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0fth34byss · 3 months

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(Un)welcome Distraction | Part 6

Nick Folio x female reader

Minors, please DNI

🔞⚠️: angst, discussion about consent, grinding, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, biting

1,270 words

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

“I don't blame you!” Nick yelled, flopping down on the edge of the hotel room bed.

“Then why are you acting like you do?!” You retorted, turning on your heels and storming into the bathroom.

Nick followed. He turned you round and backed you into the counter, holding you in place. He looked broken.

“I don't blame you. I'm just mad at the situation. I'm mad that my friend made out with my girlfriend.”

“He didn't make out with me. He got up in my face, literally, when I asked what his problem was, then he, he kissed me. I tried to get him off me but -.” you sobbed.

You hadn't lied to Nick about trying to push him away, you had, but only after you realised Jolly had edged his tongue into your mouth.

“That's not what Bryan said he saw. He said Jolly had you pressed up against the wall. He pretty much declared his love for you, then, then, then he had his tongue down your throat!”

“Bryan's exaggerating!” you replied, raising your voice more than you intended.

“Then tell me what happened rather than just crying every time I fucking ask you,” he barked, moving his trembling hands to your waist.

It turned out Bryan had witnessed your exchange with Jolly and told Nick everything, in detail, after Nick had found you inconsolable in one of the restrooms backstage.

The scene played out in your mind for the thousandth time:

Jolly was looking at you with both lust and pain behind his eyes, telling you he'd been suppressing his feelings for years. It rendered you all but catatonic. You were powerless to stop him from kissing you, despite that being the last thing you wanted to happen - even after what he'd just told you. When you hadn't pulled away after a few seconds, Jolly continued to deepen the kiss. The reality of the situation then hit and guilt over being unable to bring yourself to make him stop consumed you. You pushed hard on Jolly's chest and twisted your head to the side to keep your mouth as far away from his as possible. Jolly took a step back and brought his hands to his head, like he was about to pull his own hair out. You burst into tears and he tried to make his apologies, but you were already making your way out the door, where you ran into Bryan, before skirting around him to make your escape.

“Jolly, what the hell?!” You heard Bryan exclaim as you made your way down the corridor to the nearest restroom.

“Bryan, please, I need to go after her.”

“No, you don't. She's not yours.”

You recounted the events to Nick while he kept a firm grip on your waist, like he was worried you'd become a flight risk.

“It was like I was frozen. I couldn't move. I was in, like, shock, or disbelief, or something.”

Nick took a moment, before continuing, “Okay, baby. I know that you didn't kiss him back, but you shouldn't have put yourself in that position. You've seen how he looks at you. How could you not think he'd make a move on you?”

“How. Fucking. Dare. You!” You spat back at him, seeing red. “First of all, I should be able to be in the same room as someone and not have them kiss me WITHOUT my permission. Secondly, I thought Jolly would've had more respect for you, the man he described as his ‘kid brother’. Now, please can you give me some privacy so I can take a shower?”

“Baby -”

“Just go, Nick!”

Reluctantly Nick stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, causing you to jump.

When you got out of the shower, your head hurt and your chest felt tight. Wiping away the condensation from the surface of the mirror, you took in your reflection. Your eyes were red and face puffy - ‘great’, you thought. After drying yourself and doing your skincare routine, you'd composed yourself enough to face Nick again. Wrapped in your towel, you tentatively left the bathroom and found Nick sat on the bed with his head in his hands. He jumped to his feet when he saw you.

“Hey, how was your shower?”

“Good. Water pressure's good.”

He looked to the ground, “I, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. I, look, I don't know what to do or think about the situation. I can't start a fight with Jolly in the middle of a tour, so -”

“So it's easier to blame me?” You said, barely keeping your composure.

Nick insisted that wasn't the case and, although you didn't want to, you believed him. You could read Nick like a book.

He pulled you into his arms and onto his lap. Gently placing a finger under your chin, he turned your face up towards his own and placed a soft kiss on your lips. The familiarity was comforting and much needed. You felt Nick smiling against your mouth as he slowly rubbed his hand over your leg. You hadn't quite forgiven him for what he'd said yet, but for now, knowing your relationship was going to be okay was enough.

You repositioned yourself so you were now straddling him, and Nick instinctively wrapped his arms around you to pull you in close. You slowly rotated your hips and began grinding yourself against him, seeking friction between your thighs like you were trying to ease the tension between you both. You felt his cock harden underneath you. Desire took over your usually rational mind.

“Nick?”

“Hmm, hmm”

“Is it bad, after everything that's happened, I really want to have sex with you?”

“Go take off your towel and lie down.”

Nick steadied you as you climbed off his lap and did as you were told. You sprawled out in the middle of the bed as you watched Nick underess. He parted your legs a little more as he came to kneel between them. He moved down the bed slightly then brought his mouth down on your pussy. Nick’s tongue swept over your clit in a controlled rhythm. He continued until you let out an ungodly groan. He whipped up his head, mouth dripping with your juices and crawled up so he could lie on top of you. You could smell your arousal on his breath. Knowing he enjoyed you tasting yourself, you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. While making out, you both began to involuntarily move your hips against each other. You could feel his tip teasing your entrance. Your hands made their way to his ass so you could pull him in closer. Finally, you felt him inside.

He moved his kisses to your neck as he began fucking you with hard, deliberate movements he knew would have to crying out for more. It was obvious he hoped Jolly would hear about it the next morning, but you didn't let that stop you from finding your release.

With your hands still on his ass you pulled him in deep, driving him to bite down on your neck - sucking and nipping at the flesh until you called out in pain. It was animalistic. You were both a mess of grunts and moans, desperate for the other to climax.

“Nick. Fuck.” You literally screamed as you came.

After another minute or two, Nick could only manage to groan loudly in your ear as his load filled you up.

You both lay there in the same position, panting and reeling, unable to move yet.

Part 7

#nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #nick folio fic #nick folio x reader #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio x female reader

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bqstqnbruin · 8 months

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Drunk Texts

Me? With another fic? This fast? Ground breaking.

Anyway, this has been sitting in my google drive for way too long and I finally finished it. It's inspired by Drunk Texts by New Rules.

Thank you to my besties @kat-hearts @raysofcrosby @matthewtkachuk and @assmanselke for reading this, but they have no idea what the ending is so hahahaha

If there are typos, I'm so sorry, Grammarly is being weird

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, swearing, the ending

WC: 5k ish

Flashbacks are in italics

_______________________________________

The sun was up, there was a bird outside his window happily chirping, the city below his apartment was alive and bustling on the beautiful late summer day.

Anthony felt like he wanted to die.

He couldn’t remember having a worse hangover, trying to wrack the usable part of his brain to figure out if he had anything besides alcohol the night before. He was pretty sure he had at least one glass of water, thinking he had maybe a bite of food but that proved to be way too little to counteract what was probably a bottle or two of wine and whatever else his teammates had given to him to drink last night.

He sat up from bed, his head pounding as he rubbed his eyes and searched for his phone, haphazardly on his nightstand under what he could only hope was his own underwear and not someone else's. If some other guys boxers were there, Anthony knew he had more than one problem to deal with.

It was the same thing every single time he went drinking after a bad night, his room and probably the rest of his apartment left in a disaster, but the worst part were the drunk texts he knew were sent by him the night before. Drunk texts sent by anyone were horrible, incoherent and easy to blame on being inebriated, but his were always exceptionally bad.

Anthony got out of bed, his head pounding with every movement he made. He knew he had to check his phone at some point. Delaying it any longer would just lead to more issues with his life later on.

The one person he hoped he hadn’t texted was right at the top of his messages, a message that somehow combined French, English, and absolute gibberish into one text, undoubtedly from him, showing up in the preview.

He tapped the messages with Scarlett, the last girl he dated, and still couldn’t get out of his head. She was, unfortunately, used to his drunk or stupid texts, Anthony unable to form a proper thought when it came to her.

‘I like you’ was the only text he could decipher at first glance, an “oh fuck,” escaping his lips while he tried to piece together why his teammates would let him not only drink so much, but keep his phone on him the entire time.

“Who is that over there?” Anthony asked, staring at the girl with long, dark hair, talking to one of his new teammates.

“Uh, that’s Quinn,” Brock said, “your teammate.”

“No, the girl he’s somehow talking to,” Anthony replied.

“Not sure, I normally see Quinn with her when we come here, though. She always shows up when Quinn texts her,” Brock shrugged, “I think her name is Sarah? Sage?”

So she probably likes Quinn then, if she’s showing up when he asks. He shakes his head, “You only know that her name maybe starts with an S, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

Anthony sighed, trying to take in the girl Quinn was talking to. He swore he had seen her before, something about her trying to work its way through his memory.

“Go talk to her.”

“What?” he asked, looking at his teammate.

“I promise you that Quinn does not have enough in him to pull a girl like that.”

“Isn’t he one of your best friends?”

“Yes, that’s why I can say it. Now, go.” Brock practically had to shove Anthony away from the table.

Anthony stood there frozen, staring at Quinn and this girl while his mind went a mile a minute as to how he was going to talk to her. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he thought to himself, ‘she’s just a girl, talking to Quinn. If Quinn can talk to her, so can I.’

He felt his entire body shaking under the weight of himself as he tried to make his way over to the girl and Quinn. He could just tell Quinn he wanted to buy him a drink, celebrate the win they had the other night, something, anything.

“Hey, Tito,” Quinn called out, pulling Anthony from his thoughts. Quinn and the girl were staring at him, the heat rushing to his face as she smiled at him. “This is Scarlett.”

Anthony knew he had to speak. She was staring at him. She was smiling at him. She was clearly waiting for him to say something to her, but all functions that his body possessed suddenly stopped, including the one where he was able to get out something as simple as, “hi.”

“Um,” Scarlett started, Quinn standing to the side laughing at his teammate, “Quinn tells me you just moved here from New York?”

“L-long Island, um, yeah,” he managed to get out, starting to think of all the ways he wanted to disappear into the Canadian wilderness out of embarrassment.

“What’s it like there? What’s there to do?” she asked him, Quinn slowly inching away from them.

“Uh, leave.” As soon as the words left his lips, he shut his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, he would discover that the stupid things he said didn’t happen and were just a dream. He opened his eyes to see Scarlett biting her lip, trying not to laugh at him.

She took a sip of her drink, not breaking eye contact and making Anthony’s heart skip in the process. “You’re either way too drunk to be talking to someone right now, or I, for some reason, make you really nervous.”

Anthony lets out a sigh, a smile on his face. “What if I told you it was both?”

There was something about the laugh that escaped her lips after he told her that that made him forget everything. He swore he blacked out while talking to her, but not from the alcohol. He had never felt more sober than that first time he met her. He remembered nothing about that night except the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, a crooked smile spreading across her face when she was flirting with him, the way he knew heat was rushing to her face, probably from the second hand embarrassment of him attempting to flirt back.

“So, you and that girl looked pretty cozy last night,” Brock teased him the next morning after practice. None of them had been particularly happy that they were called for last minute drills, all of them sweating the alcohol from the night before more than anything else.

“Are you in love?” Quinn teased, his voice dripping with that pre-teen gooeyness that got under Anthony’s skin.

“I just met her,” he started.

“Love at first sight exists, my friend,” Elias joins in, hitting Anthony hard enough on his back that he nearly fell out of his stall.

“Dear god, I need to go back to New York,” Anthony groans, drowned out by the sounds of his teammates laughing.

“There’s no way Long Island is better than here,” they kept going.

“We called it the ‘God forsaken island,’ growing up,” Quinn added, the guys laughing even harder as they continued to rib Anthony.

“I liked you all better when you didn’t know me.”

“You know we like you better when we make fun of you,” Elias tried to reassure him. “Have you at least talked to her since last night?”

“How would I do that?”

“You got her number?” Quinn questioned.

Anthony tried to think back to the night before, failing to remember anything past his initial meeting with Scarlett and the absolute fear that he felt trying to talk to her in those first few minutes. “When did that happen?”

“Right after the eighth green tea shot.”

“You let me have eight?”

“Scarlett kept buying. I wasn’t going to argue with her,” Quinn said, holding his hands up in defense. “We tried to get you to stop, but after the third one, you threatened to pour them all over Brock.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to let you get my white shirt dirty.”

“God forbid you get your five dollar Walmart shirt a little dirty with some alcohol.”

“Hey, no-”

“Guys!” Anthony finally cut in, his teammates all turning to look at him. “I don’t have her number.”

“Have you looked at your phone since last night?”

“Only to turn off my alarm when it was still on ‘do not disturb.’”

“Scarlett a hundred percent has texted you already if you haven’t texted her. She’s not one to wait for days for a guy to reach out to her,” Quinn told him.

“I don’t think I like that you know so much about her,” Anthony mumbled.

“I met her the first weekend I was here my rookie year and she somehow has appeared in my life every weekend since. Check your phone.”

The guys start to file out and head home, Anthony and Quinn sitting there by themselves. Anthony didn’t even know what he would say to her. How does he start a conversation with a girl he barely knows, who he was too nervous to talk to the night before?

“You make her sound like a stalker,” Anthony sighed, trying to search for his phone.

“I’ve known her for years and she hasn’t stalked anyone.”

“That you know of.”

“You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

“And that is the closest to being Gretzky that you’ll ever be.”

“Just check your phone. You were babbling like a dumbass the second you met her. I haven’t known you for as long as I’ve known her, but I definitely know you well enough that you don’t act like that around girls. Ever.”

Quinn finally got up to head home, leaving Anthony alone in their locker room to do as he pleased.

Anthony sat back in his stall, letting his head hit the back and getting engulfed in his clothing hanging behind him. What would he even text her? Is it too soon to text her? How could he send anything that would be good enough for her to want to respond?

He finally pulled out his phone to start going through his notifications. News from around the league, random DMs from people on Instagram, a text from his mom that he would forget to respond to until after she was asleep for the night, and a message from someone with just an emoji as their contact. It was the blushing emoji, Anthony remembering Scarlett telling him that her friends called her ‘Scar,’ and that was the first emoji that popped up when someone tried to search for her name.

‘So how often do you get a girl's number and not text them back after that night?’

Anthony couldn’t figure out if the banging was just the throbbing headache he had or someone actually at his door.

“What the fuck could you possibly be doing here this early?” he groaned at his teammates standing at this door.

“It’s 2 pm,” Quinn says, pushing his way into Anthony’s apartment without an invite, coffees and bags of food in hand.

“It was either us doing the wellness check or the police,” Brock adds, flopping down on the couch and sending Anthony’s phone on to the floor.

“I don’t trust them to drive safely anywhere after they’ve spent the night drinking, so I had to come, unfortunately,” Elias tells Anthony, picking up his phone off the ground and handing it to him. “Has that girl texted you back yet?”

Anthony’s head whipped up in shock. He really had no memory of last night. “Girl?”

“Yeah, you know, those who identify with she and her pronouns?” Quinn says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Can you be a girl and not use those pronouns?” Brock asks while chomping on a bagel.

“Very important questions for a later time, please,” Anthony interrupts, trying to look through his contacts to see if there was any name he didn’t recognize. “What girl?”

“You don’t remember?”

Anthony sat on the couch next to Brock, throwing his head back and letting out a guttural sigh. “Why would I remember anything from last night? That would make my life so much easier, and obviously, we can’t have that.” There was no way he could meet a girl and not remember her, right? There was no way he could possibly have drank that much alcohol to the point where he blacked out if he was with his teammates.

“Not your usual type, but still pretty.”

“She was hitting on Quinn first.”

“She was not.”

“She only stopped because you’re too dense to realize when someone is hitting on you.”

“You could have had a relationship for the last five years if you picked up on that girl in the coffee shop.”

“That’s-” “Hello?” Anthony interrupts his teammates. “We were talking about me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Brock says. “You really don’t remember the girl who bought you like four of the drinks you had?”

‘ ‘What are you doing today?’ came up on Anthony’s phone from an unknown number.

Scarlett had called him immediately after he sent his text to make sure he was ok. “Ti,” came through his speaker, the nickname she called him that made his heart race for no reason. “It’s two in the morning, what do you mean what am I doing today?”

“I want to see you today,” Anthony slurred, drunk from his night with his teammates after winning the first round of the playoffs.

“Only if you promise to get some water right now,” she giggled. “You know you forget to hydrate when you’re celebrating.”

“Come out with us. I want to see you.”

“I am in bed already,” she said, hearing Anthony let out a drunken groan. “I’m going to be helping Brooke at her street fair stand in the afternoon, I can meet you after that for you to take me on a date then.”

“I want to take you out now,” he whined.

“Dinner tomorrow at your favorite restaurant. You’ll pay.”

“I’ll pay.”

Scarlett hung up before Anthony could say anything else.

The next morning, he woke up on Quinn’s couch, Elias sitting on the chair, Brock on the floor for who knows what reason. He didn’t even remember getting back to Quinn’s apartment, let alone how he ended up on the couch.

“Why are we here?” Anthony asked, no one in particular.

“I was the most sober of the four of us,” he heard Quinn yell from the kitchen.

Following his teammates' voice, he attempted to get up, a pounding headache nearly knocking him off his feet. “How did that happen?”

“I’m not sure, but I fucking hated it,” Quinn mumbled. “Even Elias threw up four times last night.”

“It might be five times soon,” Elias said, stumbling into the kitchen behind Anthony.

“Good morning sunshines,” Brock yelled, groans coming from all three guys in the kitchen. “What’s everyone doing today after we get breakfast together?”

“Plotting your murder,” Elias muttered massaging his head with his fingers as if he were trying to will the hangover away through that method.

“At least wait till our season is done for that.”

“I think I’m seeing Scarlett,” Anthony said, trying to remember if his conversion with her the night before was real or not.

Quinn hands out cups of coffee, a confused look on his face. “Like, you’re seeing her right now? In the room with us?”

“What’s it like having two brain cells that constantly have to fight for third place?” Anthony groaned, “No, you dumbass, I mean tonight. I’m seeing her tonight.”

“You’re finally going to see her somewhere that isn’t a bar and in a state that isn’t halfway fucked?”

“I actually think I’m going to join Elias in murdering you,” Anthony countered.

“You can’t hang out with Scarlett if you’re in jail for murdering me.”

“What are you going to do with her today?” Elias asked, changing the subject.

“I have no idea. I might be paying for whatever it is we do, though.”

Anthony spent the rest of the morning getting annoyed at his teammates as they teased him, calling him a simp for Scarlett when he had only interacted with her in person while they were both drunk. They hadn’t even been on a real date yet. Scarlett telling him to take her out that night was going to be their first.

“Look, I need to impress her,” he cuts them off after they get back to Quinn’s place. “So either you are all going to help me figure out how I do that, or I’m going to put in for a trade request in the off season.”

The four of them managed to put together a plan that didn’t make Tito want to kill them. The first step was to go to Prototype, her favorite coffee shop in the city, and getting drinks for her and Brooke and surprising them at Brooke’s street fair. He had their orders saved in his phone for god only knows what reason, but he knew they would come in handy at some point.

“We should come, too,” Quinn said, grabbing his stuff to follow Anthony out the door.

