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myhandisfatemywordislaw · 12 days

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who’s excited for marius to have a terrible, terrible time! you are, surely! thank you to @moosefries for beta reading the fic, and @transbot-brian for the original idea! I hope you enjoy what I’ve done with it! as always, this marius angst fic can be read here on ao3, or below the cut of his very post! if you enjoy it, I would love to hear your thoughts!

“So, how are you feeling?” Marius asked, pulling out his notebook and pen. He liked having the notebook, it made him feel professional and important.

The man fidgeted uncomfortably, digging his nails into his leg.

“Bad. Really bad,”

Marius put on his Sympathetic Face, and started scribbling something in his notebook.

“And why do you think you feel this way?”

“It hurts, it hurts, and it makes me do things I don’t want to do,”

Marius looked up from his careful drawing of a flower. The man was rocking himself gently, and beginning to cry.

“What is ‘it’?” Marius asked with interest.

“Who are you, anyway? And why are you asking these questions? Go away,” The man’s voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.

“What is ‘it’?” Marius asked again.

“Go away, go away, go away,” he repeated like a mantra to ward off Marius, clutching his head with both hands.

Marius stood from his plastic chair and reached out to touch his hand comfortingly, but the man stood with a sudden surge of energy and with a scream of animalistic fury he pounced on Marius, shoving him prone on the dirt. Marius yelped in surprise and instinctively held up his arms to protect himself as the man raked his fingernails across Marius’ arm and sank his teeth deep into the flesh of Marius’ left shoulder, drawing dark blood almost immediately as Marius cried out in pain. Marius punched him with his metal arm and he reeled back, preparing to strike again, when his head abruptly exploded, showering Marius with gore.

Wiping his eyes blearily, he looked up to see Jonny casually holstering his gun.

“It was just getting interesting!” Marius whined. Jonny rolled his eyes.

“What were you even doing, anyway?”

“Getting friendly with the locals!”

Jonny surveyed the mutilated corpse, and Marius, soaked in blood.

“…Right. Well, we’re done here, time to leave,”

“What, already? Can’t I talk to someone else?”

Jonny glanced over his shoulder.

“Good luck with that.”

Marius followed his gaze, and saw the village ablaze.

“I see,”

Jonny offered him his hand, which Marius took, pulling himself up. Marius tucked his notebook into a coat pocket and dejectedly trudged after Jonny.

“You know, no-one’s going to take you seriously if you use that pen.”

Marius uncurled his metal fingers and looked down at his pink unicorn gel pen. At some point it had smashed, and he let the shattered fragments of plastic fall through his fingers and into the dirt.

“Oh,” Marius said quietly.

***

Back on the Aurora, Marius rolled up his sleeve and gingerly poked the bite mark. It had stopped bleeding and seemed to be healing alright, if a little slowly. Marius sighed, running a hand through his blood-soaked hair. He needed a shower, but his shoulder throbbed slightly with pain, and his eyelids were heavy. Maybe just a quick nap first. He removed his monoggle, kicked off his boots and undid his belts, then crawled under the covers of his bed, drifting quickly into unconsciousness.

***

When Marius wakes up, it is dark, and it is quiet, and something feels… off. The silence is not calm or comforting, it is tense, and apprehensive.

Something shifts in the blackness. He stifles a whine of fear and tries to stay very still, hoping whatever it is, it hasn’t noticed him yet. In the far corner of his room, a long, thin shape detaches from the darkness and slithers towards him, a hundred legs moving and skittering across the ceiling. As it approaches, it becomes more distinct. It is segmented and chitinous, nearly twice as long as he is tall, and as thick as his head.

Marius tries to keep his breathing even as it curls its head off the ceiling and lowers towards him, mouthparts clicking ominously. He whines in fear as a feeler brushes lightly against his face, and as though he has grazed a tripwire, it lunges for him with terrifying speed, its jaws clamping around his shoulder with vicious force.

***

Marius cried out as he awoke, his legs shaking as he climbed out of bed. He could see the room clearly; he hadn’t thought to turn off the light when he went to bed. No monsters, insectoid or otherwise. He sat down heavily on the end of his bed. There had been a stabbing pain in his shoulder since he woke up, and he pulled his sweat-soaked sleeve up. There was no new injury, of course, only the bite of the man from earlier, but it had swollen and was tinged slightly with green. He probably should have disinfected it. He rummaged through the loose pills in his coat pockets and pulled one out. He squinted at it. It was probably a painkiller. He put it in his mouth for safekeeping and wandered to the kitchen. His hands shook as he poured out a glass of water, and downed the drink and pill in one go.

“I thought I heard someone sneaking around,” Ashes said from behind him and he flinched, nearly dropping the glass. He set it down by the sink and turned to see Ashes, who was leaning in the doorframe with an inquisitive smile.

“Marius, you’re covered in blood. You can’t go to bed like that. Have a shower,”

Marius shrugged vaguely, avoiding eye contact. Ashes waited for a few moments, then, apparently realising Marius didn’t have any intention to move, gently took him by the arm and tugged him behind them as they led him to the bathroom in their room. Marius walked resignedly to the shower.

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off first?”

That had not occurred to Marius.

“I won’t look,” they reassured him quickly, turning their back on him to prove their point.

Marius sighed slightly and took off his bloodstained clothes and stepped into the shower, turning it on. He stood under the spray for several long minutes, zoned out and watching the red-tinged water swirling down the drain. The water was warm and comforting, and though the bright bathroom light hurt his eyes, he felt safer.

Though he felt too exhausted to do anything, eventually he picked up the soap. He knew he would feel better if he was clean. Slowly, lethargically, he worked the shampoo into his hair, carefully untangling his bloody, matted hair, and gently scraping the dried gore from his skin.

He turned off the water and stepped out, immediately feeling the chill on his skin. He dried himself off and the towel came away tinged red. He noticed Ashes had taken his dirty clothes and left him a pair of his own pyjama trousers and a t-shirt that was presumably theirs. He dressed quickly. The t-shirt was huge on him, nearly reaching his knees, and the text on the front read ARSON IS ALWAYS THE ANSWER. He breathed a small laugh and walked through the door connecting the bathroom onto Ashes’ bedroom. They were sitting in their bed, looking at him, presumably having been waiting for him. Marius felt slightly guilty for taking so long.

“It’s late, you should sleep,” Ashes said.

Marius shook his head.

“Why not?”

Marius shrugged, staring at his hands and biting his lip.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Marius nodded slowly.

“Do you… do you want to sleep in my bed?”

Marius looked up, briefly making eye contact with Ashes. Their look was one of concern, and the offer seemed genuine. Marius nodded, and Ashes patted the bed next to them. Marius slipped under he covers with them and allowed Ashes to pull him towards them, hugging him from behind. They fell asleep quickly, but despite how much safer Marius felt with Ashes, he couldn’t stop staring into the foreboding darkness, unable to shake the feeling that something was looking back.

***

When Marius woke up, something felt out of place. The world was slightly fuzzy around the edges, and it had taken on a sort of dreamlike quality. Was he dreaming? He didn’t think so. Though he had washed, he still felt distinctly unclean.

Ashes had him in a tight, suffocating grip, and he squirmed out of their hold. They were still asleep. Marius wandered back to his own room, and it occurred to him that his shoulder wasn’t hurting. The painkiller should have worn off by now. Probably it had healed, like usual. Maybe… maybe he’d check though, just in case. He pulled up his sleeve.

He thought it might have faded a little more, but it was still there, and still slightly green. The swelling and gone down, though, and when he gently poked it, he felt… nothing. He frowned, and prodded it harder. Nothing. He pinched the skin next to the wound so hard it bled slightly, but he still couldn’t feel anything. It, and the skin around, was completely numb.

He took deep breaths to choke down the rising panic. The wound was infected, and it had been well over twelve hours but it hadn’t improved, when it should have healed in a matter of minutes. Okay. So the logical solution here was to cut out the infected part his mechanism was struggling to deal with, and let his mechanism handle regrowing his flesh. Easy.

He walked to his doctor’s surgery. It was covered in a thin layer of dust - when was the last time he had used it? No matter. He lay on the table, pulled up his sleeve, and picked up a heavy meat cleaver. He ran the tip along his skin gently, feeling for the numb sections. He choked down a whimper as he realised he would have to cut off his entire left arm to remove the infected region.

He lined up the blade carefully.

-he screamed as he lay in the dirt, alone-

He breathed a deep, steadying breath.

-Byron cried out in horror at his missing arm, gone forever-

Marius raised the blade.

-he was alone, and afraid, and without his mecha, in a war-zone-

He let the blade fall, swinging it down.

-Byron crawled desperately, one armed and bleeding out, maybe if he could just reach KISMET it would be alright-

The blade clanged uselessly against the metal of the table, leaving him unharmed, and Marius dropped the blade and rolled off the table and onto his feet. He curled up on the floor and quietly cried. He couldn’t do it, he- he wouldn’t do it.

He breathed shakily. That was fine. His mechanism would handle it. It was fine. He stood up and rinsed the blood off the shallow cuts the sharp blade had left. They had healed almost instantly, and there was no trace they had ever been there. He noticed with a stab of guilt that a few spots of blood had got on Ashes’ t-shirt. He should probably give it back.

He wandered vaguely back towards Ashes’ room.

Something large flicked past him in the corner of his vision, and Marius thought he caught a glimpse of iridescent insect shell. He grabbed it in his metal hand and crushed it, with a squelching crunch. Just a normal octokitten. Dead. No shell, just a bloody mass of bone fragments and oozing flesh.

He dropped it in horror. Why… why did he do that? He hurried away.

“Marius! Good morning! I was wondering where you went,” Ashes said.

“Hey,” Marius said awkwardly, trying to muster up some of his usual cheerful energy, and failing. “I, uh- I came to give your shirt back.”

“Nah, keep it. It looks cute on you,”

Marius didn’t know what they meant - it didn’t fit at all, and he thought it wasn’t particularly flattering, but, well. He wasn’t going to argue.

“Are you alright?” Ashes asked.

Marius shrugged noncommittally and mumbled something unintelligible. His skin prickled with discomfort slightly. He didn’t think he wanted to be here anymore. His head ached and he couldn’t think straight, he didn’t want to talk, or answer difficult questions.

He walked out and wandered down the corridors of the Aurora, not sure where he was going, taking random turns and not paying attention to where his steps were taking him. He was probably going to get lost. Maybe he wanted to get lost.

Rounding a corner, he came face to face with Jonny.

“You’re so stupid,” Jonny said, but the words didn’t quite line up with his lips. “You’re so stupid and useless. What is the point of you?”

Marius backed away, trying not to show his fear, and failing. Jonny looked at him with what might’ve been concern, as he came closer.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” he said, voice full of disgust. His lips were out of sync with the words, and Marius didn’t know what this was but he knew something was very, very wrong, and he bolted. Jonny didn’t try to follow.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,

It felt like it was coming from everywhere, echoes getting louder and louder with each repetition. Marius ran faster,

STUPID, STUPID, STUPID, STUPID,

Marius stumbled to a stop and clamped his hands over his ears, curling up in a ball on the ground.

Jonny touched his shoulder lightly.

“Marius?” he said, voice concerned and confused. The chanting stopped as abruptly as it had started. Marius lowered his hands cautiously.

“Marius, are you okay?”

“‘m fine,” he said unconvincingly, standing up and forcing a smile.

“Marius, what’s going on?”

Hurt him, a voice in the back of his head said. Hurt him so he won’t bother you anymore. Marius wasn’t sure he wanted to do that, and he backed away.

“Why are you acting so weird?” Jonny asked, backing Marius into the wall.

“Leave me alone,” Marius half-whispered.

“Marius-“

Marius punched him with his metal arm, and Jonny let out a shout of surprise. Marius wanted to stop there, wanted to run, but as though driven forward by some unseen force, he walked to where Jonny had been knocked to the ground, and punched him. Again and again his fist rained down on him, bones audibly breaking beneath every blow. When he finally pulled back, Jonny was a bloodied mess, and dead. He hadn’t meant to do that. Marius ran.

Once he felt far enough away he could pretend it wasn’t his problem, Marius slowed to a walk. What was going on? He looked at the black and silver metal of his hand, still soaked with quivering blood and gore. He supposed hurting people was what they did.

As he walked, the shadows seemed to become starker. From every crack and crevice, black, shifting liquid dripped, and the dark edges where wall met floor gently oozed their darkness across the floor.

Marius tried to go back, but all along the corridor in both directions, the blackness streaked down the walls and pooled on the floor.

That was… definitely bad. Marius tried to walk faster but his feet skidded out from under him and suddenly he was lying on the floor, at eye level with the shifting darkness, that he saw now was not liquid, had never been liquid, and he desperately stumbled to his feet to get away from the slithering, skittering horde of thousands upon thousands of tiny black insects, crawling over every surface. They swarmed towards him and began to crawl up his legs and Marius ran, but there were more and more until he was wading through the thick carpet of insects that were up to his calves, his waist, his torso, and then they were swarming onto his face and his scream was muffled through the insects that filled his mouth as soon as he opened it, and as he choked his vision slowly went dark.

***

Marius woke up lying on the floor in the middle of the corridor, which was as clean and empty as it had ever been. Had he passed out? He touched the back of his fingers to his forehead. Warm, but not enough to conclusively say whether he had a fever.

A murmuring approached and Marius scrambled backwards as something that wore Tim’s coat and carried Tim’s gun rounded the corner. It was not Tim. It looked, in many aspects, like Tim, but its face was like it had been carefully wiped clean, with only the slightest dark indents where its eyes should have been, no nose, and no mouth. The murmuring of soft, indistinct, overlapping voices seemed to come from the air around it, the sound increasing in volume as it approached.

Marius’ breathing was laboured as he stumbled to his feet. There was a slight shift in the tone of the whispers and suddenly dozens of voices whispered Marius over and over, blurring together into a wall of sound, and then Marius was running again and the thing that was not Tim reached out a hand that seemed far too large and heavy for the body that housed it as it staggered after him, as though drunk.

“Marius, you’re sick,” a distorted voice said, as though they were speaking through several feet of water. Ashes reached for him, their skin melting from their bones. The hand that gripped his shoulder was skeletal and dripped a thick, fleshy liquid and Marius flinched back and tried to run again, but then he screamed in agony as bullets began to slam into his body, the thing that was not Tim aiming its rifle carefully, and then a bullet tore through his brain and then there was nothing.

***

Marius drifted through the void, his body no more corporeal than smoke. He floated apathetically as his mind seemed to unspool and reform, elaborate, intricate shapes collapsing into a knotted mess. The blackness shifted around him, as though the pitch was something alive, the fabric of space stretching and twisting as it breathed, a pulsing heartbeat releasing gentle shockwaves from his chest.

There was something wrong here. Gossamer strands tangled with the fabric of his being, and spores drifted on the breeze. As he began to awake, the fragile space folded up within him, the abyss as much a part of him as his own body.

***

Marius awoke on the floor. It was dark, and he was alone. The metal floor was cold beneath him, and he could feel the dried blood pulling on his skin as he moved. His joints ached; how long had he been lying there? He stood with a grunt of effort to investigate his surroundings. He was in a smallish rectangular room, a few metres in each direction, or he thought so, anyway. The lines seemed to twist and blur as he looked at them, and his head throbbed painfully.

There was a soft click and a door he could’ve sworn wasn’t there before opened. Marius cringed away but there was nowhere to run as a creature with too many teeth and and mouths in places they shouldn’t be clicked its many jaws together menacingly, as though expectant. Marius tried to punch it but it dodged easily. It grabbed him and dragged him through the doorway.

There were so many colours and lights twisting and shifting and Marius’ head spun as he tried to remember which way was down and which way was away from the thing that still gripped his flesh arm in a vice-like hold, then it was lifting him off the ground and his back slammed onto a metal examination table.

Marius screamed and thrashed as he was pinned down, his wrists and ankles strapped in place, and ripped his metal hand free as though tearing tissue paper. It was no use though, as a shadowy, many-limbed creature that smiled hungrily at him and stared with a wide-eyed unblinking gaze clambered on top of him and held down his hand with an iron grip, and wrapped its hand around his jaw so Marius couldn’t move his head at all. His cries of fear were muffled by its long, powerful fingers, and Marius squeezed his eyes tightly shut, whimpering into the creature’s hand. It held him there for a very long time.

Eventually, he was allowed to move again, and the creature dragged him back to the room, and Marius whined in fear as a lock clicked shut and he was left alone in the dark once more.

***

“Did you get what you wanted from the scan?” Brian asked. He was slumped against the wall, exhausted.

“Oh, yes!” Raphaella chirped. “It’s so interesting! I think I’ll probably need a blood sample to be sure of what we’re working with though.”

Brian groaned in frustration burying his face in his hands.

“I don’t want to help you restrain him again,” Brian said. “I won’t do it. I won’t.” Brian dropped his hands and glared at her. “Did you see the way he looked at me? He was terrified, Raphaella, he looked at me like he thought I was going to hurt him. No. I won’t help you.”

“Aww, did someone flip your switch?” she asked condescendingly, as though talking to a child.

Brian shoved her away harshly when she tried to check, but not before she noticed with some surprise that he was still assuredly in ends-justify-means.

“Stop bickering, what does the scan show?” Ashes said, tapping their foot impatiently.

“The results look consistent with a fungal parasite affecting the brain, though I cannot identify the species,” Ivy said thoughtfully.

“Yes! It’s fascinating! We should study its effects on him!” Raphaella’s wings fluttered slightly in excitement.

“How do we make him better?” Ashes asked.

“I’ll make him better eventually, we might as well have some fun first though!”

“How. Do we make him. Better?” Ashes growled, shoving her against the wall by the throat.

“I- will tell you- if you let me go-“ she rasped, struggling to breathe.

Ashes let her go and her knees buckled slightly, leaving her leaning against the wall.

“I don’t know.” she admitted quietly.

“What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?”

“We don’t get sick! Our mechanisms are supposed to handle it, this isn’t supposed to happen, this is never supposed to happen! We don’t know what this is, or how it’s powerful enough to resist destruction! There’s a lot we can try, but I have no idea what will work. Our advantage is our immortality - so we can just cut away or even incinerate the areas of highest concentration without worrying about damage to Marius, but that won’t get all of it. Maybe his mechanism will deal with the remaining lower concentration areas, but maybe it won’t! It didn’t the first time, why should it now? What else are are we supposed to do? Inject him with huge volumes of anti-fungal medicine and hope his mechanism doesn’t destroy that before it even reaches the fungus? Burn his entire body until all that’s left of him is his arm, and pray he grows back correctly? I don’t know, Ashes! I don’t know what to do!”

Raphaella stopped shouting and breathed shakily.

“What if we go too far? What if he dies for real?” She let herself slide down the wall until she was sitting on the floor at Ashes’ feet.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said again, a damp sheen forming on her eyes.

“I heard you could treat fungal infections with a course of anti-fungal medication,” Brian said reasonably.

“With this level of fungus? Good fucking luck,”

“Then we cut away the most infected regions first, then give him anti-fungal medicine. And if that doesn’t work, we can try more… aggressive methods.”

Raphaella exhaled heavily.

“Okay,” she said, pushing herself up to standing. “Okay. Are you going to help?”

“Yes, I will assist in whatever will directly result in Marius getting better.” Brian replied.

“Good.”

***

Again came the click that heralded the return of the creatures. Marius scrambled back into a corner, trying to get as far away as he could, but there was nowhere to run as they entered. Dozens of disembodied hands pinned him against the wall and he screamed as a being made of spikes inserted a long, thin finger into his flesh arm. He felt a spreading coldness as it drew back. He struggled weakly as the coldness spread through him and his vision gradually grew dark.

***

Ashes cradled Marius’ limp body gently as they carried him to Raphaella’s vivisection table.

“Could we not have sedated him the first time?” Brian asked irritably.

“I uh, didn’t think of that,” Raphaella admitted. “His mechanism will probably destroy the sedative soon anyway, it won’t last long.”

Ashes laid him down on the table carefully.

“How are you going to do this?”

“Well, I’m no professional, so like this!” Raphaella said cheerily.

“What?” Brian said. “Hey, wait, WHAT THE-“

Thud.

Raphaella’s axe neatly severed the top of Marius’ head from his body with a wet crunch, and she threw it in the bin. Blood spurted everywhere like a bad horror film, and she was quickly soaked up to the elbows.

She looked up to see Ashes and Brian clutching each other’s shirts in shock. They let go quickly when she noticed. She smiled encouragingly at them and scooped out the rest of his brain with her hand, cutting it away from the base of his skull with a butcher’s knife.

“Hold his sleeve out of the way,” she told Ashes.

With some trepidation, they did so, revealing the green, festering wound. Raphaella carefully lined up the axe, then swung.

Thud.

