#your face sir - what were you doin under those covers? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violetnotez · 3 years

Note

I just read your headcanons about treating Mirio,shouto and bakugou's hounds and it was soooo cuuuute kafkksfbksgkbs I wonder if you can do the same headcanons for Izuko, Hitoshi and maybe Tokoyami? OwO ♡♡♡♡♡

Hey bb! So unfortunately I don’t write for Tokoyami 👉🏼👈🏼 but I totally got ya on Izuku and Shinso! ❤️

Original post

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Izuku

Please be aware you will have to be this dude’s nurse 24/7

He is just always getting hurt

No matter what, he can promise you as much as he wants that he won’t get hurt or he’ll try his best to be safe...

Lmao that doesn’t happen

You don’t know how many times you’ll be hanging out with him, and you’ll notice he has a limp he won’t tell you about

Or he’ll be at your door, covered in scraps and trying to convince you “it’s nothing, really!”

You and Recovery Girl are like besties at this point

Worst part is unless he’s like at deaths door he REFUSES to act like it’s a big thing

Like “oh my fingers are purple and look like burnt chicken-it’s chill”

NO SIR IT IS NOT FUCKING CHILL

He takes pain like a champ tho, like he will grimace here and there but he’ll never do anything but that

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

“Izuku-for the love of-“ you huffed our with exasperation as you struggled with the hem of his shirt. “-just take off your shirt!”

Poor Midoriya’s cheeks were on fire, his face very much resembling a red strawberry as his bruised digits wrapped around yours, trying desperately to keep his shirt down over his chest.

It wasn’t as if you’d ever seen him shirtless, you had seen him like that countless of times....he just didn’t want to worry you. Yeah his last patrol was a little-rougher-than the rest...but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle!

But deep down he knew it looked pretty bad, the bruises blossoming under his skin, deepening with each hour as they were still pretty fresh. And even though they stung, and made it hard to move in certain positions, and-yeah it was kinda hard to breathe in certain ways....he was fine, he swears!

You stopped your tug of war against Izuku, hands falling limp against his thighs, your body hovering over his legs.

“Izuku please,” you pleaded, eyebrows furrowing in sympathy, “I know there’s something wrong...I just want to make sure your okay!”

“I know, I-I just-“ he stuttered our, green orbs full of guilt, “I don’t want to worry you!”

You huffed, feeling defeat flood your body, as you softly caressed the hem of Izuku’s shirt, his favorite one....

His favorite shirt.

It was cruel to do this to him, and you knew it was wrong, but of course you wouldnt actually do it...but that overwhelmingly cruel light bulb idea was now stuck in your brain and wasn’t letting go.

You sighed yet again, this time with an over exaggeration and devilish grin on your face.

“Oh, that’s okay then...” you stated, your words sickly sweet and understanding.

Izuku perked up, unaware by your drastic change in demeanor.

“R-really?!? It is?”

You looked at his slightly relieved face, smile still on your lips. “Yeah of course! If you don’t want to take off your shirt, I can always just cut it off of you-“

Izuku audibly gulped, wise eyes growing even larger.

You-you wouldn’t right? You knew well that this was one of his favorite tshirts, as it had his favorite hero on it plus it was the comfiest one he owned...he wouldn’t ever find a tshirt he loved as much as this one.

Izuku stared at your face, trying to see pass a bluff...but you were good at hiding your true emotions, eyes glinting mischievously in the hazy warm lights.

“So whats it gonna be ‘Zuku?” you asked softly, slowly trailing under the cloth of his shirt, leaving a lowing hum of electricity on his skin. “The scissors are right there after all-“

“I-I’ll take off the shirt,” he said sheepishly, cheeks glowing a shade of red.

You giggled at his expression, thankful he took the bait as you took his face in your hands, your thumbs trailing his infinite freckles.

He could be stubborn, but he always gave in...eventually.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shinso

Really doesn’t like being “taken care of”

Like don’t get me wrong, you dotting over him makes him all warm and fuzzy inside,,,

But, idk, he just doesn’t like the feeling of being weak

Kind of like Izuku, tried to deny the fact he’s hurting

But he is much easier to persuade

Usually just takes a kiss or two and he gives in to your efforts

If you have to bandage him up, he likes to be a big flirt to cover up his grimaces

Gives you a bunch of blush worthy compliments,,,,,

Calls you his “Nurse Babe”

Whatever the hell that means

Honestly, after an hour of having your whole attention on him he is hooked

He will never be the same again...he is a hoe for that attention for eternity now 💀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

Your finger were feeling as if they were being tugged out their sockets, the huge bucket of soft soppy warm water sloshing dangerously in its container.

You stepped into the room where a bruised up Shinso lay on the floor, hand lazily scrolling on his phone.

Hearing you enter the room, his head tilted towards you, his once bored expression peeking up into curiousty. His violet eyes watched you intently as you set down the bucket with a huff, kneeling next to his body as you submerged some towels in the luke warm water.

“Whatcha doin’ doll?” He asked, voice still gruff from a nap he had taken a few minutes prior.

You simply continued your work, small smile on your lips as you placed a few towels in the floor.

“Well, since the doctors said you weren’t clear for a shower or bath for the night,” you stated softly, “I thought I’d give one myself.”

“So a sponge bath?” Shinso said plainly. “I’m not some old man, kitten, I’m perfectly fine to take a bath-hell, I can take a shower just fine.”

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head at him.

“When your bruises aren’t the color of your hair, maybe I’ll believe you-“ you gave him a small grin, swallowing down a ball of saliva. “-now take off your shirt.”

Shinso simply chuckled, an exasperate sigh leaving his lips. He knew too well that you were determined to nursing him back to health (even though he felt he was perfectly fine)....so really, there was no point in trying to believe him. And at this point...he wasn’t to sure he even wanted you to.

Having all your undivided attention on him was...nice-even if he hated admitting it.

“Doll, if you just wanted me to strip down...” he said cheekily, that shit eating grin plastered on his pale skin. “All you had to was ask.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, helping hin slowly peel his shirt off his skin-thank god it was a button down, or this would have been a hell of a lot harder.

But sitting in his lap, hands trailing gently against the soft skin of his abdomen and those piercing eyes watching your every move...it wa snaking your body feel particularly too hot for an otherwise cool room.

“Aw, you poor thing,” Shinso cooed with an air of arrogance, “are you flustered?”

“N-no,” you stuttered, kicking yourself internally for your obvious slip up, “I’m just wondering how the hell you lost so hard to get so many bruises.”

Shinso chuckled at your feeble attempt at a comeback, loving how you were so affected by this change in the atmosphere.

He deifnitely wnated to capitalize on this moment, his digits cradling your face as he forced you to look at him.

He grinned yet again, teeth biting his bottom lips as he gazed at you with a hungry look.

“Aw, but you are-” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

“-It’s okay doll, you don’t have to hide it from me...I like seeing you like this,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧

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thebountyfucker · 3 years

Text

In Control

Cad Bane X F!Reader - NSFW, 18+ ONLY Tags: Domination, cock warming, public sex, spanking, PiV sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Cad Bane's ridiculous accent

(I'm bad at titles leave me alone lol.)

“I don’ like dat one.”

You lowered the dress in your arms with a small frown, before looking it over. You liked this dress quite a bit - the cut flattered you, hugging your curves in all the right ways. The color made you glow, according to your friend. But as you met Cad’s gaze, you realized he wasn’t bluffing. He chewed on his toothpick with a small frown.

“Why not?”

“I just don’ like it.” He kicked his boots up on the foot rest, and gestured toward your closet noncommittally. “Try again.”

You shook your head and hung the dress back up in the closet, before pawing through the other dresses. Cad watched, his head cocked, trying to catch glimpses of the dresses as you pushed them aside. Your hand touched one, and he grunted.

“Dat one.”

You pulled it out from the sea of dresses, and looked it over. Calling it a dress was… generous. Rather, it was a collection of straps that -though it looked fantastic on you- hardly covered the more private parts of your body. You had only worn it once in public and that was a mistake. You looked at the ‘dress’ and then at Cad.

“Are you sure?”

“Are ya questionin’ me?” He cocked a browridge, plucking the toothpick from between his lips. You thought for a moment, wondering if it was wise to defy him, before shaking your head. You had to pick your battles, and this was not one of them.

“No.”

“No…?”

“Sir.” You answered him, and he chuckled.

“Dat’s what I thought.” He leaned back in the chair and waved to you again. “Go ahead. Get dressed.”

You did as he said, slowly shucking off your shirt, aiming to give him a show. You knew that he enjoyed your form, and hoped that the teasing would get him going. You tossed your shirt aside, before pulling down your pants; his blood-red gaze swept downward, following the curves of your body.

“And de panties too.”

“I can’t advise that.” You replied, and he stiffened a bit. “What I mean is… I need panties with the dress or it shows… more than probably appropriate.”

“I said, no panties.” He drawled, gesturing with his toothpick. “It’s in yer best interest t' listen.”

“Of course.” You pulled your panties off, unceremoniously dropping them to the ground. Cad uncrossed his legs and smirked.

“Dere we go. Look at dat pretty cunt.”

You blushed at this and gathered the dress up in your hands. You slowly worked it on, adjusting the straps so they covered as much as they possibly could. You ran your hands along the fabric, almost shyly.

“Dat one looks good.” Cad complimented. “Don’t it?”

“I guess…” You looked at yourself in the mirror, watching the dress ripple and move. “I thought the point was to not have your rivals staring.”

“I don’ mind dem watchin’... I just don’ want yer eyes strayin’. Ya know who you belong to.” He finally stood, sauntering toward you, a devilish grin on his face. He wrapped a hand around your throat, putting no pressure behind his hold. You watched through the mirror as he leaned in and nipped at your ear. “‘Sides, I want dem t' wish dey were me.”

Cad Bane strutting around like a Pantoran peacock was nothing new; he thought rather highly of himself and his abilities, and would take any chance to show off. Having you as a partner only boosted his image, and he was not opposed to using you in this scheme of his. It’s not as though you minded. You rather enjoyed being his trophy, and you didn’t mind the wayward gazes at all.