“You should not,” Anthony protested.

“We want to see what you’re like out of your natural habitat,” Brock teased.

“What the ever living fuck does that mean?”

“I think it means they want to see you try to flirt with her when you’re sober,” Elias translated.

“No. Nope. You three are not coming.”

“You don’t have a car to get yourself anywhere and you still don’t know how to navigate the public transit system here.”

“Fuck.”

Anthony reluctantly let his teammates take him where he needed to go, hoping that he could lose them at the massive street fair that Brooke and Scarlett were working. Thankfully, his teammates had the attention span of squirrels, soon veering off from him and leaving him to wander with a tray of three drinks, hoping to impress the girl he desperately wanted to see sooner than that night.

“Ti?” he heard from behind him. “Anthony, what are you doing here?”

He turned to see Scarlett walking up to him from across a sea of people, her smile alone making him lose all brain function. He should have known she would have the same effect on him sober as she did when he was drunk. “I, um,” he started, trying to remember what his reasoning for being there even was to begin with. Why did he have to see her so early when all she did was make him freak out in the best way possible? “I brought you coffee.”

He practically spilled it down the front of her by shoving it into her chest. “Um, thank you?”

“And for Brooke, too.”

“Oh! You haven’t even met her yet?”

“You told me that you two have the same favorite coffee order from Prototype, so I just got two of them,” he told her, feeling his cheeks turn bright pink.

She gave him a soft smile, clearly impressed that he would remember not only her order, just her best friends, no matter how simple they were. “I knew you were a good one.”

“Do you want us to text her?” Brock asks, craning his neck to try to read over Anthony’’s shoulder at his phone.

“We can tell her you’re a good one,” Elias offers, the first hint of sincerity coming through his voice that none of his other teammates had shown to him all night.

“Or that you’re bad,” Quinn draws out.

“I’m not a thirteen year old boy trying to text his middle school crush, Jesus Christ.”

“Tell her you’re like him,” Quinn adds.

“You’re Jewish, I thought you don’t believe in him,” Elias asks.

“Well, yeah, but he was still a historical figure. We just don’t believe the religious aspect that-”

“Hey!” Anthony interrupts, again. “Am I just here as comic relief?”

“You have to be funny to be considered that.”

“Ok, I’m leaving,” Anthony gets up from the couch, only to be pulled back down by Brock.

“We’re teasing you. You know this. And we’re in your apartment, where are you going to go?”

“What do I do?” Anthony groans, throwing his head back with his hands over his eyes.

“Text her back or ignore her.”

“No, I mean,” he groans again, “I texted Scarlett last night.” Much to his surprise, he’s met with silence from his friends for the first time that morning. “That’s what shuts you up?”

The three of them exchange worried glances, making Anthony’s heart race and head throb even more than the hangover already had. He knew drinking anything was going to make him do something stupid. He just didn’t think his teammates would also agree.

He handed them his phone, letting them see the string of stupidity from the night before.

“There’s no way you texted her all of this,” Brock said.

“You can literally see the texts on his screen,” Elias groans.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Scarlett told him between kissing him, one hand on the back of his neck pulling him towards her, the other on his guiding it towards her waist.

Anthony didn’t know what to say as he felt every inch of her, pulling her back towards his bed. He sat down, his lips still connected to hers. Scarlett straddled his waist, her fingers gracing the hem of his shirt.

‘God, this has to be perfect,’ raced through Anthony’s mind, every other thought that wasn’t about Scarlett unable to break through his brain. His heart started racing as the two of them took off his shirt, fiddling with hers next to slip it off over her head, Anthony wanting nothing more than for his lips to be back on hers as fast as possible.

He moved her off his lap, gently pushing her onto her back. He took a moment, both of them catching their breath while Anthony’s heart continued to race. “Wow,” he let out, Scarlett giggling at him. “You are just.” He couldn’t find the words to describe who she was, his mind still blank from anything other than her name.

“Do you want to…” she asked, drifting off, her eyes traveling down his body.

“Oh, god, yes.” Anthony said, crashing his lips to hers, feeling her smile against his.

‘This has to be perfect,’ kept running through Anthony’s head as they stripped more of what they were wearing, piece by piece. ‘She’s perfect so this has to be perfect.’

She was ready. He could feel she was ready. But Anthony?

“Hey, hey, wait,” she stopped him. “Are you ok?”

He hung his head down, her hands pushing his hair back off his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“We can stop, if you want to,” her voice came out small, clearly upset.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, rolling off her, unable to look at her. The two of them lied there in silence, a long pause that made Anthony more anxious by the second.

“Are we ok?” Scarlett asked, finally breaking the silence.

Anthony stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say. “Yes?”

He heard her sigh, getting up to put her clothes back on. “Let me know when you’re sure,” she said to him, leaving his room.

As soon as he heard his front door shut, he covered his face with his hands, letting out a deep groan. He wanted it to be perfect. He had been trying so hard to make everything for her as perfect as he was able to make it. Why the fuck did he have to get into his head like that.

Anthony reached for his phone, pulling up the group chat with his teammates. ‘Who can come here ASAP?’ he sent, putting his phone back on his nightstand without even waiting for an answer, rolling over immediately and pulling his sheets over his face.

Anthony didn’t know how long he had been asleep, hearing his front door open while he was still in his bed, his clothing strewn across his floor.

“Tito, where are you?” he heard Elias’s voice carry through his place.

“Fuck,” he muttered, throwing himself out of bed to try to find something resembling pants before they could make it to his bedroom.

“Tit-oh.” Quinn said, bursting through his bedroom door before he could fully get his sweatpants on. “Guys I found him.” “Jesus, Quinn,” Anthony said, nearly falling over. “You couldn’t wait?”

“Had to make sure you weren’t dead,” Brock said, spraying a mouth full of crumbs of who knows what everywhere, Elias following him with an annoyed expression. “We thought you were with Scarlett tonight.”

“He clearly was,” Elias said, gesturing to the mess that was his bedroom at the moment.

“So what, you finished, she left, and your first thought was to call us?” Quinn asked, plopping down on Anthony’s bed, Brock following suit.

Elias and Anthony took the floor, his three teammates trying to read the expression on his face. “No, I didn’t finish.”

“With Scarlett?”

“I didn’t even,” Anthony started, putting his face back in his hands. “I didn’t even start.”

“Oh,” was all he heard from Elias, Brock and Quinn both silent for once. “We thought you really liked her?”

“God, yes, I do,” Anthony said. “This was supposed to be the first time we slept together and I fucked it up.”

“That happens,” Elias shrugged.

“It’s not even just that. She asked if we were ok and I couldn’t answer her.”

“Why would you do that?” Quinn asked.

“I panicked. I’ve been panicking. Since the first time I saw her, I have been freaking out because she deserves more than what I can give her, and it fucks me up,” he let out, surprised he was even able to put anything into words. “I mean, Brock, you had to physically push me to her because I was frozen. Quinn stood there when I couldn’t even talk to her. We were all here the night I freaked out because I didn’t know how to text her, or what to do for our first date. I have been out of my mind about her since the second I saw her, and because of that I have fucked up so badly, I don’t know if she wants to see me ever again.”

“Ok, you told her last night you wanted to see her,” Brock reads out.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“That night she left my apartment when we tried to…” Anthony trails off, not really wanting to recount the night again.

“What about the last time that you talked to her?” Quinn asks, handing Anthony his phone back.

“She had called me one night after a game a few days later to say that she was sorry she left that night the way she did but she was upset that I didn’t have an answer for her.”

“And?”

“And we talked it out, I thought we were fine, she said we would talk later, and neither of us reached out again.”

“So you both ghosted each other until you sent her a bunch of drunk texts last night,” Quinn says.

Anthony groans, throwing his head back again. “Fuck, yes, Quinn. What do I do?”

“Well she hasn’t answered yet, so she either hasn’t seen it or also doesn’t know what to do.”

“At least start with telling her you were drunk and that you’re sorry you sent all of those texts,” Elias suggests.

“Or we go over to her place and you ask her yourself.” The three of them look at Brock, Quinn, and Elias liking the idea, Anthony absolutely mortified. “I mean, you haven’t seen her in a while, you haven’t talked to her in a while, and drunk you clearly wanted to change that last night.”

“What about sober you, right now?” Quinn asks.

“Hungover me,” Anthony corrects, “Wants to go to bed until sober me reappears.”

“Well that won’t be until tomorrow,” Brock points out, “So what would sober you want to do?”

Anthony smiles, his teammates knowing what he wants to do, what he’s wanted to do since that first night at the bar.

“I’ve got the keys,” Elias says, the four of them rushing out the door.

Anthony felt his heart racing as Elias drove through the city, surprised he even knew where Scarlett’s building was. By the time he pulled up, his palms were soaked, his throat was dry, his legs anxiously unable to stop shaking. The guys had to practically throw him out the door, Anthony having no idea what the hell he was going to say.

He managed to get up to her apartment, thankful that he was well known enough that the doorperson let him in, worried that the security was loose enough that they just let him in at the same time. He knocked on her door, finally starting to calm down as he waited for her.

Anthony didn’t hear any movement in her apartment, knocking again after waiting for what felt like forever. He felt his phone buzz, a text in the group chat asking how it was going from Quinn, immediately followed up by Elias scolding him.

He knocked a third time, hoping that she would answer.

She wasn’t there. That, or she was ignoring whoever was at the door, given that he was showing up unannounced.

He turns back around, heading back down to Elias’s car, letting them know he was waiting for the elevator.

The door opened, Anthony moving to the side to let the person already there off while reading the texts that were flooding in from his teammates.

“Anthony?” he hears, forcing him to look up from his phone.

“Scarlett,” he lets out, both of them smiling at each other.

#anthony beauvillier #vancouver canucks fics #nhl #nhl fics #hockey #hockey fics #Anthony Beauvillier fic #quinn hughes #elias pettersson #brock boeser #vancouver canucks #Canucks

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aquato-family-circus · 6 months

Note

Building on this point I made way back in last year December, it's interesting just how much the shaky situation of the Psychonauts organization could be read as a direct parallel to the Fall of Grulovia. Both of them involve groups/societies losing their "heart", so to speak, as a result of horrors caused by a Grulovian driven over the edge.

In the Psychonauts' case, it was losing Lucrecia, Ford, and Helmut that lead to the Psychonauts' foundation effectively without the soul that made the Psychonauts what it was meant to be (to expand the frontiers of knowledge regarding the human mind). Thus, all that remained was the shell and whatever fragments remained of the Psychic Seven with Otto, Compton, Cassie, and Bob. Once they began to fall apart, the Psychonauts was only a fraction of what it used to be despite the changes.

In the case of Grulovia, it'd be easy to claim that the Maliks were the "heart" of Grulovia, but I'd argue that it'd be more accurate to say that it was the regular citizens, the people who Grulovia's royal family should have nurtured and prospered. But the Maliks had been leeching them dry for years, and Theodore's decision to manipulate Lucrecia only lead to the final nail in the coffin with the Deluge of Grulovia.

In both cases, the birth of Maligula was both the "birth" of the Psychonauts as an organization, but the death of the Psychonauts as a group of friends and people driven by their heart towards a noble goal, replaced by an effectively broken shell that was held together by forward momentum and talented people who tried to keep things going. And likewise, the birth of Maligula heralded the death of Grulovia, with the leeches (Maliks) who caused the whole mess scurrying away into hiding.

And then it's telling that what began the process of healing that heart involved another Grulovian playing a part to make things right.

Raz and Gristol in this regards parallel each other, as they both narratively play a role in trying to save the heart of their respective groups. But whereas Raz ultimately achieves this by helping to heal the original wound both in the Aquato family and the Psychic Six, Gristol did not and could not do so.

This is because Gristol foolishly imposes himself as being the "heart" of Grulovia, much like the rest of his family. Lacking any self-awareness and introspection, he thus only ensured that he'd be doomed to make the same devastating mistakes that led to Grulovia falling in the first place, and nearly dooming the remnants of the Psychonauts as well.

Ford in many ways factors into this as well, as while the Maliks certainly played a part in the devastation, he basically tried to "fix" the heart of the Psychonauts and bring back Lucrecia at any cost, only for the costly nature of his mistakes leading to his own mind being shattered, Lucrecia stuck in a false identity, and Helmut trapped for 2 decades as a brain in a jar.

And the end results speak for themselves. The Psychonauts and Grulovia being seen as shadows of their former selves. The Psychonauts unable to help its own agents in mental crises, Whispering Rock's children suffering from their own troubles that go unaddressed in the first game, etc. And Grulovia a frozen wasteland whose only chance of being "fixed" lies in the hands of the very people who leeched and drained it dry, before condemning it to a watery and frozen grave while fleeing from their costly mistakes.

I find Gristol's fixation on Ford especially fascinating in this regard bc you can draw parallels between the two as trying to fix these dire straights in ways that involve a lot of mental manipulation, whether it's Gristol's more real-world manipulative tactics or it's Ford's use of the astralathe. While Ford has much more well meaning intentions it can't be denied that he pulled a lot of selfish moves in the process, like not going to get his friends' help since he must've assumed they'd never agree to such a wildly unsafe solution to the problem.

For some reason the image that always flashes in my mind when these parallels between the Psychonauts (org) and Grulovia are drawn is whenever you go to Fatherland Follies and see that show room where Ford is like on the front lines doing his EVIL psychonauts treachary on top of his Ford Plane. Like it or not once Ford and friends agreed to stop Maligula they entered the World Stage and they have lasting world-wide images built up around them afterward for better or worse.

I've always liked that in the end the thing that saved Lucy and brought her back/allowed her to snip Maligula back into the subconcious of her mind, it was Raz, it was the family she wanted so much to protect but got maniupulated into hurting by the Maliks.

The Psychonauts (org) being set on the path to hopefully saving themselves from becoming even worse than that shell of their former selves fascinates me because despite how hyped up it is, they're honestly pretty early on into their life as an organization. Like, taking everything at face value, the Psychonauts are only a 20 year old organization, that's like, nothing in the grand scheme of things so far. They've definitely already been making their mark but now I think they have the next generation of agents in a good place to eventually take things over, because the old guard of the Psychic 7 has their heads on more straight and can guide the growth/rebuilding/restructuring a lot more before they're gone in like another 20-30 years.

#asks #enigma2meagain #hcs

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princess-of-the-corner · 5 days

Note

Not sure I'll write even the whole first chapter, but tinkering with the Sabine!LAdybug & Chat!Chloe fic with some Origins material.

Specifically, this is post Stoneheart running wild & al the students being evacuated to that big arena to wait out the problem.

Sabine Cheng = Madame Vermilion Chloe Bourgeois = Catastrophe

The names don't come up but I wanted to share them, now behold my 1 am musings! XD

Adrien found himself leaning against the wall of the grand stadium, Nino & Marinette to one side, Sabrina, and Chloe to the other. No one was really talking even as teachers and other students stretched and theorized or tried to create distractions.

Marinette was dialling her mother over and over again but receiving no response; Nino had a hand on her shoulder even as he occasionally glanced at his own phone.

‘Should I call father?’ Adrien shook his head, ‘No, that would just be… That would just lead to a lecture and him calling me home.’ The last thing he wanted to do right now was make this mess about himself.

He glanced to his side where Chloe was leaning against the wall and scowling out like the entire world was heckling her. It was the sort of aggressive prickliness she usually reserved for well, people she or Adrien didn’t like.

‘I guess the monster attack is getting to her,’ he mused. Or maybe it was that the mayor had delayed an emergency broadcast, not to check if Chloe was OK, but to run his speech by her, because: “I can’t trust the staffs opinion!”

Adrien pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth; fingers gripping the inside of his pockets as he desperately resisted the urge to try and do something… Anything…

Then Sabrina let out a whimper, “My dad won’t pick up.”

“He’s probably been called to daddy’s side; you know how he liked to keep Roger close at hand.” Chloe said with a disinterested air that she… Probably meant to come off as reassuring.

After all, if she wasn’t worried you shouldn’t be either.

Sabrina nodded slowly, “You’re, you’re probably right Chloe- Dad!”

All four of them turned to Sabrina as she dropped down into a squat, eyes wide as she stared at her phone, a grainy recording showed a red headed officer being held up by his peers as he was pulled off the street shouting in agony at his twisted-up leg.

Adrien shot Chloe a glance and he did see the blonde unfold her arms and start making a move before freezing up. Face contorting between a myriad of hard to read expressions as she remained frozen in place unable to act before growling, “Daddy will have him turned into rubble before this is done.”

Adrien could practically feel the glares Nino & Marinette were sending Chloe, at her failure to be there for her friend who was now quietly crying over her phone. Chloe couldn’t look at her, nails digging into her palms she sent Adrien a wide-eyed almost panicked glance before turning her head away.

‘I can’t blame you; I know this is beyond you.'

Adrien dropped down and gently placed a hand on Sabrina’s back, “He’s alive, just focus on that for now,” Adrien said softly, slowly slinking his arm around Sabrina’s shoulder and letting the girl fall against him.

“Yeah, your dads tough right?” Nino said awkwardly, but still putting some heart into it.

Marinette dropped down at his side and took Sabrina’s loose hand in her own, the redhead squeezed back and nodded weakly. Even still her gaze drifted to Chloe who finally bristled and barked, “I’ll be back in a moment!”

She practically launched herself off the wall and didn’t so much as tear through the crowd as she did project so much presence everyone got out of the way with the understanding that if they didn’t, she’d walk over them.

“I can’t believe she just left,” Nino whispered, too quietly to be heard by anyone but Adrien and even then, only barely.

Adrien didn’t say anything, but he didn’t agree at all regardless.

He knew Chloe, knew how she struggled to understand or be understood by other people; how much of a strain her clumsy attempts at comforting him had been on her.

No, he didn’t blame Chloe for knowing what she simply lacked the capacity to do, anymore than she blamed him for never really standing up to his father.

They were a package deal, so he’d comfort Sabrina and she’d go and do all she could to force the world to be what they needed it to be.

____

Chloe slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it tight.

A quick scan showed she was alone, and so Chloe kicked an erstwhile bin and sent it shattering against the bathroom wall before stalking up to the nearest mirror. Seething, she scowled at her reflections.

Hair subtly askew, a sheen of sweat, breaths too heavy, she was a wreck!

‘Pathetic, weak, unexceptional! You are a joke!’

Nothing was going right, she couldn’t even think to put her hands around Sabrina like Adrien had, her promises of retribution apparently meant nothing and now Marinette was closing in on her friends and monsters and-

Chloe slammed a flat palm against the mirror, a shot of pain ran through her arm as the glass cracked ever so slightly. The burning ache running through her fingers forced things back into sharp clarity, at least for a moment as she pressed a hand against her chest and made herself breathe deeply.

‘I am a good friend!’ At least...

Insomuch as she knew how to be things like good or friend.

Fighting back a snarl, Chloe tore open her purse and began tossing anything and everything from its confines into the sink. Intent on finding her phone to demand her father bring in tanks and bombers to finally end this insanity. Then she could fix her hair.