Marius’ left arm fell to the ground, twitching slightly. Setting the axe aside, she drew some powerful anti-fungal medicine from a vial into a syringe, then carefully injected it into his remaining arm.

“And now, you wait,” she said. “It’ll probably be a while before he’s healed enough to wake up. I’m going to play with chemicals.” With that, she walked out, taking the arm with her.

Ashes and Brian watched her leave.

“You should get some rest,” Ashes said. “I’ll stay here.”

Brian considered disagreeing, but Ashes’ tone brooked no argument.

“Thank you,” he said, and left.

Ashes settled into a chair, and waited.

***

Marius woke up in Ashes’ bed. He knew it by smell, he hadn’t dared open his eyes yet. He curled up slightly, burying himself under the covers even more, and exhaled slowly. His head felt clearer than it had in a while.

He dared to experimentally crack an eye open. As he had thought, he was in Ashes’ bedroom. The world around him seemed sharp and defined, far from the swirling colours he had been growing accustomed to.

“Marius!” Ashes said, entering the room. “You’re awake! How do you feel? Better? Are you okay now? Is it over?”

Marius swallowed uncomfortably. He felt better, yes. He did not feel okay, not at all. Was it over? He hoped so. He really, really hoped so. He looked at Ashes, hoping his eyes would convey what his words could not.

They reached for him, and he flinched away. Their hand froze mid-air, and after a moment they withdrew, a look of hurt on their face. Marius felt a pang of guilt and grabbed their hand, gently tugging it. Ashes looked at him questioningly, then, seeming to understand, slid under the covers with him.

He rested his head on their chest, and Ashes wrapped their arms around him. For now, they were together, and they were safe.

#the mechanisms #my fanfiction #marius von raum #doors.txt

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whaleofatjme1920 · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 28: Drips and Drops

Blood Play [Brian Thomas X GN!AfabReader]

[Warnings: knives, unsanitary in general, rough sex, MINORS DNI]

[AN: well. This is what it looks like. I'm also not,,, physically feeling well?? My stomach is not having it, but only hot ppl seem to have stomach problems *eyeroll* /jk Don't know the word count bc I wrote it here on tumblr this time!!.]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Kinktober Masterlist

Brian's index finger moves along blade of his pocket knife before he slips it back to a fold, letting the metal go back to its hiding place. There's a small smirk on his lips from how he's marked you. Carved into your skin are the words 'mine' and 'property of Brian', alongside a few hearts and other miscellaneous words and doodles of his cutting love. He runs his fingers over the cuts, watching as you wince.

"How are you feeling?" He asks softly as he lets the blood coat his fingertips.

You shakily sigh and nod your face into the mattress. "I'm okay," you say. Not believing you've convinced him, you turn your head to the side and over your shoulder. "I promise, I'm doing alright." The cuts he left were more akin to somewhat deeper cat scratches, and they sting whenever his warm breath fans over them, but you take the pain in a stride. He left those there because he loves you.

He hums softly and pulls his fingers from your back. "Guess you won't mind if I..." he trails off slightly as he pumps his cock, painting it with your blood and arousal. He drags the tip along your hole's opening and dreamily sighs out. "If I touch you like this." He barely finishes the sentence before pushing slowly inside of you.

You grip into the edges of the bed as you arch your back in just the right way, letting your ass hang high in the air for him. You softly moan as you feel him press deeper and deeper inside of you. You feel all too aware of the way your blood drips in thin lines before balling at the ends. You don't care how it rolls down your ribcage and falls to the towels like drops of crimson rain.

Brian doesn't waste any time. He grunts before swinging his hips back and then pushing back into you, thrust after thrust, he works up a quick speed. "Fuck," he hisses. "You're so fucking tight and all I've done was make you bleed." He reaches his hands around to your waist and squeezes. Pulling you back on his hips, it's almost as if he's treating you like you're his own personal fleshlight.

You don't really mind the implication as it crosses your realm of thought. You moan aimlessly for him and bounce on his cock. He's not the thickest you've ever seen, but he is definitely the longest, and lucky for you, he knows how to use it. You squeeze your eyes shut as he shoves his cock even deeper inside of you. He's caressing you in all the right places, and it's getting harder and harder to hold on. Your thighs tense as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your peak.

"Brian, oh gods, Brian," you cry out before letting another loud moan escape from your open lips. You shamelessly buck back to meet his thrusts. Your blood runs hot before some of it spills from your back. Your body feels like jell-o, really. He's fucking you so hard, you're certain to see stars soon. "I wanna-! Oh Brian, I'm gonna cum." You almost feel pathetic broadcasting your thoughts out to him but you know he'd punish you if you dared came with out his permission.

Brian rolls his hips up roughly and ruts deep inside of you. "Then do it," he breathlessly commands. He feels your hole tighten around him before you shudder, followed by the unmistakable pulse of someone who's just gained nearly impossible pleasure from him.

#brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #hoodie headcanon #creepypasta smut #minors dni

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aurpiment · 3 years

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@astronomer88’s idea

Image description: Genly Ai calmly saying “your prime minister looks gnc af.” King Argaven saying, with an appalled look on his face, “you’re insane.” Description ends.

#mt #my art #the left hand of darkness #tlhod #the text is new #the drawing is a VERY old one traced from a life of Brian screencap for a rude name joke in January of last year #follow for more left hand of Brian deep cuts

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yournameoneverypage · 3 years

Text

Confessions

Shawn x reader.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: Drinking/drunkenness, blink and you'll miss it angst.

// * // * //

You rested your head back against the front passenger seat of Shawn’s Tesla and closed your eyes. “I drank too much.” He had picked you up from a girls' night out with your friends. You had been ready to go home before the others and Shawn had told you to never hesitate to call him if ever you should need to.

“Just don’t puke in my car,” he snickered. “We’ll be home in ten.”

You rolled your head to the side and met his eyes as he glanced at you. “You really didn’ have to come,” you said softly.

“Of course I did. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“But your friends...”

Shawn had had a few of his friends over at his place that evening. He had chosen to not drink much himself, anticipating a possible call from you.

“It’s just Brian left. He crashes there all the time.”

“When am I gonna meet ’em?”

“When I’m ready to share you with them,” he smirked.

“’m yours,” you whispered, small smile on your lips, and closed your eyes again.

The thought of you being his made his heart skip.

// * // * //

Once in the elevator, you placed your hand on Shawn’s shoulder for balance and slipped off your heels. You exhaled in relief. “That’s better.”

He took your shoes in his own hand and when the elevator door opened, he said, “Hold on to me, honey.”

You bubbled, “’m not so drunk I can’t walk!”

“I beg to differ. You almost bit it getting out of the car,” he teased.

“You have good reflexes,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his bicep as you started down the hall.

Stopping in front of your door, Shawn asked, “Where are your keys, Sweetheart?”

“In here. Somewhere,” you mumbled, letting go of him to dig through your clutch.

“Give it here. I’ll find them.” Cell, cash, credit card, dark pink tinted cherry lip balm, a-ha, keys, and, “Condoms? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” He smirked, trying to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

“’m not but the twins are,” you giggled.

It shouldn’t have mattered if the condoms had belonged to you. Still, Shawn found himself profoundly relieved.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, he set your heels on the shoe rack and hung your clutch from a wall hook.

He led you to the kitchen and made you sit on one of the stools at the island. “Let’s get some food in you. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You watched intently as Shawn cut an avocado, removed the pit, and scooped out the flesh. He mashed it and added small pinches of garlic, sea salt, and pepper and then put two slices of whole grain bread in the toaster.

“I haven’ been drunk since college... "I do stupid things when I’m drunk.”

“We all do stupid things when we’re drunk,” he chuckled, taking a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.

He was about to pass it to you when you said, abruptly, “I kissed some guy at the club.”

He lost his grip on the glass. It hit the ground with a crash and shattered.

“Shit.”

“Lemme help,” you said, starting to move from the stool.

“No, you need to stay right there while I clean up. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He laid a dishtowel over the mess before retrieving a new glass and trying again. This time he successfully placed it before you, followed by a slice of avocado toast. “Eat.”

You ate dutifully while Shawn sopped up the water and swept up the glass. He found a post-it and wrote:

No bare feet in the kitchen!

He stuck it right where you would see it in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten all the slivers.

Shawn polished off the second piece of avocado toast himself while leaning elbows and forearms on the kitchen island across from you. “Finish your water too, angel.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered.

He smiled tenderly. “You would do the same for me. Now, come on. Time for bed.”

He followed closely behind you as you made your way to the master bedroom. It would be the first time he had been in your room; he was undeniably curious. He slipped his slides off just outside the bedroom door and crossed the threshold.

It was a stunning space. King-sized, hard maple, canopy bed, likely custom made, with matching bedroom furniture. The bed rested on a large rug which felt ridiculously plush beneath his bare feet. Above the low-rise dresser hung a 50” flat screen television.

Shawn was pulled from his perusal when he heard you apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I feel guilty.”

“For what?”

“For kissing someone else.”

“You can kiss whoever you want, babe.”

“’cept you,” you sighed. “He wasn’ even a good kisser. Too sloppy. Too eager.”

“Of course he was eager. You are gorgeous. And darling, in this dress...”

“Which I can’t wait to get outta.” You reached behind you and started to unzip it.

“Whoa,” Shawn said, spinning away, flushing.

You giggled and hiccupped. “I’m not gonna get naked in fron’a you! I just need outta this damn dress! Help me!”

He stepped up behind you and moved your hair to the side.

While he slid the zipper all the way down to where it stopped at the dimples above the swell of your bottom, you confessed, "He coulda been your twin. Or maybe I jus’ saw your face in his ’cause you’re always in my head.”

Before Shawn could even digest that, your dress fell from your body to the floor. He groaned softly. You were wearing a blush colored, lace, strapless bra and matching thong panties. He looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. This would be an inappropriate time to get aroused, but damn if you didn’t have the most amazing body he had ever seen.

Suddenly unsteady, you swayed on your feet. You reached out to grab the bedpost, almost missing it, but Shawn was there to catch you, again.

He chuckled. “I need you to sit down so I can find you something to wear to bed without worrying about you faceplanting.”

“I should take a shower.”

“In the morning, love. I’m afraid you’ll stumble in the tub and hurt yourself.”

“I gotta’least wash my face an’ brush my teeth.”

Shawn stood beside you, holding your hair back, while you scrubbed your face pink and brushed your teeth. He then had you sit on the chair at your small vanity while he went to choose something from your dresser drawers.

He returned with a pair of white boy short underwear with rainbow hearts all over them and a white racerback tank top.

“I like these,” you said about the boy shorts. “But I don’ want this.” You handed the top back to him.

“What do you want instead?”

“Can I wear your shirt? It’ll smell like you an’ I’d really love that.” He was wearing a simple white button-down.

“You’re lucky I’m wearing a tank top underneath, and that I have a hard time saying no to you,” he chuckled, undoing the only three buttons that were fastened, slipping it from his shoulders, and handing it to you. He then waited on the other side of the door to give you privacy to change.

You exited the bathroom, thankfully seeming to be a little more stable on your feet. He bit softly on his bottom lip; he liked how you looked in his shirt.

“Come on, babe. Into bed.”

You crawled to the very middle of the mattress. He retrieved the brush from your dresser and positioned himself behind you. He gently brushed your hair out before loosely braiding it. That way, should you wake up sick, at least your hair would be out of the way.

When he had finished, you glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then why don’t you want me?” you whispered.

He kissed your shoulder and breathed in the scent of your soft, warm skin mingling with the smell of himself from his shirt. His heart began thumping in his ears. You probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, which made him braver than he would be otherwise.

“I want you, more than you can imagine, and that scares me,” he murmured. “You were…unexpected. You walked into my life and turned my world upside down so quickly; it’s making me question everything. I feel unbalanced around you.”

“’m sorry, I didn’mean to.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any different,” he smiled tenderly.

Shawn helped you settle under the covers and retrieved a glass of water and two ibuprofens to set on the nightstand beside the bed. He also moved a small wastebasket to within arms’ reach.

He crouched down to level himself with you and gently asked, “Do you really want to kiss me?”

You exhaled, your words almost imperceptible, “Every damn day.”

He took a deep breath. “If you remember any part of our conversation tomorrow, I’ll let you,” he promised. “Damn the consequences.”

// * // * //

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you

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anyotherwriter · 2 years

Text

Skipping Town [11B]

Masterlist / Previous Chapter

Hope everyone had a decent-enough holiday at minimum, however you do (or don’t) celebrate. This series is in the home stretch, and I’ll be posting part 12 tomorrow and hopefully 13 the following day.

Credit for the gif to whomever made it. Continue reading this series at your own risk due to sensitive material. I only post my writing here. Feedback is always welcome!

Okay, love you, bye.

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Shane wished he was anywhere else. He was hoping to be scarfing down cookies at his sister's house and listening to his niece yelling about Santa Claus coming by that night with presents and getting to bed late.

"He better not be late." Shane grumbled. It was cold outside, threatening another bout of flurries, and the concrete walls of the garage weren't helping. His hands were crammed in his coat pockets so deep, he thought they'd bust through the opposite seams.

"He won't be." Spencer said as he fidgeted with tools on the peg board on the wall. He was the one that received the phone call this morning, telling him when and where to meet. He tried to ask questions, ones that the unknown voice on the other line pretended he wasn't asking. The only thing that was a sure fire thing was the time. The voice demanded they both be there, "don't be late".

Spencer was excited. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to slip into their view, or why, but this was the in he'd been looking for for years. He knew Merle went back and forth with this guy on a regular basis. The only thing Spencer heard during the phone call was the sound of him cashing in stacks of cash at the bank instead of the threatening voice that held zero regard for him.

Shane was frustrated at his call this morning; it was rushed and demanded and it felt like speaking to an over stimulated ten year old. Shane showed up tonight with the impression this was going to be a good meeting, as if there were promises of business and money and deals on the table. Spencer would've warned him otherwise, except he wasn't paying attention.

And when the clock struck eleven p.m., the door of the garage squealed open.

Spencer immediately recognized the man that threatened him at Daryl's place walk in first. He was still shaken by the idea that he would've shot him in the face had he not left faster. He didn't recognize the second person through the door, but the third was unmistakable.

"Brian?" Shane said. The disbelief was written clearly across his face. The man that he'd been trying to figure out how to contact for years, the person that owned Merle Dixon's soul and all involved, the man that ran drugs and weapons through this area in trunks full until they dispersed across the country was the same person he'd worked side by side with many times, without any signs.

"Good evening, boys." Brian greeted easily. He found enjoyment in the shock of Shane and Spencer's faces; it was always his favorite part of recruiting. "Sorry to drag you out on a holiday, but this couldn't wait."

"Of course," Spencer offered immediately. "Whatever you need."

And a smile stretched across Brian's face. He wasn't one for submissive associates, and he knew immediately that Spencer would do anything he asked of him. Brian pitied him. Shane seemed more guarded, though, and made to cross his arms across his chest. His eyes were skeptical and calculating and confused, wondering how he hadn't known.

"Thanks to you," Brian pointed at Spencer, "I lost money in that fire you set the other day."

"I didn't se-"

"Don't lie to me." Brian cut Spencer off. "Honesty is rule number one with me. Besides, as the Fire Marshall, I know damn well you did it. You're not slick, boy."

"What do you want from us?" Shane asked, trying to pull some attention away from Spencer, who was beginning to cower back at the accusations.

"Like I said," Brian shifted his attention to Shane, "You lost me money. You're gonna get it back."

"Why should we?"

"Your friend here burnt down Merle's place over a girl. The same girl he spent so much time trying to discredit in town because she's no fool to the type of man Spencer, here, is. Manipulative, abusive, arrogant…"

Brian smiled again as anger showed on Spencer's face.

"He hoped when he set the fire that Daryl would be inside. Without Daryl, there was no threat of her leaving town with him, with a delusional dream of her crawling back to him. Instead, all you did was take out my car, my equipment, my tools, my mechanic from working."

"It was one car." Spencer mumbled. Shane turned his head quickly, waving a hand subtly at him, hoping he would shut his mouth.

"Sure," Brian chuckled, the sound echoing through the poorly lit garage. "But something tells me you don't understand how this works. How much money you cost me for that one car." Brian took a few steps in Spencer's direction, as if stalking his poor, ignorant prey.

"How do you expect us to fix it?" Shane asked, pulling Brian's attention back to him.

"Get me a new car, for starters, on your dime of course." Brian shrugged. "Then, you'll get her ready to my specifications, my way, also on your dime."

"This is a business deal, man!" Spencer yelled.

"No. It's not. This is a plea bargain." Brian said, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the taller of the two men who kept his hands folded calmly behind his back. There wasn't an exchange of words, or even motions, just a familiar presence that Shane recognized as the one he typically shared with Rick. The way they'd look at each other, able to pick up on one another's thoughts and acting without words. Shane watched the men anxiously.

"How are we supposed to do any of that? I don't have the money for that." Spencer's voice was back to normal, maybe even lower, sounding as if he were beginning to admit defeat. His shoulders slumped.

"That's not my problem." Brian said as his phone let out a quick chime. He pulled it from his pocket and focused on the screen, allowing Shane and Spencer an extra few seconds to look at each other, to evaluate, and simply give up in confused shrugs.

"You have until Friday, which is… four days." Brian said as he tapped a finger to his watch. "Better get to work."

And the three men turned to head out the door.

"Wait."

Shane spoke up, hoping he could cut some sort of deal. The issue was that he was going off of improvisation and hoping he could be convincing enough. "You provide the car, we'll pay for everything else."

Brian laughed. He didn't often have someone try to bargain, and the thought that they had any leverage was amusing to him.

"No." He said, "It's on you to do it. Maybe next time you'll reconsider putting your nose where it doesn't belong."

"That's not fair." Spencer said, now taking a step towards the three men.

"Of course it is. An eye for an eye."

The men again turned to exit, but Spencer suddenly felt bold, and angry, and rushed forward to grab Brian's arm. He was met with a crack to the jaw from one of the silent men. Spencer made to throw another punch, missed, and doubled over into another closed fist. It knocked the air out of his lungs and he groaned.

"We gonna do this again?" The familiar voice called to Spencer loudly where he struggled to get back to his feet. The unmistakable sound of a bullet being loaded into the chamber made him freeze. "Go ahead, get up."

Instead, Spencer dropped back down to the ground. The cold of the concrete floor seeped deep into his bare palms and the knees of his jeans, and his body shook.

"Don't." Shane called, his voice level and confident. When Spencer glanced over to him, he noticed that Shane had his gun out, aimed at the offending man.

"Firing your work piece off duty?" Brian mused from the side. "Bold. But, by all means, go ahead. Shoot. It'll be the last thing you do."

Shane scoffed, his finger heavy over the trigger of his gun. He kept his eyes trained on the gun that was pointed at Spencer, and debated. But he hesitated too long, missed the way Brian quickly plugged his ears, and a gun went off. His body shifted towards Spencer's yelling, missing the way the gun was now pointed his way, and his own gun falling limply to his side.

"Like I said," Brian said through the ringing air, the smell of iron mixing with that of motor oil, and a laugh. "Friday."

And all three men exited, leaving Shane in shock and Spencer in pain. Shane had his phone out quickly, calling an ambulance as Spencer laid on the floor, gripping his leg tightly, blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers. And once he was done with dispatch, and wrapping his sweatshirt tight around Spencer's thigh, he called Rick.

He knew Rick couldn't do anything. He wasn't on duty; he was at home, warm, enjoying the evening with his family. But Shane has never had Rick not answer his call. But Shane had no idea what to tell Rick when he finally answered on the fourth ring. Just that there was a shooting, where he was, and a familiar name came from his mouth in accusation at the events:

"It was Daryl."

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Next Chapter

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon au #trash day #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl imagines

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heavenfordoms · 3 years

Text

”Innocent“ Hug (Deku x fem! Reader):

Pairing(s): Deku x reader

Warning(s): 18+ minors DNI, cussing, manga spoilers, riding, death, semi-public sex, eating out

Genera: angst to fluff to smut

A/N: wait this was actually fun and easy to write for me wtf

Fandom: My hero academia (boku no hero academia)

Glossary:

Y/n = your name

Summery: Bakugou looses his life in battle and y/n goes to comfort Deku, soon Deku ends up forgetting about Bakugou as y/n rides him

You sucked in a breath, holding it for a while as you stared at the villain in front of you. You where crouched down low so you knew that he couldn’t see you. But you sure saw him. Your quirk was called memory, you could memorize anything that you wanted. The downside to this quirk is that while your mind was full of knowledge your body was weak so it was no good for battle-training, another bad thing (or more annoying then anything) is that we can’t forget it, ever, even if you wanted to. You remember every single detail of your life and every single thing that has happened to this point in grave detail. Not like you wanted to remember it, but you felt so worthless that it was almost blood to memorize everything. Like how there where five street lamps outside the bar. They where dimly lit and flickered every five second, each one after the other. The one on the very right was the first to flicker then it would go all the way to the left. Sometimes the one in the very middle would shut off at random times as the other lamps brightly shone in the night-sky.