“Perfect.” He praised as his grip on your neck tightened - it was just hard enough to make your head spin without causing any bruising. You moaned softly and leaned toward him. “Filthy lil whore… ya look good wit’ my hand ‘round yer neck.”

“Your filthy whore.” You whispered, and he chuckled.

“Mine.” He released his grasp on your neck and instead rested a hand on your hip. “Don’tcha forget it.”

He squeezed your soft flesh, before moving away to paw through your jewelry box. You sat at your desk and started styling your hair.

“Are you dressing up?”

“T’ go t' de Silver Serpent? Ain’t no use in doin’ dat.” He muttered as he pulled out a thick leather collar from your jewelry box and looked it over. He approached, and slipped the collar around your neck; he clasped it in place, before running his hands through your hair. “You’ll be a good girl fer me, right?”

“Of course.” You nodded, though that depended on how he treated you in the bar. You were his submissive, sure, but you wouldn’t take shit you didn’t deserve.

“Good.”

You liked the Silver Serpent* - it was always full of interesting people with interesting lives. Sometimes, you came without Cad just to make acquaintances. The drinks were decent, and Sal** always had a story if business was slow. But Cad changed the entire atmosphere of your visit; this wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but he demanded much of your attention which left little time to socialize with anyone else. That, and he was the jealous type. He wasn’t about to let you pay attention to someone other than him.

He pushed open the door and gestured for you to enter. You slipped by him, and he grabbed your ass as you went. You rolled your eyes and chuckled, and together you made your way to the bar. Patrons turned their heads as you walked past, mouths agape and eyes wide. Cad made sure to wrap an arm around your waist, telling those who stared that you were his, and his alone.

He led you to the bar and slid up onto the stool - the bar was busy tonight, with most of the booths and bar stools occupied. Cad was sandwiched between a large Trandoshan and a scrawny human man; you stood beside him awkwardly until he patted his lap. You climbed up onto his lap, nestling down against his scrawny thighs. He flagged down Sal, and bought himself a fine, amber whiskey and you, your favorite drink. Sal nodded in understanding, before glancing down at the outfit you were wearing.

“What the hell?” They blinked, before their gaze met Cad’s. They shook their head and went about their business. Cad’s hands went to your waist, digging his knobby fingers into your soft flesh.

“My cock could use some warmin’.” He drawled huskily, and you blushed at the prospect.

“Here?” You glanced around. It was busy enough and loud enough that the people around you might not notice, but you were also sitting shoulder to shoulder with other patrons. One of his hands slid down your hip and slipped up under your dress; you whimpered as his fingers brushed against your pussy.

“Don’ see why not.” His finger probed at your entrance and you whined into your hand.

“Alright.” You nodded, shifting your hips up enough for him to extract his half-hard cock from his pants; he lined the head of his cock up with your pussy, and you sunk down on him, taking him to the hilt. You moaned softly, your cheeks tinged with a soft pink glow, as you fought against rocking your hips and driving his length further into you. No, that was not the objective of this.

He sat there casually, receiving his drink with a nod; Sal slid your drink to you, eyeing you suspiciously, but they didn’t say a word.

Cad slowly hardened in you, stretching your cunt as he did. You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan that threatened to escape. You wriggled against him, reveling in the tiny movements of his cock against your walls. He swallowed his liquor as if he felt nothing - but you knew he could feel it. The heat which radiated from his chest said as much.

Your nipples pebbled against the thin straps containing them, and you were sure you emitted some sort of pheromones because the Trandoshan turned to look at you. He looked you up and down, his long tongue flicking out to wet his maw. Your pussy tightened against Cad’s cock, and you could feel your wetness leaking out around him. Cad’s cock expanded a bit, and he gripped your hips possessively.

“How much for an hour?” The Trandoshan hissed, his gaze trailing down to your pussy. Cad growled in response, and a hand moved to the blaster at his side.

“Ya better watch yer mouth.”

“Easy, easy. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.” The Trandoshan raised his hands in defeat. Cad’s hand returned to your hip, which he stroked softly with his thumbs.

“Good.” Cad finished his drink and set it aside. You took a shaky sip, trying to hide the fact that you were taking his cock around all these people. Cad leaned down, his hot breath tickling your cheek.

“Yer cunt takes my cock so perfectly.” He whispered, drawing a whine from your lips. Your pussy quivered around him, wanting so desperately for him to start moving. However, you knew that if he did start moving, it would be over for you. You’d cum in front of everyone. “So wet. So wet and tight. Ya wanna cum, don’tcha? You wanna cum, doll?”

You nodded frantically, and he tsked.

“No self-control. Yer a cock-whipped lil' slut, hm? Half de bar can smell yer arousal, doll. Dey know it’s you.” He whispered, and you leaned back against him, whimpering. Your pussy twinged, and he chuckled. “You think dat’s hot, don’tcha? You like makin’ everyone’s cock hard. Filthy lil’ whore.”

Your pussy drooled at this, and you melted back against him. A heat was building in your stomach, and every inch of you was sensitive.

“Cad, please…”

“What was dat, doll? I couldn’t quite hear ya over de music.” He teased, nipping at your ear.

“Cad, please… I need…” You whimpered, trying to avoid the licentious gaze of the Trandoshan beside you. His nostrils flared as he took in your scent. “I need your cock.”

“Ya have it.” He drawled, and you turned to look at him. He was smirking, that smug bastard. How he was able to be in such a teasing mood, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that he was an asshole, and you needed more of him.

“I need you to fuck me!” You whined, a little louder than you wanted to. Cad’s grip on your hips was bruising at this point, and this only added to your arousal.

“So eager.” He hummed as he lifted your hips, and pulled his cock out. Your pussy clenched, painfully empty and dripping wet. Cad eased you off of him, and gestured for you to move out of the way. “Go to de showers. I’ll be right dere.”

You padded through the crowded bar toward a hallway off to the right. A series of bunk rooms and communal showers lined this long hallway, and judging by the number of closed doors, this area of the Silver Serpent was busy too. You slipped into one of the communal shower rooms, noting the roaring of water. You wouldn’t be alone...

You pulled off the strappy dress and gathered it up in your arms. You silently padded toward a private shower stall, slowing down as you passed the public showers. You tried not to stare at the other hunters showering, but their physiques were hard to ignore. That was one of the things you appreciated about bounty hunters - they were fit as hell. And could likely break you over your knee. Gods, your pussy was drooling again…

“What de hell are ya lookin’ at?” Cad growled in your ear, and you jumped, not expecting him to be so near already. You turned, noting that he, too, was naked. More importantly, you noticed the dangerous look in his blood red eyes, and your heart skipped a beat. You struggled to find your tongue. “Dat’s what I thought. Come.”

He led you to a shower cubicle and shoved you inside. You tossed your dress aside, and watched as he dropped his own clothes as well. He approached, his fangs bared.

“Turn 'round.” He commanded, and you faltered.

“W-why?”

“Just do it.” You didn’t, grinning cheekily as he approached you; you gasped as he grabbed your hips and forced you to turn around. He gave you little time to process what was happening before bringing his bony hand down on your ass with enough force to make it sting. You lurched forward, a half-yelp, half-moan escaping your lips. He smacked his hand down on your other asscheek, and you found yourself leaning toward him rather than away. He huffed, and spanked you twice more.

“Ya don’ go lookin’ at others, got it?” He told you through gritted teeth. “Who do ya belong t’?”

“Me.” You answered, pressing your ass toward him. He growled and swatted at your ass again.

“Who?” He asked, gripping your ass cheeks tightly in his hands. “Get it right dis time.”

“You.”

“Good girl.” He purred as he whipped you around so he could look you in the eyes. “Do ya want my cock again?”

“Yes!” You whined and he turned on the shower; the warm water cascaded down your forms as you lifted your leg and wrapped it around his hip. Cad drew his cock up and down, between the sloppy lips of your pussy. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Please, Cad… please!”

He slipped the head of his cock inside and plunged his entire length deep within, until he bottomed out. The air fled your lungs, and you were left leaning against the wall with your eyes wide and your mouth agape. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut.

“Is dat what you want, doll? Is dat it?” He hissed, grinding his hips against yours. Your head lolled back and you arched toward him, succinctly answering his question. He eased out, and then back in, his pointed head and ridged length massaging your sensitive walls. Each drag of his cock in and out of you drew pants from you, and that warmth sparked deep in the well of your belly again. “Fuck, doll…”

“Does my pussy feel good?” You asked, breath hitching as he picked up his pace, slamming his cock into you deep and rough. You felt your orgasm brimming, but you held back. Not yet. He had just started fucking you!

“Yeah, doll, real good.” He admitted as he leaned down to drag his long tongue against your pebbled nipple. You were both soaked to the bone, but Cad didn’t seem to mind. “Yer my perfect cock sheath.”

“Cad, I’m close.” You admitted and he glanced up, his blood red eyes meeting yours. “Can I cum?”

“Not yet.” He drawled. “You know de rules.”

You whined as he drove up into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. You traced down his scarred chest, trying to distract yourself from the molten warmth in your belly. It was damn near unbearable but you’d hold on for him. As if trying to tease you, he reached down, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit; despite trying to stop it, you came undone.

You cried out in pleasure, clamping down around his cock; your legs shook and threatened to give out from beneath you as the molten warmth flowed through your body. Your head was in a different galaxy as you rode the waves of your orgasm.

“I told ya not yet! What are ya, deaf?” He growled as he pulled out and whipped you around; he bent you over, and plunged back into you. “Whaddya have t’ say fer yerself?”

“Sorry, sir.” You whispered, and he brought down his hand on your already sore bottom. You let out a pitiful yelp.

“Fer what?” He asked, spanking your other asscheek.

“For cumming without permission.”

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry, sir!” You cried out. “For cumming without permission!”

“Good girl.” He cooed as he pounded into you, his hands alternating between grabbing your hips and smacking your ass. You grabbed your breasts, desperate to hold onto something; you drew your thumbs over your nipples, whimpering as it sent pleasurable shocks down to your throbbing cunt.