OOF GIRL

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corruptedcaps · 1 year

Text

Eenie, Meanie

“Come on and pick one, I’m getting impatient.” Kane growled at Fran as they stood in the campus cafeteria looking at the rest of the study body eat, talk and socialize.

“I told you, I don’t want to do this! It’s wrong!” Fran replied, her voice trembling with fear. She couldn't believe what Kane was asking her to do. It was despicable and she didn't want any part of it. She wished her boyfriend had never found that magic book.

“If you don’t pick one of these girls to steal from them I will. Maybe some of your friends.” Kane said sinisterly, his eyes locked on Fran's. She felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that he was capable of doing anything he wanted, she had seen it first hand. He had used the magic from the book to steal the strength from the captain of the football team and the looks of a male model that attended their college. It has made him arrogant and mean and now he wanted Fran his girlfriend to do same.

“No! Ok, I’ll pick one.” Fran replied, scanning around the room full of co-eds before landing on Amber, the meanest girl on campus. If she was going to steal anyone’s beauty, it might as well be the cruelest one she knew. Fran waited for Amber to get up and go to the bathroom and followed her when she did. She had never done anything like this before, and she was terrified.

As Fran got closer to Amber, she could feel Kane's eyes on her, watching her every move. She tried to keep her cool, but her hands were shaking and her mouth was dry. Pushing open the door to the bathroom she found Amber primping herself in the mirror. Fran stood looking at her frozen to the spot.

Amber turned to face Fran, her eyes narrowing. “What’s your problem dork?” she asked, her tone cold and dismissive.

Fran panicked and recited the words Kane had taught her. A bright green light filled the room and Fran could feel the magic at work. However she was suppose to focus on Amber’s beauty to be able to take it but found herself unable to think about anything other than the mean words Amber had said to her.

The words ‘mean’, ‘cruel’, and ‘bitch’ were all she could she think of as the magic worked and starting transferring from Amber to Fran. However it wasn’t beauty that was moving from one girl to the next but instead Fran was absorbing Amber’s bitchy confidence, her spoilt arrogance and her cutthroat attitude. It felt good. In turn Amber was receiving Fran’s meekness, her cowardice and her doormat personality.

As the green light faded Fran felt better than she had ever felt. She stood up straight with her head tilted up looking down at Amber with new disdain.

“W-what happened? Why do I feel so…” Amber began.

“Weak? Boring? Pathetic? Because you are now! You’re just as useless as I used to be. God it feels so good being mean to you. No wonder you were always a bitch to me.” Fran said with a laugh as she enjoyed how the tables were turned.

“This isn’t right Fran, you need to undo whatever you did, please!” Amber said begging but Fran could care less now.

“No I don’t think I will. In fact now that I don’t have a pesky conscience holding me back, I’d like a few more things from you.” Fran said with an evil grin on her face as she began her spell again.

Kane was starting to suspect Fran had bolted out the bathroom window as he waited outside the door. Just when he was considering barging in when the door swung open and out walked a girl who he thought was Fran at first. She was wearing Fran’s boring clothes and had the same body shape and messy brown hair but something in the face told him it wasn’t her. His suspicions were confirmed when the door opened again soon after and out walked a stunningly beautiful girl.

“Get out the way loser.” Fran said pushing Amber to the ground as she stalked over to an open mouthed Kane. Fran flicked her now impeccably thick and long blonde hair off her now huge boobs that were nearly overflowing from her new outfit, courtesy of Amber. Everything was now courtesy of Amber.

Fran had a confident and dominate stride now, one that was catching the eyes of many in the room, not just Kane but she only had eyes for him as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’d this what you wanted babe??” She asked with a mischievous grin.

“Wanted and more, Fran!” He said leaning in for a kiss but she deflected his lips to her smooth cheek.

“Ugh don’t call me that, it’s Francesca now. Everyone will know my name soon enough.” She said with mania in her eyes and magic in her veins. Kane sensed that maybe he had made a monster but for now he was only interested in showing her his monster.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #power transfer #evil couple

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datawyrms · 2 years

Text

Tick

He hadn’t wanted to just run off to the Far Frozen again, to take advantage of his ghostly allies for every little problem. Feeling a bit funny in ghost form wasn’t anything new, wasn’t something worth worrying about. It was just a noise. A little thing.

He figured it was just his heart, still beating under ectoplasmic skin. It only felt louder, made his chest twinge uncomfortably because that wasn’t normal for ghosts, that’s all. He was only imaging the click. There wasn't a tick.

He ignored it. It did not ignore him. The stiffness, the discomfort only increased. He had hundreds of reasons to brush it off. How many ghosts had bones like he did? He felt fine after he changed back. It was a ghost only problem, and of course he felt sore as a ghost! Danny fought ghosts as a ghost, and got very well acquainted with the texture of buildings doing so. It would be strange if he wasn’t sore sometimes.

He would have kept ignoring it, dismissing it if his hand hadn’t seized up. It wouldn’t move beyond the slightest shudder, as if his muscles had locked in place. Being human didn’t make the sudden lock up vanish, and the noise he swore had been his heart clicked so loudly in his ears that he thought something had broken.

So much for not bothering Frostbite.

“I can suggest steps, Great One, but without confronting the cause the changes will continue.” The yeti’s massive fuzzy hand on his shoulder was not very comforting with the news that came with it. “Nor can I reasonably expect we would be able to make the ghosts responsible reverse it.”

“I don’t care who it is, I’ll still clobber them if it cuts this creepy stuff out.” Creepy was an understatement, but the only word he could think of. The ticking kept going at the same constant speed, ignoring or blind to his irritation and fear.

“It would be beyond even you. I am sorry. However, any of us here would be willing to assist you. I fear living outside of the Infinite Realms may become difficult if your body locks up more severely.”

“I’m not going to let someone make me unable to go home because they put some dumb ghost curse on me!”

Frostbite did not laugh, did not shrug and let him go ‘try’. Instead his grip tightened as he lowered his great head down to his eye level. “Young one, you cannot fight off time itself. I do not know why it has ensnared you, or how you caught its attention. I only know how to help you keep those growing gears in order.”

It sounded even worse when he phrased it like that. Gears? Like it wasn’t bad enough that he was half some weird ghost, he had to just add weird mechanical bits in too? “What do you mean time itself? You said a ghost did it!”

“Yes. There is a ghost, in theory. I do not know if they actually exist. I only know that in order to keep ‘peace’ within the realms time will twist some ghosts. To give them weaknesses, to keep any one ghost from becoming greater than it.” Frostbite didn’t flinch from his yell, instead focusing on Danny’s much smaller hand, ever so gently moving it and listening for a small click in each joint. “If they do not wish to be found, they will not be. I should be able to fix the misalignment- but it is temporary. Your body will not move in perfect sync with these new growths. They’ll catch and freeze like this again if you are not careful.”

Danny felt an awful lump in his throat. There was only one ghost that did time stuff? One ghost that was doing this to him? Putting freaky cogs and gears under his skin so they’d catch and break? To leave him helpless and unable to move like how his hand had become useless?

It wasn’t a nice thought, but he didn’t want to argue with Frostbite about a ‘time ghost’. If it wasn’t who he was thinking of, they’d know more than his fuzzy friend anyway.

-----------------

He found the clock tower as easily as he did the time he tried to beg for help in curing his friends after Vlad made them sick. The door was already half open, so he did not have the satisfaction of knocking it aside or kicking it down.

Instead he only had the constant ticking of the massive gears inside the tower. The ticking that was in perfect sync with that awful grinding in his chest, the uncomfortable twinge under his knuckles as if something far too large had been crammed under the joints. As if he was part of it. “Clockwork!” Was it a furious bark, or more of a pitiful mewl? He couldn’t tell over how loud everything felt.

Red eyes loomed over him, sudden and unexpected.

Nothing. Clockwork did not speak. Danny couldn’t force another word out of his throat, even though he wanted to scream at him, to ask what gave him the right to slip awful machinery inside him- to control him.

Clockwork’s face twisted for only a moment, swiftly enough that he couldn’t quite tell if it had been in rage or some other emotion full of bared teeth. “You are in trouble again, I take it.”

His passive question ignited the anger simmering in his chest, confusion knocked aside with a furious certainty. “Because of you!”

“In part.” Clockwork looked away, but did not move out of range of any attack Danny would care to make. “I did not kill you when ordered to.”

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about these- this- clockwork! Inside me!” He could have known- it was even the weird ghost’s name- how stupid was he?

“I understand. It is not an enjoyable experience, but one gets used to it, in time.”

No apology? Not even an explanation? “Why? I don’t- I don’t want this!” His fingers clenched and he pulled his arm back, prepared to take a swing. Instead of taking it his elbow made an awful crunch and froze, just as useless as his hand had been before.

Clockwork came close, reaching for his arm but he flew back, eyes burning in anger. “Don’t touch me! Not when you did it!”

The hooded ghost did not approach again, but did not back away either, shifting ages instead as if it would make a difference. “I understand your condition. Let me help, I will not harm you, and leaving your arm in that state will only make things worse in the future.”

He really wanted to shoot Clockwork right now. “No!”

Clockwork lowered his arm and sighed, eyes seeming dimmer than usual. “Very well. Just take care of yourself. If you awake with a key, guard it with everything you have.”

Still nothing useful from the bizarre ghost, just what sounded like threats. “I was stupid to think you were kind.” Danny spat as he backed away. He had to find some other way to fix this, a way to get a jump on this jerk of a ghost.

“I understand the pain you are going through. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.”

Danny left. He didn’t want to hear anything else. Didn’t want to feel how in sync all the weird little movements inside him were as he listened to seconds tick by. He hated how it smothered his anger and almost seemed to comfort him while he felt awful little metal disks clicking in his limbs. He couldn’t be here, he wouldn’t. He’d come back with friends and make him undo it.

---------

“You always complain you are lonely, Time Master. Be grateful.”

“I will not.”

“Pardon? Did you say you did not want your clock wound? That is what it sounded like, Clockwork. Did I mishear you?”

A low rumble that died into nothing but the constant beat of seconds. “Thank you.”

“Better. It’s difficult for an antique like yourself to get anything done all wound down like this, after all.”

Clockwork could only grit his teeth and refuse to look at his tormentor, the holder of a key he could not function without. “You will not take his key.”

“Of course we will. No reason for a pair of clocks to hold them. It is not as if he could wind himself.”

Perhaps not himself. Yet they could help one another. If only he had not lost his. In only he hadn’t entrusted it to traitors who claimed to work for ‘order’

#ectoberhaunt2022 #dp #frostbite #clockwork #order #hee hoo weird body horror #sort of #and overvants for a few seconds #weird one shots for halloween :V

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

forever is the sweetest con | Chip Taylor x Reader

18+

Summary: Reader's dad is a carpenter; sometimes he takes on apprentices and sometimes, if they're lucky, they get his daughter's number at the end of their training. Chip Taylor, however, hits the jackpot when her father invites him over for one of her homecooked meals.

Warnings: reader's mom passed away, mentions of parental death, strangers to lovers, random acts of kindness, mutual pining, falling in love, steamy make-outs, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, sub!chip, food mentions, praise, love confessions.

word count: 6.2k

a/n: thank you @samuel-de-champagne-problems for requesting a chip fic!! i am in love with him and also yes this plot is something that happened to my parents, however, my mom is still alive and my dad does give my Instagram out to the men who subcontract for him lmao!

Her father was a carpenter, and he often took on apprentices. You see, he had to learn everything on his own to make his way in life and support his family, he was willing to help other men do the same thing. And so every night he would come home from work and talk about whatever idiot he was teaching this week.

“His name is Chip,” her father emphasized the p with confusion, “what is that even short for?”

“It’s short for Charles,” she couldn’t help but laugh, “is he at least more competent than that Mason kid?”

“Much!” He rolled his eyes, “although I did have to teach him how to put crown moulding in today, he’s a quick learner and you can tell he’s just following what they teach at the schools but I know the hacks.”

“I know, Dad,” she smiled. “Is he cute? Single?”

She’s been on dates with most of the guys he’s worked with, mainly because they went to her high school back in the day, but also because her father was trying to play matchmaker. Ever since her mother died, she’s been taking care of him and he just wanted her to have some fun outside of the house. She needed a life in his eyes.

She was content working at the diner and serving people food all day just to come home and take care of her father. He worked hard to make sure they stayed afloat after her mom, the least she could do is make him dinner and a sandwich for lunch the next day.

“He is actually,” he shrugged, “he’s a yes man, you’d probably really like him.”

“Why’s that?” She asked, waiting for whatever snide comment he was going to make to jokingly piss her off.

“Your aunt Lisa only married your uncle Jason because he was a yes man and she could wear the pants, and you’ve always been just like her,” he explained it nicer than she expected.

“Give him my number next time you work with him?” She asks nicely, taking his plate from the table and moving it to the sink.

“Good luck chip,” she hears him mumble under his breath.

It makes her laugh, she loves her relationship with her father and the friendly environment they were able to keep after everything that’s happened to their family. They always laughed together, he was always cracking jokes and even when they were shouting obscenities at each other it came from a place of love, “fuck-head” was a term of endearment in their home.

—

He brings Chip home with him without telling her, she’s been home all day cleaning the house; her hair is a mess and she’s all sweaty, and he really is cute. She made enough food for an army so it wasn’t a problem in her father’s eyes, saying “doesn’t she always look beautiful? It’s fine Y/N.”

“Yeah,” Chip agreed with a small smile and a blush that roared red down his neck. "You're very beautiful."

She cleans up a bit before dinner, brushing her hair and changing into a nice sundress. She adds some perfume and shakes the anxiety out of her body, he was just one of her dad’s friends from work. And he happened to be incredibly adorable.

Returning to find them talking about how he fixed their frozen pipes in the winter with a hairdryer. It was the most basic shit to her and yet Chip was fascinated like he’s never heard any of these things before. He’s holding a beer in his hands with a leg crossed as he leans on the sofa and he’s so cute…

He’s in his work jeans and his shirt is all sweaty, and his hair is curled on the ends from all the hard work. His hands are dirty and he smells like sawdust and home. She’s not listening to a single thing they’re talking about, she’s just staring at the way his face moves when he talks and how sweet his laugh is.

He loves dinner, he’s beyond thankful and even more so for dessert. She made homemade banana bread with the bananas they had, they were going to go bad if she didn’t. It wasn’t anything special but he acted like she made his whole day.

He helps bring all the dishes into the kitchen, standing beside her as she fills the sink with water, “do you have a towel? I could help dry.”

“I know where everything is, how about you wash and I dry?” She compromises with a smile, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

She learns a little about him, he’s kind and friendly and he seems to crave the feeling of family that being in her home provides. He doesn’t want to stop washing dishes because then he has to go home, and he doesn’t look like he really wants to do that either.

“Do you need a ride home, Chip?” She asks as he lets the sink water out, “I was thinking about going to get some ice cream if you want to join me?”

“I would love to,” he smiles again, “thank you, Y/N.”

—

She understands everything when she drops him off at his tiny, little, run-down apartment; he’s going to be all alone as soon as he leaves her car and she hates that for him. He was so nice it was hard to believe that he didn’t have a nice partner and a house and kids by now.

“I wouldn’t mind if you came over for dinner after all your shifts with my dad? Just text me before so I make enough dinner?” She offers with butterflies swarming in her stomach.

“You’re too kind to me,” he replies, unable to meet her eyes as she turns to him.

“I just want more time to look at you,” she teases, “you’re really handsome.”

He lights up, “you think so?”

She nods with a small laugh, pushing air through her nose as she leans in more, “and you’re nice and funny, and your voice is cute.”

He’s stunned as his eyes flick back and forth from hers to her lips, his lips are parted as he tries to breathe but fails, he looks like no one has ever told him that before.

“Are you working with my dad tomorrow?” She changes the topic so that he can focus once more.

“I should be,” he replies just soft enough for her to hear.

“Would you like a sandwich for lunch? My dad said often the guys don’t bring that much with them to eat, I wouldn’t mind making you a sandwich too?”

She’s not sure why she feels the need to take him in and care for him but she does. She wants to wrap him up in a hug and make his meals and tuck him in at night. He just has this aura that calls for love and she desperately wants to give it to him.

He leans forward and kisses her, she kisses back instinctively and reaches to hold his face. His cheeks are soft as she runs her thumb along the skin, she pulls back only to press a few more pecks to his lips.

“You're something else,” he whispers against her lips before stealing another kiss.

He’s sweet, he tastes like vanilla ice cream and she just wants more. She kisses him again and again, eventually licking at his bottom lip and desperately whining to make out with him. She hasn’t felt this needy since she was a high schooler, but something in Chip made her feel alive.

She is leaning so far into his space she might as well get into his seat too. She moves to kiss his jaw and down his neck and he’s nothing but hands as he feels all over her back.

“Do you want to come inside?” He whispers, scared but just as desperate as she is.

“I shouldn’t,” she says before continuing her trail of kisses down his neck.

She can’t leave any marks because her father will know, but she also doesn’t care. He’d probably just give him a high five and move on with his day. She wanted to be even closer to him, she wanted to sit in his lap and kiss him for hours just because she could.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he tries to persuade her, “it just might be more comfortable for this?”

“Alright.”

He holds her hand on the walk up to his apartment, she likes how much he already feels like hers. He shows her inside and before the door is even closed she’s connecting their lips once again. He moans into her mouth at the feeling of his back colliding with the door and her hands are immediately roaming his shirt.

He’s such a good kisser, he is gentle and soft, he isn’t overly eager and controlling. He lets her explore and slow it down as she presses in closer to him and his hands wander to her hips. She places one of her thighs between his and grinds herself even closer to him.

He’s hard against her hip and the prospect of sleeping with him is so enticing but she knows she can't, at least not yet. It would be too quick, she wants to just appreciate him like this. Her kisses trail from his lips to his ear and he’s still a whining mess, but he’s completely still as she sets the pace of her grinding. He’s not pushing her to do anything or move this along, he’s just letting her explore everywhere… he’s so different.

“I don’t want to have to do laundry tonight,” he whispers with a smirk, moving his hands down to block her from grinding on his erection anymore.

She just undoes his belt and pushes his jeans to the floor before resuming the same position as before, this time she pulls her dress up and rests the clothed tip of his cock in just the right spot under her.

He’s holding her closer again, his arms wrapping almost all the way around her as his big hands grab handfuls of her skin in a desperate attempt to be closer to her. She keeps kissing his neck, they’re more open-mouthed and breathy than she intends but he just feels so good under her.

No one has ever made her feel this desperate before, something about him made her want to devour him whole. His sounds were delicious, his skin even more so, she couldn’t help herself from nipping and sucking at his neck as he made more beautiful noises.

She was so close and she could tell he wasn’t far behind, “let go, Chip,” she whispers in his ear, “cum with me.”

She grinds down hard one final time and he’s a shaking, moaning mess. It’s the feeling of the wet patch in his underwear and the feeling of him shudder that sends her over the edge, panting into his neck as they hold each other close against the door.

He turns them around, taking her by the waist and manhandling her until she’s the one against the door. His lips are on her neck and it’s like his orgasm has only enticed him to go further, “you’re too good to me.”

