibly made to upset you (and sadly, he found many to blame). He hadn't received any form of contact from you, no messages, phone calls, emails.. He's well aware that you were in the human realm, but he couldn't help but think that you just refuse to talk to him purposefully, that he had fucked up majorly, and that for some reason you wont be coming back.

As much as Mammon didn't like to betray the trustful bond between you too, he couldn't help it when he entered your room. He was a bit comforted knowing that you had left quite a few things that were precious to you here, implying that you'd come back. However, that wasn't enough, Mammon had found himself looking through each and every corner of your room, trying to find anything that would bring him an ounce of closure or explanation into your lengthy and unexplained absence. He spent quite some time convincing himself that this was okay, and that he had a reasonable reason to wreck your room in search of an answer.

At the end of the day, he didn't find anything. He'd clean the room tomorrow, he was extra careful when touching things he knew were precious to you, he wouldn't want you to grow more upset at him, after all the only reasonable explanation he found was the fact that you were upset with him. At the end of the day, Mammon found himself on your bed, laying down and worn out from exploring every nook and cranny of your room, not that the work was physically taxing but rather emotionally taxing and as weird as it may sound, Mammon found comfort when he settled down on your bed. It lingered with your scent, and the brand of shampoo and soap that you'd use daily.

Mammon couldn't explain to you the relief he felt when you had finally come back, he didn't even give you the time to explain as he hugged you. He held you in his embrace for quite some time, processing everything (Did you change your shampoo?), over the next few days you found yourself explaining what had happened that kept you away for so long. Comforting your rather upset lover. He didn't seem to have done well without you, for such a lengthy period but then again there was no explanation as to why you had left for so long. The next few days were quite busy, as Mammon was a lot more clingy than before as he tried to fill in for the time you were gone.

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yan-lorkai · 12 days

Note

Good Morning/afternoon/evening! Can I request a headcanon with a reader who comes back to Twst (after they have returned to their world) and finds yandere Idia made a robot (like Ortho) that looks like them and have the same personality as them? Thanks! ✨💖

Returning to Twisted Wonderland this time was a choice you made after thinking and rethinking the pros and cons, after remembering everything you would be leaving behind. But the pros were greater than the cons, at least you thought. And when you came back, you knew what you wanted to do, look for Idia.

It wasn't really difficult to imagine where he would be, even though a few months had passed you knew he wouldn't have changed that much. However, you should have known how wrong things were when you saw Ortho and he looked surprised, and fearful, trying to dissuade you from opening the door. Trying to keep you from seeing what his brother had done.

But his attempt was futile. You opened the door, received Idia's permission and entered. But nothing could have prepared you to find your own face staring back at you when you entered Idia's room, the emulated expression of surprise making everything more uncomfortable. You and Idia were paralyzed for different reasons, inert, not knowing how to react. However, you recovered faster while he were still processing the entire situation.

"What the fuck is this?" You curse as you look with a mix of admiration and apprehension at your copy. Every little detail was exactly perfect, the same as the original, the same skin tone, the same hair, even the gestures were the same. It wouldn't matter if Idia had a plausible explanation for this, it was clear that he had created a robot to take your place to fill the void in his chest when you left. And it made you feel a little sorry for him, just a little.

"W-well, you see..." Idia can only mutter and whisper gibberish, his hair turning completely pink at being caught with such a strange creation. All this while said creation continues to maintain an impeccable posture, erect and proud, observing you, analyzing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Yuu." The robot introduces themselves, without knowing or noticing the tension around them. It's so strange. There is no life behind those eyes like there is in Ortho, it is empty and dull plastic. It's uncomfortable to look at. "I'm Idia's lover and we're planning our wedding for after we graduate. Should we invite them, honey?"

Silence. It's embarrassing, invasive and wrong, this all felt too much, should you feel betrayed? Sad? Happy? Or honored that Idia created yet another robot? You didn't know at that moment. All you knew was that you needed to get out of there and you needed it now. But the door was now closed and locked, and no matter how many times you open it or yell at Idia nothing works. He has you now, he doesn't want to let you leave again. He can take your fear, he can take even your hate but having you leave again, even if only for your old dorm? That he can't handle. He won't.