He growled, muttering something likely quite profane in Durese; he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up flush against him. He drew his fangs along your shoulder, and you squirmed in response. It wouldn’t be much longer before he bit down, his fangs piercing your skin, as he came. You bore many scars from the times he bit you… but you loved it. You loved how he claimed you with every fuck. You were his, and you didn’t want it any other way.

His pace grew erratic and sloppy, and you helped out by rocking your hips; his hand shot down to rub circles along your clit, hoping to hasten your second orgasm. His fangs dragged harder across your shoulder, and then, he bit down, cumming deep inside you. You cried out, orgasming alongside him, your pussy milking his cock for all it was worth. Euphoria coursed through you as he lapped up the blood trickling from his new mark.

“There… there we are.” Cad drawled, pulling out of you and handing you the soap. “Clean up. I got somethin’ t’ attend to.”

“What?” You asked as you watched him mop off with a towel.

“It’s just business, doll. Nothin’ important.” He slowly dressed, casting glances over to you as you cleaned up the cum dripping from your sensitive cunt. “I’ll be back fer ya.”

He ducked out of the shower stall without another word. You shook your head with a small smile. Only he would be so intent to attend to business after fucking.

*The Silver Serpent: A bar and bunkhouse owned by the Bounty Hunter's Guild. Bounty hunters are allowed to stay there free while on jobs/between jobs. (I don't know if Cad's a part of the Guild. I don't care. He can use it either way lol)

** Sal is the nonbinary Togrutan bartender who sort of runs the place.

Both Sal and The Silver Serpent were introduced here

#cad bane #star wars smut #smut #star wars fanfic #iri writes #my fanfiction

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street.

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had.

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys.

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked.

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books.

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg.

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met.

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters.

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again.

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn.

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice.

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot.

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice.

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.”

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?”

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went.

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away.

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder.

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground.

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little.

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger.

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet.

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you.

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming.

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair.

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him.

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.”

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there.

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel.

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous.

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice.

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious.

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed.

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second.

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.”

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly.

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered.

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question.

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches.

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich.

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table.

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout.

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin.

“Is it any good?” Soda asked.

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home.

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other.

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner.

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over.

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly.

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up.

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air.

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.”

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped.

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention.

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book.

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended.

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars.

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest.

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute.

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement.

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him.

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red.

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed.

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered.

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you.

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces.

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked.

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step.

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with.

“Daddy?”

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere.

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass.

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you.

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards.

“What happened to you?”

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.”

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf.

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door.

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door.

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas.

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you.

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly.

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with.

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated.

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again.

“I have to, Sodapop.”

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade.

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you.

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled.

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged.

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys.

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes.

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl.

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette.

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile.

“You’re one of us now.”

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right.

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside.

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen.

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#rob lowe #patrick swayze #the outsiders #80s imagines #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #darry curtis #dally winston #Ponyboy Curtis #johnny cade #stay gold #peter pan #lost boy #neverland

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lizzy-williams · 4 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐬

👽 Warnings: SMUT, language, etc.

👽 Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWsOp1-1b2w

Middy Titty by Paulie Leparik

masterlist

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 to be on the set of Colson’s music video. Being an actress, you were no stranger to film sets, but you had never been to a set for a music video, which excited you. You wouldn’t be in it, but you would be there with him, and you couldn’t ask for more.

When you and Colson walked in, (with masks of course), you were greeted by a cluster of crew, saying hello and even giving Colson a cold-brew coffee, which you knew he appreciated.

Colson was then rushed off to a dressing room to start shooting, and you took a seat in one of the chairs, which happened to be right next to your friend, Mod Sun.

“Hey, [ y / n ], how you doin’?” he asked you, leaning on the side of his chair to get closer to you.

“Hey Mod, not to bad,” you smiled, looking around at the bright pink set in front of you, “So, Mr. Big Shot director, huh?” you teased.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I would be in charge of something like this.” he chuckled.

“Best of luck to you, sir.” you rested your hand under your face, “And if you need any help from me, don’t hesitate to ask,”

“Will do, [ y / n ].”

You sat in the chair for a good 30 minutes, scrolling through your Twitter and Instagram, droning off as you waited for filming to start.

“How do I look?” Colson’s voice rang out behind you, making you turn to him.

You started laughing loudly as you looked at what your boyfriend was wearing. There he stood, a cheesy navy sailor looking outfit covering his body. You had to say he looked really dorky.

“You look...” you stood up, strutting towards him with a smirk on your face, “Like my perfect, handsome, amazing dork,” you stood on your tip-toes as you planted a kiss on his nose, making him smirk.

“Yo! Kells, on set!” Mod yelled from across the set, Colson’s head perking up.

“Duty calls,” he jeered, kissing you quickly on the lips before jogging over, and you watched in admiration.

You had been watching your boyfriend work all day, seeing him in and out of different characters, loving every single one of them. You had to hand it to Mod, he had some good ideas, and watching them happen before you was mesmerizing, despite the fact that you had been on sets before.

Your personal favorite was the mustache man. When Colson first stepped out with that certain costume on, you laughed. He would wiggle his eyebrows in a cheesy way.

You had to admit, this was the happiest you had seen Colson when recording a music video, and you were happy to see it. He was enjoying making the things he wanted to make; music that he personally enjoyed.

But there was one specific costume that made you feel... strangely attracted to him. It was the last costume of the shoot, and at first when you looked at him, it didn’t seem like anything too extreme. It was just a hospital gown. But once he started shooting, and you caught a glimpse of his... area, you couldn’t pull yourself to look away.

You suddenly felt a tingle sensation in your core. What the fuck, why are you getting so turned on by this? And this was the worst time to get in the mood. You didn’t want to ruin the fun, energetic vibe that everyone had created, just because you couldn’t control your hormones.

So there you sat, in the chair, squeezing your thighs together tightly as you tried to release the tension in your core. You were getting needy, and without you knowing it, Colson had picked up on it, locking eyes with you giving a suggestive stare.

Soon, (thank god), the shoot was over, and everyone was saying their goodbyes, congratulating Kells on his new song, hugging goodbye and closing up shop.

You walked out to the car with Colson, getting in as you sat shotgun, somewhat impatient, with wasn’t like you, especially with this. Something about that fucking hospital gown was so compelling to you, and you were so confused.

You and Colson drove home in silence, the radio playing softly in the background as the agonizing sexual tension between the two of you began to grow slowly. You wanted to jump his bones right then and there, but you didn’t want to have him crash, that would be the worst case.

You smiled to yourself thinking of the titles the tabloids would come up with.

Pop Punk Star Machine Gun Kelly Crashes Car Because Girlfriend Couldn’t Keep It In Her Pants!

As soon as you got home, you immediately went to the bedroom, Colson hot on your trail, racing up the stairs. As you got in, you locked lips with your lover in a quick and needful kiss as he kissed back immediately. You both knew where this was going.

“I saw you watching me today,” Colson groaned, pulling back for air, “You looked so hot squirming in your seat... so needy for me, huh, princess,”

His words turned you on even more as you gave a nod. You weren’t feeling guilty about the hospital gown, in fact you were almost proud, happy that there was a chain reaction to your new-found attraction to the piece of clothing.

“Strip,” he commanded, his tone sending chills down your spine.

You did as he said, almost too eagerly, taking everything off, exposing your most recent surprise.

“Oh, Fuck-,”

There, newly installed, were a pair of nipple piercings. When Colson brought up that he found the piercings in that spot particularly attractive, you thought why not? and got them done. And now Colson’s eyes were completely hazy with lust and want.

“When did you get those done, baby,” he muttered, pulling you in by your waist, licking up the side of your neck and up to your ear lobe.

“A couple days ago,” you smiled devilishly, “I thought they would be a good addition to our bedroom escapades.”

“You really do think of everything, don’t you,” he chuckled, picking you up as you let out a squeal, your legs wrapping around him tightly.

He kissed you deeply as he carried you both to the bed, plopping you down on the bed, making you laugh, because now he was the eager one.

He leaned down, kissing down your body, starting at your collarbone and going down to your breasts, groping them. He licked his lips as he looked up as you, then down to your nipples, the metallic pieces making them all the more alluring.

He gently glided his tongue across the skin of the pebbled buds, making your breath hitch and a gentle gasp emit from your lips.

“Fuck, so hot baby, you always know exactly what to do to turn me on princess,” he grunted, his fingers running over each piercing with care. After all, he knew how tender piercings like that are.

“Kells, please,” you whined, your hands running over his hair, soothing it, as his glossed over eyes met your gaze.

“Please what, princess, use your words,” he spoke cunningly, knowing just the right buttons to push to get him where he wanted you; needy and craving his touch.

“Please, baby, I need you to touch me,” you took one of his hands with yours as you guided it down to your throbbing clit.

“Whatever you want baby,” he smiled, stripping down completely, coming back over and getting on his knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed, his warm breath hitting your clit making you gasp.

He suddenly attacked your clit, biting, licking and sucking as you writhed in ecstasy. Your hands tangled themselves into his hair as he continued his assault on your core.

You let out loud mewls as he devoured you, your head thrown back. Colson looked up at you, watching your body. He wanted nothing more to brand this image into his brain. Your hair messy, mouth open almost drooling, and body almost glowing.

“Kells, I’m gonna cum-” you gasped out, wanting release that you were so desperately craving since the afternoon.

He suddenly pulled away and you wanted to scream. The loss of contact was almost painful, wanting nothing more than to feel the rush of rapture. You whined pathetically, Kells licking your arousal off his lips.

“Patience, princess, I’ll give you what you want,” he paused, “or maybe I could put a 9 volt battery up to your new friends and see how you react,” he paused again, “Or do you just wanna cum?”

“Please Kells, let me cum, I want you to taste me,” you begged, and you knew your words would persuade him.

“As you wish.”

He got on top of you as you both shifted towards the headboard. He went immediately to your neck, sucking at all the right spots.

He then lined himself up with you, but before he could, you rolled the two of you over, your core now grinding up against his shaft that was flat on his torso as he let out a low groan.

“Fuck baby, you wanna ride me, huh?” he asked, smirking.