“You deserve good things Chip,” she whispers as her hand comes up to grip his hair as he continues to kiss her neck.

“Let me say thank you,” he whispers as he drops to his knees and pushes her dress up as she reaches to pull it up for him.

She spreads her legs as he moves her panties to the side and dives in. Spreading her with two fingers he sucks her clit into his mouth first and she tugs on his hair so tight he moans against her. Sending another shockwave through her body as he built another orgasm up.

He’s so good with his mouth, her legs are quaking as she tries to stay standing against the door. She can feel him everywhere but it’s still not enough, she wants him deep inside of her but she knows it’s way too soon to even be doing this. She has never gone this fast with someone before but she couldn’t stop, he felt too amazing.

“Chip,” she chanted his name, tugging on his hair tighter to get him to moan against her and send her over the edge once again.

She ruts against his tongue, fucking his face as she rides it out and he is more than happy to keep going as long as she wants him to and it feels so good she might just stay there. But the twitches get too intense and the whine she makes lets him know she’s done as he kisses back up her body.

Supporting her against the door, he presses his body against her once more. Taller than her, he tilts her chin up so she can look him in the eyes, his chin and nose are glistening with her cum and somehow he’s still cute.

She kisses him on the lips quickly, “when I can feel my legs again, I need to head home.”

When she leaves, she just sits in her car for a few minutes as she settles even more. Then she heads to the grocery store on the way home to get nice things for his sandwich tomorrow, because any man who can make her cum twice in 10 minutes deserves the best sandwich.

—

Waking up at 6 in the morning to make sandwiches is normally a chore, she sometimes makes them the night before so she doesn’t have to worry and can sleep in, this morning she wants to put all the tender loving care into these lunches. Her dad has noticed, he’s eyeing her down from the living room as he has his morning cereal and she knows he wants to ask.

“I didn’t sleep with him if that’s what you’re wondering.” Her voice is just loud enough for him to shoot her a listening glance.

“Oh, but you’re making him a sandwich?”

“You should see his apartment complex,” her expression drops, “ and after the way he devoured dinner last night, I just knew he hasn’t been taken care of in forever. And he’s so nice?”

He smiles, “your mom did the same thing for me.”

“You’ve never told me the story,” she reminds him.

He gets up and walks over to the kitchen, leaning against the counter so they can look at each other. His expression is soft, he’s an overly kind man and it was the thing she loved most about him.

“Your grandfather and I worked at a company making refrigerators, I was new to the state and had nothing and so he brought me home for dinner,” he smiles at the memory.

“Her parents got divorced soon after and her mom was having trouble with the bills so I moved in and I helped, and every morning your mom woke up and she made me a sandwich as a thank you.”

“Oh,” she smiled at the recollection, they really were having the same little love story. “Well, I’m thinking about making fish for dinner, would you ask Chip if he likes it? I’ve invited him over for dinner after all his shifts with you.”

He laughs in a huff, he’s proud of her— and himself. He finally found a good one for her.

—

She outdoes herself for dinner. The food is amazing, the table is set, and she’s all dolled up for him. Her dad thinks it’s cute and he doesn’t mind being the third wheel, they all talk to each other like he’s been having dinner with them for years.

He helps clean up after dinner and her dad falls asleep watching Jeopardy in the living room like normal. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his back while he’s still doing the dishes, he’s still all sweat from work but she doesn’t care, she wants to give him a hug.

“What’s this for?” He whispers, placing a wet hand over hers on his stomach.

“Do I need a reason to hug you?” She counters.

“No,” he turns around in her grip so that he can give her a real hug. Wet hands on her back and everything.

She held him there, leaning against him as he leaned against the sink. His heartbeat was quick and he still smelled like sawdust and hard work, but he was warm and soft and it felt so right to just be there.

“Are you working with my dad tomorrow?”

“I will be for the rest of the month,” he confirms her hopes; he was going to be around often.

“Would it be alright if I asked you to stay the night?” She whispers incredibly soft for only him to hear.

He nods against her before taking her hand and leading her outside to the porch. They close the house door softly and then she’s back in his arms, “are you sure?”

She looks up at him and he’s even more beautiful today than he was yesterday, “I can take you back to your place to get some things? It would be nice to send you off to work in the morning.”

“You’ve decided that I’m yours now, haven’t you?” He teased her with a smile, perfectly fine with that.

She nods again, “you could move in tomorrow if you wanted, I’m not sure what’s possessed me to take you in like this, but I really don’t want to let you go.”

He delicately places his hands on her cheeks and pulls her into a kiss, it’s soft and short and he’s quick to look at her again.

“You can have me,” he whispers, “forever, if you want.”

It makes her laugh, “that's the sweetest con you know, you promise yourself to me forever and yet you have no idea if you can stay that long.”

He nods in agreement, “what if I promise my hardest to stay?”

“Okay,” she smiles again, leaning forward and kissing him again, finally.

—

The month is coming to an end and he’s slept beside her almost every single night, and even with that, they’re still taking it slow. They go on dates on the weekends, they make out in her car, he drives her to work, she kisses him at the door every morning he stays with them and they’ve done almost everything but have sex together.

They didn’t feel the need to yet, everything that was leading up to it was fun and interesting. She’s enjoyed sneaking around with him to get each other off back and forth, like an adult game of tag.

She’d blow him in the car on the way back to his apartment after dinner, or he’d come and pick her up after a shift at the diner only for them to end up making out in by the back door, and his hand always ended up in her panties. It was an interesting month of getting to know each other, but she wanted more now.

Her dad is going out of town on a fishing trip with his buddies this weekend, she’s booked time off and Chip has no idea what is in store for him. She plans a dinner, she gets all dressed up for him, there are candles and music and it’s perfect.

He’s amazed by the whole thing and she can really tell he’s been mostly alone for his whole life, he looks at a simple home-cooked meal like it was a million dollars and he was beyond grateful for everything. He almost cries he’s so thankful for the time and effort she puts into taking care of him.

He goes to pick up the plates and bring them to the kitchen as soon as their meal is over, “ah, ah, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning up for you?” Chip answers with a nervous tone that she hasn’t heard before.

“Don’t you want dessert?”

“I can bring it out for you, stay there,” he offers and then frowns when she stands anyway.

“You’re looking at it,” she whispers as she enters his space.

She takes the dishes from his hands and places them on the counter before wrapping her arms around him, “my dad isn’t going to be home until Sunday night.”

“Oh,” he whispers back before his hands reach for her ass and he’s picking her up.

Her legs wrap around his waist and she grips his shoulders for dear life as he hurries them up the stairs and towards her bedroom.

He’s incredibly strong for such a skinny guy, although he was filling out the longer he knew her. He makes it up the stairs and through her door as she gets a head start at kissing his neck until he has her pressed against the door.

“What’s with you and doors?” She teases as he rests her back on her feet, she draws him in closer to her so their chests are pressed together and she can look up into those sweet honey brown eyes.

“I’m just impatient.”

“Too bad, baby,” she teases, “I’m making you take your time with me tonight.”

“Yes ma’am,” he responded with a smirk, “I’m here to please you,” he whispered as he leaned in more.

Attaching his lips to her neck he kissed towards her ear, “to thank you,” he took a fistful of her hair and moved it out of the way before kissing down towards her shoulder. “To show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

She pushed him back enough to get Chip to stop kissing her neck, instead, pressing her lips against his. Kissing him deeply before running her tongue across Chip’s bottom lip as a request to make out with him.

Making out with Chip was something she did often, yet it felt like not enough every time. His plump lips and velvety soft tongue, soft touches and rough stubble rubbing against her chin and cheeks.

He smelled like oak after a storm, it was warm and electric and delicious. She dipped her face into the curve of Chip’s neck and took a whiff before attacking him with open-mouthed kisses.

He giggled, his hands her hips now, the pads of his fingers going up and his nails trailing back down over the fabric of her dress, the perfect motion to make the hair on her body stand up.

She reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, separating from his neck so she had room to pull it off of him before reconnected their mouths. Kissing him deeply then pushing him onto the bed, watching Chip get comfortable before she crawled on top.

They wasted no time getting back into the groove of things, tongues clashing and hips grinding, soft moans in each other's mouths, hands roaming everywhere. She reached between them to undo his belt and the button of his jeans so his dick wasn’t rubbing against the zipper. Making out like that was some of the most fun she ever had, she could do it for hours on end.

She pulled back, kneeling above Chip, she grabbed his open belt and pulled it through all the loops and chucked it towards the floor. She massaged her hand over the bulge in his pants as she got closer to his crotch, watching as Chip threw his head back to moan.

She fiddled with the waistband, wanting to pull them down, Chip lifted his ass up ever so slightly for her to do so, she pulled his pants and boxers all the way off and threw them to the floor as well. Spreading Chip’s legs and taking him in her hand, finally. She dipped down ever so slightly and licked the tip and he let out a beautiful cry as his hips bucked. She loved his noises, she loved seeing what new ones she could make and he was more than willing to show her.

Chip gasped and reached out to grip her hair, she took that as an invitation to suck his dick, she wrapped her mouth around the tip, slipping her way down as far as she could go before bobbing back up. It was slow and sensual, she made sure to cover all of him; jerking what didn’t fit in her mouth, dipping down even further to kiss his balls and suck one into her mouth.

The people she’s been with before had never been reactive, they either gave her praise or roughly directed her deeper and deeper till she choked. Chip was different though, making soft noises that sounded like ‘yes’ and ‘god’, his little gasps and stutters of breath were the cutest things. It just encouraged her to do it more.

She pulled off, looking up at Chip who was just staring at her softly. If she knew anything about giving a blowjob she knew what her face probably looked like.. eyes blown out in passion and lips swollen bright red. It was a sight he loved to see, his hand slipped down to cup her cheek and then down to his chin where he used his thumb to brush her bottom lip.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

She crawled back up and sat on his hips, taking the hem of her dress in her hands and pulling it over her head. She was wearing a nice matching underwear set for him, nothing too fancy because she knew it would just end up on the floor anyway.

She leaned back down, attaching their mouths once again, he wrapped his arms around her back and slowly rolled them over safely. Now on top of her, looking up into Chip’s eyes was a blessing. He blinked a few times, making sure it was real and he wasn’t dreaming that the most beautiful girl in the world was looking at him like that.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked gently with pleading eyes that let her know he was desperate to touch her however she pleased.

“Make me yours, Chip.”

“I think you always have been,” he replied.

His beautiful sweaty curls drooping over his eyes, she smiled as she brushed them back. Petting his face softly as she looked at him, he was so beautiful. The light was bouncing off the wall just enough to illuminate him.

“How do you want to do it?” She whispered.

“Let’s just go where the rhythm takes us,” Chip’s voice dropped low as he did, pressing their chests together, close enough to kiss as he rubbed their noses together softly.

She kissed him, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him in more. He squeezed his arms between her back and the mattress, wrapping himself around her. he decided to reach into her panties with his free hand.

He took a moment to admire her chest, she had caught him staring before. He constantly used them as a pillow, he wanted to touch them so badly, so she leaned forward and let him unhook her bra. Pulling it from her body and towards the floor.

She could sense his hesitation, taking both his hands off her sides and guiding them to her breasts. He whimpered as he felt them, she closed her eyes at the feeling. A small moan escaping her lips as he groped her. His big hands felt amazing, so strong and gentle, rough and yet soothing. Perfection against her skin.

She leaned back against the bed then, leaving him sitting up on her hips. Her boobs flattening out into a funny shape as she laid back, making her smirk in embarrassment. Only making Chip love them more, diving in and kissing the newly exposed skin.

He dragged his bottom lip over her skin between kisses. Leaving a trail of where he’s been already. She had a hand in his hair, holding it out of his face as she watched him.

Panting as she tried to grind up against him, the arousal in her core was overpowering. She needed to feel more, she wanted all of him. She was addicted to him already, hoping she’ll have forever with him.

She was too hot, feeling the sweat gather behind her knees as she tried to find more friction against him. She didn’t mind all the exploring he was doing, it was a wonderful appetizer, but she was nowhere close to being full.

He pulled back then to sit on his knees between her legs before Chip slowly slipped her underwear off. Raising her hips softly before resting her ass back in his lap and spreading her legs.

Fully on display for him, she played with her nipples slightly. Knowing how much he loved her boobs, watching her with a slack jaw as his hands ran up her legs.

He snapped back into the moment when she pushed her ass down against him, a whimper slipping past his lips as he placed his thumb on her clit, rubbing gentle circles into the bundle of nerves.

With his pointer finger, on the other hand, he traced around her entrance, not pushing in, just exploring the wetness as it dripped out. She tightened up on command, seeing his breath hitch as his finger almost slipped in.

“Please?” She begged, arching her back more so that he could finger her.

“Can we try something?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, resting on her forearms as she leaned forward.

“If I lay back would you, um,” he couldn’t say the words. They felt too filthy leaving his mouth, pointing at his face instead.

She sat up then, pushing him back against the pillows and settling herself over his chest and gripping the headboard for support, Chip wrapped his arms around her hips and guided her forward more.

Her legs were already trembling in anticipation as she hovered over his face, feeling his breath right on her core, Without warning, he sucked her clit into his mouth.

“Fuck,” she gasped as she smacked her forehead against the blocked window behind her bed, hoping to god no one could see through the blinds.

He pushed one finger in as his tongue played with her clit. She couldn’t help rocking her hips against his face, helping him get deeper inside of her. He curled his finger, lightly fucking her with it as he sucked, licked, kissed her pussy.

She was a mess, shaking over top of him as she tried to keep her orgasm in. Not wanting to cum yet, wanting to feel all of him inside of her before she did that. So he added a second finger, making her cry out in pleasure against the window without even trying.

Her orgasm ripped through her as she fucked his face, holding his hair with one hand as the other steadied her on the headboard. She couldn’t believe how intense it was, almost knocking the wind out of her as she road it out on his tongue.

He smiled against her, kissing her clit once more before pulling out and helping her back towards his lap. She wasted no time hovering over his cock as it strained on his stomach.

“Do you want to?” She asked, trying to control her breathing but still looking like a panting mess as she anticipated him.

“I’ll always want you,” he assures her with the sweetest smile.

She wraps her arms around him and rolls them over once more, he adjusts between her legs and drags himself along her overstimulated clit, she shudders at the feeling and then laughs at her own reaction.

“Ready?” He whispered.

She nodded, feeling Chip push in, she reached for his hands where they rested on her hips and interlocked their fingers. He bottomed out and dropped to hover over her, bringing their interlocked hands over her head.

She reached up to kiss him, Chip pushing into the kiss and making her settle into the pillow once again. It honestly felt like a movie scene, a first time between two star-crossed lovers. He pulled out ever so slightly before thrusting in again, she gasped against his mouth.

Chip trusted more while she pushed her hips into it as well, an offbeat rhythm developed in pure ecstasy. She let go of Chip’s hands to snake them around his waist, to run her fingers over the soft and slightly chilled skin of his back. Feeling the bump of his spine as Chip ducked into the crook of her neck, placing kisses along her collarbone.

Chip changed the position of his thrust as he wrapped his arms under her, arching her back ever so slightly to reach the bundle of nerves that left her a quivering mess. Y/N, in response to the added pleasure, ran her sharp nails down Chip’s back and he groaned at the feeling, “do that again.” he requested.

“Like that?” She asked, dragging his nails down him once more.

“Yeah,” Chip moaned, dark and deep.

The feeling of pure bliss overtook her body with each thrust, warm chills ran through him with each brush of his thumb on her clit. Every kiss to her neck and squeeze around her waist made her feel like she was on fire.

The hairs on her arms stood up, goosebumps formed along his forearms. Chip kissed from her neck to her nipple and took the hard nib into his mouth causing her to moan like she never had before.

“Chip,” she panted, pulling Chip’s face back up to his.

His eyes were absolutely blown out in pleasure, those golden wonders he used to stare into were now replaced solely by the pupils. She ran her thumb across Chip’s cheek before reaching to the nape of his neck to pull him into another kiss. Open mouths pressing together, hot air on each other's faces as they panted to the pleasure.

She was in heaven.

Her orgasm bubbled in her stomach, “are you close?” Chip whispered right beside her mouth, kissing her cheek lightly after.

She hummed, unable to speak with the mass amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Chip fucked into her a bit harder, a tiny bit faster, hitting her g-spot dead on each time to the point the nerves in her thighs were quaking uncontrollably.

She was so close, Chip used 3 fingers to quickly rub over her clit before she threw her head back with a shout. Cumming with her eyes pressed shut, pleasure coursed through her body stronger than she’s ever felt it before.

Nothing had ever made her cum that hard, ripping through her like her soul was leaving her body. She dug her nails deep into Chip’s skin holding him close to his body while he kept thrusting.

A high-pitched gasp left his lips, close to her ear as his hips sputtered into her’s one last time.

She still hadn’t opened her eyes, her breath rigid, she felt winded. Chip had stilled as he came inside of her and then collapsed into her, deadweight laying on her.

Chip mustered enough energy to prop himself upon his arm and look at her. Using his free hand he ran his thumb against her bottom lip once more to get her to open her eyes.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” she replied with a smile.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, smile growing, “that was amazing.”

“Better than you hoped?”

“I’ve thought of doing this for the last month, I knew it would be amazing but I never imagined it would be that good.” she complimented Chip, “I think I died when I came, no joke.”

He laughed, dropping himself back into the crook of her neck. He kissed her more, up to her ear and across her jaw to her lips. Soft small kissed followed by a long-drawn-out one. Chip pulled their lips apart with a smack.

“Let me clean us up,” he said.

At that moment she realized Chip was still in her, soft and all. He pulled out slowly it was always such a weird feeling to be empty again. He sat up and made his way off the bed, he went to her bathroom.

Coming back still naked, his dick bobbing between his legs, she loved the view. He had a thing of baby wipes with him, knowing exactly where she kept everything in her bathroom by now.

“I can do it,” she suggested, reaching for them.

Chip pulled them back away from her, “I want to.” he said softly.

Running the cold wipe over her soft skin, Chip looked mesmerized. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” she replied with a shy smile, “can you come back up here now?”

He tossed the wipes onto her night table and cuddled right back into her naked body, she held onto him tightly so he wouldn’t escape. She knew he wouldn’t, but she loved him so much she never wanted to let go.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered into her neck. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same yet.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed, pulling back so she could see his face as he looked up at her. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you walked in and said I was beautiful.”

He reaches for her cheeks and pulls her in for another kiss, “I’m going to love you forever.”

The words used to scare her, but now she looks at him and thinks they might be right for them.

“Forever it is, then.”

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

* * *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved. However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

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heliads · 3 years

Text

The Football Player (Part One)

Based on this request: “Bucky is a football player and you are a fan of the team but you're also really shy. Secretly Bucky also developed a crush on you. He sees you getting mocked by some idiots and he gets in between to stand up for you. Later then he asks you for a walk and he kisses you.”

masterlist / part two

According to every ounce of common sense still left in your body, you should be paying attention. You’re in school, might as well actually learn something, right? You have a test next period, and if you were smart or wanted to pass at all, you should be focusing right now, tracking every single word that your professor is saying. The only problem is that you’re not doing this whatsoever. No, your gaze is instead directed out the window, where a certain football team is just beginning practice.