"Prototype Yuu, shut down." He announces, finally recovering from his shock. He acts nonchalantly but you know he feels really awkward and anxious. "Listen, we can talk about it. It's not what it looks like."

You scoff. "Lover? Marriage? Yeah, it's exactly what it looks like, Idia. You created a robot that looks like me, that sounds like me. Because you still don't know how to deal with loss and you need comfort in the only way you know how to receive it."

Touché. He looks like a wounded dog that you kicked. But you find that you don't care at all. "You didn't have to call me out like that, you know." He mumbles but doesn't deny how right you are. "Plus how I was supposed to live without you? I felt so empty, so cold. But I didn't want to stop you from going home because it would hurt you. I can always destroy this prototype if you want, just please don't leave me again!"

He grabs both of your hands, holding onto them as if they were his lifesavers that keep him above the water so he won't drown while he stare at you without blinking, tiny little tears starting to run down his face. Now, can you forgive him or not?

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia x mc #yandere idia x reader #yandere idia #yandere idia x yuu #idia x mc #idia x reader #idia x yuu #twst idia #twst idia shroud #tw yandere #male yandere #lorkai headcanon #gender neutral reader

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toournextadventure · 2 months

Text

a novel life pt.4

Summary: You were really starting to understand a few things about the younger generation. For example, every time you looked at Sam, you thought "I can fix her." It was happening a bit too frequently for your liking.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: Swearing, Scream levels of violence, suggestive themes Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Reader (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4)

“Baby?”

You kept your eyes on whatever was on the floor.

“You broke it.”

“Tara, shut up.”

“Look at me.”

It wasn’t moving.

“Hey.”

The red creeped and crawled toward the flowers on the ground.

“Baby.”

Hands held both sides of your face and tried to pull you in the other direction. Gentle, but firm. It didn’t matter, they could pull all they wanted, it didn’t stop your eyes from staying glued to the thing in the middle of the living room floor. The shape was familiar, and you were aware that you should recognise it. But the harder you looked, the more the shape seemed to blur and distort.

“Stop looking at it.” Sam. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t.

You opened your mouth to answer, stopped to clear your throat, and started again. “Is that a body?”

Everyone seemed to hesitate.

“Yes,” Sam answered.

You nodded slowly.

“Is it dead?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

A sigh. “Tara.”

“Yes,” Sam repeated.

You nodded again. The red almost touched your shoes.

“It’s a dead body?”

“Jesus fuck, Sam, get them out.”

“Come on,” Sam said softly, keeping her hold on your face to pull you with her.

Your eyes never left the scene until she had pulled you into her room and shut the door behind you both. There was a dead body in Sam’s living room. A body. A dead one. In the living room. Right there on the floor. Visible to god and anyone who opened the front door. Which included you.

“You need to breathe,” Sam said. “Look at me and breathe.”

You inhaled deeply and blinked slowly. Only when you opened your eyes did you actually see Sam for the first time that evening. She looked stunning, as usual. Her beautiful brown eyes looked lovely in the artificial light of the apartment. You tried not to notice the blood on her arms.

Not even her beautiful, kissable face could distract you from the scene that had plastered itself behind your eyelids.

“There’s a dead body on your floor,” you said.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Sam said with a humourless chuckle.

“It looks like a dead body,” you repeated, “in your living room.”

She sighed. “Maybe it is what it looks like, but I can explain.”

You shook your head and took a half step back. Did you want an explanation? Perhaps you could act like you hadn’t seen anything. That would create plausible deniability, would it not? No, not entirely, you had still seen a body in your girlfriend’s apartment. Your deniability wouldn’t be that plausible.