“Could you stop mumbling?!” Katsuki whisper-yelled at you. You slightly cringed at the blonde male’s words before nodding your head in a form of acceptance (for some reason people saw that as acceptance so you did as well).

Katsuki is a young man of average height for somebody his age, with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He has short, spiky, ash-blond hair with choppy bangs that hang over his eyebrows. His eyes are sharp and bright red in color. His hero costume is composed of a tight, black, sleeveless tank top, with an orange "X" across the middle, forming a v-neck. There are two dots along the left line of his collar, indicating the support company that designed his costume. His costume also has a metallic neck brace worn with rectangular ends that have three holes on each side. His sleeves reach from within his large grenade-like gauntlets to his biceps. His belt, which also carries grenades, holds up his baggy pants with knee guards, below which he sports black, knee-high combat boots with orange soles and eyelets. His mask is jagged and black, and as it goes around his eyes, a large, orange-rimmed flare shape protrudes from each side.

You focused your eyes off of Kastsuki and onto Dabi, the villain who was standing guard outside the bar. Dabi is a fairly tall, pale young man of a slim, somewhat-lanky build, described to be in his early twenties. He has white hair with a few red streaks at the crown that spikes upward around his head, hanging low over his eyes, which are thin, turquoise in color, and heavily lidded. Before the reveal of his true identity, his hair was dyed black. His most striking features are undoubtedly the patches of gnarled, wrinkled, purple skin that cover much of his lower face and neck, all the way down past his collarbone, below his eyes and on his arms and legs due to him having a quirk at a early age and not knowing how to control it. These appear to be attached to the rest of his skin by multiple, crude surgical staples or hoop piercings. He has several silver cartilage piercings in both ears, and a triple nostril piercing on the right side of his nose. He also seems to be lacking earlobes on both sides of his ears upon close inspection, he wears a dark blue jacket with a high, ripped collar, and matching pants, cut off above his ankles, a pair of dark dress shoes on his feet. He also has a plain pale gray, scoop-neck shirt, below which a gray belt with a circular pattern wraps around his waist, a leather satchel attached at the back.

Nobody knew his real name, until now, Dabi had revealed himself as Touya Todoroki. Everyone now calls him Touya but it never settled right in your gut to call him that. His name was Dabi to you and it will always be Dabi. It didn’t matter if he did a big entry and say that he is part of the Todoroki’s Dabi didn’t seem like them. The Todoroki’s where a strict family with ruled set in place. Endeavor, now the number one hero, had tried to welcome his family with more open arms. You could tell that Dabi’s opening was not out of grief for his family but instead out of spite. Like saying to Endeavor that he needs to take a chill pill with this whole anime redemption arc thing that he has going on for himself (and you didn’t quiet disagree with the oriole scarred man either).

You often thought of life like a anime, it was easier to explain. If somebodies life was broken they just ended up in the wrong anime. It also helped reminded you that every villain has a backstory. You never got to see their perspective in things. You never got to see what happened to the villains after they got defeated. Nope. You never got to see that, maybe if people saw the villain’s side. Everyone would hate the hero‘s and build their own path just as villains do. They make a path that no one has ever gone on, slowly making it a dirt road and them turning it again into an actual road that everyone can go on. Villains never got the roadwork. Hero’s probably always destroy it.

“So what’s the plan?” You leaned in close to Katsuki and whispered in his ear, Kastuki tensed up next to you and sucked in a breath before looking at you through pointy eyes.

”I will distract scar-man while you go and get Deku from the bar.” Kastuki explained, you nodded your head ‘yes’ before you pointing in the direction you where going to go. Kastuki grunted to himself as he crawled slowly in the opposite direction. Sending explosion at Dabi’s face before ducking behind a large wooden tool-box that had the words ”Back Bend Inc” on it in Ariel black font. Although it had been there for so long that the black ink looked to be a dark smoky gray. You quietly padded off into the opposite direction, your head ducked and eyes darting every five seconds to catch every detail around you.

Silently, you slipped into the bar. There was a wooden plank that held up the first stand, it looked to be pretty normal from here. There was dark wine stands that had a light brown color to them. The walls where colored with a sand tan. Over by the bar there was stacks and stacks of different liquor that people could have. Above was the general black chalkboard menu, there was smeared blue chalk that said “SPECIAL: Burbon” the strong smell of liquor and whisky hung in the air. There was a cigarette hanging off the ledge, still lit and everything. It looked pretty normal, but there was a slight piece of the cigarette where it was unwrapped and that told you enough to not say ’fuck it’ and have a smoke break. Turning your head slowly you walked up to Kurogiri. Information began flooding in your head about the villains and the bar. Unluckily for you everyone noticed the smartness you had and quickly found out your quirk. They began to flood your Brian with information. Information that a kid didn’t want to hear. You heard everything when you where just in High School. Now, everyone hated your quirk, everyone fucking hated it. The people who raised you said that you where a monster and that they didn’t know you anymore. But the sad part was you didnt do anything wrong. After hours of racking through your mind you couldn’t find a single moment where you did something bad. “I need to see Tomura.” You stared blankly at the mist villain. Kurogiri's entire body is made out of a dark purple mist, save for his eyes, which are glowing yellow. He normally wears a very elegant suit with a tie and has a metal brace that goes from around his collarbone to just below his eyes. It was pretty simple description of the villain, but there wasn’t much to him.

“Now?“ The male inquired, a hint of annoyance traced his smooth and calming voice. His voice sounded a lot like a gently sea softly rippling in the waves. But in actuality he was more like a thundering storm as the large ocean waves crashed harshly against large dark-gray-almost-black rocks.

“Yes, it is important.” You answered, putting a fake smile across your face. You still heard the faint sound of explosions from Katsuki and knew that you didn’t have a lot of time. Katsuki only could hold off for fifteen minutes before he went full on battle mood. And the villains would definitely think at something is up. Kurogiri hummed thoughtfully before nodding his head in agreement and holding out his purple misted hand.

”Come on dear…” The man whispered soothingly and smiling up and down at you.

“Thanks!” You chirped getting up and going behind the bar, following the villain down the stairs that creaked underneath your feet.

“BOSS!! Somebody wanted you!!” Kurogiri called, you took a deep breath before flinching as you looked into the villains base.

It was the same red bricks that seemed to be different colors every brick that was placed down to make the wall of the bar. There was smooth fake wood counter with clean royal red plush bar stools with the smallest backs on them. There was a few hero posters scattered around the base, one medium sized All Might poster hung to the right of a small screen TV. The dull gray light picketed on and off as the headlights didn’t provide much protection against the dark loom of everything. Different types of bottles hung on narrowed shelves behind the bar. Right next to the bar was a metal door, the window had cages around it and a long shiny knob that went down the left side. To the right of the door was a old faction radio station with LED lights surrounding it. It was currently playing Take Me to Church, apparently just starting to play it seeing how the introduction was still on. You narrowed your eyes before leaning against the red brick wall and giving everyone a swept gaze. All of the villains names that where forced to memorize came to your head all of a sudden.

Himiko Toga was standing in the farthest left, spinning in the red barstools.

Himiko is a relatively petite, fair-skinned girl who is very prone to blushing and is frequently described as to having a rather pretty face. She has slightly inward-tilting bright yellow eyes with thin slits, making them somewhat resemble those of a cat, and her wide mouth is also rather feline, as both her upper and lower canines are more pointed and longer than the rest of her teeth, giving her a vampire-like appearance. Her hair is a pale, dirty ash-blonde and is styled into two messy buns, with numerous wild strands sticking out at all angles from their centers and where they’re fastened, a straight fringe and two chin-length side bangs to frame her face. Himiko’s outfit consist of a plain seifuku with a Kansai collar, both the skirt and the shirt dark blue with a double white trim, which is paired with a red scarf that she ties loosely below. Over this, she wears an oversized beige cardigan with a rather long hem and cuffs, and pockets on either side, the right one shown to hold a number of trinkets on either a keychain or a cellphone strap. She sports knee-length black socks and dark brown dress shoes with thick heels, the same as the outdoor uniform shoes students traditionally wear in Japanese schools.

Tomura was standing next to Himiko, a bored expression clouding his features.

Tomura is a slim man with deathly pale skin, tinged yellow, and wrinkled a great deal around his eyes. His lips are chapped and uneven, a small mole on the right underneath, with visible scars on his right eye and under his lip. He has messy grayish-blue hair of varying lengths, the longest clumps reaching to about his shoulders, left hanging over his face in uneven waves. His eyes are normally obscured, but when visible, they are usually stretched wide in a rather maniacal manner, their bright red irises are very small.

Interestingly, when Tenko was at the age of five, he bore a striking resemblance to Izuku Midoriya, with his blue hair originally being dark black in color, while also having dried patches of skin around his eyes, though his lips were shown to be healthy in appearance. After his Quirk manifested, his appearance changed giving him a wrinkled face and changing his hair color.

Nobody else was in the base, the rest of the villains where busy surviving customers or dealing with Bakugou.

Then you saw him

Deku…

Deku has been a classmate of yours for a while, although you guy’s rarely talked to each other you always admired his strength and wisdom. Soon he became the number one hero and you became the second, Bakugou and Todoroki following closely behind. The only real reason you where able to make it to number two was due to the popularity votes for citizens. Everyone liked you, they loo up to you. So rationally you often teamed up with Deku. He was not good with the citizens since he never got a chance to talk to them due to the fact that he broke his bones in battle often but his quirk was amazing. And you didn’t have a lot of strength so that gave you time to connect with the citizens. The two of you working together helped everyone live a better place. Now seeing him tied up and helpless, it made you pretty angry.

“I would love to sit here and chat, but I got a hero to save!” You smirked as you raced on ahead and grabbed Deku, pulling him out of the chains before the villains had any time to react. Standing next to the hero you where slightly taller (mind you he hasn’t grown since high school so that wasn’t really anything to brag about being taller then him).

”HELLPPP!!!” A scream shouted from Kastuki, your eyes widened as you sprinted off to get the number three hero. Deku closely followed you as he got his quirk ready. But by the time that you rushed out you knew it was too late. Katsuki had been crushed by the blue flames that wrapped around his body.

“KACCHAN!!!” Deku screamed, DabI whipped his head around and started at the number one hero.

”You idiot!“ You hissed as you grabbed Deku’s arm and made a run for it. Dragging him out into the open where a bunch of other hero’s where’s standing just in case something happened. You noticed that they where busy on their phones and probably didn’t even hear Katsuki screaming for help. You rushed Deku to the side of the red brick building and waited for a ambulance to come pick Deku up. Once they carried him away you narrowed your eyes at the pro-hero’s.

”I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY IF YOU ACT LIKE THAT AGAUN!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STRESS YOU PUT US THROUGH??? DYNAMIGHT COULD HAVE STILL BEEN ALIVE IF YOU HAVEN’T SAT ON YOUR ASS ALL DAY AND ACT LIKE A BUNCH OF FUCKING SLUTS!! I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO RIP ALL OF YOUR HEADS OFF, FEED THEM TO MY DOG, MAKE MY DOG SHIT OFF A BRIDGE AND SEE THE SHIT SMEERED ON THE TIRE, GET A LIGHTER AND BURN THE CAR DOWN, TAKE THE ASHES AND PUT THEM IN A GROUND, I WILL TAKE THE GROUND WHERE THE ASH IS AND MAKE IT A STRIPER CLUB, AND THEN GET A EXORCIST TO PUT YOU TO HELL!!!” You started cussing them off, the pro-hero’s shuffled uncomfortably and looked at each other with weird stares. They knew that they where in shit when they pissed you off. You weren’t very easy to piss off so when somebody pissed you off they knew they were in deep horse shit.

*** You rushed into the hospital bed where Deku was at. Your breath coming out in short puffs as you stood on the edge of the male’s bed and watched as thick tears streamed down his face. You grew soft and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down baby…I am here…” You reassured, slowly climbing on the bed and getting on him. Deku gulped thickly at the closed distance between the two of you and began sweating nervously.

“Y/n!“ You yelped, trying to scoot back. You looked up at him and gave the male a cocky smile.

“What? Are you suggesting something?” You leaned in and whispered in Deku‘s ears. Deku whined before nodding his head ‘yes‘ you rolled your eyes and began to unbutton your shirt. Popping out a few buttons in the process. Gently, you pulled down your panties and threw them to the side, lifting up your skirt and showing your ass to Deku. Deku trembled slightly and started licking at the entrance, slowly, he began eating you out. You moaned quietly before bucking Your hips backwards. Deku gasped before moaning also and continuing to do his work. Once Deku are you out for a few minutes you pulled away and Deku looked at you with large puppy dogs eyes. His Greek emerald eyes blown wide in lust.

You leaned down and took off his pants with your teeth, dragging your nails up his clothed hero uniform shirt. Deku bucked his hips up and whimpered. You smirked into the material. Once you actually got the pants down you slipped off his boxers and starting to get settled on Deku.

You and Deku had this off and on thing. You guy’s weren’t dating each other and fucked other people but it was always a delight when you got to fuck him. A smile always formed on his lips when you topped him. He always thought that everyone was going to leave him to be the top, so it was reassuring when he saw that somebody cared about him enough to dom him and show him who is in control.

You where snapped back into reality when Deku gasped in shock as you took him all in, groaning slightly at the fact that you took him with such ease because he has been in you so much. Slowly you waited for yourself to adjust (which didn’t take that long) before you started bouncing up and down. Deku threw his head back and moaned loudly as felt your walls clench around him. You kept bouncing on him up and down in a rhyme pattern.

“Come on baby, thought you liked it…” You pouted, looking down on the green haired hero and smiling cockily.

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lokifantasies · 3 years

Text

The Trial PART 1

Summary: The long awaited trial against Evan Nichols has started, and the foundation of the case against him has been laid out.

WARNING: GRAPHIC TORTURE AND SEXUAL ABUSE EXPLAINED.

Character(s): Loki, Thor, Jade, & Evan

Read the Mischievous Life series here!

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The trial is here. It's the day that your family has been waiting for since this whole nightmare started. Unfortunately, Loki and Jade are both adamant that you remain on bed rest for the sake of the growing baby, and you ultimately end up losing the argument when you try to force them to let you come. Loki assures you that he'll be by her side for the both of you – supporting her the entire time.

In the back of your mind, you know the stress of hearing and seeing the evidence would be too much for you, and no one wants to see anything happen to your baby. Thankfully, Thor also appears to support his niece and brother – sitting on Jade's right as Loki sits on her left.

"I don't wanna see him," Jade mutters – looking down to the floor when Evan walks into the courtroom with his parents.

The teenager looks like he's injured – his leg has a slight limp, and his eye is swollen and dark. However, the seventeen-year-old has a smug smile on his face – his ego being stroked when he sees the television cameras on him. He takes his seat in between his lawyers, and they group together to discuss something quietly. Loki, Thor, and Jade try their hardest to hear what they're saying, but they're speaking far too quietly.

"I don't understand how he could have a defense," Thor says to you and Loki. "How can anyone deny that he did what he did?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Uncle Thor. I just want this to be over with."

The prosecution begins their opening statement by laying out all the facts of the case and making it clear what Evan Nichols is being tried for. His charges are as follows:

- 1st degree aggravated kidnapping

- 1st degree sexual assault (with forcible penetration)

- 1st degree sodomy

- Conspiracy to commit a kidnapping

- Conspiracy to commit a felony

- Felony stalking

- Harassment

- Attempted murder

- False imprisonment

- Assault with a deadly weapon

The first few witnesses to testify are the first responders who saved Jade from the small space she was being held in.

"Could you please state your name for the court and how you became involved in this case?" the prosecutor, Mr. Jeff Bards, began to question the officer.

"Brian David Wilson. I'm an NYPD SWAT officer who responded to the 911 call to 4892 E Graves Road," the witness explains.

"What happened upon arriving at the address?"

The officer took a deep breath before speaking. "We, the SWAT team, forced our way inside the house, and we started searching. I began to hear some muffled pleas for help, and when I followed them, I came across the fake wall in the home's basement. After removing the fake wall, I discovered that there was a small crawl-space type room."

"Can you confirm what the photo on the screen is?" Mr. Bards asks – a photo of the tiny, dark space where Jade had been held showing up on the screen.

"Yes, that is the crawl-space," he confirms

"And where was Ms. Lokisdottir located?"

"She was located in the back corner of the crawl space. She came out from hiding when she saw me, and I pulled her out of the space," officer Wilson stops to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts – trying to push his feeling aside. "Afterward, I carried her out of the house and to the ambulance that was waiting outside."

There's silence as the officer exits the witness stand – looking towards Jade and Loki as he goes to take his seat in the rows. The other officers testify – stating similar things to what the first one did. Then, everyone hears the fateful words.

"The prosecution calls Jade Pandora Lokisdottir to the stand, please."

Loki and Thor wrap their arms around the shaking sixteen-year-old – remind her that they're right there, and if she needs to, just look at them and they'll help her.

"You can do this, my love," Loki says softly. "Just pretend you're having a conversation."

"Okay," Jade nervously breathes out.

Thor hugs his niece close before she stands up. "You are so strong, Jade...just like your parents. You got this."

Jade exhales and nods – trying to walk up to the witness stand without falling. On the way, she refuses to look at the defense's side of the courtroom – disgusted as to how anyone could defend Evan.

Oh well, everyone has a right to a defense.

For a moment, Jade looks towards Evan. A smirk appears on her face when she sees his injuries – wondering who she needs to thank for the revenge. Before Jade turns her attention away, Evan takes the chance to blow a kiss towards her – excited to watch the goddess relive the nightmare he put her through.

"Could you please state your name for the court?" the prosecutor asks – looking directly at Jade.

"Um," Jade's voice is soft against the microphone. "Jade...Pandora Lokis-Lokisdottir."

"And can you tell the court how you came to know the defendant?"

Jade takes a deep breath and exhales – looking towards Loki and Thor for support. "Ye-yes. Um, we met at the mall when my parents took me shopping before the school year started. That weekend, we went out on a date, and then we started dating."

"Were you and the defendant ever sexual?

"Not...really," Jade answers. "Um, we only ever had oral sex, but that's it. I wa-wasn't comfortable with ever going any further than that."

"So, there was never any consensual sexual intercourse?"

"No."

"How long were you and the defendant dating?"

"Four months."

"During that time, did the defendant act inappropriately towards you in any sort of way?"

Jade exhales. "Yes. The last night we hung out together, he tried to force himself on me, but he ran away and drove off when I yelled for my dad."

"Ms. Lokisdottir, can you walks us through the day of September 3rd?"

Jade shakes her head and exhales nervously – looking towards Loki and Thor for their support. This is the first time she's ever spoken about what happened to her, and hopefully, it'll be the last.

"I was...at school, and Evan told me he wanted to speak with me privately, so I followed him out into the parking lot to smoke marijuana and talk in his car. When we got to his car, though, he locked the doors, and he took off from the parking lot." Jade swallows hard before continuing. "Um...I begged for him to stop and turn around – just let me go back to school, and I wouldn't tell anyone. But he didn't. He kept driving – pulling a knife from under his driver's seat and holding it to my throat. I tried to do as he said – hoping that he'd let me go, but he never calmed down. When we arrived at his house, no one was home. H-he led me into the basement and pulled a dresser away from the wall. It was a secret room behind the wall, and he made me...uh...he made me take all of my clothes off, so I was completely nude. He put a collar around my neck, and he connected it to a bolt in the floor so that I couldn't move much. He left for, I guess a couple hours, and he left me in the dark room. I remember how cold it was. It was freezing...especially since I didn't have any clothes. When he came back, he started to...do things."

"Could you explain what things were done to you by the defendant?"

Jade's eyes begin to tear up – her breathing becoming staggered as she thinks about how to word the horrific abuse she had been put through. The looks of support from Loki and Thor, however, give her a strength that she didn't know she had.

"There was...a metal bar," Jade begins quietly – biting her bottom lip to keep her thoughts going. "He had a long lighter with him, and he started to heat the bar up. He was laughing when he pressed the hot metal to my thigh – smiling at me while I screamed in pain as my skin started to burn. There's still a burn scar on my left thigh. When the bar finally cooled down, he threw it to the side. He grabbed me by the chain leash and forced me down to my knees. With his other hand, he...took his penis out of his pants and pried by mouth open. He grabbed the back of my head and used my mouth to get himself off. No matter how much I cried, and begged, and pleaded, he didn't stop. He found it entertaining. It turned him on." Jade looks out to see Loki and Thor becoming angrier by the second, but they're trying their best to remain calm for Jade's sake – knowing that they need to be her support. "After he was...finished, he uh, forced me to lie on the dirty floor. I tried to keep my legs closed, but he punched me in the face, which caused me to jump. Before I could try to close my legs again, Evan had them spread, and he began to...force his mouth...on me. I felt his teeth bite me, and I knew I was bleeding, but it seemed to turn him on even more. H-h-he reached over and grabbed the metal rod again, and h...I'm sorry...can I just...a moment?"