You nodded as you lifted yourself up, positioning your core with his throbbing cock. You slowly started to sink down, both of you gasping as you slid down. Once he was all the way inside you, you took a minute before you started moving.

You felt his hands reach up and grasp your breasts, his thumb rubbing over your nipples, your hips moving up and down, picking up pace quickly.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good riding me like this, you know that?” he groaned out, “You look so perfect, I love you so much, my special girl,”

Praise fell from his lips, your core now slamming down on his shaft, desperate to make the both of you cum. You wanted to feel him cum inside you so bad it was almost painful.

“God, I can feel you clenching, are your about to cum baby?” he moaned out.

All you could do was nod your head, and he could see you were getting tired. He put his hand on the small of your back, pushing you down so your chest met his, his feet now planted flat across the bed, his hips slamming up into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you tightened around him.

“Cum when I say, okay baby??” he frantically made your hips meet yours and you moaned in confirmation.

You were so close, so close to reaching rapture that you almost couldn’t take it.

“Now you may cum!” he commanded.

You felt yourself fall apart in his grasp. Your legs shook, your body tensing and relaxing as you felt his cum cover your walls.

You finally found the strength to lift your head up to look at him, a smile on his face as he looked down at you with nothing but love.

Without talking, you pulled yourself up. And off of him. You collapsed next to him as he pulled you close.

“Still thinking about the battery idea?” you joked, your eyelids getting heavy.

“Next time, baby,” he soothed, “Right now you need to get some sleep, okay?” he slid his hands up and down your arms.

You nodded sheepishly, letting your eyes finally close.

Before you fell asleep, you heard him mutter, “I love you.” and you fell asleep in total and utter bliss.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

#machine gun kelly smut #mgk smut #tickets to my downfall #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #concert for aliens #bloody valentine #est #hotel diablo #lace up #rookxx #slimxx #Dubxx #bazexx

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the meet ugly prompts, 02 indruck?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one and interpreted the prompt kind of broadly. It's set in the same world as this Sternclay prompt

Fun fact: there is a fire lookout in the Monogahela, but the structure I describe is based on more elaborate ones elsewhere

02. I bought a house three months ago but I’m finally moving in and discover you’ve been squatting because you’re homeless

Only in Duck’s life would “dream job” and “months alone in the woods” be equivalent.

The Bickle Nob Fire Lookout is a coveted position, and Duck is pretty fucking flattered they chose him as the ranger for July and August. He took the high clearance off-roader to get here, he’s got his bags full of everything he needs not to die of boredom (or anything else) and his schedule of supply drops. He’s as ready as can be and so fucking excited when he opens the door of the wide-windowed cabin.

Then he jumps back, startled to find a skinny, silver-haired man asleep on the floor.

“Uh, sir? This site is off-limits to visitors.”

The man wakes up in a series of catastrophic movements; he bangs into the wall, tangles in his blanket, and nearly stumbles out the window when he manages to stand.

“I, I’m sorry, I didn’t foresee anyone coming here.”

“Department spent all of June arguin’ about whether it was worth allocatin funds for this, so that’s why the place was empty. Fire up North two weeks ago scared ‘em enough to send me up here.” Duck explains with a casual smile; after all, even if he’s way off the trail, there’s no reason to assume this guy is out to cause trouble, “if you got lost hikin, I’m happy to radio down and ask for someone to come get you and take you back to your camp.”

“Nono, I, ah, I’m not lost. One needs to have a destination to be lost.”

“O-kay. Uh, well, whatever you’re lookin for, I’m afraid this ain’t it. This buildin is for the fire lookout only.”

“I promise I’ll be very unobtrusive. I even have my own supplies, you won’t have to worry about me in the slightest.” The man smiles,opening one of his two bags to show it crammed with shiny packets of food.

Duck shakes his head, “Can’t do it, sorry. I’m serious though, if you need a ride into town I can get a hold of someone who can help. Maybe, uh, you could find whatever you’re lookin for there?”

“No” the man sags, but begins zipping up his bags, “I do not think I will find it there. I am sorry for intruding.” He steps out the door, turning towards the deeper woods on the western slope.

“You need a map?” Duck calls. The man doesn’t so much as look over his shoulder.

Duck unpacks as much as he can, checks the weather station and notes the readings suggest those thunderheads on the far horizon are coming his way. By dinnertime, they’re right on top of him, rain pattering on the roof and thunder rattling the windows. He’s scanning the trees when he spots a metallic flash, not of lightning but of silver hair. His mystery visitor is huddled under a tree, wind forcing the hood of his raincoat back over and over again.

The rules and regulations in the forest are there to keep the environment and visitors safe. If something doesn’t violate those basic requirements, Duck sees no reason not to bend them.

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

“I really cannot stress how grateful I am that you allowed me back in.” The visitor, who introduced himself as Indrid, finishes packing their scant trash into the can, “I promise that as soon as the storm passes I’ll leave you be.”

“Yeah, about that.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “you really don’t got anywhere to call home, do you?”

Indrid opens his mouth. Duck stares, pointedly, at the holes in his white shirt and the worn shoes sticking out from frayed jeans.

“....No, I do not.”

“In that case, you stay here the next two months, on two conditions: one, you don’t get in the way of me doin what I’m here to do. Two, you don’t tell anyone I let you do this. Deal?”

“Yes, yes absolutely” Indrid shakes his hand, bouncing up and down a bit, “thank you so much. You will barely know I’m here.”

This turns out to be completely true and utterly false.

Indrid does keep to himself most of the day; he draws, reads, lays in the sun outside the cabin and generally stays out of Ducks way while he’s working. But he’s also the person who sits and jokes with him during meals, who eagerly follows Duck’s hand when he points out interesting birds or plants, and watches intently when Duck reads his instruments.

He never thought he could live in a fifteen by fifteen foot space with another person and not have a full head of grey by the end of it. Indrid Cold is the exception that proves the rule, Duck certain he’ll never be able to be cooped up with anyone but Indrid ever again.

It helps that he still gets his quiet time; Indrid will got out for walks, even watches for smoke so Duck can do the same. They use the wild foraging guide and Duck’s knowledge of local plants to bring back extra food. Indrid was particularly pleased when he located some wild blackberries. When Duck reminded him to watch out for bears near the berry patch, Indrid simply smirked and said there was only one bear on the mountain who could get him.

Duck’s daydreaming of what Indrid might do if caught on his way back from a dusk walk. And, more urgently, how he can convince Indrid that he wants to sleep outside tomorrow night. So it takes two tries of the front door before he notices it’s locked.

“Indrid?” he knocks, “you in there?” Stepping back, he finds the windows hastily covered by his bedsheets and blankets. He knocks harder, “that’s real fuckin dangerous, if there’s a fire we won’t see it. ‘Drid! Open the damn door!”

He continues banging, unanswered, as the moon--two days from full--rises above.

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

Indrid covers his ears to block out Duck’s increasingly worried shouts from outside. This is the right choice, the best of a bad bunch; it will keep Duck and anyone else nearby safe. The ranger will probably turn him away come morning, rightly furious at his irrationality. Indrid resolves not to argue with him; he’ll slink back into the trees, just like he did the last time someone threw him out for his transgressions.

It starts in his chest, his heartbeat climbing to marathon speeds in spite of him holding still. Then his skin prickles, silver hair sprouting from every follicle, followed by his back bowing in pain and his jaw elongating with a crack. From there the adrenaline kicks in, flooding his body so the transformation doesn’t render him unconscious (and therefore helpless) with pain. When next he raises his head, a werewolf with glowing, red eyes looks back at him from the darkened windows.

Beyond the covered windows, someone howls. Then he scents it, another of his kind coming dangerously close. He has to go out, he can’t leave Duck out there with something that will rip him apart, surely he likes the human enough for his mind to see him as a friend, not prey-

CRACK

The door splinters off its hinges; he growls, ready to defend his home. A deeper growl answers him as a larger wolf, black-furred and yellow eyed, stalks across the threshold.

“What. the. Fuck?” the newcomer snaps, “I told you, you can only stay if you don’t fuck up my work and locking me out comes real fuckin close to that!”

He cocks his head “Duck?”

“No, I’m the fuckin president of the united states.”

“I, I’m so sorry.” Indrid drops to all fours, then flattens to his belly just to be safe, “I didn’t know, I just wanted to be sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Duck points to the broken door, “you coulda just done that from the opposite side and I woulda been dinner.”

“No I, I know that if I confine myself I tend to be...calmer. I don’t get overstimulated and then agitated.”

“You coulda just told me. Lockin me out is real rude.”

Indrid whines, crawls close enough to nose at him.

“You don’t gotta do that; I ain't assertin dominance or some shit, I’m just a little annoyed.”

He whines again, “please don’t make me leave.”

“I won’t.” Duck’s voice turns softer.

“And you will not get angry at me for not being appropriately grateful for your leniency?”

Duck frowns, “Aw jesus, did you come from one of those old-school packs?

“Yes” Indrid grumbles, hating himself for how easily he fell into manners he loathes, how deep the teachings of his home run.

Duck eases him up so they’re both sitting, then noses the side of his face, “We don't do that around here. Least, I don't. I don’t spend a ton of time with most of the other Weres when they’re wolfed-out, but they ain’t big on tradition and hierarchy the rest of the time.”

“Ah. That’s, that’s good.”

The other Were stretches, stands and pads about the room, removing the make-shift curtains, “You gotta teach me how you’re so fuckin accurate on when the moon is full enough to make us shift whether or not we want to; I thought I had a day left. I, uh, I was gonna ask you to sleep in here while I ‘slept under the stars’ so you wouldn’t know.”

“You’re not afraid of hurting someone?”

“Nah, especially not this far out. Sometimes I hunt deer, but whatever strain of this I got doesn’t go feral unless some shit goes majorly wrong.” He drops the blankets on the floor, “don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like huntin tonight. Or stargazin. I’m beat from work.”

“Agreed. Transforming against my will always makes me tired.”

Duck lays down on the floor,yawns, “In that case: sleep tight ‘Drid.”