As you took another half step back, you were finally far enough away to realise what was hanging off Sam’s frame. A black cloak. Or robe. Whatever it was, it was familiar. Very familiar. The only thing missing was the mask. Your head tilted slightly.

Perhaps you liked the robe. It looked… nice.

“Please let me explain,” Sam said as she stepped closer.

You took a step back, but nodded in her direction.

“He followed Tara home because he thought she was a kid,” she said. “It was for good reason.”

Good reason. Someone had died. Horrifically, if the amount of blood was anything to go by. And the amount of knives. Someone had clearly suffered. What about that explanation made it such a good-

-oh.

Okay, perhaps it was a good reason.

“Is this the first…” you sighed and shook your head, “accident?”

The way Sam’s face fell was answer enough.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Okay, I need to go home.” You couldn’t look at her. “I need to think.”

“I can walk you home-”

“-it’s okay,” you said. She stopped moving closer when you held your hands up in front of you. “I promise I’ll call.”

The look on her face was enough to break your heart, but it was sitting backseat to the body that you couldn’t help but look at as you walked out of the bedroom. J was already dragging it to the bathroom. They stopped, smiled, and waved at you before continuing to move. Beside them, Tara gave you a look that was akin to what you would give a dog at the shelter.

You bent down and picked up the flowers from the floor, placing them gently on the table. Blood started to pool underneath the petals as you left the apartment.

—---

Sleep had evaded you since you had gotten home a few nights ago. The world had simply kept turning. You had handed out the graded essays in class; you had introduced new material. You had ordered takeout because the last thing you needed was burnt food from your own kitchen. The world kept turning, and everything kept moving forward.

And you still hadn’t called Sam.

You had turned the volume off on your phone the moment you had gotten home. If you saw the notifications from Sam, you would cave and call her back instantly. Against all your better judgements that told you to think everything through, you would have called her and gone back to her apartment to face whatever trouble came your way.

There was no promise you wouldn’t still do that. But the least you could do was think through every aspect.

And you did. You tossed over every possibility, every facet of truth, every miniscule detail that may or may not have mattered, starting with the biggest fact; Sam was Ghostface. Or she was a Ghostface. Clearly Tara and J were involved to some degree. So on one hand, Sam was the only one, on the other hand, there were three Ghostfaces.

Splendid.

That knowledge forced your hand, and you bought all the books and movies and every little news article you could find, old and new. The movies were on in the background - they were far more disgusting than you had planned, you couldn’t bring yourself to truly pay attention - while you read the books. The majority came from that news reporter, Gale Weathers. They were a little tasteless, but seemed legit nonetheless.

Your handwriting littered the books, pointing out motives, tactics, patterns, anything you could find. Most were petty, certainly not worth killing for. At least Sam had given a fair reason; you could understand that one. Not killing people because your father had cheated on his wife.

Thankfully Sam hadn’t gotten that level of pettiness from her father.

Inevitably you found the online forums that claimed Sam had been the killer after Woodsboro. All the theories were, quite frankly, baseless. From an academic point of view, they would have been tossed out within the first few words. There was no reasoning, no critical thinking, simply everyone jumping at the chance to blame someone else because it was popular.

It was no wonder Sam had thought you were stalking her on the day you met her.

When all your research was said and done, you had what amounted to the entirety of a second thesis at your disposal. Everything from past Ghostfaces, their motives, conspiracies being disproved, all the way up to the most recent sighting not too long ago. In New York City. With J, Tara, and Sam in the news.

Things had added up, and you were ready to face the solution.

Sam answered before the first ring had finished.

“Are you all at the apartment?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said; you could all but hear the relief in that one simple word. “We’re here.”

“Stay there, I’m coming over,” you said quickly. You nearly hung up, but spoke again. “I’ll bring dinner.”

You didn’t wait for Sam to say anything else; you were in the proper headspace you needed for the upcoming conversation, and you couldn’t risk losing it because you missed her. Stay strong, you told yourself, say what you need to say. You weren’t going to get sidetracked, this was going to be solved, and you weren’t going to let anything get in your way.