"Take your time," the prosecutor assures Jade – maintaining a professional composure.

Jade exhales deeply – closing her eyes and trying to gather her courage to continue.

"H-he began to use the metal rod to...assault me. He shoved it inside me – giving me cuts and bruises. I was bleeding, but he continued to thrust it in and out of me until he was satisfied. I thought he would finally be done, and I thought he'd take me home, but then I felt him begin to...insert himself...his...penis...into me. I tried to kick him off, but he held my legs as tight as he could to stop me from moving. It...I'm pretty sure he was trying to cause me pain. Finally, I stopped fighting – wanting him to just hurry up and let me go. I tried to stop crying because I didn't want him to be anymore satisfied with himself, but when I felt his fingers start to go into...the other side, I started fighting again. He pulled me up by the chain, and he forced me to look into his eyes. I remember he said that I was now his slut, and he was going to break me until I learned to love it. After a couple of minutes...he...ejaculated into me, which later resulted in a pregnancy. Evan was still wanting more though, so he turned me over and held my face to the floor as he entered my backside. Again, ignoring my cries and screams for him to stop. I lost track of how many times he did this...I think I may have blacked out or something, or maybe my brain made me forget in order to protect me from the memory, but the next thing I remember was being alone, redressed, and I heard the police officers calling out for me."

"Thank you, Ms. Lokisdottir," the prosecutor says with a proud smile.

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fandom #dad!loki #loki x reader #loki x you #mischievous life #ongoing series #requests open #send requests #jade lokisdottir #loki family

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme

No one is allowed to get mad that I didn’t finish the reading and finished this instead shhhhh (I read like half of it and then the adhd kicked in) but here we are with another part.

HUGE shoutout to my girl @tkachuk197 for reading through the part I was struggling with. She said it was good, so I’m taking her word for it!

Hope you like it!

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

_________________________

“I can’t even look at you right now.”

“You don’t mean that.”

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

You wake up, disoriented and confused as to where you were. You weren’t in your own room, you knew that; the decorations were different, and it definitely wasn’t your bed you were lying in. You feel a strong arm wrapped around you, a hard body pressed against your bare skin as your legs were tangled up in each others. You turn over ever so carefully to see Matthew still asleep, a soft snore escaping from his slightly parted lips as the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You slept with Matthew.

You.

And Matthew.

Slept together.

Multiple times. You didn’t even remember how many times you did.

You try to untangle your legs from his without waking him up. His eyes flutter open, meaning you failed, but seeing the smile on his face once he saw you made any doubt you had about the last night melt away. Maybe Evelina was right.

“God, you are beautiful,” his raspy voice taking your breath away as he sits up next to you. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing his lips to yours for a soft, sweet kiss. He pulls away, a soft smile on his face. He takes in a deep, slow breath before letting out, “I can’t believe last night finally happened.”

“Finally?” you ask him.

He lets out a laugh, his hand moving it’s way to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. He puts his forehead to yours, his lips ghosting yours, “You had to know I’ve been wanting this for ages.”

Evelina was right. “I really didn’t,” you admit.

“And yet,” he whispers, “you’re still the smartest person I know.”

You’re the one to kiss him this time. You wouldn’t change anything about the night before, but would you be willing to let it happen again? “Can I use your bathroom and shower?” you ask him.

“Yeah, of course, do you need anything?”

“A shirt for when I get out?” you ask him, starting to get out of bed. Do you try to keep yourself covered for as long as possible? Actually, what was the point? He had already seen your entire body last night. You get up, leaving the sheets behind. Your back was to him, but judging by the sharp inhale immediately followed by him muttering “fuck” under his breath, he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you walked to his bathroom.

You turn on his shower, letting it heat up as he finds you a shirt. Standing in the door, you watch him shuffle through his drawers. He pulls one out, walking over to hand it to you. You take it from him, both of you standing there for a moment, eyes lingering on the others body. “You could get in with me,” you say, a smirk on your face.

His eyes go wide, a smile on his face. “You want that?”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you bite your lip, dropping the t-shirt on the floor and taking him by the hand. Walking backwards to the running shower, your plant your lips on his. You try not to stumble around until he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. You feel the hot water hitting your back immediately, yelling by the sudden shock of the heat.

“Too hot?” he asks, through laughter, putting you down and reaching around you to fix the temperature. You kiss his neck, feeling him swallow hard as your lips connected to his skin. He lets out a moan as you work your way back up to his lips, “You know just how to make me feel great, don’t you,” he says, his hands on the small of your back pressing your body against his.

“I think,” you say between kisses, “we actually need to shower. We’re kind of gross.”

He laughs, reaching behind you again to grab his shampoo. The two of you go about your business, your mind racing as you watched the water fall down his body. He turns you around, his soap now in his hands as he starts washing your back. “Tell me something,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a kiss against your neck.

You try to wrack your brian, fighting from going numb by his hands washing your body. “You know the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland?” you ask him as he turns you around to face him, handing you the soap so you can do the same to him. He smiles and nods, kissing you before letting you continue. You put the soap in your hands, rubbing his shoulders, “Well, the idea comes from the term ‘mad as a hatter.’ When people used to make hats, before knowing the dancers of the element, they would use a lot of elemental liquid mercury. What they didn’t know is that mercury can bind to your blood cells.”

You let the soap rinse off his back, placing a kiss between his shoulder blades as you hear a moan escape his lips. He turns around not letting you finish, kissing your neck. “It binds to hemoglobin the same way that oxygen does,” you explain, feeling him sucking on your neck as your mind flashes back to the day with him at the liquor store. “The difference is that the bond between oxygen and the blood cell is weak enough that it can break, allowing for the cell to travel through the body and continuously delivering oxygen. Mercury is so heavy and forms such a strong bond that it doesn’t break off, stopping the transport of oxygen.”

“And what?” he says, his forehead pressed against yours.

“They go crazy because of lack of oxygen. Hence being mad as a hatter.”

His kisses you again, reaching behind you to turn off the water. “Sounds like you’re my mercury, then.”

You roll your eyes, kissing him again and stepping out of the shower. He follows suit, both of you just getting ready at your own pace. Throwing the t-shirt on, you were surprised by how big it felt on you. Matthew was bigger than you for sure, but not so much bigger that his shirt should be fitting like a dress on you. You hear him mutter something under his breath, turning around to see him staring at you in his clothes.

You smile and shake your head, brushing your hair out. “If I knew how good your clothes looked on me, I would have started giving you stuff ages ago,” he says, his hands snaking their way around your waist, the two of you just standing there.

“You’re being awfully lovely lately,” you tease him, wiggling free from him. “Any chance we can make or order food?”

He takes your hand to lead you out of his room. Walking to his living room, you can hear voices coming from somewhere. You don’t remember turning on the TV at any point in the night, so what was it.

“Took you long enough to come out of there,” you hear Evelina say, Matthew immediately dropping your hand at the sight of her and Elias sitting on his couch, already surrounded by food.

“What are you doing here?” you ask Ev, sitting down next to her, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were only wearing Matthew’s shirt in front of her and Elias.

“I forgot Elias has the spare key,” Matthew says to you before turning to his friend, “But you’re supposed to use it for emergencies, dude.”

Elias shrugs, handing Matthew a container, “Ev texted me last night when Y/N wouldn’t answer her. Your location on ‘find my friends’ said you were here.”

“Yeah, he said he saw you two leave together last night, so it would make sense that you came here with him,” Evelina explains. “And it’s not like you use our key for emergencies, you just barge in,” she adds, earning a scowl from Matthew.

“So you came here to find out?” you ask her, a little annoyed by the intrusion.

“How was I supposed to know you weren’t dead? If you die, I can’t afford rent,” Evelina argues. You can’t help but laugh, even though you knew it was true. You start to play with the collar of the shirt when you see Evelina’s eye’s go wide. “Oh, my god!” she shrieks, grabbing the bag next to her, taking you by the hand and dragging you back to Matthew’s bedroom.

“Jesus, you’re going to rip my arm out, what the hell?”

“You slept with each other!” she practically screams.

“Can you not scream about that? How could you tell?” you hiss at her, covering her mouth.

Pushing your hand out of the way, she starts again, “You always play with your shirt collar after you’ve slept with someone, it’s your tell. I know Elias and I have been trying to get you two together but this went from zero to a hundred way too fast for two people ‘not in love,’” her voice turning to a mocking tone at the end.

“Elias was in on it?” you ask her, making the connection back to last night, “That’s what the look was for when we left.”

“What? Nevermind. I thought you didn’t love him.”

“You don’t have to be in love with a boy to fuck him,” you counter, trying to figure out whether or not you were lying. “At most I tolerate him. I like him. As a friend. It’s friends with benefits,” you ramble.

She rolls her eyes at you, clearly unamused by your blatant denial, “It’s amazing how dumb you are. Babe, all you’re wearing is his shirt, and nothing else. We hear the shower turn on and turn off only once, only long enough for one shower and both of you have wet hair, which means you had to be in there together, and clearly,” she says, pointing at the mess that was his bed, “More than just sleeping happened in there. You don’t do that with just anyone. You didn’t sleep with your first boyfriend until you had been together for nearly a year. I’m pretty sure you’ve never given a hickey or gotten one for that matter until you came home from the liquor store. Why are you denying this so much?”

You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. She was right about almost everything. “Can we just leave it at liking him. I’m not in love with him.”

She throws her hands up in surrender, shaking her head and reaching for the bag, “Whatever,” she shoves the bag in your chest, “I brought you a change of clothes. At least be wearing fucking underwear when you get home. I’m leaving.”

She doesn’t look in your direction as she leaves the bedroom. “Ev, wait,” you call after her. You knew she was mad at you. She was obviously annoyed with you for the constant denial. She slams the door just as you reach it, feeling Matthew and Elias’s eyes on you. You lean your back against the door, trying to fight back tears over your best friend storming out on you, your head against the door looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Matthew comes up to you, rubbing your arms, “What just happened?”

“She’s just mad at me for, um,” you start, not making eye contact with Matthew as you try to figure out what to tell him. “Not telling her where I was last night.”

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” he asks, concerned that you were clearly upset about this and not doing the best at showing it.

You run your tongue along your top teeth, shaking your head, “Nah. We’ll work it out when we’re both home. Hey, um,” you say, swallowing back tears, “She brought me a change of clothes and some of my stuff, so I’m going to go change, ok?” He nods, letting you slip past him, wiping a tear away from your cheek as you shut yourself in his room.

“I have never seen you this soft for a girl before,” Elias says.

“What are you talking about?” Matthew says, practically throwing himself on the couch with the food they had brought.

“Like, Evelina’s been trying to tell me that you’re in love with Y/N, so we’ve been trying to get you two together, but I didn’t really believe her until I saw you be soft for her.”

Matthew knew Evelina had a plan, but how was Elias even involved, “And what have you done to get us together?”

He gives Matthew the same annoyed look Evelina gives him when he’s asked a dumb question. “I was flirting with her right in front of you and you short circuited.”

Matthew things about last night, watching Elias trying to get you to dance with him. “Fuck you, man.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, a smirk on his face, “Hey, it worked, didn’t it. You should be thanking me.” Matthew rolls his eyes at him. He really didn’t need his teammates flirting with you to get him to want to be with you.

“It would have happened eventually.”

“You’ve been flirting with her since the day you met. It took me flirting with her to get you two together.”

Matthew stops for a minute. Are you two ‘together?’ He had no idea what last night meant to you. He knew what it meant to him, but to you, it could have meant anything. “I don’t know if we are.” He takes a bite of the food, starting down at the remains in the container and pushing it around with his fork. He wanted to be with you, but he couldn’t do that if you weren’t up for it, too.

Elias shrugs, knowing that whatever he said Matthew would either detest and ignore or go run into the bedroom and do right now. “You could always ask her out on a real date. Not some event with all the guys that leads to you fucking all night.” Matthew nearly chokes on the last bite of food when he hears Elias say that. “I know how you act after you get laid. You’re a little quiet, a little lovey,” he says, adding a little shoulder shimmy at the word ‘lovey.’ He gets up, grabbing his keys from underneath all the napkins and utensils that littered the half eaten breakfast they had brought, “Whatever you do, don’t hurt her. Evelina will have me kill you and I really don’t want to have to hide your body. Have fun, be safe.”

Elias leaves him there sitting on the couch. He knew that Evelina told you to have ten things that you hated about him that you would have to ask him out, but what if he asked you out before you completed the list? Would you have to say no? Or worse: would you want to say no?

He hears you come out of his room, now changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. “Hey, I think I’m gonna get going,” you tell him, scooping up the dress that was still on the floor from last night.

“Let me get my keys, I’ll give you a ride,” he says, shuffling the containers around to try to find them buried under there. He could deal with that stuff later. “Let’s go,” he says, waving his key ring in the air.

He extends his hand out for you to lead you down to his car. You’re hesitant to take it, but you do anyway, your fingers intertwining with his. It was weird how well your hands fit together, how well all of you fit together. You never would have thought that you would.

The two of you ride to your place in silence, neither of you sure what to say. He pulls in front of your building, but you don’t want to get out. You don’t want to leave him even though you know you need to talk to Evelina. You let out a sigh, “I don’t want to have to fight with her.”

“If it’s just about being away last night then I’ll just text her and say it’s my fault,” he says, reaching over and taking your hand.

“That’s sweet,” you tell him as he kisses your hand, “but it’s fine. It’s between us, we’ll work it out, we always do.”

He just nods, feeling himself getting nervous. “What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks you, figuring it was now or never.

You form a thin line with your lips, shaking your head, “I don’t know. Right now nothing, why?”

He swallows hard, getting worried that his nerves would get the best of him. Why was he so nervous about this? You just spent the night with each other, you’ve been together before plenty of times. “I was,” he starts, his voice obviously shaking. You look at him, concerned. This wasn’t like him. He normally had more confidence in his pinky than some people had in their entire body. “I was wondering if you would let me take you out? On a date? A real date?”

Would this go against the deal you have with Evelina? Actually, it only would if you couldn’t come up with ten things and then didn’t ask him out at the end of the month. What was the harm of one date. “Yeah, Matty, I would love to.”

He smiles, taking your face in his hands and planting one more kiss on you before you know you have to get out of his car. “I l-” he starts to say, stopping himself, “I’ll see you tomorrow. For our date.”

“For our date,” you repeat, trying to properly process the words. You get out of his car and head up to your place. You were going on a date with Matthew Tkachuk. You were giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Evelina about it.

Except you and Evelina had to hash other things out first, your joy and excitement turning to fear and dread over having to fight with her. You two almost never had real fights, so you had no idea what this was going to entail. You get to your apartment, standing outside your door. Finally working up the nerve to go inside, you find Evelina sitting on the couch watching something on TV. “Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“Hi,” she says, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“So?” you say, sitting down next to her. “Can we talk about what happened at Matthew’s?”

“Why?” she asks, turning off the TV, irritation dripping in her tone. “No matter what I tell you about you and Matthew you deny.”

“Ev, you keep forcing the idea of loving him down my throat,” you tell her, trying not to raise your voice, “I understand that you’re rooting for us to be together but it’s just putting pressure on me and I can’t handle it.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap, her lips pursed, “You just,” she says, taking a deep breath, “For as long as I have known you, you’ve been talking about how excited you were to find the guy who would love you more than anything, for everything you are. I think you already know him. It’s Matthew.”

“And I get that. I’m trying to work out my feelings for him on my own, Ev. I love that you’re trying to look out for me, but at a certain point, you constantly telling me that I’m in love with him when I’m confused isn’t helping. Do you know how nervous I’ve been to tell you about last night? I was thinking about you more than I was thinking about him,” you tell her, both of you laughing.

“Please tell me you didn’t yell my name instead of his at any point,” she jokes, both of you cringing.

“I have a feeling Matthew would have had a lot of questions about that if I did.” You look at your best friend, knowing she’s just looking out for her, “Can you please just go a little easier on the whole, ‘I love Matthew thing?’”

“You just have to let me know when you figure it out,” she says, pulling you in for a hug.

“You’ll probably know before he does.”

She pulls away, you surprisingly shocked that this turned out easier than you thought it would be. “So, how was it?” she asks, a devilish grin on her face.

You laugh again, not shocked that she would ask something about it. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you think about the night before. “It was great. He’s taking me out tomorrow night.”

Her jaw drops, “On a date?” she squeals, jumping up and down on the couch. You spend the rest of the afternoon recounting as much as you wanted about the previous night to her. Your phone buzzes with texts from Matthew, asking you how your conversation with Evelina went.

You spend the rest of the day on the couch with your roommate, turning on the game to watch Matthew and the guys play. At one point between periods, he sends you a rare ‘during game’ text.

‘Fuck me’ he sends, referencing a bad penatly he took that luckily didn’t result in anything for the other team.

‘Tell me when, tell me where, any time, and I’m there,’ you send back, showing Evelina before you hit send. He responds back immediately, with just the red emoji that has it’s tongue sticking out, with the water droplet by it’s eye.

“You’re rhyming? This boy has you rhyming?” she asks. You could tell she wanted to say more about it, but you were thankful she didn’t. The game ends, the boys winning in overtime, thank god. “Oh, what about the list?”

You look at her, not even sure if the list was still in the fridge when you threw it in there the other day. You meant to take it out, but you know for sure that you never did. “What about it?”

“You’re going on a date with him. I think that means you’re dating him, even if he isn’t your boyfriend. Do you still want to finish it?”

You sit there and think for a moment, staring blankly at Gio giving an interview after the game. If it weren’t for the list, would you even be in this position right now? Would you be thinking about Matthew in any way other than as your friend? “Yeah, I think I do,” you tell her, making a mental note to pull it out of the fridge or just start a new one.

“Really?” she asks, shocked, “The point of it is that you’re writing out the things you hate about him. Why would you want to keep that going if you’re going out with him?”

“You said it was to prove that I didn’t love him. I still need to figure out if that’s true.”

Her face drops, obviously upset that it seems like you were taking three steps back from the step forward you had taken the night before. The list just let you deny your feelings for him, she thought. But what could she do to stop you from finishing it? “Do you want to add anything to it?”

“If we can find it, yeah,” you say, confusion washing over her face. “It might be in the fridge because he almost saw it when he was over the other day,” you explain.

“What do you want to add?”

Even though you know it’s supposed to be on your ‘hate list,’ you can’t help but smile when you tell her, “The way he makes me rhyme.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

Out of Context

Request: First of all, congratulations on 1,000!!!! Could you do a a sequel to Interloper where maybe an interviewer is giving her shit for having once been a groupie and Bri Rog and Deaky defend her and have amazing sex after at like their hotel 😂-foursome anon (I’m back)

Interloper / Snapshots From Before (Prequel)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), gangbang/foursome, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, tit fucking, light choking, slightly dom reader, cheer up sex, some spanking, double and triple penetration

Words: 6,145

A/N: This was another request from back at my 1000 follower celebration last year. It’s been sitting half written in my drafts since then and I finally felt inspired to finish it lmao. Foursome anon I hope you’re still around and you see this!!

Blurb Advent: Day 10

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

Doing press wasn’t easy, especially when interviewers insisted on questioning you all separately. You preferred having at least one of the boys to back you up. They’d been dealing with the whole interview process for so long now they knew how to avoid answering things they didn’t want to, knew how to deal with rude reporters. But it was all new to you. Perhaps that was why this particular interview had gone so badly. There was no Freddie to make the right snide comment, no Roger to get pissed off on your behalf, no Brian or John to squeeze your knee comfortingly or take over when you go tongue tied.

Things between you and the rest of the band had been going much better since Freddie had locked you in that room together. It didn’t happen overnight, there were still lingering tensions. But any badmouthing they did of you was out of your hearing which you much preferred. Gradually, as the tour wore on, there were less tensions. They got used to having you around, began including you in their games of scrabble and their not-quite-awake conversations over hotel breakfasts. Until one day, in the final leg of the tour, when Freddie admitted to you quietly that he hadn’t overheard any whispered comments for nearly a week. “And here I was thinking we’d never get there.” “Oh hush, darling, I told you from the beginning they wouldn’t hate you forever. Sure they took a little longer to come around than I had anticipated but it all worked out in the end. And now when you tell them the execs have asked for another full album featuring you, they probably won’t kill you.” They hadn’t, of course, though you’d worried for the safety of everyone involved in making the decision. Roger looked as if he were a second away from punching the first person to talk to him.