It’s not like you were intentionally trying to get distracted. You had come to the classroom right on time, pencils lined up and notebook out, ready to start the day. Your gaze just happened to accidentally shift to the window instead, and when you saw number seventeen in red and gold, well, how could you focus on math at a time like this? You’d seen James Barnes around the school many times, but he never ceases to amaze you.

Honestly, even talking about him tends to light a fire behind your cheeks. You’ve seen this movie dozens of times before: shy, studious girl falls for the football player, hijinks ensue. However, this isn’t a Hollywood blockbuster. Bucky is a star member of the team, and you’re just a fan of your school’s football games. Whenever you do icebreakers in class and you’re forced to describe yourself in one word, you always reach for ‘bookish’ or ‘smiling’. Certainly never ‘superbly athletic’ or ‘on Bucky’s radar in any way’. Those aren’t even one word.

However, you never quite seem to let yourself be brought back to reality. Time and time again, you don the red and gold colors of your school- Mid-Capital University, or MCU, ready to go cheer on the team and your favorite player especially so. In fact, there’s a game tonight, you’ll be going with your friend. No matter how many times you laugh at yourself, though, you can’t shake your crush. You doubt it’ll be going away anytime soon.

The night is young, the shouts loud. You cheer with your friend and the rest of the school as the football team runs out onto the field. Their manager, a Mr. Stark, watches from the sidelines, yelling directions or complaining about how much the equipment is going to cost. The team jogs over to their captain, Steve Rogers, to huddle up and discuss final strategy. Steve is a senior, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s chosen Sam Wilson to take his place as captain next year. He’s Bucky’s best friend, so you’ve heard, although they pretend to fight often enough that you’d think they were rivals.

Bucky is here as well now, eyes glinting from underneath his helmet. He’d had long hair for the longest time, but when he’d cut it over the summer there had been more than a few desolate sighs from the cheerleaders. You had to smile at that- at least you weren’t head-over-heels enough to give up your crush based on his hair. You weren’t that bad yet.

As you watch, the team takes their position. They’ll be playing their rivals tonight, the Hydras. Steve heads to the back, Bucky and Sam on either side of him. Further along the team, you can begin to recognize other players- Scott Lang, a kid who’s scrawny off the field but seems to grow twice in size the second he puts on his gear, Peter Parker, the freshman who managed to make it on the team within his first few days, and Natasha Romanoff, the one girl on the team who’s got a death stare promising she’ll tear any objectors to shreds.

The whistle blows, and the teams are off. You watch with bated breath as Bucky darts left, right, catches the ball from Steve and takes off down the field. Apprehension grows across the student body until at last- touchdown, your school! You rise with the others, cheering in unison. Maybe you’re just being silly, but you could swear Bucky looked at you with a smile just as he started off back towards the line.

The rest of the football game is a breeze. Your school wins easily, and Bucky definitely did his part to secure the victory. The next day, everyone is still buzzing over the catches and near misses with their friends, not wanting to miss a single moment. You suppose it’s still on your mind, which is why you’re frozen in your tracks when your new lab partner sits down beside you in biology.

It’s Bucky. Of course it is Bucky. Of course, the one time you have to have a new lab partner in class, your teacher manages to have the terrible luck to place you with the one person who reduces you to a blushing mess every time he steps within ten feet of you. Bucky slings his backpack down beside his chair, offering you an easy smile like a flyer, free of charge.

“I’m Bucky.” He says, and you remember yourself. “I know. I saw the game, you were really good. I’m Y/N, uh, by the way.” Bucky’s smile grows even wider when you mention the game, if that’s possible. “You saw the game? That’s so nice of you.” You feel like you can’t form a coherent thought. “Yeah, I went with my friends. Your team won.” You want to slap yourself in the head- of course he won, he was there. You’re stating the obvious.

But Bucky doesn’t laugh at you, or act like you’ve said anything strange. He just nods, shoulders slumping slightly as he thinks about last night’s game. “It was hard. I guess every time you go against your rival school the pressure’s just ten times worse. It took a lot to just run out on the field.”

He stiffens slightly after he says this, like he wasn’t intending on sharing that secret just yet. However, you’re just grateful that you’re not the only one saying whatever pops into your head. “I can’t blame you. If it’s worth anything, though, I thought you were great.” Bucky’s beaming smile is back, brighter than ever. “It’s worth a lot from you.”

Maybe this sudden seating arrangement won’t be that bad after all.

Your friend catches up to you the second you leave the biology room behind. She looks back and forth between you and Bucky’s retreating form, something in between astonishment and a teasing grin lingering on her face. “Tell me I didn’t just make that up. Tell me you’re actually the lab partner of the one and only Bucky Barnes, the guy you’ve been crushing on for, like, forever.”

You shove her slightly, although you can’t help but smile. “It’s true. I don’t know how, but it’s true. Guess the bio teacher really liked me that period.” Your friend loops an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not just him who really likes you. Did you see the way he was looking at you? All through class, he kept stealing glances. I think Bucky Barnes has a crush on you.”

You stop in your tracks. “That’s impossible. He would never.” Your friend crows in victory. “But he did! You don’t stare at somebody like that unless you’re hopelessly in love with them. It’s the same way you stare at him.” Indignation rises in you like a spring. “I don’t stare at him. I just observe, casually.” Your friend snorts. “Well, you casually observe him a lot. Honestly, I just see this as a success. If you can get the star football player to fall in love with you, then I think I can win the lottery or something.”

Even after your laughter rises and dies away, you can’t help but think about what your friend said. Surely it’s impossible- Bucky would never so much as talk to you outside of class, let alone have a crush on you. But your friend wasn’t exactly lying. You had seen Bucky out of the corner of your eye, the way a smile lingered on his lips when he glanced over at you. That wasn’t just nothing, right? Honestly, this whole lab partners deal might be more pressing than you ever thought possible.

The only way to move on is to go through the next day, and the next. After that, however, you have biology again, and that means finding your place next to Bucky Barnes and pretending like your heart rate isn’t skyrocketing the second he smiles up at you, saying he’s glad to see you again. Your friend keeps stealing glances your way, eyes wide and thumbs raised in an expression of impressed awe.

As it turns out, your friend isn’t the only one to see something between you and Bucky. You make your way out of the bio room, unable to hide a smile, although your happy outlook disappears the second somebody blocks your path across campus. This somebody just happens to be Mandy Fleming, bottle blonde junior who thinks she owns the school, and her entourage of preening followers.

Mandy folds her arms over her chest, considering you. Her lip purses. Evidently she finds something lacking. “You know, I don’t think we’ve had a proper conversation in a while. We need to make a few things clear.” You force a smile, trying to step around her. “Can we do it later? I have places to be.” Mandy curls her lip. “I don’t wait. This can’t wait. See, you’ve developed the unfortunate habit of spending too much time around Bucky Barnes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “We’re lab partners. What, you want me to ignore him?” Mandy’s eyes narrow. “That would be preferable. Next class, you’re going to go up to the professor and tell him you want to switch partners. Make something up about wanting to be closer to the board or something, I’m sure he’ll believe it.” You can barely listen to her. “And why would I do that?” Mandy takes a step closer. “Bucky is mine, not yours. I’m going to need you to back off.”

You stare at her. “You want me to switch lab partners all because a boy you’re not even dating is sitting next to me?” Mandy’s head rears back. You’ve obviously struck a nerve. “Listen here, honey. This isn’t an issue about me, it’s an issue about you. What, did you really think Bucky would ever even give you the time of day? You’re a nobody, a nothing, somebody not even worth a fraction of his time. Honestly, I’m doing him a favor by getting rid of you. He doesn’t want to see you, not for a second.”

With every word, you can feel your confidence plummeting. Mandy notices this, a smirk burning even deeper into her lips. Sometimes, you swear she can smell fear just like an animal. “You’re worried because you know I’m right. You’re pathetic, really, and Bucky Barnes wants nothing to do with you.” Just as you feel like you want to go back to your dorm room and never see the light of day again, a voice rings out from behind you. It’s a voice you recognize instantly, and one that Mandy does too, as she shrinks back the second she hears it.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Bucky steps forward, taking a place next to you. Mandy forces a smile. “I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about. Y/N and I are just having a little chat about homework. We had homework, right, a textbook reading and-” Bucky cuts her off coolly. “I heard every word. If you think I’d want to choose you over her, you’re wrong. She’s a hundred times the girl you’ll ever be.”

Mandy stammers, fishing around for words but coming up with nothing. It’s almost cathartic to watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Y/N and I have somewhere to be. And if I hear you trying to talk to her like that again, believe me when I say that this won’t be the worst I’ll say to you.” Bucky offers you a hand like a proper gentleman, and you take it, letting him steer you away from Mandy and her followers, who are still gaping at your backs.

The second you’re out of earshot, Bucky turns to you, apologies and regret written all over his face. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s all my fault- she’s been trying to flirt with me all semester, and I finally gave up and rejected her, and now she’s taking it out on you. I wish none of this ever happened.” You manage to force a smile. “Trust me, it’s fine.”

Bucky looks at you, concern still lingering in his eyes. “Are you sure? I can talk to them again if you think they’ll bother you.” You laugh at that. “Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly alright.” Bucky smiles at that. “Well, if you are perfectly alright, I was wondering if you were busy this Saturday. I saw this new park that opened, and it looked really interesting, but if you’re busy or something we can totally do something else, or nothing at all, whatever you-”

You cut him off, unable to hide a smile at his rambling. “I think that sounds excellent. I’ll see you there?” Bucky’s face lights up. “I’ll see you there.” He gathers his courage one last time, then leans forward to kiss you. He flashes you one last perfect smile before disappearing around the corner, leaving you with a smile and the memory of his lips on yours. When you look up, you see scores of jealous girls staring at you, but for once, the attention doesn’t bother you. Why should it? You have Bucky at last, and he doesn’t want anyone but you.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise

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peachsayshi · 3 years

Text

Chapter 12 - Muse

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Fluff, Rough Sex (Light but Consensual), Light Degradation, Role-play (Reader In French Maid Outfit), Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Making Out With Gojo, NSFW, Unprotected Sex

Summary: You keep your promise to Gojo and the two of you enjoy a little bit of roleplaying.

A/N: I know it's been a while since I posted last. Here is the updated chapter (she is kind of long) and it's basically 5% plot where everything else is smut. I have been reading this same thing for over a week and spent most of today editing, so I hope it's fine! Please keep in mind again that I do not have a beta, and will highly miss a lot of things or even misspell them. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Requests are still open! I currently write for Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna and Choso. Please make sure I can see your age on your profile, otherwise you will be ignored (minors dni)

- - -

(Three Years Ago)

“Looks like someone is being spoiled…”

You glanced around your apartment that has been completely decorated in flowers. You started grinning like an idiot thinking of Haru’s promise to give you a garden before replying, “ it’s a long story... ”

“ Soo , things worked out after the failed anniversary dinner?” Gojo questioned, noticing the way you shyly bit your bottom lip as you returned your attention back onto the T.V. screen.

“ Yes, they did …” you answered casually, still holding that pretty smile on your lips. You were clicking the button on the remote as you switched between movies to pick one to watch for the evening. “I don’t think I gave you the full update…”

Gojo took a sip of his melon soda, before leaning back comfortably against your couch. “No you did not. Last time we spoke you told me you were going away for the weekend. So tell me, how did prince charming work his way back into your good graces?”

Hakone , the weekend getaway; memories of you and Haru’s trip flooded back to your mind. The onsen experience, strolling through nature by day, visiting art galleries and losing sleep at night just to make love…

“It was… perfect.” you whispered breathlessly, your heart skipping a beat after you gave Gojo the brief explanation.

“ How romantic… ” the sorcerer replied, doing little to hide the hint of sarcasm in his tone.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, nudging your elbow playfully into his stomach. “Don’t be such a killjoy…”

From behind his dark frames, Gojo was reading your body language when you spoke. He pressed his lips together, not wanting to take away the happiness you were basking in and burying the thought that lingered his mind.

“You really love him, don’t you?” he asked again, his eyes glued onto you as he patiently waited for your reply.

Your cheeks went warm and your reaction was to adorably bury your face into the palm of your hands, desperately trying to fight off the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You leaned back on the couch next to your friend, dropping your hands down by your sides as you tilted your neck to face him.

“ Hopelessly so… ”

Gojo swallowed hard, a sinking sensation pummeled through his gut upon hearing your words. Your eyes flickered when you noticed how his expression hardened but he quickly switched to a big grin.

“As long as you’re happy … ” he reassured, giving you a thumbs up.

“I am, very much so …”

“ Good!” Gojo replied, but the word tasted sour in his mouth and he quickly changed the subject. “Now let’s get back to picking our movie…”

What the hell am I supposed to do now? he thought to himself, the disappointment weighing heavy on his heart.

I can’t tell her yet…

I’ll just have to wait...

(Present)

Gojo was exhausted. His day was tiresome and everything seemed to be getting on his last nerves. His morning started off on a bad note thanks to the higher ups. Itadori Yuji swallowing one of Sukuna’s fingers was not what he expected but now he had a problem on his hands involving the life of another teenager.

A talented kid at that, Itadori definitely had potential...

Gojo was good at hiding his frustrations from his students, and even from some of his peers. However, the minute he stepped into the lobby of his apartment building, the weight of his day came crashing down on his shoulders. He exited the elevator, slowly making his way over towards his apartment door but paused for a second before entering inside the safe haven of his home.

He immediately sensed your presence.

You called him earlier when he was at the school, asking if you could stop by his place to pick up something that you had forgotten.

“Just ask the security to let you in, I’ll give them a heads up and inform them... ” Gojo distractedly replied before ending the call.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly to himself, thinking that maybe you decided to stick around and hang out at his place.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, as he stepped through the threshold of his front door. “Did you really miss me that mu-uhhhhhh…”

Gojo dropped his keycard on the floor, his mouth agape as he took in the sight of you standing before him. His heart literally stopped beating for a whole second and the sorcerer found himself frozen in the entrance of his living room.

“ Gojo-san,” you purred, turning your heel from the large glass window you were wiping and smiling as you faced him directly. “ You’re home...”

Catching the great Gojo Satoru by surprise was something rare but you managed to do it with ease because he always had his guard down around you.

Gojo admired the outfit you were wearing. Your black dress was short, very short, with the bodice buttoned all the way up to your neck and little puffy sleeves covering your shoulders. The white apron you were wearing over it was trimmed with little frills, matching the detailing along the collar. His mouth went dry when he reached your legs covered in a pair of stockings but he noticed the single garter wrapped around your thigh adorned with a tiny bow. You were wearing black pointed high heels to match the ensemble, adding a decent amount of inches to your height. The cherry on top was the white silky headband that was pulling back your beautiful hair.

Gojo had given up on your promise weeks ago, thinking there was no possible way you might actually follow through with his idea.

Yet, here you were , dressed up in a french maid outfit.

You placed the cloth in your hand in the basket on your floor. Your heels clicking against the wooden surface and echoing around his quiet penthouse apartment as you approached him, holding your head high as you confidently nestled into the role you were playing.

You gripped his attention, but couldn’t see how shocked he was from behind his dark sunglasses. As you stood in front of him you bent down to pick up the key card before elegantly standing upright and holding it up to his face.

“You dropped this,” you stated quite matter of factly, batting your lashes at him innocently.

The man had been rendered speechless.

You raised your brow as the seconds passed, waiting for Gojo to say... something.

He could sense your heart beat increase, as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other and you nervously glanced away from his direction. You dropped the act for a minute as you placed your hands around your waist to look down at the outfit you were wearing.

“ Uhm … did I do this wrong ? This is the only outfit I could find online that was even close to the idea you had and it took weeks to actually get here. I can...I can try to find another dress if this isn’t what you li-”

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, interrupting your comment and tilting your head up so you were looking at him as he snapped himself out of the trance you seemed to have put him under.

“No! No, no no …you look… fuck… you just caught me by surprise…” he replied, a wave of excitement rushing through him as he stumbled over his words. He proceeded to lower his sunglasses so you were met with azure eyes, softening his gaze as a cheeky grin spread across his gorgeous face. “You look ...perfect…”

He stretched out that last word, ensuring to savour every part of you. Your face grew warm but you couldn’t help but smirk with approval that all your hard efforts into this costume worked their magic on your friend.

“Really?” you questioned in a hopeful tone, reaching for his wrist and giving him a squeeze. “I’m glad! You worried me for a second…”

Gojo leaned forward to kiss you, the heavy weight he bore when he stepped into his home dissipating as he tasted you on his tongue. Once he had his fill of you, he broke away from the kiss before casually walking backwards and instructing, “don’t mind me, I’m just going to step out for a second so we can properly start this over…”

You giggled before turning around and making your way back to your position next to his window. Gojo noticed your white slip peak from under your skirt, and he gently bit down on his knuckle unable to contain his own anticipation.

This is going to be fun, he thought.

When he stepped back inside his apartment it was with a totally different demeanor. He cleared his throat as he made his way over, noticing your face playfully light up before repeating your initial greeting:

“ Gojo-san, you’re home... ”

***

One hour.

You had the man stirring for an entire hour.

Gojo didn’t think you would take this as seriously as you did but you were putting on a performance for him.

At first he sat in the living room, watching you mindlessly wipe his spotless windows and bending over ever so slightly for him to peep under your skirt. He impatiently tapped his finger against his thigh, knowing full well that he was not allowed to touch you unless you touched him first .

That was the rule you both agreed on.

When Gojo realised that you weren’t planning on giving in so easily, he used the moment as an opportunity to change out of his uniform but that didn’t stop you from being a tease.

While he was in his room, he switched to a pair of comfortable sweatpants and just as he was about to slip on his hoodie, you barged into his bedroom.

“ I’m sorry to intrude…” you announced innocently, sauntering your way over with your eyes lingering on his abdominal muscles and lifting up his half-filled laundry basket. “ I just needed to wash these…”

Gojo pressed his tongue to his cheek, shaking his head at you as he moved to his drawer to replace his shades with his blindfold, knowing full well you were going to draw this out for as long as you can.

Maybe this is payback…

Gojo returned to the living room, his eyes fixated on the television screen as a way to distract himself from you.

After you did a few meaningless chores, you picked up the feather duster from your equipment basket and directed yourself into his line of sight. You began to “ dust ” off his shelves, swaying your hips deliberately from side to side as you walked in front of him.

“ I hope you don’t mind me in your way, Gojo-san …” you said serenely, flicking the duster over the random items on his shelf.

“Not at all…” the sorcerer replied, his voice smooth as silk when he spoke. “But you should know you missed a spot…”

You raised your brow as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his stare.

“ Oh ?”

Gojo spread his legs further apart, resting his long arm on the back of the sofa before bringing his other hand forward to point high on his shelf.

“Right there,” he indicated.

You hummed to yourself, knowing full well that Gojo wanted to see more of what you were hiding underneath your outfit. As you stood on your tiptoes, you deliberately arched your back to stick out your rear in his direction.