Except for the rundown pizza place on the way to the Carpenter apartment. It was a rather delicious place, somewhere you wouldn’t have imagined visiting if it hadn’t been for Sam. You grabbed the three pizzas you knew everyone would eat, making sure to tip generously before continuing the trip to the apartment.

You also stopped for some more flowers.

And a few sweets.

And that new game you knew J had been wanting.

But then you were finishing your walk to their apartment because nothing could stop you. You were brave. You were going to talk with Sam, and you were going to talk with everyone, and you were all going to come to some form of conclusion so you could close out this thesis and move forward.

The walk up the apartment building stairs was more terrifying than it had ever been in the past. But you were brave. You took it step by step, giving yourself a pep talk with each flight. By the time you got to the apartment door, you were feeling thoroughly hyped. Nothing could stop you. Not even the… door that you… couldn’t open… because your hands were too full…

You set the bags on the floor to open the door, but then you were walking back into the apartment. A man on a mission, that’s how your dad had always described people that walked with the same attitude you were in that moment. It didn’t matter that you wouldn’t look up just yet even when you knew they were all looking at you. You closed the door, set the bags and flowers and pizzas on the table, and then you looked up.

And oh god, you had missed Sam so much.

When it was all said and done, you had actually only been away from Sam for eight days; barely over a week. No time at all where most things were concerned. But each minute that ticked by had been agonisingly slow, almost painful to the very atoms that made up your being.

“Grab your dinner,” you said with authority. And a shaky voice. “And back on the couch so we can talk.”

Tara tried to hide a laugh, and J wasn’t far from doing the same, but that was okay. They could laugh at your attempts at being brave; as long as they listened. And they did. You got out the plates and handed them to everyone so they could grab their food before they politely made their way back to the living room.

You made sure to give Sam a kiss on the cheek when she passed.

“Now,” you said as you stood in front of everyone on the couch. “We’re going to talk about what happened.”

“Hell yeah,” J said around an already full mouth, “lay down the law.”

“Thank you,” you said. They gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up. “We’ll start with last week.”

Everyone was silent, sans the occasional sound of chewing. That was good, they were going to let you talk. Perhaps they had prepared for such a situation. Surely they had seen this coming at some point, right? It wasn’t like they thought they could get away with murder forever, right?

Right?

“Sam told me the reason you-” you sighed and shook your head, “-and it’s an understandable reason.”

“Understandable?” Tara asked. “I think it was a bit more than that.”

“The Professor is talking,” J said, “don’t interrupt class.”

“Please continue,” Sam said with that small smile that always made your knees weak.

No, focus. You had a mission.

“We all know murder is wrong,” you said. “Illegal, even.” You looked each of them in the eye. J was nodding enthusiastically, Tara rolled her eyes, and Sam… wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Since we’re all in agreement, I have a few questions.”

“I didn’t study for a pop quiz,” J said.

“I’ve seen you study,” Tara said, “it wouldn’t have helped.”

“Have I told you I love when you’re mean?” J asked with a lovesick smile. It was precious.

And unnecessary.

“A few questions!” You repeated a little louder. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Please just ask,” Sam said without removing her hand.

“Okay,” you said softly, folding your hands behind your back, “when did all of this start?”

“After the New York attacks,” Sam said.

“I’m still salty about that,” J mumbled, quickly taking another impossibly large bite of their pizza.

“They’ve healed well,” Tara said softly. In a rare gesture of kindness - at least in front of you - she lifted her hand and gently brushed her thumb over the scars on their cheeks.

You gave them a moment before clearing your throat to get their attention once again.

“Who all is involved in these…” you bit your bottom lip as you considered your wording, “activities?”

“You mean murders?” Tara clarified.

“Stop it,” Sam said with a pointed look before facing you again. “All of us.”

“I feel like we’re in detention,” J whispered.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Tara asked. The niceties were long gone, it seemed.