They took less time to calm down though, especially after they saw how nervous you got before the first interview. Your agent had decided some preliminary press would help build excitement for the album before the songs were even written. Calls were made, journalists were found, and before you knew it you were facing a crowd of people vying to ask you their questions, cameras flashing the whole time. It was a lot. More than pushing you into the deep end, you’d be thrown to the bloody sharks. Any lingering ill will the boys had for you vanished after that. They’d all thankfully been there too, had drawn the attention to themselves rather than let you struggle to answer everything on your own. After that they’d kept an eye on you during the smaller interviews. Mostly the reporters were happy to talk to you all together and, as long as you said one or two things about how excited you were to be working with Queen again, and how much fun touring with them was, you could get away with letting them take lead. But every now and then you got stuck with some jackass who wanted to quiz you solo. And this interview, this horrid interview, had been one of them.

Roger pushed the magazine away from himself, letting it slide as far down your kitchen table as it would go. “She’s a fucking bitch that reporter.” You looked down at the magazine, still open to your interview, the headline alone making your stomach turn. “No, sorry, that’s an insult to dogs. She’s a fucking cunt.” “Rog,” “No, that’s an insult to vaginas. There is no word strong enough for that poor excuse for a journalist.” “Roger, sit down.” Roger shot Freddie a dirty look but sat down anyway, his knee bouncing with restless energy, “Sorry. I’m just pissed off.” “Yes, we gathered that, thanks Rog,” “She took everything I said out of context, you have to believe me.” “We do, Y/N, we do,” John said softly from beside you, rubbing circles on your back. “It started well, I swear. Just the usual questions y’know, what’s it like working with Queen? How does it feel to be singing next to Freddie Mercury? Were you nervous about touring with them? Can you give us any hints about the new album? All the things that usually come up that Freddie coached me on how to answer, and I was doing fine. I had my prepared answers and there was no stumbling over words or anything like that. I thought I’d finally got the hang of it all and then she asked me to elaborate on what it was like working with you. I’d already told her the usual thing – it was fun and y’know blew my mind and all that. But then she asked how it compare to being your groupie.” “You didn’t answer her did you?” “Christ no, Brian! Jesus what do you take me for?” Brian held his hands up in apology. “I told her that it wasn’t relevant, but she kept asking, one question after another thrown at me and no matter what I said she didn’t stop. All sorts of stuff, like which of you was the best shag, and if I’d only wanted to be your groupie because I hoped it would lead to my own album, and if I was still offering my services,” you made air quotes around the words, “accused me of using you for my own gain and asked if you were the first band I’d tried it with or if you were just the only ones gullible enough to let me. I tried to tell her no and that I wasn’t going to answer those questions but she just kept going and then she told me to get used to the attention and left. I guess she didn’t need my answers to write a whole article about it.” “Which of us is the best shag?” Brian repeated the question though you suspected he wasn’t just checking he’d heard you correctly. The others all fell quiet, waiting to see if you’d answer. “Really Bri? That’s what you got from that?” “Right, right, sorry, not the important part. Look, it’s not as bad as you think it is.” “Bri’s right, love,” Roger said, much calmer than he had been before, “there’s nothing of substance in here. Like this quote, as for the fun Ms Y/L/N mentioned was had on tour, one can’t help but wonder just what she meant. Could the stories about nights spent playing boardgames be covers for debauched, drug-fuelled, orgies the likes of which would make a pornstar blush, I mean, there’s nothing there. It’s all conjecture and anyone worth a damn will see right through it.” “But some people will believe it,” “Maybe, yes,” Freddie said, “but it’ll blow over. We’ve all been in the same place you are at one time or another. If anything this officially makes you one of the band.” “Yeah, Y/N, it’s all just spiteful rubbish.” “Thanks guys, but I think I might just call it a day, go back to bed. Stay if you want, I don’t mind. But if you leave lock the door behind you.” You stood and headed to your bedroom.

The four boys stayed quiet until you were out of your room but you heard their hushed voices and hissed comments through your bedroom door as you pulled off your jeans and unclasped your bra from under the baggy jumper you wore. It took about five minutes before there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. “Y/N, can I come in?” You contemplated feigning sleep. “I know you’re not asleep.” You sighed and sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, “Fine, Roger, come in.” “Freddie’s gone to make some calls,” he said, standing just inside your doorway, hands in his pockets. “Calls about what? It’s out there now, there’s no getting it back.” “No but we need to make it clear to other journalists that those kinds of questions won’t be answered in any future interviews, and hopefully we can make sure that parasite never gets to come anywhere near us again.” “Isn’t that mean to parasites?” Roger chuckled, “getting over it already, see,” he sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on your covered knee, “I know this sucks, and I get that you’re ashamed, but I promise it’s not as bad as it feels right now.” “I’m not ashamed.” “What?” “You said I’m ashamed of it but I’m not.” “Oh. I thought-” “I’m a bit embarrassed because obviously I’ve never told my family what it is I got up to when I went to all those concerts and now they’re all going to know, lord knows some of them will believe the worst of it. And I’m pissed off that I didn’t stand up for myself more. I just let her keep cutting me off and talking over me when I should have told her to fuck off or at least called her out for being a prudish arsehole who probably only attacked me because she’s jealous I’ve fucked three quarters of Queen. And I’m annoyed that you’ve all been brought up in the article, and she’s questioning whether your good people just because you sept with me. I mean does she expect you all to be virginal saints or something? It’s just frustrating and yes, upsetting. But I’m definitely not ashamed.” “Huh, okay then.” “What?” “Nothing, just, we assumed you regretted sleeping with us.” “Lord no. It wasn’t planned, like she was insinuating, but seeping with you definitely helped me get my foot in the door with this whole music thing. And even if it hadn’t done that, it was still fun as hell and made me feel good. If I wasn’t fucking you I would have been out having mediocre sex with guys I met in pubs and I don’t care how much of a slut it makes me seem, but I’d rather fuck a whole band every single night and actually get off than have a disappointing drunk lay with a guy who’s never heard of the clitoris. Fuck, I’d still be doing the whole groupie thing now, and be perfectly happy with it, if Freddie hadn’t heard me singing that day. That night at the after party, that was heaps of fun.” “Give me a second would you,” Roger stood and walked to the door, giving you another glance before he turned the corner. You watched the doorway, not quite sure what to make of his behaviour but your questions were answered soon enough when he reappeared with Brian and John following. “So apparently we misread the situation,” Brian said, taking the seat Roger had just vacated. John sat cross legged at the end of your bed while Roger flopped onto the mattress beside you. “I can’t believe you’d think I regretted being your groupie. Have you met me?” “In our defence you seemed very upset, what were we meant to think?” “I had a shitty interview and got called a whore in a very public way, of course I’m upset. Doesn’t mean I regret anything.” “Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, we should have realised. But we have a proposition for you. We actually thought of a way to cheer you up when we first saw the magazine this morning but then when we got here you seemed so sad and we didn’t want to make you more upset or uncomfortable,” “What Brian is trying to say is that we have an idea we think you might like.” “Jesus will you two stop beating around the bush?” “Shut up Rog, I’m getting there.” “Y/N,” Roger said cutting off the others before they could waffle any longer, “Would you like to fuck us again?” You almost choked. “Zero tact. What he means is, we thought we could cheer you up. All three of us, entirely focused on making you forget that magazine.” “Wait, I’m confused,” you massaged the bridge of your nose as you tried to catch up to them, “you saw an article that called me a whore and thought it would cheer me up to, what, be your shared fucktoy again? Yeah it was fun but-” “No, no, no, that’s not what we mean,” John said, “you’d be in control of how it all happens. It wouldn’t be like last time.” “So, you’d be my whores?” “I guess?” “The point is,” Roger chimed in, “we want to make you feel better. If that means making you cups of tea and buying you a box of chocolates that’s fine. But it could also mean you having three cocks and all the orgasms you can handle.” You looked from Roger to John to Brian and then back again, trying to work out if they were joking or not. But they all seemed sincere enough for you to actually think about their proposition. It wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from them, and it hadn’t crossed your mind until they mentioned it. But now that they had, you had to admit it sounded fun. Last time had been fun and that was when you’d been passed around and used mercilessly, so having them all again, but with a bit more say in how it happened, could only be better. Plus, part of you wanted to prove how unashamed of your groupie history you were and what better way than this? “Okay, I’m in.”

“Do we need to set any ground rules?” Brian asked. “You all know my safeword,” “Saxophone,” You laughed at the chorus of eager voices, “Yes, exactly. Other than that I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Not like this is new exactly, is it?” “Well, no, I s’pose not.” “Exactly. And if there’s anything I don’t want I’ll tell you. So you’re,” you pointed at Roger, “going to kiss me now, while you two undress,” “Getting right to it, excellent,” Roger laughed, as he pushed himself closer to you. He didn’t waste any time, leaning in to kiss you right away. It started off a little too soft for your liking but as soon as soon as you made it clear how into it you were, kissing him back harder and pressing yourself closer, Roger reciprocated. His hands wandered down to your chest as you felt Brian and John get up, following your orders, their clothes left where they landed on the floor. Roger’s hands were soon replaced by Brian’s as he knelt behind you, and you found your head being pulled around so he could kiss you too. Roger took the opportunity to undress as Brian and John caught you between them. You couldn’t tell who was removing your clothes, only that once your jumper had been pulled over your head John was kissing you. He leaned back, tugging you along so Brian could pull your underwear off, his hands caressing your bare bum. “How do you want us?” John asked, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Um,” you looked around at the three very naked bandmates waiting for your word, “One of you is going to eat me out. Don’t care who but I am going to cum.” “Yes Ma’am,” John laughed, lazily saluting you before rolling you onto your back and shuffling down between your thighs. You were taken by surprise when you felt his tongue run between your lips, expecting nips on your thighs and the teasing puff of his breath as he hovered just out of your reach. But he was clearly taking the job of cheering you up seriously. Brian and Roger weren’t any different, settling into the spaces on either side of you, their light touches only enhancing the feeling John had set off. You felt their fingertips on your breasts and in the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down your spine but not enough to make you gasp in pain. “So what would you like from us, love? What dirty little fantasies are going through your head right now?” Roger tapped his finger on the middle of your forehead. You opened your mouth but a small oh as John latched onto your clit replaced the words you’d been intending to say. “Think we’re going to need a little more than that, Y/N. C’mon, tell us what you want. Do you want us to just take turns fucking you, filling you up over and over and over.” “Or are you thinking more along the lines of last time? Taking two at a time because one cock isn’t quite enough for you now?” “Try three,” you managed to get out as you slid a hand into John’s hair to hold him in place, “want you all at once.” “Jesus,” Brian swore, dropping his lips to your neck. “I’ve been a piss-poor groupie considering the stories that reporter’s peddling. Everyone’s going to think I’ve been taking all three of you at once constantly, but we’ve never actually done that, have we? Might as well embrace my slut title and change that,” “Let us work up to it, Love” Roger said softly, recapturing your lips as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You whined, partly from Roger and Brian’s attention and partly because John raised his head, your hips rising slightly at the loss. “Guess I should start stretching you out then,” he said offhandedly as he licked his fingers, the same way you’d seen him do a hundred times before while playing. You couldn’t stop the moan that rose up in your throat, the sound only making John chuckle against you as he lowered his head and resumed his focus on your clit.

It only took a few more minutes to have you swearing through your first orgasm. The two fingers John had inside you enough to send you over the edge as they brushed against every sensitive spot they could reach. Your neck tingled where Brian had marked it and your nipples were stiff peaks, extra sensitive to cool air after he and Roger had delighted in torturing them with teeth and tongue and fingertips. “How was that?” John asked, slowly withdrawing his fingers when he was satisfied you’d finished. “Fuck,” was all you could say, the three boys laughing, John dropping a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Think you can handle more?” “Actually Bri I think I might be done,” “Oh. Really?” “I’m kidding.” “Thank Christ. I’m so fucking hard there’s no way I could get my pants back on anyway.” You laughed and pushed yourself to sit up, “Poor thing. I suppose you can use my cunt for a bit.” “Classic guitarists always getting first go,” “Shut it drum boy, I was about to offer to blow you but if you’re going to be like that,” “No, no, I didn’t say anything.” “He did Y/N, I heard him, blow me instead,” “Ignore Deaks, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” “Like a couple of – oh!” you were cut off as Brian grabbed you round the middle and wrenched you onto your hands and knees, “children. A little warning next time please,” “Sorry,” Brian leaned forward to kiss your back as his fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh, “but if I didn’t move this along we’d be stuck arguing about who gets to blow who forever.” “N-no we wouldn’t,” you stumbled over your words as Brian’s long, talented fingers pressed into you, “I made up my mind, Rog in my throat.” “What about me?” “Don’t worry Deaks, you’ll get your turn. If you want you can spank me though, or bite me or pull my hair or whatever else you can think of. You know my limits. Also we’ll need lube so if you want to go digging through my bathroom draws and find some you can. Might be a reward in it if you do.” “Spankher, please,” Brian nearly whined, “always makes her cunt so tight.” “Think I’d rather claim that reward thanks” “Alright then I’ll spank her,” “Guys! Can you stop arguing. I have holes enough for all of you, that’s kind of the point of this. And, Brian and Roger, if I don’t get both of your cocks deep, deep inside me within the next thirty seconds I will kick you both out and let John have his way with me on repeat.” A moment of silence accompanied your statement. You saw Roger, eyes wide, look over at John and then to Brian, and could only assume they were returning his dumbfounded look. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven,” Roger blinked as if waking from a daydream and hurried to kneel in front of you, one hand gliding over the length of his cock as the other reached for your hair. Your mouth fell open in a gasp as Brian suddenly filled you, holding your hips tight as he bottomed out, which gave Roger enough opportunity to push himself towards the back of your throat. There was a shift in the mattress as John got up but you were a little too preoccupied to hear the door open and shut or the sound of him rummaging through your bathroom. You only realised he’d returned when a sudden, loud spank hit you and you knew Brian’s hands were still occupied with your hips. For their parts, Roger and Brian were keeping you busy, skewered between them, not sure whether the noises coming from your own throat were moans or gags or wordless begging. Brian breathlessly laughed as John spanked you again, “So fucking tight. Bit harder?” “Y/N?” You made an assenting humming noise and nodded as much as Roger’s cock would allow which John rightly took as permission and so hit you again, harder than the last.

It was an intoxicating feeling, taking two cocks at once, all the while wanting more and knowing you’d have it before long. Brian fucked you hard and precise, as if his goal was to split you open from the inside out. Had it just been him and you alone you would have found yourself creeping further up the bed. It had happened a few times before, leaving you either hanging off the edge of the bed, or with your hands over your head and pressed against a wall in an effort to keep from banging your head. But all he managed to do was push you further onto Roger’s cock, making you gag and choke more often. Roger didn’t seem to mind that though, giving as good as Brian, firmly gripping your hair so that you couldn’t even attempt to move off him. The added impact from John’s hand just made you shiver and moan. He was the one who sensed you were getting close though, reaching under you to rub your clit and give you the extra push you needed to get over the edge. Brian wasn’t too far behind you, groaning as he tried to keep fucking you, his hips faltering as he twitched inside you and spilled his seed. You felt his hands on your backside as he spread your cheeks, leaning down to spit on your arsehole before he pulled out of you. Once Brian was finished with you, you tapped Roger’s thigh and he pulled back. “You okay?” he asked, stroking your cheek with a knuckle. “Brilliant, just thought that since I can move a bit easier, I’d take over. You look like you were close.” “Fucking yes I was close,” You giggled as you readjusted your position to be more comfortable, once again taking Roger’s cock between your lips. This time you pushed yourself lower, taking him deeper, making Roger swear above you. You pulled back again, hollowing your cheeks until you sank down once more. A strangled moan seemed to catch in Roger’s throat and it spurred you on. You reached out to cups his balls, massaging them in your hand as you took him as deep as you could and hummed. The hum turned into something akin to a squeal (though slightly muffled and choked off at the end) as the sticky cool of John’s lube covered finger teased your arsehole, tracing circles around it before slowly sinking into you. The sight seemed to be enough to finish Roger off, one hand on the back of your head to steady himself as he shot his load down your throat, pulling out towards the end so the last of it dribbled down your chin. “Now me?” John asked, pushing a second finger in with the first as Roger let you go. “Stretch me out a little more and then yes,” “Oh, no, I’m not ready for that yet. I want your tits.” “What?” “Your tits, Y/N. Turn around,” His fingers left you and you were free to move, shuffling on your knees to face him. John pressed down on your shoulder pushing you to sit back on your knees and adjusting your angle so he could slide his lubed up shaft between your breasts. He pushed them together with his palms and slid them up and down his dick as he rutted against you, spreading the sticky lube over your chest. With a slight smile at John, you dipped your head a little and kissed the tip of his cock as it moved towards your lips. “Fuck, been waiting so long for this,” he groaned, “gon-na make a mmm-ess all over you.” He gave up on speech as he neared his released, communicating exclusively in grunts and increased speed until he finished, covering your chest and sternum in ropes of cum that dripped down your skin.

You laughed as John fell back. The hardest you could remember laughing in a while. “What’s so funny?” Brian asked, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “Just thought what that reporter would say if she could see me now, naked and dripping in spunk,” you managed to get out between giggles, “her face would be fucking priceless.” The boys laughed along with you, glad you could see the funny side of the situation with the article. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?” “Yes Rog, but I’m still not done with you.” “What did you have in mind?” “Well,” you crawled over to where Roger was sitting, leant back on his hands, and placed your hand on his throat, tilting his face away from you a little so you could lick a long stripe from his jaw to his temple, “I meant it when I said I wanted all of you.” “Never doubted it, love,” he sounded a little breathless. “Just let me know when you’re all ready to go again. Not you Rog, I can see you’re ready.” “I’m good too Y/N,” “Yeah, same,” “In that case,” you shifted your position, lining yourself up with Roger and sinking down on him, squeezing his throat a little harder as you adjusted. “John, you still got that lube?” “Yes, uh, yeah here,” there was the sound of a cap flipping open and you leaned forward encouraging Roger to lay back so you could give John better access. “Hey, Rog, can you spread your legs a little wider,” “S’pose so, just don’t kneel on my bollocks or anything,” “God give me a second, the thought of that just made mine try and jump up inside me,” You giggled as John shuffled closer, using his fingers to spread some more of the lube over you and to keep stretching you out. “What about me, Y/N?” “I haven’t forgotten you Bri. I want every inch of your cock shoved so far down my throat I can feel you for a week. Just let me get used to the others first, yeah? Still feels kinda odd having two of you at once since we’ve not done it much.” Brian nodded, contenting himself with running his fingers through your hair as he waited. John, having pulled his fingers from you and slicked up his dick with more lube, sank into you slowly, his hand on your back to keep you bent forward. It suddenly felt hard for you to pull in a new breath as you tried to adjust to the feeling of both of them, especially when John gave an experimental thrust, fucking you slowly to make sure it felt okay for everyone. Brian talked softly, reminding you to breathe and telling you how well you were doing, until you were better in control of your lungs and ready for more. “Are you sure you want me as well?” “Yes. Lets show that parasite just how far I’ll go, huh?” Roger laughed, “that’s the spirit.”