Indrid tries to do just that. But every time he catches Duck’s scent he wishes he could move closer to him, then remembers that would be rude, and continues in that back and forth until he’s wide awake. It doesn’t help that his Were form runs cold; he’s shivering in spite of it still being close to eighty degrees.

His ears flick at Duck’s footfalls. Then a warm, bulky frame curls around his freezing, lanky one.

“This okay?” Duck carefully drapes an arm over him.

Indrid sighs, feeling safer than he has in a year, “better than.”

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

“I’m a seer.”

Duck looks up from his breakfast, mouth full but question clear.

“Last night, you asked me how I knew we’d transform. Seeing the future makes it rather easy.”

“Damn, that does sound handy.”

“In many ways it is. Though it carries some, ah, some downsides.” Indrid steers his thoughts towards safer paths, “If you’d like, I could use it to help you with the fire lookout.”

The ranger grins, the expression twice as warm as his fur the night before, “That’d be fuckin great.”

Indrid smiles back, keeps his eyes on the windows so as not to look longingly back at the rumpled sheets. They awoke this morning in a heap, Duck’s modesty preserved only by a blanket and Indrid’s hair stuck in all directions. He’d been ready to apologize for not moving away before dawn, but Duck simply reached out, stroked his hair down, and asked if he wanted coffee.

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

“You’re right, you can see more animals this way.” They’re perched, fully transformed, on the rocks outside the cabin. Indrid knows how to use his night vision for hunting, but Duck is teaching him how to use it for more peaceful matters.

“Yeah, long as you stay put most animals get up the nerve to nose around some.”

They’d transformed side by side, Duck banging his head in the process. Indrid licked near the bruise and made soothing, sympathetic sounds when Duck whined and cursed his luck. Back home, being demonstrative was frowned upon; here, Duck seems to always be casually bumping their bodies together.

When they go to bed several hours after moonrise, they curl up side by side without hesitation. It’s so very easy to tune out his visions when Duck is near and Indrid falls asleep while the ranger is still whispering about the birds they can hear.

He wakes up an hour later in a panic, disasters of visions past tearing through his mind.

“‘Drid? What’s wrong?” Duck noses the base of his neck.

“Nothing. Just a bad dream.” He closes his eyes, tries to focus on Duck’s scent, his breath, the wind in the trees, but still the ghosts of his memories lurk in the corners of his vision.

“Can I try somethin?” Duck murmurs. Indrid thought he’d gone back to sleep.

“Of course.”

Teeth tenderly and ever so carefully clamp the fur and skin of his neck. He goes limp in one breath. He was high status enough that no one ever did this to him, but goodness does he wish they had

The ranger let’s go, “Do I need to do it again?”

“Please.”

Duck obliges and Indrid whimpers, melting shamelessly in his arms.

“Thank you. I think I can sleep now.”

“Any time, ‘Drid. Uh, before you, uh, go to sleep there’s somethin I wanna ask you. Since you need a place to stay, do you, uh, wanna stay with me? In Kepler.”

“You’d really like that? You, if this is out of pity-”

“It ain’t.”

There were no futures where it was. Indrid wanted to hear the words all the same.

“Besides” Duck nuzzles him, “we already know we make damn good roommates.”

Indrid can’t help it; he howls, brief and joyful, safe in the knowledge that Duck will be ready with a laugh and a kiss in reply.

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugly #taz amnesty #werewolf au

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years

Text

Unrequited (Atsumu x Reader)

A/N: The first one of the series. I'm actually pretty proud of this one for it being the first one on the blog. It went under heavy editing and I think I cut out a whole two pages of pointless dialog. And it still ended up longer than intended. Anyways enjoy!

WARNINGS: Angst. Just angst that's it. And blood mentioned nothing too explicit. One sided love

DATE: Thursday October 22nd, 2020

Details: 4.8 pages 1,792 words

Theme: Hanahaki Disease- The victim begins to have flowers grow in their lungs leading to them coughing up flowers petals this continues getting worse until it causes their death. There's a surgery option to get rid of the flowers but it comes at the price of never feeling love again.

Angst masterlist

I stared at the ceiling of my room debating on if I was healthy enough for school. As I sat up my eyes drifted to the yellow petals overflowing from the trash can in the corner.

"Sunflowers," I mumbled as I looked at the petals.

They were supposed to represent happiness but as I looked at the blood flecked petals all I felt was overwhelming sadness. Summer break ended today so maybe I could get away with an I forgot.

"Yeah that sounds good," I said as I got out of bed and stretched.

I felt a cough bubble in my throat as I rushed to the bathroom I placed my hand over my mouth coughing into it. Blood seeped between my fingers as I felt the soft touch of flower petals in my palm. I sighed as the coughing subsided I put the petals on the sink counter. I cleaned the blood on my hands and face before heading back to my room. My limbs already felt weak as I walked it was a struggle to make the ten steps to my room.

"No school today," I sighed out as I laid down on my mattress. I let my eyes slowly slide closed as I fell asleep.

"Y/n," In my sleepy haze I could hear someone saying my name.

"Hey y/n wake up," I slowly opened my eyes and looked to the side. My eyes caught sight of grey hair and eyes looking at me in concern.

"Samu? What are you doin here?" My voice was thick with sleep and my speech was slightly slurred.

"What am I doing here? You haven't answered anyone's calls or texts! I was worried so I left practice to check on you," I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "You left practice? Kita's gonna be mad at you," I sat up which caused Osamu to put a hand infront of me and push me back down.

"He's the one who let me go. If anything Tsumu was mad he also didn't get to come," I coughed at that which Osamu sighed at. "Are you sick?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No I'm fi-" "Don't lie to me," I snapped my head towards him and he was staring back at me.

"I-I'm not lying," he shook his head and lifted his palm. Staring back at me was a single yellow petal dotted with red "Yes, you are," I flinched as I realized he'd figured it out.

"How long?" Osamu was quieter now as he spoke. "A year but it didn't get bad until the beginning of summer break," I whispered back as he placed the petal down on the ground.

"Who is it?" I felt everything I'd kept bottled up break down and tears fill my eyes "You already know," my voice cracked as Osamu sighed and pulled me towards him.

He wrapped both arms around me and pushed my face into the crook of his neck. "I know," he mumbled it as confirmation to my previous statement.

I started coughing again pulling back I covered my mouth with my hand. Osamu's eyes widened when he noticed more blood on the petals as they slipped through my fingers. I started heaving as more petals came up. Osamu left the room coming back with a cup of water and a rag. I put my hands down and watched the petals cover my bedsheets there was a thin red layer covering the petals making them look a reddish orange. I didn't need to look in a mirror to know there was a trail of blood leaking down the side of my mouth.

"Jesus...," Osamu spoke as he looked at me. He took the rag and cleaned my face and hands before giving me the glass of water.

"You let it get this bad?" I could see the concern laced in his grey eyes eyebrows furrowed downwards and mouth pulled down in a frown.

"I didn't realize it was this bad," my throat was scratchy as I spoke taking huge glups of water to sooth the ache the petals left behind.

"What are you going to do?" He asked "The same thing I've been doing. Try to forget about it," He blinked at my response "Is that why you've been ignoring Tsumu?" I nodded slowly. "It hasn't worked though,"

Before we could continue Osamu's phone rang. He answered it slowly "yeah?"

"Don't yeah me Samu! You've been gone for an hour! Get back here!" I could hear Atsumu's yelling through the phone. I got up and heading to the hallway with the glass tucked into my hand.

Suddenly the petals came back in my throat and I started coughing. The glass slipped from my fingers as I collapsed to the ground. It shattered next to me and a few shards cut my hands as I placed them on the floor. The petals came out red instead of the normal bright yellow causing small pools of blood to form around them.

I couldn't breath as I heard my bedroom door get thrown open Osamu stood there wide eyed with terror lacing his features. "Y/n! Hey stay with me!" He dropped to my level ignoring the glass that dug into his uniform pants and probably cut his legs. I saw the fear in his eyes deepen when he saw the amount of blood on the ground.

"Y/n!? What's happening! What's going on with y/n!?" I could still hear Atsumu's yelling despite my coughing. Osamu rapidly hung up and dialed someone else.

"Hello? My friend started coughing up blood and petals and I'm think she's dying please send help!" I could hear the panic in his voice as my eyes started to close. I finally stopped coughing and took deep wheezing breaths. Black spots covered my vision as a wave of exhaustion hit my body.

Osamu took my hand "Hey y/n no. Stay awake," I slowly shook my head in response. "Can't. I'm tired Samu," I mumbled at him. "You have to," Was the last thing he said before darkness over took my vision.

"Remove them!" "Sir, she has to make that decision not you," I let out a light groan as I slowly opened my eyes. Atsumu stood next to my bedside clearly yelling at a doctor.

He looked at me giving the doctor a chance to slip out of the room. "Osamu told me. Who is it?" I flinched at the anger in his voice.

A sense of relief filled me when I realized Osamu hadn't told him everything. "I- I can't tell you," I whispered. "No! No bullshit! Tell me!" I shook my head at him. "Is it Kita? Or Suna? No its Ojiro isn't it or-" I cut him off before he could continue. "It's you!" I yelled back at him.

"Me?" He asked slowly. I nodded in response "You can't love me," I sighed looking down "But I do," I felt those flowers again in my lungs clawing their way up to my throat.

"Well stop loving me!" I balled my fists together as a flash of anger struck me. "I ALREADY TRIED!" my throat burned in protest of the yelling. "I TRIED AND TRIED AND TRIED!" "AND IT NEVER WORKED!" tears rolled down my face as I looked at him. His eyes narrowed at me "I can't love you. So get them removed," Atsumu left the room after that leaving me sobbing into my hands.

Osamu walked in soon after "y/n," he whispered my name as he got closer to me. The doctor came in and looked at me sadly. "Are you sure about this?" He asked. All I could manage was a weak nod as I looked at the hospital bed.

"Do either of you know someone who's gone through this procedure before?" Before I could answer Osamu had said something. "Yes...My brother," I looked at Osamu in shock but he was looking away from me.

"Right well I'm going to go check the x-rays and come back and we can schedule the surgery then," I nodded at the doctor as he handed me a glass of water before leaving the room again.