You nodded at the information, ignoring Tara’s gibes. “All of you,” you said to yourself. Your feet froze in place, stopping your pacing. “Which one of you did I see in the alley that night?” You asked, turning to face them.

“That was me!” J said proudly with their hand raised high. “Did I scare you?”

“So badly I was sick,” you said instantly.

“Hell yeah,” they mumbled with a cocky nod of their head as they leaned back on the couch. “That was a good night.”

You stood there and watched as they looked at each other with not shame, but abject exasperation. So that was their attitude about the entire thing. You should have known, it wasn’t entirely a surprise. The fact that J had waved at you before you left last week should have been enough of a warning. But it didn’t exactly sit right with you.

There should have been shame from murdering someone. Your research had told you the Ghostfaces of the past had been particularly remorseless in their actions, but the three people in front of you weren’t like them. They were troubled, but they were kind. They had accepted you - even if it took Tara a bit of time - and had allowed you to care for them.

Sam was your Sam. Nothing about her was indicative of some internal Ghostface turmoil. She was soft. Night after night, she sat with you and talked out her feelings from the week. Multiple times she had voiced her frustration at being a Loomis, stating she was better than her genetics.

Nothing was adding up.

You had walked into this meeting with a plan; measure their responses to the allegations and get them to stop. But you very well couldn’t convince them to stop if they suspiciously felt no remorse or shame, could you? There wouldn’t be near as big of an impact if they didn’t agree with your arguments in the first place. That alone left you with very few options.

You stood up straight.

Very few didn’t equate to zero.

“Would any of you be willing to stop?” You clarified.

Sam opened her mouth.

“No,” Tara cut her off. Sam didn’t argue. “We just wouldn’t tell you.”

“Very well,” you said with a nod to yourself. “Then we’re going to come up with a few rules.”

“You’re putting rules?” Tara asked. “On Ghostface?”

“No,” you said, “I’m putting rules on the three of you.”

“Oh shit,” J said while Sam tried to hide a smile, “we got ourselves a mastermind.”

You did your best to hide your visible flinch. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be such a wonderful idea. Would you be connected to all of this? What if they were found out? What if you were found out? You couldn’t hold up under pressure, what if someone interrogated you? No, no this wasn’t going well at all.

But they all sat dutifully in front of you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t just leave, or change your mind, and it was far too late to pretend you hadn’t seen what you had. No, you were going to have to be brave. You were brave.

You were brave.

—---

It turned out you were, in fact, not brave.

In the moment, you hadn’t been able to come up with a genuine rule for any of them. The only one you had managed to get out was “please don’t do it in my apartment.” Which, to your delight, they had all readily agreed to. Aside from that, you had stumbled over your words and decided you would come up with rules later.

Tara had laughed. You couldn't even be upset about it.

At least you could see Sam again, which, in the end, made everything worth it. You had missed holding her, and feeling her hands on your neck, and her lips pressed against yours. No one said a word when you stayed the night, doing nothing but holding Sam close and reminding her how much you had missed her.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said from your couch; her books were lined neatly on the table. Something you had loved about her from the very first moment you had seen her study.

“For what, darling?” You asked as you sat down beside her. She mumbled a “thank you” as she took her plate from you.

“Ghostface,” she said softly. You quickly turned to look at her even as she averted her own eyes.

“Oh,” you said before looking back down at your plate. You didn’t quite know how to respond to that. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” she said quickly.

You sighed and placed your plate on the table. Not on her books, of course. Then you took her plate as gently as possible, placing it down as well before turning to face her. Not just look at her, but to properly face her. If she wished to talk, you would give her your full attention.

“You deserve more,” she said.

So that’s where it was going. Okay. Now this, you could handle this.

“Before you go on this tirade of self-abuse,” you said, reaching out to grab her hands and pull them into your lap, “may I say something?”

After a slight hesitation, Sam nodded once.