Brian didn’t need more convincing than that, though it did take a little trial and error to find the best way to accommodate all three of them. Brian tried perching his arse on the headboard but Roger whinged about “seeing nothing but Bri’s ballsack flopping about. And I know you see things when you’re gangbanging but that is too much.” In the end Brian stood next to the bed by Roger’s head, enough to the side that Roger’s view wasn’t impeded but still close enough so that the angle wouldn’t strain your neck. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail as he pulled your mouth onto his cock, letting you work yourself further down his shaft as slowly as you needed, checking in with you every now and again to make sure you could take more. The other two were mostly still as you adjusted to Brian, though once or twice they’d given a small thrust or shifted slightly and made you whine. Once you had Brian buried as deep in your throat as he could go you paused for a few seconds and then pulled back again, strings of saliva breaking on your lips. “How was that?” “Good,” you gasped, “New. Kinda weird but very fucking good.” That didn’t really explain anything but you weren’t sure how to describe the nearly overwhelming fullness, the sudden heat, the tension in your belly which you couldn’t pinpoint as either anticipation or nerves or just because you were stretched open on three cocks. “And that’s without us doing anything,” “I know,” you grinned, “I’m excited. Why didn’t we try this sooner? But now you guys can cut loose. I’m not sure I’ll be much use in like riding you properly or whatever. Just don’t know my brain can focus on keeping both of you in my holes while I’m thinking about blowing Bri well. So, just fuck me however you can and we’ll see how it goes.” “Don’t worry, we’ll make you feel good,” John said, rubbing your back softly. “Yeah, course we will, love. And if ends up being shit then we can just take turns instead,” You nodded and took a deep breath before leaning forward to take Brian again. You controlled the pace once more, bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking on his tip, as the other two figured out their rhythm. It was a strange sensation to start. It felt clumsy and more than a little awkward, especially when John mentioned how he could feel Roger inside you. But that eased as they adjusted and worked out how best to fuck you. John held your hips as he plunged into you, each thrust harder than the last as his confidence rose and he found out what you liked most. Roger’s hands moved over your skin rather than staying in once place, palming your breasts and teasing your nipples between his fingertips before sliding down your side to grasp your waist and then back up to your breasts. You were rocked on his cock with each of John’s pounding thrusts, which only made you moan around Brian’s. You let instinct take over there, one hand stroking from his base up to meet your lips as you swallowed him deeper. His hips jolted when you whined or moaned and before long you dropped your hand away from his shaft, instead grabbing his arse to keep yourself steady. He pulled you off him again and you could feel the spit on your chin. “Forgot what a fucking incredible cocksucker you are.” Brian groaned, “But can I take over? Fuck your throat?” “Yeah, okay,” You had time for another breath and then you were pushed down again, right to the base. “There we go,” he groaned, pulling on your hair, “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.” Your hum was choked off and ended in a gag as Brian ground his hips into your face. That seemed to be the tipping point though. The moment all three of them forgot about awkward views or who was positioned where and became entirely consumed with fucking you deep and hard. You were glad to let them lead, grabbing you, pinching and pulling and squeezing every inch of you they could reach. And all the while spearing you on their dicks, keeping you in a cycle of mounting pleasure as they found all your most responsive spots inside and out. You felt your orgasm building again, the heat rising, getting more urgent as you got closer and closer. The sounds you made were muffled by Brian but that didn’t stop you making them, moaning with every pounding thrust. As you neared the edge Brian pulled you off his cock so they could all hear you properly, their encouragement mixing in your lust addled brain and creating a wall of noise that pushed you over the edge with a loud cry. And yet they didn’t stop. Brian waited until your orgasm was reduced to aftershocks that made you wince and whine and then cut off your air as he entered your throat again, resuming the long, deep strokes that made you gag until he came, holding you down as he emptied himself completely.

As soon as the other two didn’t have to worry about giving Brian access to your mouth they adjusted your position, John pushing on your back until you were bent over. Roger attached his lips to your throat as they simultaneously fucked into you, the change of angle pushing Roger’s cock against you in a way that had you seeing spots. You cried out again as Brian lay a slap on your arse. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John grunted as he came too, unable to hold out any longer though he didn’t withdraw from you either. His hips slowed a bit and he whined softly but he kept fucking you. “Rog,” you panted, trying to get him to finish too. “You’ve got another one in you, c’mon love,” You whined but nodded, the familiar sensation already tightening in the pit of your stomach. Again the three of them encouraged you, John wrapping his hand around your waist to find your clit, Brian reaching under you to squeeze your breast as his other hand came down on your arse again. They gave you no option but to cum, shivering between them. Finally Roger let go too, moaning into your ear as he filled you up.

It took a moment to disentangle everyone, John being careful not to go too fast and hurt you, but finally you were able to collapse together, sweaty and panting, spread out over the room. “So, cheered up now?” Brian asked from where he’d lain down on the carpet You peered over the edge of the bed at him, “Think so. Thanks for that, it was fun.” “Any time, love,” Roger chuckled from the end of the bed, patting your knee, “and I mean that.” “I’m not you groupie anymore,” “Never said you were,” “Then what?” “What Rog means,” John cut in from where he’d spread out on you window seat, “is that if you ever need cheering up or to let out some frustrations, we’re here. We’re happy to help,” “Does your help always involve a gangbang?” “Not always,” Brian laughed. “Well, a lot of the time,” Roger added with a wink. “I’ll keep it in mind,” you chuckled, “I’ll have to face my family at some point and there’s a high chance I’ll leave upset and frustrated so, we’ll see. Wonder how Freddie’s getting on with those calls.” “I’ll go give him a ring and find out,” Roger said, half groaning as he stood and stretched. He didn’t bother grabbing any of his discarded clothes before he left. “I’ll take Rog his pants,” John sighed as he got up and replaced his own underwear, exiting the room with an eyeroll, Roger’s underwear pinched between his thumb and pointer. “And I’ll...stay here?” Brian said, “unless you need anything?” “Nah, I’m going to jump in the shower. Let the other two know that’s where I am, would you?” “If you’re doing that, can I have the bed?” “Sure Bri,” you laughed, “as long as you promise to change the sheets when you wake up.”

#my writing #my fics #queen fanfic #queen smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #brian may x reader #brian may smut #john deacon x reader #john deacon smut

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wheresmybuckyhoes · 3 years

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Truth or Dare

Summary: Your college roommate Roger and his friend Brian insist on playing truth or dare. Obviously, it takes a different turn...

Pairing: Brian May + Roger Taylor + female reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut, 18+ (obviously), suggestion of oral, threesome, anal, double penetration, drinking

Note from me: This is my second fanfic! If you want me to write about a specific scene you thought of just message me and I’ll write it asap <3 p.s. I just read it and it’s so bad so no judgment please xx

You lazily walked into the small kitchen of your shared apartment in small pyjama shorts and a tight cropped vest top. Although it was already 2 in the afternoon, you had just woken up, as you usually did during holidays. You poured some water into the kettle and flipped the switch on the side to boil the water. Making yourself some coffee, you hummed the song you heard Roger and his friend Brian singing last night during their practice for their band ‘smile’. They didn’t really have a large fan base but you had to admit, they were pretty damn good.

As you added milk and sugar to your coffee, you flicked through a magazine which Roger had left on the table. It was this weeks copy of playboy, and the woman on the front was gorgeous. You admired her body and felt a small flicker of jealousy as you continued to roughly page through the magazine.

When you had almost finished your coffee, you heard keys being rattled and watched as the door swung open. In walked the blonde with the drumsticks and the gorgeous blue eyes followed by the tall brunette with the mane of curly hair. ‘Hey Bri’ you smiled as Brian gave you a friendly wave and threw his jacket on the sofa. You turned to face Roger as he flung a drumstick at Brian, narrowly missing and earning a low grunt of annoyance from Brian. ‘How many times have I told you to stop leaving your weird naked magazines out’ you scorned Roger. ‘Maybe I woudn’t need the magazines if my roommate just walked around naked?’ he replied playfully, brushing past you to grab some beers from the fridge.

You and Roger always joked around in that way. You made out a few times when you were drunk as fuck but nothing more ever happened between you two as you were such good friends. You weren’t as close with Brian but he always made you blush with his flirtatious remarks and meaningful compliments, and you were growing close with him.

‘Is that for me?’ you questioned as Roger pulled out 2 beers from the fridge. He rolled his eyes dramatically and threw one to Brian who was spread out on the couch. He opened the top with his teeth and chugged it down like water. ‘Here you go y/n’ Roger winked at you before handing you the empty bottle. ‘Dick’ you muttered, loud enough so he could hear.

The three of you settled into the couch and watched Netflix well into the night, talking and laughing and barley even paying attention to what was playing on the tv. Now it was 10pm, and you had pulled out the vodka.

‘You know boys, no play date is complete without a hangover’ you smirked as you sat down between them, vodka in hand. ‘This doesn’t usually end well y/no’ Roger said playfully as the three of you took turns taking big gulps from the bottle, passing it around. You shrugged and turned to face Brian. ‘I’m sure it will be fine Rog’ Brian said, laughing.

After the equivalent of a few shots each, Roger’s face suddenly lit up. ‘Let’s play truth or dare’ he said brightly. You raised your eyebrow in question.

‘What are we 10? Oh Brian, I dare you to do 5 press-ups’

‘No y/n, not that shit. I mean the you know... adult version’

‘Seriously Rog?’

‘Yes its an excellent idea’

‘I think Roger’s onto something y/n’ Brian chirped in eagerly.

You sighed and reluctantly opened your mouth. ‘Fine. But I’m not going first’

Roger smirked and pulled both of you of the sofa to sit in a circle on the floor. You crossed your arms and looked between the 2 boys sat in front of you.

‘Ok I guess I’ll go first then. Truth or dare, Bri?’ Roger asked as he took another sip from the vodka. ‘Truth I guess’ Brian replied. ‘Have you ever thought about fucking y/n’ Roger asked quickly before moving back quickly to escape the brief attack from you. ‘That’s so lame Roger. It’s ok if you don’t want to answer Br...’

‘Yes’ Brian replied, looking you up and down and cutting you of. You were taken back. You had never thought that Brian would see you in that way. You were sure he had plenty of other girls to think about. You blushed and tucked a loose stand of hair behind your ear. ‘Erm ok, Roger truth or dare?’ you asked nervously, looking at the floor. ‘I’m not a pussy, so dare’ he said confidently. ‘Ok I guess... take of your shirt?’ you suggested. He didn’t have to be told twice and quickly and swiftly removed his shirt to reveal his toned abs and slightly visible v line. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt an ever so slight stir in your downstairs lady friend.

‘Like what you see princess?’ he slurred, leaning in slightly. You rolled your eyes and huffed. ‘Right. My turn now’ declared Brian. ‘y/n truth or dare?’

‘Dare’ you said, making brief eye contact with Brian. ‘I dare you to get completely naked’. Your eyes widened in suprise and you looked back at Roger. ‘You don’t hav...’ Brian began before you stood up and began to remove your clothes one by one, until you were entirely naked. Brian and Roger coudn’t take their eyes off you.

As the game progressed through the night and you all slowly got more drunk, you had already given Brian a blowjob, kissed Roger and gave both of them a lap dance. Now you had reached the point of no return. Roger pulled you into a deep, rough kiss (the boys were also both naked by now) and felt his hands move all over your body, feeling your boobs and squeezing your bum. Brian moved behind you as you straddled Roger and kissed your neck, leaving marks behind to make sure you woudnt forget who had done this to you when you woke up tomorrow. I’m between moans, you spluttered out ‘I dare you both to f...fuck me. At the same time’ you giggled from the alcahol and began to lightly grind against Roger, earning a deep and sexy moan. You got up from Roger’s lap and turned to shove your tongue in Brian’s mouth, pulling his soft hair and massaging his cock with your hand. God they were both so hot.

Brian lifted you up with ease and sat up on the couch without breaking the kiss. ‘You sure baby?’ he hoarsely whispered in your ear. You nodded and bit your lip before gently sinking onto his enormous cock. You screamed from the pleasure and but down on his shoulder to stop you from waking up the neighbours. Roger moved in behind you kissed your neck, making you shudder. ‘Lube... in... draw’ you managed to say while pointing to the kitchen draw.

As Brian began slowly thrusting into you as you adjusted to the size you felt slick fingers enter your other hole, causing you to arch your back against Brian. ‘Shh baby, if you want us both inside you your going to have to be more quiet then that’ Roger spoke as he fingered you, sending shivers up your spine. Suddenly Brian pulled out. You whelped at the loss of pleasure and tried to hump him to get your release. ‘No baby, I want to try the other hole’ he spoke. You whined and pulled Roger towards you, climbing onto him and immediately fucking him. ‘Holy fuck y/n, that feels amazing your so tight. Shit’ Roger moaned hoarsely as you moved your hips against his. Just as you started to get a good speed, you felt Braian enter your second hole from behind.

‘FUCK BRIAN HOLY FUCK’ you screamed only to earn Brian’s hand on your mouth, muffling your screams. ‘You ok?’ both the boys asked as your eyes rolled back at the feeling of being completely filled. You nodded desperately. As soon as they both began to thrust you lost it. You were in ecstasy. With each thrust you felt yourself get closer and closer to your orgasm, and after a few strong thrusts from Brian and both the boys cumming inside you and filling you up with hot white cum, you felt the built up please release all at once in an explosion as Roger whispers ‘come for me princess’ into your ear. His voice alone could make you finish.

As they pull out, you collapse onto the coach, breathless. But luckily for you, that wasn’t the end. ‘I dare you... to kiss.. eachother’ you panted, biting your lip and looking between them as they got up and looked at eachother. You knew you woudnt get away with this normally, but they were both pissed. Roger ran his hand through his hair and Brian bit his lip. They kissed, to your suprise, very gently. Their bodies pressed up against eachother, panting and holding each other’s faces. They pulled apart eventually after a few hot minutes and looked at you, blushing. ‘Thank you y/n’ Brian said as collapsed onto the couch next to you and closed his eyes. ‘Yeah, thanks beautiful’ Roger said as he fell on the other side of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. ‘For what?’ you laughed, closing your eyes and smiling. ‘For giving us the best night I think we’ve ever had’ said Brian. The three of you soon fell asleep in eachother’s arms.

#brian may smut #roger taylor smut #queen smut #queen #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #brian may #brian may x reader #roger taylor x oc #brian may x oc #smut #fanfic

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ghstandpucks · 3 years

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Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch.17

Here we are folks, the last actual chapter of the story! I will be writing one more as a flash-forward/epilogue, but that’s it! Thank you for all the support and love for this series! Let me know what you think! Enjoy! And as always stay healthy and safe!

Cutting Edge Master List

After the awards were over, people lingered to catch up and talk with one another. You talked with Bradie and Brian, letting her know you would be there to help with everything and picking a day to have a facetime meeting to go over the logistics. You also ended up running into Ashley and you smiled at her, feeling victorious and slightly amused that when you recommended Bradie for the position, no one even brought her up as an alternative. “See you next season,” you smirked. She rolled her eyes and walked away from you.

When you were done being pulled left and right into conversations, you made your way back into the lobby of the hotel. You spotted Nate waiting off to the side, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. Before you could make your way over to him though, you were scoped up into a hug and instantly recognized the poof of curly brown hair. “I knew you would stay!” Tyson said, setting you back down.

“I couldn’t leave my best friend, could I Josty,” you laughed, eyes traveling over to Nate who was watching you with a soft smile. Tyson laughed, then followed your line of vision to Nate.

“I know you probably only stayed for him, but I’ll take it,” he remarked and you shoved his shoulder.

“You guys are my team, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere else,” you said sincerely and hugged him again. “But now if you’ll excuse me…” you mumbled and Tyson nodded.

“If he hurts you again I’ll kill him,” Tyson said and you both laughed. “Yeah no, he’d probably kill me. See you around Coach.” You waved and started walking over to Nate again, him meeting you half way.

“Nice speech,” he said.

“Thanks,” you replied softly. The tension was palpable between the two of you; you didn’t even know where to start. “Where have you been?” Nate chuckled.

“The roof,”

“I should have thought to check there after All-Stars,” you giggled.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private so we can talk?” he asked, and as you nodded he took your hand in his, leading you through the crowd. Those on the team who saw you two walking off got the others attention. They were happy to no longer be dealing with a mopey Nate, or a sad coach. Nate led you to the elevator, and hit the button for the roof. The ride up was quiet, but became comfortable as you leaned into Nate’s arm and he squeezed your hand. “Sorry I didn’t answer your calls,” he whispered into the hair at the top of your head.

“I understand. If I had said what you did and you walked away, I probably wouldn’t have answered either,” you said softly. Once the elevator stopped and you stepped out onto the roof you laughed to yourself. It was similar to the one in Pittsburgh, with a garden and separate fire pits. You walked over to one of the railings, looking out over the Vegas strip. A slight breeze ruffled the layers of your dress and you smoothed them down, turning to Nate who was standing behind you.

“You look beautiful,” he said, taking a step closer so that he was right in front of you.

“Thank you,” you couldn’t help but blush. “You look nice yourself.” Nate chuckled half-heartedly. Then he asked you what he really wanted to know.

“Why did you do it? Give up the judging position and being the liaison,” Nate asked, hoping he was right about what it meant to him. You looked down at your feet for a moment, taking a deep breathe.

“Because I love you,” you smiled up at Nate. As soon as the words came out of your mouth, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply, your hands going around to rest on the back of his neck.

“Just remember who said it first,” he said, resting his forehead on yours. You giggled as he unknowingly quoted the very movie Jeremy kept teasing you about.

“Not everything is a competition,” you teased him, and Nate rolled his eyes playfully.

“That’s rich coming from you,” he said, leaning back in for another kiss. This kiss was slower; softer in a sense that it didn’t come from not knowing what to say or pent-up feelings, but mutual love and adoration for the other. When you finally separated, you were smiling so wide that your cheeks were hurting, and so was Nate. It was a smile that you hoped to see more of now that you could actually be together without all the sneaking around and hiding. “We’re really going to do this?” Nate asked, almost as if he had read your mind. You nodded.

“If you want to?” you whispered and Nate chuckled.

“I just chased you down to tell you that I loved you and begged you not to go before your meeting. But you know, that was a few hours ago so I don’t know if I’m still feeling that way,” Nate kissed your forehead as you slightly pushed his shoulder to get him to step back.

“Don’t be rude,” you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Don’t ask stupid questions you should already know the answer to,” he teased. The two of you stayed in each other’s embrace for a while longer, enjoying the feeling of being close once again. There didn’t have to be any more hiding, no more secrets you weren’t that great at keeping in the first place. You didn’t have to pretend like there were no feelings there when they were blatantly obvious to anyone around you two. You would finally be able to be together and not be worried about being seen. In other words, you would be able to be a normal couple…as much as an Olympic figure skater and professional hockey player could be normal that is. Neither of you had realized how much time had passed until Nate’s phone started to chime with different text messages. He laughed when he looked at it and then showed it to you. It was a team group chat, filled with a lot of kissy face emojis asking where the two of you were since they were all about to go to dinner. Your phone also went off with messages from Jeremy and Mel, asking if you were going to dinner with them. You giggled, seeing that Jeremy had become fast friends with your team.

“Do you want to go?” you asked and received a sigh, Nate resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I’d rather be with just you right now…” your stomach cut him off with a loud, embarrassing growl that had both of you cracking up. “You seem hungry so let’s go.”

“I didn’t each much today,” you said sheepishly and Nate chuckled.

“I figured you hadn’t” he responded and you gave him a questioning look. “I know you babe,” he gave you a quick peck, and you couldn’t help but smile. You let him lead you back inside and to the elevator to meet up with the team in the lobby.

“Want to do something fun?” you asked.

“What do you have in mind?” Nate grinned, raising an eyebrow at you, and you shook your head.

“Mind out of the gutter MacKinnon,” you giggled when Nate gave you a slight pout. You dropped his hand. “See how they react if we tell them we decided to just be friends.”

“I think Gabe might actually punch me,” Nate chuckled, but planned on going along.

“Well he was mean today. He called us both idiots you know? You were idiot one, I was idiot two,” you explained and Nate shook his head.

“Doesn’t surprise me. We were acting like idiots,” he tried to reason with you.

“I know, but he didn’t need to say it,” you said dramatically and Nate gave in to you. As you got out of the elevator and walked over to what seemed like half the team, their significant others, and Jeremy, all eyes turned to the two of you expectantly. When the to of you stayed silent, it was Jeremy who spoke up.

“And?” he questioned You turned to him and put your best confused face on.

“And what?” you asked, wanting to elbow Nate as he tried to hide a laugh by coughing. This was why you guys were caught the first time you dated.

“Y/N Y/L/N don’t sass me. You know exactly what!” Jeremy was done with you for the day. He had ran to find Nate, chased after you, and now you had the audacity to play dumb?

“Oh, right! Yeah, so we’ve just decided to stay friends,” you shrugged, trying not to laugh at a few dumbstruck faces.

“You’re fucking joking right?” Gabe deadpanned, glaring between the two of you.

“It made the most sense,” Nate spoke up.

“No it doesn’t! Everyone knows it doesn’t!” Tyson yelled at the two of you. You couldn’t help but giggle and look at Nate, who was trying his best to hold it together also. At least he had a better poker face than you at this moment.

“You’re right Josty. It really doesn’t,” Nate said, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. “Want to go out Coach?”

“Sure, why not?” you shrugged, a blush rising to your cheeks as he kissed the top of your head. There was a visible sigh of relief from the group as chirps were exchanged about your semi-new, now public, relationship. You all went to dinner and had a nice evening. For most of the team, this was the last time they would be seeing each other until training camp for the following season started. You stayed next to Nate, his hands never leaving you. He had decided earlier on that if he was lucky enough to get you back, he wouldn’t be letting go this time.

As you got back to the hotel, you said goodnight to Jeremy as he returned to the floor all the figure skaters were staying on. Getting to the floor the Avs were staying on, Gabe and Mel turned to you and Nate before you headed to his room. “I swear I’m going to die early from all the stress you two have put me in today,” Gabe shook his head but smiled. Mel laughed, nodding her head in agreeance.

“Remember what I said today Nate. Don’t screw this up,” she said, giving him a pointed look. Nate looked down at you while you stared up at him.

“I won’t,” he spoke softly, grinning at you.