"Atsumu...had Hanahaki Disease?" Osamu finally looked back at me slowly nodding. "He never told me who caused it and he got it removed before telling anyone," I sighed as I looked away.

"You know Samu I used to like sunflowers," I whispered staring out the window. "They were never your favorite flower though," He responded back to me. "You remember?" I turned to him as I asked to discover he was already looking at me. "Yep. Buttercups," I laughed as I nudged him with my shoulder "You only remember because it has butter in the name," He chuckled back at me "You caught me," we smiled at eachother as the doctor came back.

The doctor had a sad look in his eyes as he looked at me. "I don't have good news for you," The smile on my face fell as I looked at the doctor. "The disease has progressed too far for us to remove it," I gasped "W-what?" The doctor looked at me as I felt tears slip down my cheeks "I'm sorry but there's no way we could remove them without killing you," I turned and buried my face into Osamu's chest to hide my tears.

The doctor left as Osamu ran his fingers through my hair and down my back. "Samu...," I whispered and he hummed at me "I just wanted to say thank you for being there and I love you," I mumbled as I began drifting off to sleep the last thing I registered was Osamu responding to me. "...Love you too y/n,"

*third person p.o.v*

"You know Samu this is my fault," Osamu's eyes glanced to his twin who was sadly looking down.

"If I hadn't been a coward and told her...She would still be here and I could still love," He watched Atsumu set a bouquet of buttercups against the cool marble infront of him.

"Her favorite...Maybe that'll comfort her," Atsumu walked away while Osamu looked back at the grave.

Y/n l/n DOB: (b/d) 'She loved until the end'

Osamu felt a cough in his throat as a small yellow flower landed in his palm. It was covered in blood as he stared at it. It matched the ones in the bouquet and a sad laugh left Osamu throat.

"Buttercups huh...," He let the flower leave his palm with the wind as he followed his brother a small sad smile on his face as he whispered one last thing to the wind.

"I love you y/n,"

————————————————————————

TAG LIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #WhosaskingAngst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu #osamu miya #osamu angst

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

The Night Shift

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,189

Warnings: a few bad language words (sorry Stevie), fluff, I think that’s all

Summary: Your bad day turns worse when you're given the night shift at work. But you find it has more perks than you original thought.

A/N: Here it is! My first ever posted/published work! This is a bit new for me for quite a few reasons. 1. I usually write OCs. 2. I'm used to writing 3rd POV and past tense. 3. I like writing series and longer fics. 4k is actually pretty mild for me. Also, I'm planning on doing more first date fics with the Avengers, but we'll see if I keep up with that. Thank you and enjoy!

(Pictures not mine but collage is)

Today is not your favorite day. You woke up late, your laundry isn’t done because the machines were all being used when you tried, your roommate didn’t do the dishes so you had to do them before you left, your car broke down - meaning you had to take the Subway - and now you’re working an extra shift because your stupid coworker didn’t show up.

Who even comes in to get coffee at 9 at night? The sky is dark, the stars are out, and everyone should be getting ready for bed - including you. God. You love New York, but sometimes you wish the damn city would just go to sleep for once in it’s goddamn existence.

You’re practically asleep on your feet, getting ready to close in fifteen minutes, when the door opens, the little bell ringing in response. You rub your eyes and turn from where you’re wiping down the back counters to speak to the wackjob who wants coffee at this cursed hour.

You freeze, your eyes meeting stunning azures framed by dark lashes. Thick, soft, chocolate locks fall down past his ears and into those alluring eyes. Lips, perfectly pink and very tempting, pull up in a delicious smile. He’s got a jawline sharp as a knife, only accentuated by the dark scruff covering it. Jesus Christ this man is attractive. He’s also vaguely familiar…

He strolls up to the counter, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans that pulled taunt around his thick thighs. His shirt is pulled tightly across his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath the fabric, threatening to tear the material with every movement.

“Hello.” You thank whatever deity that might be out there that your voice doesn’t shake as you greet the gorgeous god of a man.

“Hi there, doll. Cody’s off today, huh?” Even his voice is breathtaking.

“Yeah. He didn’t show up. Is he a friend of yours?”

The man tilts his head in confusion, before his eyes light up realization. “Oh, no. No. I just come here a lot.”

“At nine at night?”

He shrugs, a small blush rising on his cheeks. “It’s the only time I get to myself really.” It clicks in your head who this man is when he raises his hand to rub the back of his neck. Black metal gleams in place of tanned skin.

“You’re Bucky Barnes!” You blink at him in disbelief. His hand quickly finds its way back to his pocket while he chuckles awkwardly. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. You’re one of my favorite Avengers! After Black Widow, obviously, but-” You stop rambling, feeling heat rise to your face. “God, I’m tired. Uh, what can I get you?” You punch in the order that he gives you and look up shyly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

He smirks and leans on the counter. “How about a name, darlin'? Yours, specifically.”

You roll your eyes, unable to contain the snort you give. “I’ll be right back with your order, sir.” You start making his drink, avoiding his eyes that you feel watching your every move. Usually you had another worker helping to make drinks, but since there’s only ten minutes until closing, you’re alone to close up the shop tonight.

You also usually only write on the cup when there’s more than one person, but you find yourself writing down your own name on his cup. It is part of his order, after all.

“Here you go.” You repeat his order, handing his cup to him.

He raises an amused eyebrow. “You forgot-” You interrupt him by clicking your tongue and turning the cup in his hands. He looks down at it curiously, before grinning and reading the ink out loud. The way your name falls off his lips has you holding in a shiver. “Thanks, sugar.” You watch him leave the shop, whistling a nameless tune, and wonder if Cody would mind switching shifts more.

Turns out, Cody had been arrested, so your boss had to hire a new kid who, because of school, couldn’t do the night shifts. Which meant your shifts changed. Not that you mind all that much; it gives you more chances to see Bucky.

When he said he comes in often, he wasn’t lying. Occasionally he stays while you clean and lock up and the two of you get lost in conversation under the city lights outside the shop. He usually orders and leaves with a witty comment and a wink, probably off to save the world from aliens or Nazis. He always orders the same thing, but he always asks for a little something extra, different every night.

“The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Anything else?”

“Your phone number would be great.”

“I’ll get right on your drink, Buck.”

“Awesome. Can you add your favorite flowers to that, too? Thanks, sugar.”

“I’m gonna change it up today, dollface.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll have the usual, but on the side I want to know what your favorite dessert is.”

He’s such a charmer. You aren’t sure if he’s just flirting or if he actually likes you. You think maybe he does that with every girl - waitresses, cashiers, secretaries - and he’s just being friendly. You’re sure after being stuck as a brainwashed assassin for nearly a century, flirting and cracking jokes with people makes him feel more normal. Still, you can’t help but wish that maybe the relationship you have now would become…more.

It’s not until he shows up a few weeks after your first meeting that you finally get an answer to whether or not he really likes you.

The bell rings, signifying a customer coming into the shop. You know it’s Bucky by the watch on your wrist; in the past few weeks of working the night shift, only one other person came in at nine o’clock.

“Good evening, beautiful.” A smile lifts the corners of your mouth at the familiar smooth voice that you could listen to all day. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

You straighten up and look over the counter. “It’s called inventory. How’s your day been, Buckaroo?”

“Better now that I get to see your pretty face.”

You roll your eyes, face heating up and a small smile gracing your features. “Give me a minute and I’ll have your drink done. Anything extra?”

“This is a bit riskier than normal, but I’ve been wanting to try it for a while. Can I get your schedule?”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion as he smirks confidently. “My schedule?”

“Yeah. I just need to know something.”

“What would that be?”

“You free on Saturday, doll?”

* * * * * * * *

Saturday comes much too slowly for your liking, especially considering he asked you out only two days prior. He didn't tell you what you'd be doing today, so you decide on a casual sundress that you can play off as fancy if you need it to be. The color and style compliments you and your beautiful features perfectly and you can only hope he agrees. Your roommate assured you you looked gorgeous before going out with some of their other friends this morning.

You're just putting the finishing touches on your outfit for the day when a knock on your door sounds throughout your apartment. You check your watch: 10:30 on the dot. Just like he said. You get up too quickly, causing you to trip on your own feet and stumble - but luckily you catch yourself before you fall. Feeling simultaneously embarrassed and relieved he didn't see your clumsy actions, you head to open the door.

A bouquet of your favorite flowers appeared once you open the door, bright cerulean eyes shining at you from behind them. He grins, said eyes scanning your figure. "You look pretty as a picture, doll."

You duck your head bashfully, taking the flowers from him. "Thank you." You not so subtly check him out as you put the flowers in a vase. Like always, Bucky is absolutely stunning: his brown locks frame his face, falling into those mesmerizing blues, which are even more so due to the dark blue t-shirt under the light bIue jean jacket hugging his muscled torso. Dark jeans pull taunt across those thighs, his large hands in his pockets casually. You find yourself frowning when you notice his left hand is covered by a black glove. You want to say something, but decide against it, too anxious to ruin the date with this god of a man.

He clears his throat, which brings your gaze back to his face. You feel yourself heat up at the smirk on his perfectly pink lips. "Uh, I, um, so...what are we doing today?"

"I thought we could have some fun today, since all you ever seem to do is work."

"I don't always work." You quickly defend. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow, making you drop your head again. "Okay. Maybe I don't get out much."

He chuckles. "Good thing. That way I get you to myself." There's that smug smirk again. "As for what we're doing, that's for me to know and you to find out. I'd wear walking shoes if I were you, though."

You give him a curious look, moving over to grab your keys, phone, and wallet, before slipping on your sneakers. "I don't get a hint or anything?"

"And ruin the surprise? Where's the fun in that?" You giggle a bit as the two of you head out your door and down the hall. "I didn't know if you mind motorcycles, so I just borrowed Steve's car." He tells you in the elevator.

You talk about motorcycles and your opinion of them as you walk out your building and into the bright Spring sun. Your eyes widen at the nice Camaro parked in the street that he leads you to. "Wow."

"Yeah." Bucky nods in agreement. "Tony had it custom made for Steve for their anniversary a few months ago."

"And he's allowing you to use it?"