“You and I are both old enough to make our own decisions, yes?” She nodded slowly. “Then trust I am old enough to know what I do and do not deserve.” Her eyes fell to her hands in your lap. “If I felt you were not what I truly wanted, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“You don’t need to be brought into all of this,” Sam said anyway with a shake of her head. “You’re better than some traumatised Woodsboro kids.”

“I’m not better,” you said quickly, “just different.”

“Sounds the same to me,” she said with a humourless laugh.

“Samantha Carpenter, my darling dearest,” you said. You waited until she looked back up at you before you brought her knuckles to your lips, leaving the softest of kisses upon them. “I love you dearly and no, ah,” you laughed lightly, “hobby of yours will turn me away.”

There was a light blush on her cheeks when she met your eyes. “You love me?”

Oh.

Oh dear.

“Was that the first time I’ve said so?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a smile.

You sighed. “Far less romantic than I had planned.” Your eyes widened as you looked back up. “But no less true,” you said quickly.

She shook her head before leaning forward, and you eagerly met her halfway. Her lips were soft; they always were. The faintest taste of tobacco always lingered no matter how long it had been since her last cigarette. A constant in the ever-changing lives you both led. If you could have found a way to frame it all to keep with you forever, you would have.

“I love you too,” she mumbled against your lips.

You held still as she moved across the couch, crawling into your lap and kissing you again. Her hands rested on your neck and not for the first time, you did your best to keep your cool. It was something about the contrast between the gentleness of her kisses and the strength in her hands. You were putty under her fingers; she knew it.

It wouldn’t be polite to ravage her before she had eaten dinner. If there was one thing you knew about Sam, it was that she would forget to eat. Often. And as ready as you were for a very particular meal of your own, you couldn’t push back the concern of when she had eaten last. Truly eaten, because everyone knew neither she nor Tara had enough free time to cook for themselves very often.

“Darling,” you said softly. Her nails scratched lightly against your neck as she hummed for you to continue. “You need to eat.”

“I’d love to,” she said, her lips already starting to move across your jaw.

“Real food,” you clarified.

You felt more than heard her huff before her head fell into the crook of your neck. She didn’t like when you laughed at her, so you didn’t. Not out loud, at least. Your thumbs rubbed against her lightly exposed hips until she relaxed a little more under your touch.

“Now?” She asked.

“Now,” you repeated.

Sam sighed again, but lifted her head and looked down at you. The unhappiness was clear on her face. Quite frankly, at that moment, you didn’t care. There was plenty of time left in the evening to have your fun, and she would thank you later for making sure she had eaten something.

“Do quickies require food first?” She asked. Her eyes fell slowly along with her hands, raking her nails lightly along your skin until she reached the first button of your shirt.

“Yes they do,” you said.

She undid the second button.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

You swallowed loudly. She undid the third button, and you could feel her fingers ghosting across your skin. Perhaps she made a good point, perhaps you didn’t have to have food before a quickie. After all, that was the whole point, was it not? To do it before getting back to everything else? And when she bit her bottom lip and looked at you, you knew you were a goner.

She knew it too.

“Maybe we have a little time-”

-the door to your apartment flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. Your hands gripped Sam’s waist as you both jumped and looked toward the commotion. The door slammed shut once again before you could properly get a good look at who was in the two black robes.

“Hey guys, wanna watch a movie?” J asked breathlessly.

“Are you serious?” Sam asked; she still didn’t remove herself from your lap.

“I just wanted to freak him out,” Tara said as she held her arm. You noticed a single drop of blood on the floor. “He had creeped out Anika.”

“There was one rule, Tara,” Sam said.

“It was this or go to jail, which would you prefer?” Tara asked.

“I’d prefer if you were more careful-”

-a knock at the door caused everyone to shut up and freeze.

“NYPD,” the muffled voice said from the other side of the door.

“Fuck,” J whispered.

You couldn’t really argue with that statement. No one had moved, and the police were still right outside the door. Sam’s nails dug into your skin, leaving behind a sting that, in any other situation, would have been lovely. But this wasn’t any other situation, you were all frozen while the police knocked on the door again.