“You guys are stupidly cute,” Gabe said with a chuckle before turning with his wife to walk to their room. You followed Nate into his, and as you washed your makeup off he got you some clothes to sleep in. After changing, you crawled into bed and waited for him to join you. Once laying down, Nate pulled you into him and you sighed contently. Though it had been a few months since you two had done this, it was like no time had passed at all. Nate swept a few strands of hair behind your ear, giving you a sweet kiss.

“What time do you need to be up tomorrow?” he asked gently.

“Around 7. I have a 9am flight,” you responded.

“Mine isn’t till 11, but I’ll go with you to the airport. Maybe there’s space and they can get me on the same one,” Nate suggested, and you realized you had forgot to tell him something.

“Actually babe, my flight is headed home to California,” you explained and he gave you a questioning look. “I thought I was stepping down and taking the judging position. A part of me just needed to go home before returning to Denver to collect my things.” Nate nodded, and you could tell he was thinking of something.

“What if we cancelled our flights?” he asked, and now it was your turn to give him a questioning look. “We cancel our flights and rent a car. We’ll road trip to your parents, stay a few days, then drive back to Denver together,” he explained and you smiled at him.

“That would be fun. I’ll call my mom in the morning,” you agreed.

“Or do your parents hate me?” he asked, thinking of everything that had gone on.

“Honestly, they understood more than I did. They weren’t happy about it, but I know if I explain everything now it’ll be fine,” you pecked the shoulder you were laying on. Nate smiled and nodded.

“Okay then. We cancel our flights, rent a car, go see your family for a week or so, then go back to Denver,” he laid out the plan. You rested your chin on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you on top of him. “After that, you come with me to Cole Harbour for the month,” he said with a grin.

“What?” you asked, laughing lightly in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’ll see if there’s still room on my flight. If not, I’ll rebook it for both of us.”

“Nate, you can’t be serious. A whole month?”

“I’ve already lost so much time with you Y/N. It would be nice to spend the off season with you and just relax from all the craziness of the season,” Nate said sincerely. You stared into his blue eyes, and as he didn’t waiver on his previous statement, you smiled and nodded your head.

“Okay yeah. Let’s do it,” you agreed, Nate pulling you in for a kiss. He flipped the two of you so your back was on the mattress and he hovered above you. As he started to place kisses all over your face, you giggled.

“I love you Y/N,” Nate whispered looking down at you.

“I love you too,” you smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “My heart is yours Nate. Please don’t hurt it this time,” you whispered.

“I’ll keep it safe. I promise,” Nate said, leaning in for another kiss, and it was a feeling you hoped that would last a lifetime.

Tags: @bqstqnbruin @avsfans95 @comphybiscuit @spencereidbasis @andreiaafaria @justjosty @tysojost @ballsakic @ivegotalotofobsessions @schranktuer @drewseph93 @stories-of-a-bibliophile @delicateponywagonpie @greengrape @dxllasstars @thatasthma

#nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon x reader #Cutting Edge #nhl imagine

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decodingellipses · 3 years

Text

Modern Love: He Made Affection Feel Simple

[courtesy of Brian Rea]

"Dating as a transgender woman, in my experience, meant low expectations and casual sex. Then I met Jack."

This piece is part of the Modern Love column at The New York Times

by Denny

My bio on Grindr read: “Be trans friendly. Send face to chat.”

It was difficult to be on a gay hookup app as a trans woman. Most men in my feed desired to only sleep with each other. But I knew there were straight men on Grindr who hungered for a woman like me. I wanted them too.

That’s where I met Jack. At 22, he was a few months older than me, and, other than his age, his entire profile was blank, usually an indicator of a cisgender straight man who was guarded about his attraction to trans women. Typically, the messages I received would start with a vulgar sext, sometimes an unwanted nude photo.

Living in Morningside Heights, I was attending Fordham University for my master’s degree in strategic communication. One night I was up late working when I received a Grindr message from him, a selfie. Amid his light brown hair, two-day scruff and meek gaze, his lacrosse T-shirt stood out to me the most. He looked like a sporty boy I would have crushed on in high school.

He followed up his photo with “Hello.”

Messages in my Grindr inbox tended to cut to the chase: “Down for now?” “Car sesh?” Men who contacted me because they fantasized about trans women made it difficult for me to feel seen as a person in general, let alone a person worthy of respect.

Although my interest was piqued by Jack’s picture, it was his gentleness that drew me in.

Our sporadic small talk was harmless, spanning two months. I brushed him off, but as I commuted to school and spent hours in the library, he was persistent.

“My sex drive is pretty low these days,” I wrote. “Give me a bit and I’ll hit you up.”

“OK.”

When I turned back to my studies, he added, “Just so you know, we can do non-sex things and hang out too. It would be fun.”

This became our pattern: he being distant enough to show interest without pressure, and me appreciating his laxity, given my demanding schoolwork. His ease led me to trust him, so we set up a day to meet.

The first afternoon Jack came over, he admired my bathtub and drank his cup of water with two hands. His poised demeanor in a beige wool peacoat and long scarf reminded me, in a good way, of John Bender in “The Breakfast Club.” In my bedroom, he fixated on my yellow Power Ranger figurines, noticing my framed academic award next to them on the windowsill.

“You went to SUNY Oneonta?” he said. “I went to SUNY Potsdam.”

I pictured my friends who also attended Potsdam eating in the same cafeteria as Jack, getting drunk at the same frat party. Suddenly, the person I’d seen as a stranger now fit into my world.

I imagined what the deer looked like from his dorm room window, roaming the grass at dawn. Or how he spent his day when the school canceled classes because of snow. Or where he would have gone if his parents were able to afford private school.

We sat on my bed, my back leaning against the wall. He slouched his head onto my hip and wrapped his arms around my waist. “This is weird,” I thought. Aside from sexual intimacy, my hookups were typically aromantic, absent of cuddling and expressions of affection.

I kissed him and rolled on top. I took off my shirt and he hugged me tight. His face dug into my chest as he said, “I like you. I think you’re really cool.”

Unsure how I actually felt, I said, “Oh. I think you’re really cool, too.”

The next time I saw Jack, he spent the night at my place. It was then, awake in bed at 4 a.m., that I realized I had never let a guy sleep over before. His heat warmed the bed, so I crept to the bathroom to cool off. I Snapchatted a disoriented selfie to my friends, my hair messy and eyes bloodshot.

“How do you guys do this sleepover thing?” I wrote. “I can’t sleep at all.”

Customarily, my flings with strange men were brief. The men did not take note of my bathtub or my educational history before sex, and they did not linger after.

I came back into bed, disturbed by the rumble of his snoring, but his sleeping face on my pillow struck me. For the first time, the thought of sharing a bed with a man did not come from pure imagination. I now had a real image for this fantasy; I could pretend Jack was my boyfriend, reach for his face and whisper “I love you, good night,” then fall asleep and meet him somewhere in his dream as if we had done this a hundred times before.

The next day, he flew off to see his family for the holidays and the first weeks of the new year.

“merry crimmus,” I texted.

“u too, babygirl,” he replied.

After our sleepover, I didn’t hear from him unless I initiated — an unexpected change. Instead of giving in to my insecurity that the sleepover meant little to him, and therefore I meant little, I imagined other scenarios: him asking me to sleep at his place, for a change, or spontaneously calling me while I’m in line for my morning coffee. But because I had presumed a sex-only expectation from the start, I shamed myself for developing feelings.

“miss u,” he texted one random morning.

“really?”

We stayed in touch and occasionally saw each other, weeks in between. On a hot morning, he snored behind me as I sat on the floor beside my bed, working on my final thesis. He put his hand up to my face, letting me know he was awake. With my eyes on the laptop screen, I took his hand and planted kisses in his palm, wallowing in these ordinary joys — the kind of affection I slowly grew comfortable displaying.

Longing to be more than casual with him, I sought a therapist to guide me through my growing feelings.

Jack’s periodic “miss u” texts progressed with heart emojis, an unprecedented closeness. And I returned the sentiment. It felt thrilling to express my adoration so directly, until the weeks between seeing each other and texting ultimately turned into months of silence I knew to be ghosting.

I relied on Grindr as my safe dock because dating as trans is complicated. Sleeping around was easier for me. I had set the bar low, then met Jack, who saw me as more than a fantasized body, only to have his mysterious exit echo a looming insecurity I avoided for years: Being trans implies I am not real enough to deserve decency.

I broke down in therapy, mustering the courage to say out loud what was undeniably true: “He left me.”

“I don’t mean to put this on you,” my therapist said, “but could him being a cis straight man and you being a trans woman play a part?”

I didn’t want to blame Jack, who showed me a new realm of affection that made desire feel as simple as just a boy and a girl who liked each other. But he made leaving simple, too; all of this could still not be enough.

Deep down, I denied how my mere existence as a trans woman could ever cost him. Jack, in wooing me, nurtured the possibility that my romantic fantasies could come true, that I could be seen as a complex person rather than a fetishized token of someone’s imagination. After being deserted by him, I ruminated on my insecurity that being trans denied me of even a simple goodbye.

And yet I know myself to be real because my transition, as a teenager, required exceptional certainty. Doctors and psychiatrists double-checked my decision constantly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I repeated, and I became more real each year. With Jack, I felt even realer. Not only had he seen me as a woman, but as a woman worthy of being held.

I could blame my being trans for Jack’s ghosting, but maybe it had nothing to do with that. Maybe he hated his job. Maybe his family fell apart. Maybe the pleasure we felt together contrasted whatever pain remained of our baggage.

On lonely days, I imagine myself at SUNY Potsdam. At a frat party, I drunkenly dance across from Jack, cheap blue lights grazing the curves of our cheekbones, sweat dripping like cyan fireflies. Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” roars through the party. “Good times never seemed so good,” everyone shouts. “I’ve been inclined to believe they never would.”

I put myself in the cafeteria, where Jack and I approach the salad bar at the same time. When he sees me, he steps back and says, “You go first,” with a grin so big I would need both hands to hold it.

———

Denny is a writer, actor and musician living in New York City.

#modern love #ML #NYTimes #New York Times #The New York Times #Amazon Prime #dev patel #anne hathaway #tina fey #NYT #trans #trans dating #trans love #lgbtq #pride #grindr

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goeymoey · 3 years

Text

What if you fixed me?

just a simple what if this time :) Tyler being a nurse for the guys and this and that

Yeah

———-

“ What’s the best course of action?”

Tyler looks up from his papers with a tired expression. “ To cut it off. There’s no use trying to save a bunch of fried nerves and dead meat.” He stands up with a sigh, hands shaking by his sides.

“ I know that’s not the news you wanted to hear, but-“

Evan cuts him off. “ No…no, you gave me something…that’s all I wanted.” His good hand clasps Tyler in a soft grip. “ Thank you.”

Their skin tones conflict each other greatly beneath the bright hospital lights, but the cause of Tyler’s tears are not just from the fluorescent shines sting.

His watery blue eyes bravely examine the blackened appendage hanging off Evan’s shoulder. Once an arm, useful, now nothing but an annoyance for his friend.

Dead weight.

Tyler let’s a cold tear roll down his flush cheeks, savoring the moment of silence, before readying himself to wield his bone cutting saw.

“ Okay…let’s get this over with.”

Evan weakly squeezes his friends hand. “ Let’s do it.”

—————

It was horrific. The smell of burning flesh still encases the inside of his nose and he can’t stop scrubbing the non existent blood from his hands.

He’s failed. He failed. The arms gone.

Human hands, one robotic, all dark…ripping at his shirt. Poking his sides. Their heads are screaming, screaming, voices hoarse.

There are tears. Streaming down their faces- oh the horror of it all.

It hurt. It hurts. He can’t tell wants real and wants not. It’s all coming at once.

Faces, hands, tears and voices. Holding onto him with their smudged finger tips and vice grip.

He can’t sleep anymore. He can’t-

“ Breathe.”

—————

Evan’s arm is replaced with one kick ass robotic one, courtesy of Brian, and he couldn’t be happier.

Of course, Evan misses his original arm. He still has nightmares of the day it was flayed like a fish…and sometimes the pain comes back on not so sunny days but, he’s good, he’s good…

The metal is tough, injury proof, and even matches the color of his suit. Black and gold.

So, it’s good. It’s all good.

No problems here…

—————

Tyler can’t bring himself to enter the hospital room. He’s still wearing his blue scrubs, stained with blood and…other fluids and just smelling like death on legs.

His hands are sweaty and shake underneath his gloves. He can’t open the door with them on so, why not come back tomorrow?

A soft hand claps his shoulder.

“ Let me help you.” Evan. His eyes are a mess of irritated veins and teary pupils.

Tyler bites his lip. “ I can’t…I couldn’t help him…he’s…” the more he talks, the harder it is for him to think, so he just shuts up.

Evan gives him a look, and it is just…so so sad, then uses his robotic arm to slip Tyler’s gloves off. He doesn’t dispose of them instantly. Rather, Evan stares at the gloves, stained with his friends blood, before tossing them into the waste bucket beside the door.

It will be burned later.

“ Tell him the truth.”

Tyler forces himself to meet Evan’s hard gaze. It’s tough for Tyler when he towers over Evan a foot, but he manages to hold himself still and digs his finger nails into his palms.

“ But what if-“

“ There’s no if.” Evan states plainly. “ You gave me the truth…do the same for him…He’s my friend as much as he is yours and-“ A sob chokes Evan mid speech and the shorter man is the first one to break their eye contact. He hides his trembling lips behind a black and gold arm as tears streak down his soft cheeks.

Tyler stays still, not fully comfortable with trusting himself to comfort his friend at the moment, and just watches as the other man collects himself slowly.

Evan sniffs and then regains eye contact. “ He was my friend first…don’t break him more than he already is…keep it straightforward, like you did me…”

The taller man looks down, avoiding the stained scrubs. “ He’s not like you Evan…Brock’s more-“

“ Fucking stop it with that shit. He’s not a god damn doll, Tyler…you’ve seen him…you’ve fought with him…He’s not some fucking flower.” Evan points at the closed, ominous, hospital door. “ He’s a god damn bad ass…just like me, just like you!” Tyler receives a harsh poke to the chest. “ And just like everyone else!”

Evan takes a step back, holding his head still, and crosses his arms.

“ Just give him the truth…that’s all I want.”

Tyler opens his mouth, but nothing comes to mind, so he closes it.

Evan nods sternly and then turns his back to the taller man. “ Just do it…I’ll be back soon.”

He waits for Evan’s form to disappear around the corner, holds his hand on the doorknob as the footsteps fade and then enters the room as the elevator doors close.

Tyler closes his eyes. “ Just Tell the truth…”

Brock, from his place on the bed, looks up at the sound of Tyler entering the room and smiles…well, partly.

The left side of his face is a puckered and leathery mess…and no matter how hard he frowns, the left corner of his lip will never fall…In fact, it barley moves at all now.

Tyler holds back the sting in his eyes and swallows harshly.

Brock seems to sense his depressed atmosphere and let’s his smile fall. “ Give it to me straight…is it worth the trouble?”

‘It’ being Brock’s left eye. The honey brown color is gone, drained and dead, with a haunting grey fog covering the scarred pupil. The eye was not injured at the same time Brock’s skin was, but since the traumas happened within minutes of each other, Tyler considers is a “two birds with one stone” injury.

No one laughed in the debriefing room when he was describing Brock’s damage, but Evan still put the world play in their file.

Hopefully someone higher up would find it funny and give him a good star.

Brock coughs harshly, Tyler blinks out of his day dreaming, and points to his heavily bandaged eye with a lightly bandaged hand.

“ Can we save it?”

Tyler instantly thinks about convincing Brock to under go another surgery, but all he sees is a tired man- his friend- with one less eye to see with, and his aspirations fall flat.

A sigh escapes him. He pulls up a chair to Brock’s good side and clasps their hands together.

He squeezes for comfort, and Brock squeezes back.

A deep breath. “ We can’t save your eye…”

Brock doesn’t react the way Tyler thought he would. His shoulders deflate, and heads sinks closer to his chest with the one good eye closed shut.

“ That’s what I thought…bummer.” Brock sighs sadly.

Tyler stares at him silently, hand still tightly gripping Brock’s. “ I’m sorry…I know it’s-“

Brock gives him the same look Evan did just months ago. “ No…Thanks for giving it to me straight…I don’t think I would be able to handle another…”miracle surgery” that doesn’t work.”

Tyler flinched at that, but tightened his lips.

“…I’m just glad it’s not anything worse…Yeah, losing an eye sucks ass but…at least I still have one.” The same soft smile creeps it’s way on Brock’s lips, and Tyler thinks his heart might stop.

The taller man has to lick his lips before speaking. “ Yeah…Yeah…at least it’s not two…” He smiles back, softly.

Brock hums. “ Definitely.”

—————

He can’t see. His eyes are gone, the hands tear at his face.

It’s disappointing. The fog disorients him and sinks into his skin. Bubbling beneath it like hot lava. Stretching and pulling like a current.

The smell of flesh is faint, but very present. Hands clean but tainted with the feel of spider webs that never seem to come off.

He’s failed. He failed, again. But it’s only one eye.

Something scratches at his ankles, nail bitten fingers, threatening to pull him more into the fog.

It hurts. It hurt.

He can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can’t-

“ Wake up.”

—————

Brian, like he had done with Evan, manages to fit Brock with a prosthetic eye. It’s similar to the man’s own eye, but more slender and it glows yellow instead of red.

It’s perfect.

But, sometimes, Tyler finds Brock looking at himself in reflective surfaces. His scarred hand skimming over the damaged part of his face. Fingers lingering a little too long on the part where skin becomes metal.

Its…sad.

Brock never brings it up, and Tyler never asks…because, as far as anyone else knows, Brock loves his robot eye! He can see farther, scan stuff, tell time without looking at a clock and know when or if it’s gonna rain that day.

He loves it!

Well, it itches every now and then, but no more problems here!

…not yet, anyway.

—————

In the following months, Tyler gives Marcel a new hand, preforms life saving surgery on Anthony, reattaches Scotty’s left foot, diagnosis’s Nogla with severe hearing loss, reconstructs Jonathan’s whole face, removes one of John’s fingers, puts Jaren in a full body cast and replaces Brian’s heart with a mechanical enhancement.

It’s…it’s not good. They’re not good. Everyone’s suffering and Tyler….Tyler doesn’t know what to do.

His hands haven’t stopped shaking since the day Nogla and Evan brought Jonathan to the emergency room, and he nearly collapsed from exhaustion trying to safely reattach Brian’s new heart.

It’s too much- it’s all too much…He can’t…He…

Tyler doesn’t know why “he can’t”…because, he has. He’s saved them all, his friends are alive, but he still says he can’t.

Maybe it’s because when he first dug his saw into Evan’s arm, he held his breath. Or maybe it’s because he slept for days after Scotty’s surgery and couldn’t wake up unless it was to the smell of blood from his night terrors…

He doesn’t know.

He probably doesn’t want to.

—————

They learn to talk about it.

Evan brought it up first. “ I still have…nightmares about the day I lost my arm…and I hate it.”

He’s told them all after dinner- while they were watching some rando movie Nogla had picked out.

And then, from there on, everyone opened up about their own insecurities.

“ I look so different from what I used to look like…It’s as if I’m wearing an itchy suit. Everything always feels tight and uncomfortable.” Brock.

“ Sometimes I feel like my hands still there. It’s a weird feeling, and sometimes it gets too much and I have to take off the prosthetic before I throw it in the trash.” Marcel.

“ I look at life so different than what I used too. Everything’s bright, but also not…It can be dizzy or stable and sometimes things aren’t there when you see them…” Anthony.

“ I haven’t walked the same since I’ve gotten it reattached. Every time I’m out of my wheel chair, I feel like my whole legs gonna fall off, and it scares the shit out of me.” Scotty.

“ I miss being aware. My hearing aids help, yeah, but they also…hurt? Not physically, but mentally…I don’t really know how to explain it.” Nogla.

“ Sometimes I look in the mirror and…I’m scared of myself…Because, I have no idea who I’m looking at. That persons a total stranger to me, even though I know I’m looking at myself.” Jonathan.

“ At first, it was just really weird…Like, a phantom finger on my hand. A few times I’ve had to catch myself from using my hand because I still thought my finger was there…it’s kinda…fucked, I guess.” John.

“ I don’t even know how I’m still alive. I don’t think I’ve moved more than a few feet since I got my torso and arm casts removed. I’m scared that if I do anything, even breath, that I’ll hurt myself again.” Jaren.

“ The heart is what makes someone human…and now, mines just not…I feel inhuman with it, but I don’t know what to do…it’s all confusing and it hurts…” Brian.

Tyler listens to them all open up, and it surprisingly makes him feel better. His shoulders relax as the same insecurities he’s shared about his work come from his own patients mouths.

They know the pain of living with it, but they also share a deeper meaning.

It’s…it’s nice to know.

Yeah.