Gojo trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, humming in approval and deciding in that moment just how he plans on eventually fucking you in this cute outfit of yours.

“A little higher…” he commanded, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes as you “cleaned” his top shelf, and he felt himself harden against his pants when the fabric of your dress just barely covered your ass.

The minutes passed, dragging slowly until the sorcerer found himself growing impatient. The longer you were making him wait, the more cruel he was planning on delivering his own punishment in return.

“May I get you some water, Gojo-san?” you asked him, snapping him out of his own thoughts as you made your way over to the kitchen. “You look a little thirsty…”

Oh yes, he definitely wasn’t going to hold himself back…

“ Please…” he said through gritted teeth.

You made your way over to the kitchen, pulling out one of the random trays he had and placing a glass right in the middle. You fill it up with ice before pouring in the water, then lifting up the tray and making your way over to him.

“ Here you go…” you offered, but instead of picking up the glass with your fingers, you deliberately knocked it over, allowing the cool liquid to pour all over Gojo’s lap.

The man hissed, surprised that you caught him off guard yet again with your tactic. The water pooled between his thighs, making his muscles tense up even more.

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, the goosebumps running up and down your arms when you noticed the outline of his dick against his sweatpants.

Staring at him with your knowing, apologetic eyes, you proceeded to say, “I’m so sorry, let me get something to help you dry up…”

When you returned, you found your place down on your knees in front of him. You pressed the dry towel against his inner thigh, earning a grunt in response because your touch was close to his growing erection.

Your other hand glided up his calf, sending your message across as Gojo’s eyes widened when that same hand replaced the towel.

Fucking finally, he thought, no longer frustrated by his own desire or the fact that he was now soaking wet.

“I can dry these with the rest of the clothes…” you explained, lifting yourself upright on your knees. “I’m going to have to take these off..”

You hooked your hands around the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down his lean legs and removing them.

“What about these?” Gojo asked, tilting his head towards his tented boxers. “I’m soaked all the way through…”

“ Uhm… of course!” you chirped, as you removed the second article of clothing. “I’ll get these dry for you right away…”

As you tried to stand up, Gojo reached for your forearms and dragged you back down on the rug.

“What about this?” he asked, directing your attention towards the length of his swollen cock.

“I-I don’t know if I can help you with that,” you teased, averting your gaze as you feigned shyness.

“I pay you to use your hands, don’t I?” Gojo questioned.

“ Yes, Gojo-san …”

“Then you should do whatever it takes.”

Gojo could have sworn he saw you smirk but you were swift to hide your reaction. You brought your hand to his length as you began to stroke upward, circling your thumb around his swollen tip. Your other hand teasingly traced a vein up and down his shaft, and Gojo exhaled as his body relaxed against his plush sofa.

You squeezed his cock, feeling the width of his hard member as you continued teasing his head. You spread the pre-cum all over the tip, before bringing your lips down and replacing your thumb with your tongue as you swirled around the head before finally sealing your mouth over him.

You gently suck, your cheeks hollowing but you remain focused on just his head. The hand that isn’t holding his shaft moved to his thigh, where you gave him an eager squeeze as you tasted him in your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gojo leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as he hummed with relief. The low rumble of his voice spread down his abdomen, and your ears perked upon hearing his satisfied reaction.

You released him with a pop, before adjusting your position so your forearms were now resting over his thighs.

Gojo was average in thickness but his length definitely made up for it and you wanted to get comfortable before taking him all the way in.

You guided him into your mouth, easing him down inch by inch as you bobbed over his impressive length. Your hands pressed into his thighs, a small whimper escaping you as your teeth grazed lightly over his cock while you expertly worked him.

“You keep doing this and I might consider increasing your pay…” Gojo murmured, half-drunk with arousal as he began losing himself to you.

You quickened your pace, ignoring the discomfort in your jaw as you let him fuck your mouth. Gojo reached his hand to the back of your neck, gently stroking you with his slender fingers as encouragement. His chest began to rise and fall as his breathing grew heavier.

“ Keep going …” he coaxed, his voice shaking and growing tender. He rolled his hips in rhythm to your movement while your hands began massaging his legs and working their way high up to his pelvis.

His fingers curled around your hair, your throat burning but you kept going not wanting to disappoint your esteemed employer.

“ Mmm , F-fuck… ” he whined, his words sweet in your ears as he reached his peak.

Gojo’s hips bucked into you and he held you in place, releasing thick ropes of cum in the back of your throat as he moaned.

His grip was tight around your head and you tried not to gag as you swallowed everything he gave you. You slowly retracted him out of your mouth, desperately catching your breath in between small coughs as you settled yourself.

“Such a beautiful mess…” Gojo complimented as he looked down at you from where he was sitting.

Your chin was covered with your saliva, your perfectly styled hair unraveling from his grip and your smokey eye makeup smudged. Gojo flicked his fingers in his direction, ordering you to get on his lap.

Your knees hurt when you stand up, the cheap fabric of your stockings already wearing from the friction against the rug. You spread your legs as you straddled him, lifting the hem of your dress up as you adjusted your position.

“ Well, well…what have we here… ” he cooed when you flashed him. “Hold your dress up for me…”

Your face grew hot but you obediently obliged as you bunched up the dress to your waist, giving Gojo a full view of your stockings that covered your bare pussy.

Gojo dragged his index finger along your slit, your arousal stringing on the tip of his finger as he pulled away from you.

You were completely soaked through.

“ Do you always show up to work without any underwear on?” he teased, bringing his finger back between your legs and pushing the material of your stockings between your lips.

“Only when I know I am seeing you…” you replied seductively.

“Is that so?” Gojo mused, biting his bottom lip as he focused on his finger circling your folds. “How professional…”

“Actually I'm very unprofessional. I have something to confess, Gojo-san …” you whispered, dropping your dress as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his ear before stating, “…I touch myself whenever you’re not home .”

Gojo froze his movements. You were doing everything he described when talking about this particular fantasy: the hot maid that he comes home to who teases him into fucking her.

Oh, and you were playing the role beautifully.

“Did you do that today?” The man questioned, directing it towards you and not the character you were pretending to be.

You giggled in his ear, “ twice .”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, his free hand that wasn’t between your legs reached for his blindfold. He lifted the fabric, where a pretty blue iris was staring at you with sheer adoration.

“ Oh, angel, you continue to surprise me…”

“None of that, yet…” you announced, covering his eye as you pulled his wrist away. “ We’re still playing, Gojo-san.”

On that reply, Gojo reached for the band of your stockings. He ripped the flimsy fabric with his strong hands, tearing it straight down the middle before picking you up and laying your back against the arm rest.

“I’m going to have to start putting security cameras around the place,” he added, getting back into the role as he slipped off his hoodie. “But I think I would prefer seeing you with my own eyes…”

He instantly noticed the way you checked him out, your gaze hungry for his body. He lifted up your dress, bunching it up at the waist to reveal your torn undergarment. Your sweet pussy was glistening with your arousal and Gojo licked his lips with anticipation. He raised one of your legs over the sofa, leaving the other to dangle off the side and exposing you completely to him.

“ Touch yourself.”

You brought your fingers to your fold, working your throbbing clit as you closed your eyes. Your body was electric, riled up to the point where you were already so sensitive as you rubbed yourself. Soft whimpers left your lips and Gojo held your knees apart as he watched you masturbate.

“Are you always this quiet?” He teased, “A dirty slut like you begging to be fucked…I’m sure you get louder than that…”

If you weren’t so heated by everything that was going on, you would have been caught off guard by what he was saying but instead you moaned at his derogatory words.

The character you were playing began blending in his mind with your own person, his dear friend, and the thought of you eagerly pleasing him made the blood rush between his legs, his arousal making him harden again.

“You hear that?” Gojo continued, knowing full well how much you enjoy his dirty talk and pointing out the way your pussy squelched as your fingers drove themselves inside you. “You’re so fucking wet and I hardly even touched you. Are you that needy already? Are you that desperate for someone to fuck this pussy of yours?”

“Y-yes…”

“Do you call out my name when you make yourself come? Do you beg for it?”

“ Mmmm, yes, Gojo-san…want you so bad …”

“If you want me to fuck you, you little slut , you’re going to have to tell me how much you want it…”

You gasped, your free hand reaching to massage your breast over your uniform as you finally opened your hazy eyes to meet Gojo’s. Your heart was racing, your body gyrating against his sofa as you slipped your fingers between your folds.

“ Mmahh, Gojo-san, I want you to fuck me on this couch. I want to feel you inside me. P-please, I need you inside me…so fucking bad…I can’t…I ca-” you voice pitched as you increased the speed of your movements, rolling your hips in circles and your dropped your head back against the arm rest.

You came all over your fingers, your orgasm hitting you hard, as you sang your noises of pleasure. You were trembling against the chair, panting heavily as you pulled your fingers from between your legs.

Gojo flipped you on your stomach, unable to hold himself back any longer. Your hands were on the arm rest, your knees pressed into the plush cushion as you spread yourself as wide as you could for him. Usually, Gojo would enjoy taking this time to lick your sweet cunt clean but he was barely holding on himself after what he witnessed.

The tip of his cock teased your lips, before he slipped himself inside you with ease, coating his entire length with your arousal. Your eyes widened as you looked at him over your shoulder with slight panic.

“Satoru, you’re not wearing a…”

“I’ll pull out…” he replied, holding your hips up before snapping roughly into you.

You were dizzy, completely functioning on your urges without giving logic any thought. If it was anyone else, you would have stopped but Gojo wasn’t just anybody and the man had quite the control over his own body.

You cried out feeling your walls clench around him. He was moving hard and fast, fucking you roughly on his sofa, with every push harder than the last and leaving your legs trembling as you tried your best to hold yourself in place for him.

He drags his length out of you, ensuring that you felt every inch before wildly plunging back inside. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs against your stockings, your nails digging into the sofa as you whimpered.

Your drenched cunt made it so much easier for Gojo to fuck you but his slightly sadistic mind was forcing you to feel it more.

Your toes curled inside your pointed heels, your back arching as speckles of black clouded your vision. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips jerked when your orgasm compounded into you, making you drop down to your forearms as you were unable to counter your explosive release.

Gojo was covered in your juices and with a few sloppy thrusts he finally pulled himself out before finishing himself off by pumping spurts of cum all over your back, decorating your outfit with his release.

The man didn’t stop there. Instead, he flipped you onto your back bringing his hands to the buttons of the top half of your dress and ripping it apart.

Your chest was bare, covered in a bra that he tugged down until it was resting underneath your breasts. He brought his insatiable lips to your mound, rolling your pointed nipple between his thumb and index finger before closing his mouth over the other nub.

You were shaking underneath him, unable to handle any more stimulation as he pinched one nipple and peppered the other with kitten licks.

Gojo did it until he was hard again, leaving marks all over your breasts as he pushed himself inside you. He held your legs apart but you barely had anymore energy to keep up with him. Instead you kept him motivated with your pleasured mewls, praising him for all his glory.

“ Harder, please…harder….”

Gojo stopped, holding himself inside you and feeling you pulsate against him. He ensured to drag the seconds out making you whimper with impatience as you were desperate to have him continue.

“ Gojo-saaan…” you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes as you wailed for mercy. “Don’t stop fucking-ahhhhhhh …”

You couldn’t even finish until he was thrusting inside you again. Fucking you to the heavens and back with the same intensity he did earlier. When he pulled out of you as he climaxed, he finished himself off all over your cunt, marking you with his essence.

***

Steam covered the glass door surrounding you, the warmth engulfing your body as you and Gojo stood in the hot shower together. Your body was sore but in the most pleasant way possible and you allowed the water droplets to massage your skin, closing your eyes as you exhaled and enjoying the amazing pressure from Gojo’s shower.

You only opened your eyes when you felt Gojo’s large palm on your stomach, bringing you into his torso as he leaned down and kissed your ear.

“Did you have fun?”

The knot in the pit of your stomach twisted, sending shivers down your back from his question. He treated you with so much kindness after you both slept together. He sang you praises, telling you over and over how good you were to him as he took his time to clean you up, not allowing you to even lift a single finger while he used the time to focus on taking care of you instead.

You turned around to face him, your eyes gazing up at that unjustifiably handsome face that was uncovered because he had his hair slicked back.

“Surprisingly, I did…” you teased with a smile, placing your hands on him, as you delicately traced your fingers up and down his forearms.

His height was overbearing now that you didn’t have your heels on, and the sorcerer found himself tilting down just to look at you. His fingers pressed into your lower back as the silence filled the space between you both. Gojo used it as an opportunity to bring his lips down to meet yours, indulging himself with a kiss. He picked you up in his strong arms, before holding you against the grey tile of his bathroom wall. You moaned into his mouth, playing with his tongue as your hands reached for his neck.

“So, tell me, angel… ” he whispered into your mouth in between a kiss. “What kind of fantasies do you have?”

“Uhm, I don’t really have any fantasies…”

You felt his fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking him in the eye.

“You know, if you tell me , I can return the favor…” he stated, flashing his pearly whites as he gave you an easy grin.

“You’ll think it’s stupid…”

“Try me.”

You rested your head against the tile, playing with the back of Gojo’s hair as you cleared your throat.

“Uhm, so , back in college there was this professor that I had. He was extremely good looking, I think everybody in our class had a crush on him. I realised I did too because everytime I would try speaking with him, I always jumbled up my words or said the wrong thing. It was super awkward…I mean, he wasn’t awkward but I definitely was…”

A small laugh escaped you but Gojo was still listening attentively.

“Anyway, I never told anyone. I was with Haru and always felt like I was being a terrible girlfriend because I was just so attracted to my professor. He was also the sweetest guy, was married and had three kids…” you sighed as Gojo grazed his hand across your thigh, blushing before admitting, “…but I used to think about him taking me on his desk all the time. Like, it got to the point where I had to drop his class because he was too much of a distraction…”

Gojo chuckled, “oh, you dirty slu-OW!”

You tugged at his earlobe, pouting to stop yourself from laughing at his snide comment.

“That’s what you get,” you replied, before loosening your grip and dropping your hand to his pecs.

“Relax, it takes a slut to know one. There is no need to get offended!” he teased, shifting the joke onto himself and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, so you’ve got a little thing for a teacher/student scenario?”

“Just a little…”

Gojo brought his lips to your neck, planting small kisses upwards until he murmured against your ear.

“As a teacher myself, it will be my utmost pleasure to be your sensei for an evening,”

“You don’t have to…”

“You're not forcing me, angel. I want to,” Gojo insisted, his lips now hovering above yours. “Besides, I’m your friend, right ? We take care of each other, that’s what friends do.”

You nodded in agreement, your eyes dropping down to his lips as you patiently waited to taste him on your tongue.

“Since you did a stellar job with me tonight, let me do the same for you… ” he whispered, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and nipping at it gently.

You squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as you held him close, feeling faint when Gojo kissed you again like he was pulling the oxygen straight out of your lungs.

And yet, you had no desire to let him go.

***

CHAPTER 13: SPINNING

#Gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader insert #Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #Gojo Satoru #Gojo Satoru smut #gojo smut #Gojo Satoru fluff #gojo fluff #Gojo Satoru angst #gojo angst #gojo fanfic #gojo saotru fanfic #Gojo Satoru fan fiction

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eliemo · 3 years

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What's Important to Me is You

Summary: Roman just wants Logan to hear him. Logan just wants Roman to listen to him. It seems all they’ve managed to do is hurt each other.

Or: Roman knows he talks a lot. He didn't realize Logan never understood he wasn't being ignored on purpose.

Notes: I have a lot of Logan angst planned but that asides killed me and I just need them to Talk To Each Other Please

Roman knew he talked a lot.

He figured it counted for something that he was at least self aware. He wasn’t always the most conscious of it, delving into his own thoughts and ideas without warning, and his own boisterous voice often drowned out everyone else's, but it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose!

He had a problem with interrupting the other sides, he knew he did. He was working on it.

He wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just...hard for him to control himself, especially when he was excited. Roman talked loudly even when he was trying to be quiet, and being the embodiment of creativity meant he didn’t exactly have a lot of impulse control.

Roman’s brain was loud. His thoughts were like a flood, idea after idea piling up and begging to be shared, his voice booming to be heard over his own head. He was trying to be better, but a part of him was almost afraid to be quiet. He didn’t know what to do if he couldn’t be heard.

He needed to be heard. He needed to voice his thoughts and share his ideas. He was Creativity. He needed to do his job.

He needed to be good.

It was probably counterproductive that the person he wanted to impress the most, the Side he craved validation from most of all, was Logan, when Roman ended up interrupting Logic more than anyone else.

He liked hearing Logan talk, even if half of it was contradicting Roman’s ideas, and half of it went right over the creative side’s head.

But Thomas wasn't a very logical person. Sometimes his creativity tended to overshadow the voice of reason. Logan didn’t like Roman’s ideas, deeming them implausible and unrealistic, which only drove Roman to talk more, to try over and over again to get Logan to listen.

They bickered, Roman tended to talk over and interrupt Logan, but there was no malice behind it. They both knew Roman did his best to control his outbursts, but sometimes silencing creativity was impossible.

At least...Roman had thought that had been the understanding.

He and Logan were arguing again, butting heads over Thomas’s plans for next week. Roman was distantly aware he kept interrupting, kept using his volume to talk over the logical side, but being aware didn’t always mean he could stop it.

Besides, this was how they worked things out. They would bicker for a few minutes, Roman would keep interrupting until he was done and then Logan would inevitably work out some kind of compromise Roman could settle with.

“You’re not listening, Pencil Head,” Roman said, despite being unable to remember a single point Logan had made in the last ten minutes. “Your schedule is boring. Thomas won’t have any free time for brainstorming or relaxing or anything that will help us come up with new ideas!”

“Roman—”

“My schedule on the other hand,” Roman continued over him. “Will let Thomas actually enjoy himself! Free time will get his creative juices flowing and I can come up with a video idea.”

“Your schedule is practically nonexistent. Thomas cannot just ignore his—”

“He can get your things done some other time,” Roman kept going. That was another thing he was trying to work on- once he started talking it was hard for him to stop. “Or he won’t. Thomas is fine. Who cares if a few things don’t get checked off your checklist.”

“I—”

“Besides, my schedule will be much more—”

“Roman,” Logan snapped, almost a yell, overpowering the Prince for the first time. “I understand that you hate me but for once could you just listen?”

Well that was one way to get Roman to stop talking.

The Prince froze, the rest of his argument dying in his throat as he stared at the logical side, eyes wide, mouth still open as his voice was effectively silenced all at once.

Logan seemed to be struggling to get ahold of himself, the anger fading from his eyes as quickly as it had appeared, face falling in a way that made him look almost small, quiet and resigned.

Roman swallowed, forcing himself to quiet down as much as he could before responding. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Logan said, back to being stoic, emotionless Logic. “I just need to get my point across and then I can leave.”

Roman’s brow furrowed, hands fiddling uselessly in his lap. “I don’t hate you, Logan.”

“Alright,” Logan said. It didn’t sound like he believed him. “I apologize for snapping at you. I can leave.”

Roman’s chest felt heavy, guilt, panic, confusion waging war, and his throat tightened unbearably at the heartbreak in Logan’s voice.