Bucky chuckles, running a hand through his hair as a pink tint dusts his cheeks. "'Allow' is a strong word."

You laugh as he opens the passenger door for you. You thank him, sliding onto the nice brown leather seat. "Does he even know you have it?"

He shrugs, shutting the door and leaning into the open window. "He'll find out soon, I'm sure."

Another laugh escapes you, a smile adorning his lips at the sound. He walks around the car, doing a hood slide to make you chortle again. While you two start driving, you try to convince him to give you a hint, but he's stubborn, denying you answers with that annoyingly charming smirk of his.

You recognize the direction you're going after a while and bounce in your seat as you arrive. "Coney Island?"

"I haven't been here since before the War and I've been meaning to come see how it's changed." He told you with a grin. "Who better to come check it out with than the pretty dame who serves me coffee at nine o'clock without complaining?"

Rolling your eyes to cover how much comments affect you, you smile teasingly in return. "Have you always been such a charmer, Barnes?"

He parks the car before shooting you a wink. "Only to angels, darlin', and you're the first one I've met so far."

You inwardly curse, hating how easily flustered you get around him. He gets out of the car and you're about to follow when he opens your door for you and offers his hand to you like the gentleman he is. You take it, enjoying the feeling of your smaller one against his rough calluses, and he helps you out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

"You ready to have the time of your life, dolIface?"

"As long as you get me a treat." You joke, linking your arm with the one he offers.

"Like I wasn't going to?" He scoffs back. "Who do you think l am, sugar? Now c'mon. Fun's awaitin'."

You laugh, letting him drag you around, loving the child-like wonder in his pretty eyes. Whether or not you enjoy roller coasters, you have a blast: playing carnival games, eating food you both know is terrible for you, but tastes oh so good, and people watching the interesting crowds, all while teasing and playing around with each other. There's nothing better you can think of to do with your free day than goof off with Bucky, no stress or worries plaguing your mind like usual. He even wins you multiple adorable plushies! Being a super soldier wasn't just good for saving the world, evidently.

It was while you're eating lunch that you ask Bucky why he's wearing a glove. "I've already seen your arm. I don't mind."

He hesitates, opening his mouth before licking his lips nervously. "It's not...I know you don't. I just don't...I dunno. I don't wanna freak anyone out."

You frown and put down your food, leaning forwards on your elbows. "First off, I think you're an amazing person. Just throwing that out there. Second, I don't think anyone will mind. You're a hero. An Avenger. Basically a celebrity with a badass arm. And, finally, if anyone does say anything, I'll tell them off. Easy peasy."

He snorts at that, before looking at his gloved hand warily. You reach across the table to give both his hands a squeeze. He meets your eyes and you grin reassuringly back. "If you're not comfortable, that's okay. Just know that other people should never be the reason to hide yourself. Trust me."

"I do." He says genuinely. You give him a questioning look, playing with the tips of his gloved fingers. At his nod, you slowly start taking his glove off, giving him time to say no. He doesn't, letting you tug it all the way off. He blushes when you lift the smooth metal to your lips.

"So, what's next? Wanna win me one of those monkeys with the velcro hands?" He chuckles at your question, telling you he'd win you all of them if you asked. You giggle, tightening your hold on his hand and, after finishing the last bite of food, pulling him to the booth with the monkey prizes.

When it starts getting dark, Bucky convinces you to go on the Ferris Wheel with him, promising to hold your hand the whole time if you're scared of heights (even though you haven't let go of his hand or arm since lunch). It's one of the most stunning scenes you've ever seen. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, a few stars dotting the darkened sky, a rare sight living in New York City. The aforementioned city's lights were turning on, causing the skyline to glow brightly. It's hard to think of anything bad about NYC when she looks like that.

"Wow. " You breath, enchanted by the city you've grown to love as home. "There's something almost...magical about it, don't you think?" You turn to Bucky, still captivated by the view, expecting him to be the same. After all, New York has been his home for over a century and so much has changed. Instead, you find him intently watching you, a small, adoring smile etched on his features. You smile shyly, unable to keep his gaze while he's looking at you like that - like you're the most enthralling thing he's seen, bewitching his heart and soul, even with the magnificent picture before you.

"Yeah...there is." He agrees, grabbing your chin between his left thumb and pointer finger gently, making your eyes meet. His right arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warm chest, heating you up from the chill the night is bringing.

Your heart drums hard against your ribs when he glances at your lips and you're sure he could hear it, even without his enhanced hearing. Your eyes lock onto his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. You're suddenly so much closer, his right hand holding the back of your neck delicately while his left cups the side of your jaw. Your hands are gripping his jacket, noses brushing.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice comes out low and raspy.

"If you didn't, I'd probably smack you."

You feel his deep chuckle reverberate through his chest, which you just notice is pressed solidly against yours. Before you can process anything, his lips are slanted over yours. They're softer than you originally thought and they move expertly against yours. It surprises you, before you remember he's technically over a century old, so of course he has experience.

The kiss is over before you want it to be, but the need for oxygen gets too much and your lungs start to sting, so you pull back reluctantly, your hands now in his hair while he's holding your face tenderly.

"Speaking of magic."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as the Ferris Wheel starts turning again. "Who knew Bucky Barnes is such a sap?"

He smirks, leaning forwards to peck your Iips a couple times. "I prefer the term 'romantic'."

Once you get off, you hold onto his elbow, leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you for bringing me, Buck. I really enjoyed today."

"Well that's good considering we're not done."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, what?"

Bucky scoffs in amusement. "You didn't think that was all, didya, doll? The day's not over; the night's still young!" His right arm slings around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing your head.

"Okay. What's next?" You ask curiously. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on those delicious lips. "Another surprise?"

"Hope you're hungry, sweetheart."

"Dinner?"

Giving you a charming grin, he leads you back to the car. "Guess you'll have to wait 'n see, darlin’."

* * * * * * * *

"Buck.” You groan, toeing the ground nervously. The blindfold covering your eyes was keeping you from seeing anything and, to your embarrassment, you've already tripped more times than you care to admit. “Where are we? l feel like we've been walking forever. Can I take this stupid thing off yet?”

Bucky chuckles softly in your ear, holding you steady as you walk on the uneven surface beneath your feet. “We’re almost there, doll. I promise."

Letting out a huff, you let him lead you further along. Finally, after what feels like hours, though you know you're being dramatic and haven't been walking that long, he stops. "Stay right here," he mumbles, his hands that were on your shoulders leaving, along with his warmth behind you, with a kiss to your cheek.

"Haha. You're so funny."

A couple snickers leave his lips and you can just imagine the smile no doubt gracing his features - the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes adorably. You feel wind nip at your bare skin and shiver slightly, wondering where the hell you are.

"Okay. C'mere." His hands are on you again, the contrast of the two adding to the goosebumps the breeze was giving you. "Right here." You can practically feel his excitement and nerves as he positions you. "Alright. Ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose."

His nimble fingers are suddenly at the edge of cloth covering your eyes, which he makes quick work of, tugging it off gently. "You can open your eyes, sugar." He chuckles, seeing your eyes tightly clenched shut. You do as he says and blink them open. The sight that meets you takes your breath away.

He brought you to a beach, which you had kind of already guessed due to the sad slipping through your shoes. In front of you, a blanket is spread out, being held at the corners by lanterns, which are connected by a string of fairy lights outlining the blanket. Pillows are scattered on the blanket, a picnic basket to the side while a single red rose is in a small vase in the center with rose petals surrounding the setup. He really is a romantic.

"Bucky. It's beautiful. When did you set this up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, turning red. You smile, enjoying the fact that you can make him just as flustered as he makes you. “Actually, the team helped me out a bit. It was originally just Natasha and Steve. But, uh, then Tony and Wanda found out and then...Sam."

You giggle, knowing his and Sam's brotherly relationship from previous conversation. "I bet he teased the shit out of you when he found out."

"Please," Bucky scoffs. "I'll be the butt of his jokes for at least a month. At least, this part of me will."

"Well, I love this side of you if that's worth anything."

He grins dashingly at you. "Then let the birdbrain tease, because that’s worth everything. Here." Taking your hand, he leads you over to the blanket and sits you down. "All those questions at the coffee shop and I never asked your favorite drink so I brought red, white, beer, Coke, Pepsi, root beer, and," he pulls out the last bottle he brought with a boyish smile. "Apple juice. There's water in 'ere too. And, o' course, the meal and the dessert, which I did ask about because I'm not a complete idiot."

Laughing, you can't help but pull him in for a kiss. "You're so cute."

He clears his throat, his face heating up while he rubs the back of his neck, tying his hair back in a knot. He hands out compliments like candy on Halloween but he can't take them to save his life. How adorable can one man be?

You two eat and talk about everything from hilarious childhood stories to what keeps you up at night. You love listening to his fascinating tales of playing through the 20s, scraping through the 30s, and fighting through the 40s. You especially love the way his face lights up when talking about his family, the Howling Commandos, and America's Golden Boy, both twink and tank stories.

After a couple hours, you find yourself wrapped in his warm jacket - which smelled amazing - leaning against him as he tells you about his new family. You sip on your preferred drink, your eyes fluttering shut, content to simply listen to his soothing voice talking about Clint and Scott's latest prank on Pietro.

"You tired, doll?" You hear him whisper tenderly, his arms around your waist while his thumbs run small circles on your sides.

You hum and look back at him over your shoulder. "Just feeling the moment." He smiles adoringly at you, kissing your temple.

"It's getting late anyways. We should get you home. Don't want your roommate worrying."

You scoff, but agree. You help him clean up and carry things to the car, despite his protests. You nearly fall asleep on the ride back, his big, warm hand resting comfortably on your thigh the whole way. He squeezes gently when you pull up to your building, murmuring lightly to wake you up.

Ever the gentleman, he walks you inside and helps you bring the armful of prizes he got you to your door. Once there, you unlock the door and lean against the frame, facing him.

"Thank you, James. As far as first dates go, this is by far the best one I've had."

He shoots you a smug grin. "Glad to hear that, beautiful. Does that mean if I asked for a second date you'd say yes?"