“Go to my room,” you said as you lifted Sam off your lap and stood up. “Lock the door.” Tara and J nodded before running as quickly as they could to your room. “Stay here,” you told Sam.

You gave her a quick kiss before heading over to the door. Your fingers played with the buttons on your shirt before you decided better of it. Behind you, you could hear Sam stand up. With a deep breath in and a slow exhale, you decided to be brave and opened the door.

The policeman instantly looked you up and down before looking behind you. You hoped he saw Sam in slight disarray. A second policeman was leaning against the wall outside, not even having the decency to look at you before speaking.

“Did two people in black robes come in here?” He asked in a gruff voice.

“No sir,” you said quickly, “no visitors today.”

“You sure?” The first officer asked. “We saw them run into this building.”

You needed to come up with a better lie. Something more convincing. What could be convincing enough? You couldn’t blame the neighbours, you knew nothing of them. If they saw the two coming into the building, you would have to think of something. What would work? Clearly those fancy degrees you had meant nothing.

Ah.

Maybe not entirely useless.

“I’m really sorry, I haven’t noticed anything,” you said. “I’ve been a little, ah,” you cleared your throat and looked back at Sam. She gave you a small smile, and you turned back to the police, “preoccupied tonight.”

The officer looked behind you. You didn’t dare turn away and waited patiently for him to focus on you once again. Hopefully he couldn’t hear your heart attempting to beat out of your chest. He just needed to hurry and leave.

“I’m sorry we interrupted your night,” the officer finally said. “Thank you both for your time.”

You nodded and gave them both a smile. “Stay safe, officers.”

They tipped an invisible hat at you before leaving, and you didn’t wait for them to be very far before closing and locking the door. You let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall against the door with a solid thud. That was… far too close. Was that something they had all dealt with before? Had the police come to their doors before?

You took a deep breath and stood back up. Okay, you were brave, you had been very brave. When you turned around, Sam was still looking at you, but there was a different look in her eyes. You didn’t know what it was; at that moment, you were still too wound up to care.

“Come on out,” you said once you had walked over to Sam and wrapped your arms around her waist.

“They’re gone?” Tara asked while J opened the door.

“Yes,” you said with a nod, “they’re gone.”

“I thought we were fucked,” J said.

“I wish I was,” Sam mumbled softly enough for only you to hear.

You ignored the heat in your face. “Not tonight,” you said.

“Thank you,” Tara said in an uncharacteristic show of gratitude. “We didn’t know where else to go.”

“You can always come here,” you said. Tara nodded and made as if she was going to leave the apartment with J. “Don’t even think about it.”

Sam sighed.

“We need to go get cleaned up,” Tara said.

“You can clean up here,” you said forcefully. Or you hoped that’s how it came out. “Then we’re laying down some ground rules.”

Tara kept eye contact with you. You would have caved at any other point in time; there was nothing more terrifying than a Carpenter. It wasn’t questionable, there was no room for argument, it was a matter of fact. But you had just lied to the police for the first time in your life. Ever! If this was going to be a common occurence, then you were going to stand your ground.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Tara mumbled, but grabbed J’s hand and dragged them to the guest bathroom anyway.

“Thank you,” Sam said softly once she heard the shower turn on.

“Of course,” you said, placing a lingering kiss behind her ear. An idea sparked in your mind. “How long do you think it’ll take them?”

“Tara showers slow,” she said as she turned around in your arms to face you. “And if they’re both in there, it’ll be a while.”

You hummed and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I did tell the police we were preoccupied,” you said as you started manoeuvring her to the couch.

“Yes you did,” she said with a slowly growing smile.

“I’d hate to lie to them,” you continued, followed by another kiss.

Sam let herself fall onto the couch, pulling you down with her. She wasted no time in getting to work on the remaining buttons of your shirt. Her lips felt heavenly. You knew she still needed to eat, but something more important had come up.

Besides, you were happier to eat out anyway.

#samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter imagine #sam carpenter imagine

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