“I… don’t.” Roman didn’t even have to force it this time, his voice barely a whisper. “You think I hate you?”

Logan flashed the Prince a look that made his blood run cold. “You are not exactly subtle about it.”

“I don’t—”

“I’m not angry with you,” Logan said, and he just sounded so… tired. “It’s fine, Roman. I should not have said anything about it.”

“Logan,” Roman tried, almost desperate. “I don’t hate you at all.”

Roman’s heart ached at the blatant confusion and distrust on Logan’s face, the logical side refusing to meet the Prince’s eyes.

“You… do act like it sometimes,” Logan said quietly. “I am aware you believe I do more harm than good. And… and maybe you’re correct, but—”

“I don’t,” Roman insisted. “You do so much good, Lo. Thomas wouldn’t be functional without you! I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”

Logan shifted uncomfortably, reaching up to adjust his tie. “Well you… prefer not to have me around then. Which is fine, I understand that I—”

“No, I do,” Roman said, and he knew he was just interrupting Logan again but he needed him to understand. He needed him to see he’d gotten it all wrong. “Of course I want you around!”

“Right,” Logan muttered, fixing his glasses. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Roman didn’t know what to do. How long had this been going on? How long had he been making Logan feel this way? “I don’t know how to convince you, I… I had no idea.”

Logan slipped his hands under his glasses, rubbing at his eyes before dropping his elbows to the table, holding his face in his hands. Roman hadn’t… realized how exhausted he looked. He hadn’t been paying attention.

“You can continue with what you were saying,” Logan said, not lifting his head from his hands. “My apologies for interrupting.”

Roman couldn't even remember what he’d been saying. He barely remembered what they’d been arguing about. “Um… what were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” Logan said. “It’s not important.”

“I’d like to know.”

Logan sighed, slowly lifting his head and adjusting his glasses again. “Why?”

“Because I want to listen,” Roman said, keeping his voice soft. “And I’m… sorry I haven’t been.”

“No, it’s alright.” Logan still sounded confused and unconvinced, but...it was a start. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay,” Roman assured. “I’m sorry I was talking over you.”

“It’s… alright.”

Roman hesitated, wringing his hands together. “If… if you want to talk now I’ll listen.”

Logan straightened, stiff and almost completely unmoving, jaw clenched tight. “Maybe it would be better to take a break.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “Alright.”

“I... apologize if I offended you.”

“You didn’t,” Roman promised. “I really do want to hear your ideas, Lo. I didn’t mean to shut you down like that.”

Logan glanced at him, and Roman’s heart broke at the wariness in his eyes, like he wasn’t certain Roman meant anything he was saying.

But the logical side folded his hands neatly in his lap and cleared his throat, clearly fighting to compose himself again.

“I had worked out a schedule for the next few weeks,” Logan explained. If Roman hadn’t been listening so closely, he probably would have missed the barely audible tremble to Logan’s voice. “I arranged it so Thomas could… could have time to get his chores and work finished while- while still having t-time to—”

Logan’s voice broke, and he immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. He turned away from Roman, but not before the Prince caught sight of the tears quickly gathering in his eyes.

“Oh, Logan—”

“I’m sorry,” Logan said quickly, voice wobbling as he wiped furiously at his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Roman was frozen, torn between wanting to reach out and give Logan his space. “I- I don’t… know how to fix this.”

Logan took a shaky breath, still turned away. “There is nothing to fix.”

“There is,” Roman argued. “I’m hurting you.”

“I’m just being ridiculous, we can step away and pretend this never happened.”

“No, Logan.” He took a risk and moved to place a hand on Logan’s arm, pulling away when the logical side jumped like he’d been electrocuted. “That’s not… we can’t do that.”

Logan hesitated, still staring down at his hands. “I’m not angry with you.”

“You can be.”

“That would be unreasonable,” Logan insisted. “I simply misunderstood your intentions. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roman said. “You’re important, and I made you feel like you weren’t. I had no idea you felt this way.”

Logan reached up to pull at his tie again, tugging at his collar. “I don’t… need to be pitied, Roman. If I’m not important, then—”

“You are,” Roman said, and then immediately backtracked. “I’m- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for interrupting but you are. You are so important, Lo.”

“I…” he hesitated, shoulders impossibly tense. “Am trying to be.”

“You are.” Roman lowered his hand to touch Logan’s arm again, and this time Logic didn’t flinch. “I don’t know how to help. Tell me what you need.”

Logan shrugged, taking a steadying breath. “I would… like to be your friend. I know that is unrealistic, but… perhaps someday. If you’re open to it.”

And Roman… Roman was dangerously close to bursting into tears himself. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, tightening his gentle hold on Logan’s arm.

“Logan,” he said, voice still nothing but a pained whisper. “You are my friend. We… we’re friends, Logan.”

Logan’s head snapped up, and the surprise on his face was what finally made Roman’s eyes fill with tears. “I am?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Oh.” Logan’s gaze dropped back to his lap. “Then I’m… sorry for assuming we were not.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sorry I… I didn’t make it more clear.”

Logan nodded, more to himself than to Roman. “I will… attempt to do better from now on.”

“You don’t need to be better,” Roman said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should have known you didn’t hate me.” Logan finally met his eyes, red and watery. “I’m sorry, Roman.”

“I…” Roman hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I must have done something to make you think that.”

Logan was still fiddling incessantly with his tie, either a nervous tick or a desperate attempt to ground himself, looking away once again.

“You… tend to talk over and ignore me,” Logan said, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m aware you get excited but it is a constant with me. I assumed you found me irrelevant. I understood that you’d prefer it if I was gone.”

“No, that’s… no, Logan.” Roman was definitely crying now, brushing away his tears and scooting closer. “That’s not it at all. Of course I want you here.”

“I… know.” Logan still didn’t sound completely convinced. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“I mean it,” Roman said. “I know I… talk over you guys sometimes. I’m working on it, I promise I just… I want you to like my ideas so bad, Teach.”

Roman laughed, bitter and humorless, guilt clawing at his throat. “I get so determined to get you to listen, and I get so excited when you do so I… forget. I forgot to listen and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not fair to you but I… I had no idea. I didn’t know I was making you feel like this.”

“Oh.” Logan’s hands finally dropped from his tie back down to his lap. “I… do enjoy hearing your thoughts. I always have.”

Roman swallowed, his breathing still shaky. “That’s… thank you.”

“I suppose I… also owe you an apology,” Logan said, continuing before Roman could object. “I could have made more of an effort to show my admiration for your work.”

“I… Logan, you don’t need to—”

“Your ideas may not always be realistic,” Logan added, making Roman crack a smile. “But you’re passionate and intelligent and I enjoy working through them with you. Thomas wouldn’t be where he is without you, Roman.”

Roman felt light, his chest loosening, like a weight on his shoulders he hadn’t even known was there was just lifted.

Maybe it was just Logan, looking at him so earnestly, acknowledging Roman’s importance. The knowledge that Logan really did see him, listened to him was…

Oh.

They should have had this conversation a long time ago.

“Thank you,” Roman said. “And… and you too, Logan. Really. I think you’re incredible and I just… I know I’m not great at listening. I’m working on it but it’s just… you’re important too, Lo. None of us would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Logan cleared his throat, quickly blinking away and stray tears. “I- I really do appreciate that. Thank you.”

His voice sounded much less strained, and Roman’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Of course. I’m… gonna try harder to listen. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Logan met Roman’s eyes again, sending the Prince a small but genuine smile. Roman’s heart practically soared. “And I will make more of an effort to not completely brush aside your ideas. I know I can be a bit harsh.”

Roman just shrugged. “You’re just doing your job.”

“As are you,” Logan said. “And you deserve to be listened to.”

roman reached across the table to take Logan’s hand, grinning when the other side didn’t pull away, letting the Prince lace their fingers together and gently squeeze.

“We’ll work on listening to each other, then,” Roman said. “For now, how about we take a break and get something to eat?”

“That would be acceptable.”

Roman’s smile widened, tightening his hold as he guided them both to their feet and led them away from the table littered with discarded papers.

They didn’t let go of each other’s hands the whole way to the kitchen.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #roman sanders #ts roman #logince #platonic logince #can be romantic #romantic logince #so how about that asides huh #hurt/comfort #crying tw #yelling tw #writing #fanfiction

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paradoxolotl · 3 years

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Okay, y’all asked for the rest of that Mama Bee scene, so here you go! First part is still attached but now you get the whole thing ~

Bee was late coming home. She was always home by six, because she liked to be home to have dinner together and to be there if Andrew needed help with his homework. He never did, but he had gotten used to her quiet presence in the background, quietly reading or knitting as he did his work. She was always there, and now, it was closer to seven and she still wasn’t home. Andrew didn’t like it when things changed. He didn’t like it when Bee, who had her house and life so very carefully arranged, deviated from the norm.

Frowning at the clock, the second hand a steady marching beat, Andrew dug his fingers into his arms. Something hot and prickly was creeping through his chest, and he didn’t know what it was. Bee kept trying to get him to use the stupid emotion wheel she kept in the living room, telling him it would help in identifying what he was feeling. Andrew didn’t care what he was feeling, he just needed it to stop.

The minute hand ticked over.

Maybe there was more traffic than usual. Maybe she needed to grab something at the store. His fingers dug harder into his skin. They were weak excuses at best, and he knew it. A voice in the back of his mind, growing louder by the minute, said she was at the agency. Telling them to come get him, to take him away.

The feeling spiked.

Lashing out, he knocked a plate of the counter, watching it shatter on the tile floor. Shards skittered towards him, glinting in the sunlight coming in through the window. He stared at them, tiny pinpricks, their edges sharp enough to burrow into his skin. His bare toes curled, his weight shifting.

“Andrew?”

Startling at the voice, Andrew stepped back, a shard digging into his heel. Burying his reaction down deep, he stared at Bee. She was looking at the mess on the floor, brows pinched together. Andrew’s mind was moving too fast, his body feeling too much, and he couldn’t tell if she was angry. She must be, because he broke a plate, and the pieces were blue which meant it was one of her favourites. People usually got angry at Andrew for much less.

She looked up at him, and Andrew felt his shoulders start to creep up. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like standing here, waiting for her to tell him he had to leave. He didn’t like not knowing what she was thinking.

“Andrew-”

“You are late,” he said, cutting her off.

Bee blinked, face smoothing out. “I am, and I am sorry about that.” She looked down at the floor again, and Andrew braced himself. “I’m going to go grab a broom. Stay there? I don’t want you stepping on anything.”

Andrew didn’t care if he stepped on anything else. His heel was burning, and when he shifted, he could feel how the tile beneath his foot was glowing slick. When he didn’t react, Bee stepped back, sending him one last look before disappearing down the hall. Looking down at his feet, at the shattered remains of the plate, Andrew felt something hot trickle down his throat.

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here with Bee, where he had a lock on his door and Saturday grocery trips and someone to play cards with and where he felt warm and nice and safe. Rapidly, he ran through the last few months in his mind. There must have been something he did that was the last straw. Something that he could point to and know that that was when he had ruined his chance at a home.

Swallowing, he crouched down. He had always been awful to Bee. It was always his fault. He just wanted to fix this. Picking up the broken pieces, he planned how he would tell her how he would be better. He wouldn’t cause any more problems at school, he would keep the house clean, he would go see a stupid therapist, he would do anything if he could just stay.

The floorboards creaked, and Andrew tightened his grip on the pieces he had gathered, trying to sweep up the rest. His skin stung, tiny points of pain like constellations across his hands. He heard when Bee reached the kitchen doorway, her steps faltering. Looking up, he saw her looking at him with wide eyes, broom clutched tightly in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll clean it up.”

“Andrew,” her voice was tight, and Andrew turned away, picking up another piece. “Andrew, stop.”

His hands were shaking. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t-”

“Shh,” she soothed. Her toes came into his vision, and then she was kneeling in front of him. Her hand hovered over his own. “Honey, you’re hurting yourself.”

“I broke a plate.”

“That’s why I went to grab the broom.”

Something was buzzing in his ear. He shook his head rapidly. “It was one of your favourites.”

“It’s just a plate, Andrew. Plates break sometimes. They’re not worth hurting yourself over.”

He shook his head again. She didn’t get it. He needed to fix this. He needed to make it so he was worth keeping.

Bee moved away, and Andrew choked down his words. His hand twitched, and fire ran up his arm. Ruined. He always ruined everything. His chest was tight, and everything felt too hot and too close. Just as he felt as if he was about to snap, Bee reappeared, placing a trashcan beside them. Slowly, she took Andrew’s hands and guided them to the bin.

“Let them go, Andrew,” she said softly. “It’s okay.”

Still unable to meet her eyes, Andrew opened his hands. The pieces fell, creating a small music of their own as they landed. Both of his palms were covered in tiny cuts, dots of red slowly appearing. On his left hand, a jagged piece was stuck in his skin, a stain slowly moving across it. In his peripheral, he saw Bee sweeping the broom across the kitchen, gathering up everything he had missed. He wanted to tell her to stop, that he would do it, but his jaw was locked and the words inside him felt too much like a scream.

Tapping the dustpan into the trash, Bee settled in front of him again. There was the sound of a zipper, as she opened up the first aid kit. Her hands were always soft and warm, and she took Andrew’s gently. He watched silently as she methodically removed all of the slivers in his skin, each one joining the others with a final tiny sound. She dapped each cut with antibiotic cream, not missing a single one. She saved the jagged piece for last, inspecting his hand before finally removing it. Blood pooled immediately, and Bee quickly pressed gauze into his hand.

Closing his fingers around it, he stared down at his hands.

“Your foot is bleeding.”

Shuffling around to sit cross legged on the floor, Andrew accepted the tweezers from her. She knew he didn’t like his feet being touched. Carefully, he eased out the last piece from his body, dropping it into the trash. Cleaning away the blood that had gathered, he kept his eyes on what he was doing, until he pressed a bandage over it. When he had nothing else to keep busy with, he focused on the trash, where Bee was dumping all of the used medical supplies.

“I didn’t mean to cause you any stress,” Bee said as she packed away the kit. “I was late, and I should have called you.”

“Where were you?” Andrew risked a glance up at her face, a pit opening in his stomach at the pinched expression he found. He knew the answer before she even opened her mouth. “The agency.”

She blinked at him before nodding slowly. “Yes, I was.”

“Why.” Why wasn’t he good enough? Why didn’t she want him anymore? Rage and hurt and panic rushed through him, and he curled his hands into fists to hide their shaking.

“I got a call today from a friend of mine. To offer me a job with a colligate Exy team they’re starting. I think their goal is honourable, and I would like to be a part of it.” Andrew blinked at her. That didn’t explain why she had to go to the agency. Her face was calm when she said, “It’s in South Carolina.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. It wouldn’t have mattered then, even if he had been perfect. Bee was leaving, and he couldn’t follow. No matter what he did, he couldn’t keep her.

“Okay,” he said quietly, pulling his knees up to his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much. He should have been used to this by now. “When are they coming to get me?”

Bee blinked rapidly before her face fell, “Andrew, honey, no. No one is coming to get you!”

“You’re moving,” he said, panic slowly clawing its way up his body.

“I might be moving, yes. But only if that’s okay with you. I don’t want to uproot your whole life for a job if you don’t want to.”

He stared at her, trying desperately to grapple with confusion and fear and what might have been hope. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Of course it matters,” Bee said firmly.

He shook his head. If he told her that he didn’t want her to go, that he wanted her to stay with him, she would always resent him. She already said she wanted this job. He wouldn’t get in the way of that.

Something broke across her face, and then she was cupping his cheeks, cradling his face. “Andrew Joseph,” she said. “You don’t honestly think I would move without you, do you? If I take this job, you would be coming with me.”

Something in his chest snagged and tangled. “You were at the agency.”

“I needed some information,” she said, brushing his bangs off of his forehead. “I had been looking into this for a while, and with this job offer it feels a bit like things are lining up. If you don’t want it, I understand and won’t say anything else about it again. I’ll do whatever will make you happy, Andrew.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

Bee’s hands fell into her lap, fingers clasped tight together. “I was thinking, if you would like,” she swallowed and took a deep breath before saying very carefully, “that I could adopt you. I’ve been looking into it for a while, and of course, the decision is up to you. I spoke to the agency, and it is possible to move us without adoption, if you’d prefer that, or we don’t have to move at all-”

She was rambling now, but Andrew couldn’t focus on what she was saying. He was stuck, frozen in time. A small tendril of warmth curled around him, and he held onto it tightly. “You want to keep me?”

Bee finally stopped, her shoulders falling. A smile was on her face, a little wobbly around the edges. “I really do. You’re my family, Andrew. With or without the papers. You can take time to think it over; it’s a big decision.” He could hear the hope threading through her voice, something she was trying to hold back for his sake.

“I don’t need to think about it,” he said, and she stilled, emotions crossing in her eyes too quickly for Andrew to place. Moving along the floor, he stopped beside her and wrapped his arms around her middle, his head falling on her shoulder. She smelled like lavender and sugar, and it filled him with a warmth that he had never truly felt before. Andrew blinked, but failed to keep back the tears gathering. They rolled down to fall onto the soft cotton of Bee’s shirt. He squeezed a little tighter, and her arms came up to hold him close. “Does this mean I get to call you mom now?”

Bee hiccupped a laugh, and she pressed a kiss to his hair. They stayed on the floor, holding each other close, neither willing to let go. When Bee’s fingers tucked his hair behind his ear, her own tears falling, Andrew felt a smile break across his face. For the first time in his life, Andrew had a home.

Here’s a scene from after the move

And the original post, introducing the twinyards

#aftg #all for the game #aftg fanfiction #aftg fic wip #ask para #para’s fics #ask about my wips

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willyoulovemeinthemorning · 3 years

Text

The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway (1/?)

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: You are a mutant with the powers of ice and cold and you have never been able to be touched or touch anyone without making them uncomfortable, or worse, hurting them. You’ve always desperately wished for physical affection, and it isn't until a new silver tongued Asgardian moves into the Avengers tower and takes an interest in you that anyone really dares to try to be physical with you.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This part is pure fluff, but future chapters will be... more.

Warnings: None for this chapter besides maybe a few cavities!

It had been like this since you’d been a child. You couldn’t remember a life without your ailment. You’d always seen it as a curse more than a blessing- but as you grew up and learned to control it to the best of your abilities, your mind started to change a little bit. Being adopted into Xaviers Academy had been the best thing that could have happened to you. You’d been homeless at the young age of 5 after your third foster family had thrown you out, and Charles had found you sleeping in the snow. It was lucky for you that you didn’t mind the cold at all- your powers were the cold. You could freeze anything, alive or not- and at first that was the problem. You’d frozen your mother’s heart whilst in the middle of a tantrum, and your father met the same fate after he tried to hurt you for doing it. The police found a crying child within hours, surrounded by dead parents and a house full of ice and snow. No one could prove what happened, and no one knew what to do with you from then on. After a life of constant abuse, Charles took you into a world of safety and understanding, and thankfully, that world was really the only world you knew in your conscious mind today.