#fanfiction bbs fanfiction #iamwildcat #moo snuckel #vanossgaming #jigglypanda #the gaming terroriser #basicallyidowrk #fourzer0seven #h20delirious #dathi de nogla #kryozgaming #smii7y

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fictionbyafangirl · 3 years

Text

Tundric Heart

//Hi, all! After becoming absolutely *obsessed* with the new Mortal Kombat movie, as well as being a fan since the games began, and being a fan of JoTa since I saw The Raid: Redemption when it first came out and since then, I decided my flagship fic shall involve Bi-Han/Sub-Zero. This takes place prior to the film, having nine tournaments been fought. This is a POV-shifter and involves our favorite chilly boi with an original character. Naturally, I own no rights to the franchised character and only write out of my own fun. I hope you enjoy!\\

Nothing phased him anymore. Bi-Han had lived many centuries, each reinforcing his growing lack of humanity toward the world, whether it be Earthrealm or Outworld. Due to his “gifts”, Bi-Han had become a favorite champion for Shang Tsung in the Mortal Kombat tournaments, successful in more than not and ultimately becoming an attack dog at the sorcerer's will. Despite Bi-Han wanting the Lin Keui to be free-agents once again, himself, primarily, he obliged, knowing he owed Shang Tsung his fealty for the many favors he performed for him in the past. The Lin Keui had been an elite group of assassins for those who could afford them. Either born into the organization or kidnapped as a youngling for the cause, its numbers were always plentiful. Bi-Han and his brother, Kuai Liang, had served the clan well, rising through the ranks. Bi-Han, though, had become the face of the group. The fierce fighter had gained notoriety for defeating the one and only Hanzo Hasashi, as well as the Shirai Ryu, a noble competitor clan in their world of crime. Over four hundred years had passed, yet a looming whisper of a threat still hung in the air from the very fatality that put Bi-Han on the map. Ever the paranoid ruler, Tsung tasked Bi-Han with finding the last remaining Hasashi blood heir and executing them. To the cryomancer, there was simply no point in doing so. He had ended the lineage himself many lifetimes ago. The Hasashi family fell to his hand, and he knew it, first-hand. Still, the soul-eater feared the prophecy of the uprising of Earthrealm defenders to thwart the imminent takeover, if the last tournament should be victoriously won by the mortals with an arcana gift. Nine circuits had been finished in the favor of Tsung, only needing two more to claim supremacy over the mortals. Begrudgingly, Bi-Han found himself in his home-realm on a reconnaissance mission to find out if the myth was true. One thing the warrior loathed was to be undermined, especially by Tsung. His employer had a knack for sending in the reinforcements if the smallest of setbacks occurred. Bi-Han was more than confident in his skill and ability to successfully fulfill his duties. To send in those that were inferior to him was simply a slap in the face. Not a day went by that the assassin didn’t think of a world where he no longer served Tsung.

The man was ageless as he sat across from a run-down diner, concealed in darkness. Darkness had always been his friend, even in the glory days of the Lin Kuei and the chaos they inflicted on their world. Darkness cloaked him in secrecy. Darkness gave him advantage against his opponents. Darkness felt almost as familiar and second nature to him as the cold. It had been a rainy evening, the spray of dingy gutter water spraying up from beneath the tires of those driving muddled the sidewalk. Bi-Han, looking not a single day older than he had when he terminated Hasashi, watched the neon sign that indicated that the diner was “open” flicker against the night. Dressed in black athletic jogger pants, a black zipped-up windbreaker jacket and a black hat with the bill curved and pulled down low to conceal his other-worldly eyes, the man watched from outside an abandoned building that sat adjacent to the diner. Arguably, the only physical trait that had changed about him was the hue of his eyes, shifting from a deep brown to a starkly bright blue so pale that it nearly looked like ice had formed in his irises. These were the attributes of a cryomancer, and bastard Edenians, alike. Those of Edenian nature aged much slower than humans, living so long that tens of thousands of years was still considered to be in one’s youth. His hair remained raven in color though his skin did grow more pallid as though encrusted in frost, but not. The cryomancers had been banished from Edenia long before Bi-Han’s birth, but the genes that descended from the gods still carried on through himself and his brother, Kuai. Down the block, a group of young men were approaching the corner door of the diner, rowdy and raucous as they walked before ducking into the establishment. Taped hands rose from Bi-Han’s sides to bring the hood of his skim jacket up and over the top of his head, further obscuring his identity. He waited a few minutes to allow them to settle into their normal places to not rouse suspicion before crossing the slick city street. In all of the years of Bi-Han’s life, he had tuned his tracking abilities to be imperceptible.

His intel told him that a group of men, one that bore the mark of the dragon, frequented the very location nightly, as though a ritual amongst the friends. Bi-Han’s head never lifted as the bell on the handle of the door jingled to alert a new customer, and luckily, neither did theirs. His gaze remained to the lower-half of the room to not allow his face to be seen. The fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling in panels glared harshly in contrast against the natural darkness of the night he had waited in. Slipping into a corner table, the plastic-covered stuffing of the seat gave out a subtle hissed as it depressed beneath his weight. The group of men continued their merry occasion, joking and talking with elevated volume. The more attention they brought to themselves and detracted from himself, the better. It didn't take long for the waitress on shift to approach them, seemingly having a report with them as she used their names, engaging in banter with them as they shamelessly flirted with her. Her kind and clever rebuffs and deflection to their order inquiries showed that this was an occasional thing they did. She clearly wasn’t in the business of seeing any of them casually, yet they pushed the envelope with hope. Their nonchalance toward her left little disgust in Bi-Han’s mouth, but still, he surveyed. The fighter spared a moment to take in the new environment. The faded color scheme and furniture showed that the restaurant had not updated in some time, clearly struggling financially to keep afloat to bother with aesthetics. The tables were uneven as they stood and the seating creaked under pressure. The artwork that laid scarcely among the walls were drab and unappealing. Virtually everything that had been a polished metal before now rusted with weak infrastructure. The location was dying out, most likely kept in business by the nightly patronage of the subjects he followed in.

Bi-Han focused all of his senses on the men, discreetly, as to not be noticed. He eavesdropped on their conversations, watched as they removed their outer-layers for any sign of the marking. He even committed bits of things they said to memory in the off-chance that it would aid him in his mission. His focus was solely on the group and everything they did. His gaze, though hidden beneath the bill of a hat, was fixated without any breaks, that is, until the image of an apron filled with pens and order tablets slid into his view. Bi-Han held his breath as the tell-tale spiel was about to be given to him.

“Hi, there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. My name’s Jill and I’ll be your waitress on duty tonight. What can I get you?” No matter where you went, every restaurant had the same, generic greeting.

Holding his breath for a moment to consider his response, Bi-Han decided to play it cool, not wanting to garner any awareness of his existence. The woman was polite enough for him to not care about the disruption. While she had been tending to the object of his assignment he had been able to get a good look over on her. She was attractive with cream-like skin and smoky hazel eyes and hair the color of maple that sat in delicate, loose curls that cascaded down the sides of her face. She dressed semi-comfortably in a baggy button-up flannel shirt that she tucked into the waistband of her tapered jeans that clung to her ankles and simple shoes with her apron and a name badge in place. She kept her makeup natural and modest, which was a pleasant thing to come across with women. With an errant hand, Bi-Han, without tipping his face at all, flipped the menu on the table over to quickly peruse the refreshments section. Quickly, his eyes settled on his selection before speaking it aloud to her, though in a low, hushed tone.

“Green tea. Iced.” His tone was short and cold, as per usual with him, and he offered no opportunity to continue the conversation. He was there for a reason, after all.

With a curt nod, Jill fished a dense book of ordering tickets from her apron and a pen to scribble down the table number and order to keep her tabs in-line. Bi-Han could hear the sound of the ball-point pen against the paper, attuning himself to his surrounding once more.

“Iced green tea, coming right up. What’s uh… a name I can put on this order?” The waitress inquired with an arched brow as her teeth found the corner of her lips, nibbling gently in a nervous gesture. Bi-Han took another moment to contemplate his response. His true, given name was something that was well-known. Instead, he improvised.

“Brian.” He was blunt again, cutting to the chase without any inflection to invite casual conversation.

“Right. Iced green tea for Brian, coming right up.” Jill relayed before bouncing away from the table to fulfill his request. She caught on to his tone quickly and read it loud and clear.

Naturally his order was the first one to be completed. Jill returned with his drink in-hand, along with a wrapped straw and a saucer of potential add-ins for the beverage. Bi-Han offered a small nod to thank her, fixating his senses back on the group of men across the room. Absently, he unwrapped the straw and slipped it within the glass, taking absent sips through it to not reveal his face. The preparation in the States certainly didn’t do the authentic drink justice as it did in his native China, but still he managed to swallow it down as he kept his eyes on them. Although the drink had ice in it, it didn’t suit him. His hand reached around the cylinder, his fingers releasing their icy powers to chill it even further, finally making it satisfactory to his liking. Bi-Han sat with his back pressed against the glass window that separated himself from the outside world. The rain continued to fall, pelting against the window pane. He could just as easily end the waiting and watching. He could turn every plunging bead of water into a lethal bullet to litter all of the men in holes, taking care of every lead. Still, he blended into the foreground, motionless and silent. He wasn’t sure how long the men would lounge in the diner but he would be observing for as long as they would be. Someone was bound to slip and reveal themselves, reveal their arcana… something. If Bi-Han was anything, he was patient.

#Tundric Heart #fanfiction #Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat 21 #Bi-Han #BiHan #Sub-Zero #Bi-Han x Original Character #Sub-Zero x Original Character #Bi-Han x OC #Sub-Zero x OC #MK21 #Chilly Boi #chapter 1 #Mortal Kombat Fanfiction #Mortal Kombat 2021 FanFiction

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tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

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Le Rêve - Part 5

Summary: John goes to a certain friend to seek advice. Paul has an eerily similar idea.

The door cracked open, and Brian stared back at him in surprise.

John pushed his way into the room, ignoring the flutter of guilt as Brian stumbled backwards. His eyes followed John closely as he crossed the room, surely taking in the unsettling blend of anger and nerves. Brian slowly closed the door behind him as John irritably shoved a stack of papers off of the armchair and lowered himself into it. It was then that he realized he must have been in a bad sort, because the action garnered no sour or disapproving glares.

“Everything all right, John?” He tugged self-consciously at the belt on his gown, pulling the fabric closer around him.

No. John scoffed. Everything is quite the opposite of all right, thanks. Making no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice, John replied stiffly: “Eppy, I need your help with something.”

Brian took a seat opposite him on the edge of the bed, crossing an ankle over his knee apprehensively. John averted his gaze, seeing and hearing only Paul as the bed dipped with a creak. He fingered the fringe on the armchair, pushing the scene away and with it, hopefully, some of his animosity. It would be no use if he uncontrollably berated perhaps the only man he knew that could help him.

“Right,” Brian replied. John could practically feel the probing gaze burning into his side. “What is it?”

John stared back at him, dumbfounded. The idea that he’d have to explain himself to get Eppy’s advice had never actually occurred to him before this moment.

What could he possibly say? Hey, Eppy. Paul’s been having wet dreams about me, so we almost fucked. Did practically everything but the actual shagging. But we didn’t, because George walked in on it and ran to tell Ringo and God knows who else, while Paul and I screamed at each other and may have effectively ended the Beatles and also our lives.

John almost laughed. Oh, and one more thing. It was my idea in the first place, because I think I’m fucking in love with him.

He was buzzing with hundreds of thousands of thoughts, his mind never having felt so full. Dozens of clips played simultaneously in his memory: Paul’s stare, his shame, his wonder, his willingness, his arousal, his unraveling. His fear, his shock, his pain. And then nothing.

John would punch himself, if he could. Perhaps that’s what he should’ve done instead. Snuck out the back alley and taunted a right frightening lad, until he could get what he bloody deserved and be beaten to a pulp. It sounded far better and warranted than sitting in Brian’s room in heart-wrenching silence.

He had to be fucking crazy to suggest the reenactment. There was no other explanation for it; no one in their right mind would put their entire livelihood on the line for such fleeting pleasure. There were what-if’s about his future and the band’s endurance, of course. But they took the backseat to his concerns over him and Paul. As individuals, rather than bandmates or friends or even lovers. John’s mind knew all too well that their dynamic could never be: societally speaking, yes, but personally, too. Paul knew John—and was far too smart to chain himself to such a burden.

All of John’s fears that had developed over the past few weeks had looked him in the eye tonight and told him that they’d dreamt of having sex with him. They had moaned into his ear, the most beautifully obscene sounds expressed just for him. Just for him, and not some other bird; for a moment, there was no need to pretend anymore.

What might have been the most painful, John reckoned, was that they had let him kiss them. A shock traveled down John’s spine. Paul had let John kiss him, and Paul had kissed back. It was the first time in their sudden union that feeling shot somewhere besides John’s cock. When Paul’s lips nipped at his with abrupt insistence, John could’ve wept.

John could be stripped of everything he had, and still go on. Possessions, wealth, fame, dignity, sense of self—it was all meaningless. The only thing he couldn’t bear was the thought of losing Paul. A life where John could not cling to the hope of holding Paul tightly; of feeling Paul’s breath on his own; of cradling his head in his hands and ghosting his fingertips across sinfully sweet eyelashes and arched eyebrows that would taunt Marilyn and a nose sculpted by Phidias and lips that were made from the stardust on Mars; was not a life worth living.

For a long time, they were silent.

Brian was watching him with guarded apprehension. John could ask the practical questions that even then felt too incriminating. How do you know if you’re gay? When did you realize? What did you do? What do I do?

“I’m not sure how to help you,” Brian started, his voice careful and soft despite jarring John out of his trainwreck of thought, “if you don’t share what’s got you so worked up.”

John swallowed. The next part had to come very carefully, or his cover would be blown. Though he knew he was only delaying the inevitable, somehow, the fact that Brian remain oblivious to the details was crucial to him.

“I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.” He spoke slowly, refusing eye contact. “It was something I’d thought about, but I went too far.” A shaky breath. “A-and… I’m not sure—I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Something just short of clarity sparked in Brian’s eyes. John’s face grew hot with shame, albeit swearing he didn’t give away anything unnecessary.

“Well,” Brian opened. His eyes were too kind. If only he knew. “We all make mistakes. Even if you think you’ve never messed up this badly, it’s all right. Time moves forward and life goes on. You can’t change what’s been done now. But you can take your best shot at apologetics. If this person—if there is a person—and they really love you, you can always fix it.”

John’s heart gave an uncomfortable twitch at the mention of “love”.

Brian shifted closer to John, reaching towards the arm of the chair. He tentatively rested a hand on top of John’s, and though he knew the intention was reassurance, the gesture made him feel sick. An odd expression crossed his face, the twitch enough to capture John’s gaze, but it was gone before he could interpret it. John’s gaze flicked to Brian’s lips. They were pressed together tightly, forming a worried line.

A striking realization occurred to him. John could lean in, right now. He could pry the lips open with his own. A bit of a shift in his chair, and all he had to do was tip forward. Brian would let him; he knew that.

Then, as he deepened the kiss, heightened the circumstances, he would know. He wouldn’t have to try and ambiguously skirt around the problem to get Eppy’s advice. John would know, for sure. Whether it was himself, or whether it was…

“Eppy? Eppy, you in there?” Despite the rapid succession of about seven knocks, the voice wasted no time waiting for a response and slipping inside the door. John lurched back into the chair, despite not actually having gotten closer.

Whether it was just Paul.

“Eppy, I need your help with something.” The words tumbled out of Paul’s mouth, his back still turned to the room as he went to close (and lock, mind you) the door. When he turned around, his eyes immediately fell on John’s face and he went still.

“Oh,” he said, hoarsely.

John’s mind was absolutely blank, his stomach twisting grossly. His mind had lost the ability to spontaneously produce language as he gaped at the man in front of him. He hadn’t intended on seeing Paul for quite a while after tonight, and the shock of his presence right now was utterly baffling. The two stared at each other for far too long, neither making any effort to move or speak. It was only when Brian piped up that their stares finally shifted from the other.

“Paul?” The inquiry held much more than the one word. “Are you all right?”

John watched Paul’s head twitch a bit, almost as if he were about to shake it. Both boys very well knew the answer to that question.

Paul forced a distracted smile in Brian’s direction. “Right chuffed.”

Interesting choice of words, there. John’s nose crinkled into a scowl.

Brian’s gaze continued to drag between the two of them almost curiously. He was no fool; John knew he was sensing the tension that seemed far from their regular spats. He didn't intervene, though. Only watched.

Finally, John worked up the courage to spew in Paul’s direction. The words carried just as much bitterness as he’d intended. “What are you doing here?”

Paul blinked. “I need Brian’s…” He faltered. “Advice.”

John snorted. His heart was hammering so violently in his chest he was sure the room could hear it. The reality of seeing Paul again so suddenly was blinding. God, he wanted to hurt him. He wanted nothing more than to break Paul, to cut so deep that Paul could never in a million years guess what was truly going on in his head. “Ain’t that so,” he spat. “But, if you can’t tell, we’re in the middle of something. So kindly fuck off.”

“John.” Brian’s voice, a warning tone.

Paul’s expression twisted in sudden vitriol. His voice was low, directed entirely at John. “What is your fucking problem? I didn’t make you do a goddamn thing.”

Something cool settled in the pit of John’s stomach at Paul’s final quip. Don’t you think I fucking know that? he wanted to scream. Don’t you know that’s what I’m here for? To find out why?

Suddenly, the reality of the situation came rushing to him, and a newfound fury spiked his veins. Was Paul coming in here to tell Brian what happened? To tell him that John had made a pass at him, or something? John would be painted as the villain. As an attacker.

“Did you finish after I left?” John asked quietly.

The look on Paul’s face was a glittering trophy. Before he could answer, however, Brian abruptly rose to his feet. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but—”

No, no, no. “Don’t go,” John choked out hoarsely.

He shot John a warning glance. “—It doesn’t seem like any of my business. You two need to talk this out on your own.”

John hardly registered Brian grabbing his coat from the rack by the door and slipping out of the room. His eyes were trained on Paul’s, a vicious visual battle between the men that conveyed more than all words ever could. John felt Paul radiating towards him in ways that had no conceptualization, no name; just raw, unadulterated emotions. The pair had always been on that telepathic wavelength, though certainly it was no great pleasure for them now. The only identifiable sensation was vulnerability.

After a long time, Paul spoke. “John.”

John’s breath inexplicably caught in his throat. The words came out choked. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t say it like that.”

Paul threw up his hands in exasperation, casting his gaze sideways. “I don’t know what you want me to do, John. I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? Is that what you want? An apology?”

It wouldn’t be until long after that John would realize it was an offer Paul never followed through on.

“It shouldn’t have happened. There’s a million reasons for that. I don’t know if either of us really even wanted it to. But it did, and you can’t—” Paul ran a shaking hand through his hair. “You’re not helping me figure this out. You can’t run away from this like it’s just another bother in your life, like… like I’m an inconvenience.” Paul’s lip trembled slightly. “Am I an inconvenience, John?”

John shrugged helplessly. It seemed like the wrong answer, but how do you give an answer to a question you don’t know?

“Fucking say something.”

John looked him dead in the eye. It was funny; Paul had always been teased for his eyes. They were droopy and wide in a cartoonish fashion, remarkably like that of a puppy, or a doe. His lips could form the most filthy utterances (as they often did, the cheeky bastard), but the meaning was washed away by the pure innocence of the eyes. They betrayed him at every turn; despite his best efforts, he would always be the “gentleman”, the “romantic”, the “cute Beatle”. A curse, or a blessing, who was to say? But it was different now. John no longer felt the childlike wonder they often conveyed, the underlying pep and charisma. They were blank now, laced with something quite sinister. They darkened, and rather than a warm pool of molasses John would dip into, they were an abyss. John wanted to claw away from them in a panic, but they had frozen him still.

Despite his mind screaming it was the right decision, it was impossible for John to swallow down the violent wrench of his heart. “Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Paul’s eyes dropped to the floor, blinking rapidly. John dully noted the shine in them as tears threatened to breach the brim. Paul cleared his throat. “Okay.”

John offered a half-hearted handshake; a truce. It was a miserable attempt at reconciliation. Paul glanced at it with distain before shaking his head and turning on his heel.

John momentarily considered calling out after him. He took in a breath once, twice, but the words wouldn’t come. What could possibly be said?

Before Paul turned the doorknob, he glanced back in John’s direction. John’s stare raked over his form, and for the first time all night, the weight of the situation fully hit him. John’s vision blurred abruptly, and before he could make any move to stop it, silent tears began to slip out.

“John,” Paul started, his voice breaking. He paused for a moment, before wrenching the door open and leaving as promptly as he entered. There was nothing left to do, even if they tried.

They didn’t.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #john lennon #paul mccartney #brian epstein #mclennon #part 5 #chapter fic #ao3 #angst #sorry

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