The trauma was still there, but it was rooted deep in your subconscious mind. Now, as an adult, you’d been taken in to your new chosen family- The Avengers. And your home was no longer at the Academy, it was Avengers Tower. You still taught there every once in a while, whenever Charles called you, but your days were filled with world saving and working out with the worlds mightiest superheroes.

Your best friends in the complex were easily Natasha and Wanda, seeing as you all came from similar lonely backgrounds. It was a quick friendship built on trust, sarcasm, and constant blatant flirting and fucking with eachother. You loved the whole team differently, but Nat and Wanda were definitely special.

Besides them, you were definitely a little… taken with a new member of the household. When Loki was taken in by the Avengers to try and “change” him for the sake of Thor, life definitely got a little… uncomfortable. He was just so attractive, and so sassy and his smart mouth was probably the hottest thing about him. That silver tongue as you’d heard it been called constantly got your mind whirling. The girls mocked you ruthlessly for your crush, but they never pushed it to be more- they both knew your fear of relationships, friendship or otherwise.

Loki, on the other hand, was equally as enamored with you as you were him. He never stopped watching you, trying to learn every facet of your soul as he could from far away. There was something about you, and he looked at you as a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve.

He loved watching you with your friends- the way you all so effortlessly joked and laughed with eachother- you had what he’d always wanted. An ease with earning love from others with no effort whatsoever. But something that plagued him was the juxtaposition that was your physical affection. You were so jovial and happy with everyone in the house- but you never let anyone touch you. You never touched anyone else either.

At first, he put it to what he knew was your background- abuse and loneliness. Maybe you’d been hurt more than you let on, so you didn’t let people touch you. But he threw out that hypothesis when he spent more time watching you. You always leaned in towards everyone close to you- and they leaned more away as if trying to retreat from your proximity. When with Natasha and Wanda, they always went to touch you, and you just stopped them with a look. It was such a sad look, and Loki longed to understand the pain behind your eyes. The women would pause, sigh, and take their hands back, pull their bodies back, put more distance between you and them, seemingly hurt at having to.

Today was no different. Loki was sitting on a chair in the library by the window with it open, pretending to read a book but actually watching you, while you were lazing on the couch actually reading a book. Something you had both grown very fond of in your time together. Neither of you said much, but you just enjoyed the company of one another with the chill wind coming in from outside. That’s when Natasha came to sit with you. You moved your legs and curled them up into yourself, but something new happened. Natasha, who threw something at you- ah, it was a cookie- to get your attention, and you laughed and ate it while looking at her curiously. She covered herself with a big, thick blanket, and then patted her lap for you to put your legs on top of her. You thought about it, looking pained and unsure, before slowly giving in, your eyes weary with doubt. But… nothing happened. Natasha smiled like the cat who got the cream as she pulled her phone out, and you went back to reading your book with the loveliest look of surprised warmth Loki had ever seen gracing your beautiful features.

After a little while, your eyes started fluttering shut, and you moved yourself so your head was on the red heads lap instead of your legs, and you fell asleep faster than you ever had in your life- a few happy tears falling down your cheeks.

Loki watched you sleep and forgot to put on the facade of reading, which caught the attention of Natasha, who didn’t even look up from her phone. “Whatcha staring at, Loki?” She asked, continuing to scroll.

Loki looked up at her surprise etched into his eyebrows. “Oh, nothing. I just- She’s never let anyone that close to her- how did you do that?” He asked her, eyes falling back to you.

“Y/N doesn’t let anyone touch her because she’s watched them flinch away from how cold she is her whole life. If they’re not flinching away, she hurts them by accident because most of the touches of her life have been dangerous or abusive, and she’s had to protect herself. Her powers don’t ever really turn off, they just… quiet. As long as we’ve been friends, this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to her letting me touch her.” She said, eyes on him now, watching his expressions. “Why do you care to notice?”

His eyes flew back to hers, trying to guard his expression from her knowing gaze. “I was just curious. Trying to figure you all out- she’s been the hardest to understand.” But his eyes falling back to your face gave him away, and when he looked back at Natasha, he knew she knew. She had the decency not to say anything, but the look on her face was enough to make Loki look back to his book and actually try to read this time to avoid any more speculation.

Days passed, and all he could think about was the look on your face when you were able to get some kind of physical affection- and he wanted to see it again. So this time, when he found you in the library like he always did- he didn’t choose the chair by the window. He sat down next to you. You looked up at him, and he could feel your surprise.

You eyed him up and down, and he just smiled that little smile that seemed to be only reserved for you, and started to read. The window was open, as it always was- this was your favorite room, because almost no one came in here besides Loki, and he never seemed to mind your proclivity towards keeping this room cold.

You two were like that for a while, but you started to notice him leaning more towards you- you were already at the end of the couch, so there wasn’t really anywhere for you to go, so you tried to will yourself to calm down and just focus on reading. His presence always calmed you down, he was so charming and kind- well, he was kind to you. You loved watching him read, as his tongue poked out as he was really involved with the words on the page.

Unable to focus on your page in front of you, you instead focused on the way he felt beside you. Normally, when someone was near you, you could feel their warmth radiating off of them- especially Thor and Steve. They seemed to have very naturally high body temperatures, and it made you feel itchy, like there was fire licking at your skin. Vision was one of your favorites to be near- his presence felt like nothing. No warm or cold coming off of him, so completely neutral and it made it very easy to be around him. Loki… well, Loki had never been close enough for you to be able to tell. You expected him to feel like Thor did, seeing as they were both Gods and all, and came from the same place; Asgard. But… Loki felt different. He was… normal? Well, normal for her, that was. He didn’t feel warm, he didn’t feel like anything? He kind of felt like Vision, and that surprised her.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you scootched a little closer to him, your feet brushing his thigh on the couch next to you. You watched out of the corner of your eye for a reaction- but there was nothing negative. If that had happened with Peter, he would have shivered a little and pulled away from the touch because of how cold you were. Tony would have made a joke like, “Just because the cold doesn’t bother you, Elsa, doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that,” and you’d pull away embarrassed at the reminder of how different you are.

Loki moved again, tucking his feet under himself, which repositioned his upper half to be a centimeter from being arm and arm with you. And considering his button up had the sleeves rolled up and you could see his arm hair- God, you wanted to play with it- you were almost skin to skin. Your hands started shaking and you were about to pull away to protect yourself from the inevitable pain that would come from seeing him flinch away in pain- but before you could, it happened. His skin was pressed up against you, and your heart sped up three times as fast… and nothing bad happened. He didn’t move, he didn’t flinch, his face looked… serene? He looked happy touching you.

Now the gates were open and you needed to know more- know why.

“Loki?” You asked, your head turned to face him.

When he turned to face you, you could feel his breath on your face. “Yes, darling?” You almost choked on your spit- he’d never spoken to you with that endearment before.

“Why- I mean… How? I… Loki-” You tried to get a reasonable sentence out, but the words got caught in your throat as tears started prickling your vision.

Loki put his book down and turned to face you, movements slow as if he was afraid to spook you away. “Can I try something?” He asked, hands in his lap, waiting for permission for something. You nodded dumbly, completely unsure what was about to happen. All you knew was that a door had been opened to something, and you knew there was no going back now. Loki’s hands moved, and your instincts were to pull away from him, but you fought them. You wanted to see what was going to happen here. His hands found yours, and he covered them with his own. His skin was so soft, and you looked down and noticed that his skin started to turn a different color- so you pulled away, worried you were hurting him. But you hadn’t felt a surge of your own power?

You were about to ask him, but he beat you to it with the answer. “Did you know I was adopted? Odin stole me from my home when I was a baby- whether to hurt my people or to use me as a peace making tool, I still haven’t figured out, but I am not really Loki Odinson. I am a Frost Giant from birth, raised as an Asgardian. My birth name is Loki Laufeyson. The blue you just saw was… a piece of my real form, coming out at your touch, not because you were in any way hurting or negatively affecting me… so please, let me-” He reached out again, but this time, one hand found your face, his thumb running over your cheek bone, while the other hand ran over your arm softly. Your eyes fluttered closed- his touch was like nothing you’d ever experienced. He somehow felt the same temperature as you did to yourself. He wasn’t cold or hot, he was just… perfect. The tears that were threatening to spill before finally did, and Loki raised his other hand to cup both sides of your face and wipe away the tears as they fell.

“I’ve finally figured you out. It took longer than it ever has for me, but I’ve done it. I’ve never been so taken with figuring someone out before, not like this. You don’t pull away from people because you don’t want physical affection- you pull away because you’ve never had anyone who could physically handle you. No one’s temperature matched you. You’ve never been able to be touched gently. You’ve never been able to let yourself. You are so strong, my popsicle, but you don’t have to be anymore. I was made to be able to touch you, and be touched by you.” You opened your eyes and took him in in his base form- he was the most beautiful shade of icy turquoise, his eyes red as rubies, and he was touching you. He was touching you so lovingly and so sweetly, you couldn’t stop crying. In all your years, you had never been touched like this. No one ever could. Without a beat, you clambered up into his lap and wrapped your arms around him, sighing when his arms wound their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m not hurting you?” You asked, your voice shaking.

“Not in the way you mean, darling, but you are hugging me a little tight.” You felt his chuckle vibrate in your chest, which made you laugh too. “Don’t stop, though.” He whispered into your hair.

“You’re so beautiful, you know. Why don’t you let people see your real self?” You asked, burrowing your face in his neck, pressing your nose into the column of his throat.

“I’ve spent my whole life using my magic to make myself look a certain way- it’s more or less unconscious at this point. And I’m… a little insecure about this form. Very few people have seen me look like this. And it’s never been for a good, healthy reason like this.”

“Well, I’m honored. Thank you for this. No one… no one has ever been able to touch me without it hurting them. Thank you so much, Loki.” After a few more minutes of you straddling him on the couch, wrapped around him, you came to your senses enough to know that this was probably not completely appropriate- so you got off of him as a blush crept from your cheeks to your neck to your chest, smiling shyly and biting your lip.

Loki thought you were beautiful before, but you’d never looked more beautiful than you did right in that moment.

You went back to reading together, enjoying the chill air fill the room from the window, pressed up against one another on the couch- comfortable for the first time in your life.

Part 2

#loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #reader insert #reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfiction

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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years

Text

Ch. Twelve

⚠WARNING: Swearing, arguments, mention of past character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

“So, you’re the Osamu Y/N won’t stop talking about?”

You shove Makki’s face away from it’s imagined perch between yours and Osamu’s shoulders.

“Ouch! So mean~~~”

“You’re fine,” you reply with an eye roll. You knew your friends would want to tease you about Osamu’s appearance at group therapy, which just wrapped up. At least they waited until the five of you were outside and away from the other group session attendees. But that doesn’t mean that you welcome their inquisition.

“I apologize for my boyfriend.” Mattsun steps up. He offers his hand to Osamu. “Matsukawa Issei. The strawberry idiot is Hanamaki Takahiro.”

Osamu, still mute, reaches forward and grabs Mattsun’s hand. “Miya Osamu, but it looks like you know that already.”

You blush furiously as Mattsun grins at Osamu. “Yeah, we do.” Mattsun shoots you an evil look. “We all went to high school together, so we have all the dirt on Y/N whenever you want it.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” You interject and step between Mattsun and Osamu. You feel your face is burning with embarrassment so you turn your back to Osamu and give Mattsun a glare. He returns it with his own lecherous grin, with Makki perched on his shoulder with a shit-eating smile of his own.

A laugh behind you makes you crane your neck over your shoulder and you send another glare to Osamu.

“I might have to take ya up on that offer.”

You now realize that it may have been a bad idea to have Osamu, your dry, sarcastic friend, meet Mattsun and Makki, your dry, sarcastic and just as prone to stirring the pot friends.

“There will be no sharing of any stories, by anyone.” You know Mattsun and Makki have enough to fill books upon books of your previous exploits, but you’re also addressing Osamu, who for sure has a few embarrassing moments he could share.

Osamu, Mattsun and Makki chuchle at your request, and while you silently lament at that budding friendship that will only cause you future headaches, you notice Oikawa standing off to the side looking bored.

“Osamu, this is Oikawa Tooru,” you introduce him, knowing that he’s not jumping up to dazzle and charm. “Oikawa, this is Osamu.”

Oikawa turns his gaze to you, pausing to glare with all the contempt he can manage, before looking at Osamu. “I’ve just gone through an emotional and draining therapy session so I apologize for not being bright and unaffected like some of us.”

“Stop it,” you hiss at him. He’s not lying, as he always cries in group therapy (which you would never fault him for.) But you’re not sure if his jab at the end was directed at Osamu, who sat quiet and stoic for the entire meeting, or not.

Either way, Oikawa’s behavior right now is ridiculously inappropriate.

But Osamu just chuckles. “Nah, I get it. People have different emotional responses and cope differently.”

Oikawa doesn’t reply but his eyes narrowing means he’s not happy with Osamu’s mature response.

“Well after our sessions we usually go grab some dinner,” Makki says, trying to diffuse the tension. “You’re more than welcome to come with, Osamu.”

Bless your sweet heart, Makki, you think. He’s always nice and polite and you knew you could count on him to open the group to Osamu.

But of course Oikawa has to slam that door shut and lock it. “Oh, so sorry Osamu-kun but we actually have to discuss a gathering coming up soon.” He gives Osamu a simpering smile with no ounce of regret at all. “I’m sure you understand.”

Yet again, Osamu takes his rudeness in stride and nods. “Of course, I’m pretty tired anyway. But thanks for the invite.” He looks at you and smiles. “Coffee tomorrow?”

You nod, unable to speak around the rage bubbling in your gut. You don’t react when Osamu waves to your friends and walks away - you’re zeroed-in on Oikawa, who is expertly avoiding your gaze. You keep your anger reigned in as it threatens to explode.

“Oikawa,” you start in a low voice. Your teeth are grit together and your hands are shaking.

“I’m feeling dumplings for dinner.” Oikawa doesn’t even acknowledge you calling out to him before turning away and heading up the sidewalk. He also doesn’t bother checking to see if you guys are following him.

The arrogance and gall that Oikawa's showing to you guys, his friends, makes you see red. You open your mouth to scream when a hand rests on your arm.

“Not here,” Mattsun says. “Let’s talk like adults, c’mon.”

He pulls you forward, Makki flanking your other side. The three of you follow Oikawa's figure, now several yards ahead. You know your friends are close to you to try and keep you calm but your brain is supplying reason upon reason to pummel Oikawa into the ground.

He’s waiting for you all outside of a restaurant your group frequents, and when he spots you getting closer he goes inside.

He’s delusional if he thinks he’s safe there.

When you walk inside you catch him getting a table for four. Mattsun walks ahead and takes the empty seat next to Oikawa, leaving you and Makki to sit across from them. You’re glaring daggers at Oikawa, who still hasn’t looked your way.

The table is silent, even when a waiter comes by, fills the water glasses, and leaves. You don’t look away from Oikawa as he peruses the menu. The anger you feel is nearly boiling over, the contained fury making your hands shake again. The culmination of events from the past few weeks has brought you to this moment - it just took Oikawa being unnecessarily rude to Osamu, someone who does not deserve that kind of behavior, for you to finally address the issue.

“Oh, maybe we should do dumplings for Iwa-chan’s picnic celebration.”

Like a rubber band, you snap.

Your hand comes down on the table, hard. “I cannot believe how rude you were to Osamu. You had no right!”

Out of the corner of your eye you see other patrons glancing at your table, and Mattsun and Makki look ready to step in and intervene. But your eyes are trained on Oikawa, who has finally met your gaze. His eyes are sharp and his mouth pulled down.

“Well Osamu-kun wasn't the friendliest either.” Oikawa shoots back. “It wouldn’t have hurt him to be a bit more outgoing.”

“You said it yourself. It was an emotional and draining therapy session.” You smile meanly, relishing in throwing the words back in Oikawa’s face. “And it doesn’t help that you were being a total prick.”

“Hey guys, c’mon.” Makki speaks up but is ignored.

Oikawa replies to you scathingly. “Well excuse me for not wanting to be BFFS with the person that you’re replacing us with!”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, exasperated.

“You heard me.” Oikawa snaps. “You’ve barely been talking to us or hanging out with us since meeting Osamu, and it’s obvious that we’re being replaced.”

You laugh, tickled at Oikawa’s audacity. “I spent nearly every day with you last week, how can you say I’m replacing you?!”

“You’re only there because I asked you to be!” Neither if you are shouting yet but you know it’s not far off. “You’re not even there all the time, you’re texting Osamu when you’re supposed to be helping me!”

“Well maybe it’s because Osamu doesn’t make me feel like shit, and doesn’t constantly guilt me into being your friend.”

“Or maybe it’s because he’s giving you the kind of attention that we can’t give you.”

You freeze, a loud ringing echoing in your ears. “Excuse me?”

“Knock it off, guys.” Mattsun’s request falls on deaf ears. You’re both wading into dangerous territory, and some part of your brain is telling you to back off unless you want to ruin your friendship with Oikawa. But another, more feral part of your brain is telling you to ruin him.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is Oikawa, but maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating your friends. And then realize that’s why no one wants to hang out with you.

“Maybe you’ll realize that monopolizing our time and punishing us for doing things without you isn’t the best way to keep us around.”

You don’t stop the sneer that comes across your face. “And you say that I’m a shit friend - you’ve haven’t been keeping up with me either. Makki and Mattsun are the only ones who have asked me how I’ve been. They’re the only ones who noticed that I’ve been losing weight and sleeping less. They’re the only ones who’ve asked if I’m okay when I’m clearly not, because they use their goddamn eyes and actually give a shit about someone other than themselves!

“I can barely get myself out of bed in the morning but somehow I still made time to wait on you hand and foot, and this is the thanks I get?” You're breathing heavily at the end of your rant, staring down your friend across the table.

Oikawa doesn’t give any indication that your words had any effect on him. “What do you want, Y/N?” He asks patronizingly. “You want a pass because you’re tired? We’re all fucking tired. You want sympathy because you miss Iwa-chan? We ALL miss him. What, do you think you’re special because you’re in love with him?”

A horrid silence settles on the table, more devastating than any barb you or Oikawa have flung at each other. You feel your heart jolt painfully in your chest and the air is pulled from your lungs in a whoosh.

“What?” Makki asks faintly.

You’re frozen still, staring at Oikawa who now has a matching look of horror on his face. His breathing picks up, and his eyes shimmer.

“What are you talking about?” Makki asks, his voice a bit stronger than before.

“Y/N.” You thaw enough to turn your head and meet Mattsun’s dark eyes boring into yours. “Do you love Iwaizumi?”

You glance back to Oikawa, who’s eyes have filled with tears. “Y/N-chan,” he gets out, audibly fighting through his tears.

Another beat passes before your flight instinct fully kicks in and you take off.

Your friends call after you, Oikawa’s distressed voice louder than the rest, but you don’t stop. You head out into the sidewalk, not bothering to stop the tears falling as you walk home alone.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: And there it is....Y/N's secret is out. Definitely not in the way that anyone wanted, let's hope things even out in the aftermath (😬😬😬) Thank you all for reading!

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