You give him a smirk back. "I'd say your chances are very good."

"And if asked for a goodnight kiss from the most gorgeous girl I've ever been blessed to be in the presence of?"

You giggle, ducking your head shyly. His hands grip your jaw, pulling your gaze back to him. He nudges your nose with his, whispering against your lips, "is that a yes?" AII you can think to do is nod. He smirks at your reaction, before he's pulling your lips against his. It's more passionate, less hesitant and experimental, than the few previous kisses you shared. He's angling your face to deepen the kiss, his hands tangle in your hair and his tongue prods your lips open, swallowing the little whimper you let out.

When you pull back, you're breathless, panting against his open month. "You workin' tomorrow, darlin'?" He rasps out.

"No." You try to collect yourself enough to answer, although it's hard with all your nerves on fire, his scent fogging up your brain. You manage to move your heavy tongue enough to say, "I have the weekend off."

A broad grin lights up his pretty face. "Great. I'll be over at nine. Have a nice night, sweetheart."

You nod, an airy "goodnight" leaving your lips. You watch him walk off, a pep in his step and his lips turned up. You lean back against your door, hugging all your new plushies to your chest, still wrapped up in his jacket, and let out a sigh.

You'll have to go visit Cody and thank him. After all, that dreadful night shift gave you the best day of your Iife.

#cjsinkythoughts #cjswriting #first written work #first published work #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #please excuse any mistakes #thanks for reading!#first dates w/ avengers #��🦾

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

From A Whisper To A Scream (6/10)

Summary: Michael has a support system whether he likes it or not.

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: toxic people bein’ toxic lmao

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

ao3

Michael woke up to a hand on his forehead.

He jolted awake at the feeling of someone touching him, only for it to be Sanders sitting on the edge of his bed and looking insanely worried. It took a few seconds of heavy breathing, but Michael settled back into his mattress and balled up more in his blankets that were cocooning him. He felt a little less like he was going to explode with power than the last time he woke up, but he was still uncomfortable.

Then again, he would probably be uncomfortable for the rest of his life.

“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you lose control like that,” Sanders said. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. It was too early for that conversation. Technically, he didn’t know what time it was, but it felt too early. “You passed out on the floor.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. Sanders didn’t say anything, but the bed creaked as he moved.

“Sit up, drink some water.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re going to drink it,” Sanders said, not room in his tone for argument, “And you’re going to eat. You need to flush whatever’s in your system out somehow.”

Michael peeked up at him again. So he knew something. How much did he know? That was a question Michael constantly found himself asking when it came to Sanders. He always seemed to know way more than he was actually willing to say.

“You’re not going to school. You’re going to stay here for a couple days until your system clears,” he said. Michael shook his head.

“No, I-I have practice and‒”

“Michael,” Sanders said, “I know you won’t tell me what’s goin’ on, but you ain’t goin’ anywhere. If your mama saw the way you were last night, she wouldn’t let you out of her sight, so I ain’t either. Not until I figure out why you feel like you’re gonna die.”

“My mom did let me out of her sight.”

“For your own good,” Sanders insisted.

Michael couldn’t help but disagree. Even if she had thought it was, he couldn’t imagine how the life he was leading was better than the time he didn’t get with her. It wasn’t fair at all and it never would be. He just wanted her. He wanted her more than he ever had before.

They were quiet for a moment before Michael eventually sat up a bit and drank the water he was forcing on him. Then he laid back down and Sanders didn’t leave. After a few more seconds of sitting in silence, Michael realized Dog was laying on his bed behind him, both Dog and Sanders seeming to have no intention of leaving him alone as if guarding him.

If only they knew that he wasn’t worth guarding.

“Michael,” Sanders said. Michael looked up at him again. He never used his name like that. “Is it a person?”

“Huh?”

“What you think is tryin’ to kill you, is it a person?” Sanders asked. Michael didn’t answer, but that seemed to do all the speaking for him. “We can grab a bag and go.”

“Sanders…”

“I got people across the country that know too much, Boy, I say I need a safehouse, I can find one,” Sanders said. And, once again, it was saying more than he ever really had before. Sanders didn’t talk about those years in between losing his makeshift family and coming back to Roswell to find him. Michael had just assumed he’d stayed angry and alone everywhere he went.

Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“No, they can track me and I don’t want to put you in danger,” Michael admitted. Sanders huffed a little laugh.

“Boy, you ain’t thinkin’ if you think I’m not already in danger,” he said simply. Michael balled up more. “Didn’t say it was ‘cause of you.”

“We can’t just leave.”

“How are they trackin’ you? If it’s your phone, we can trash that. If it’s somethin’ else, I know a guy up in Montana.”

Michael laughed softly, but it didn’t come without a wave of tears in his eyes. He didn’t know what was the right thing to do. Maybe he should just leave, but what would happen if Eff found him? Or if one of the many people Eff worked with? Or, worse, he took it out on someone else that he’d run away?

“I can’t leave Isobel and Max.”

“Well, I can’t do much about that, but they ain’t my responsibility,” Sanders said. Michael sniffled and shook his head.

“I can’t leave, but you should. I-I don’t want you to be collateral damage,” Michael insisted, rubbing his eye with his fist. Sanders laughed bitterly and his hand gripped Michael’s shoulder.

“I don’t usually like you thinkin’ I’m old, but I am. I promised to keep you safe and if somethin’ happens to me doin’ that, then I ain’t collateral damage. I’m just doin’ my job,” he said like it was simple. Michael sniffled and shook his head.

He hated this. He hated this so fucking much.

“I need to go back to school Tuesday and act normal, go to my games and practice and pretend it’s not bothering me,” Michael said, wiping his face, “It’ll buy me time to figure out what to do. I just, just have to be on my best behavior.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Michael said, taking a deep breath, “But can you do me one favor? Don’t let Alex come over.”

Sanders looked at him in confusion for a moment, but something akin to understanding dawned on him and he nodded. Michael wasn’t sure what exactly he got from that, whether he assumed Alex was at fault or if he jumped to the idea that he was protecting him. Somehow, it was both and neither at the same time.

“Alright, Boy, I trust your judgement. I’mma go make you somethin’ to eat, stay here.”

Michael had no desire to move.

Alex liked having Flint around, he really did, but the silence outside of the clink of silverware was deafening.

He kept looking between Flint and his father, waiting for something to happen. He knew they wouldn’t speak about the business in front of him, but he thought they’d do something. Instead, it seemed to be full of just them staring at each other and angrily eating. If it was anything other than father and son, Alex would’ve assumed he was intruding.

Hell, part of him still felt like he was intruding.

“So, Alex,” his dad said, still not looking away from his brother, “You’re eighteen now.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, nodding his head.

It was weirdly formal, but his father hadn’t actually acknowledged his birthday on the actual day. He never really did, especially after his mom left. It seemed like he viewed it as a very rude reminder that his wife had left him. Alex was fine with not celebrating as long as it meant he didn’t have to deal with any backlash.

“Dad,” Flint said, voice stoic, “No.”

Their dad tilted his head as he looked to Flint with nothing but sheer contempt. Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The two of them stared at each other, seeming to hold a silent conversation all about Alex. He wasn’t a fan.

“In a few weeks, you and I are going on a trip,” his dad said, turning to Alex again. Alex nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Dad,” Flint said.

“What, Flint? You were 18, Gregory and Clay were both 18. Alex is 18, it’s time. He’s a grown man now,” he said. It was the first time he’d spoken like Alex had any agency at all and it was still involving his own decision about what Alex needed to do. Alex didn’t know whether to be excited or not.

“I can handle it,” Alex assured his brother, smiling softly. Flint didn’t smile back. All of his light excitement from the day before was gone and he nodded once before getting up from the table.

“Flint, get your ass back here and pick up your plate,” his dad instructed. Part of Alex expected Flint not to listen, but he still came back and picked up his plate. He rinsed it off in the sink and went to head back to the hallway. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Flint took a loud breath and turned again, picking up their father’s plate and rinsing it off just like Alex had done every night they had dinner together since his brothers moved out and he didn’t have anyone to share the duty with. It was a respect thing, his dad insisted.

However, as much as he loved his brother, watching Flint wash his father’s plate forced Alex to realize just how much his brother was still under their father’s thumb.

Alex couldn’t make himself eat anymore and, thankfully, it wasn’t a night where he was going to be forced to sit at the table the whole night. He pretty quickly finished up and made it back to his room where he immediately pulled out his phone. He hadn’t been able to talk to Michael all day‒it was torture.

Alex: i miss you :(

He tugged his pillow under his head and watched his phone, waiting for a response. However, as the time ticked by, he never did. Which was extremely out of character. He clearly hadn’t been feeling well yesterday, so maybe he’d been sleeping. But he hadn’t texted him all day…

Maybe Alex was being clingy. Liz and Maria were both so sure that he was moving too fast, so maybe he was. They were allowed to go a day without speaking to each other. Even if they hadn’t since they began hooking up… Well, that didn’t matter.

He waited and he waited until he got tired of waiting. He clearly wasn’t going to get a response.

And that was… fine.

Michael kept falling asleep.

He didn’t know how the hell he was even managing it when he was so stressed. He should be unable to do anything but stay awake and worry, but it seemed he just kept passing out. He wasn’t entirely sure Sanders wasn’t drugging him to make sure he slept it off.

Still, it felt good to be somewhat rested by the time Isobel came knocking. He didn’t even get the chance to sit up and properly greet her before he was climbing into his bed. She didn’t speak or scold or question him like he expected. Instead, she crawled beneath the covers and pulled them over both of their heads. He felt young again.

“I wasn’t just paranoid when I thought someone was watching me, was I?” Isobel asked in the safety of his blanket. Michael shook his head slowly and let the two of them sit in silence for a long stretch of time.

Michael didn’t really know what to say to her. He wasn’t going to say it had anything to do with Alex, that simply wasn’t an option. Isobel would blame him and Michael was pretty sure Alex had no idea. Eff seemed convinced that Alex had no idea and wanted to keep it that way.

“You shouldn’t be around me,” Michael said, “For your own safety.”

“What about your safety?”

“Not important.”

“Shut up,” Isobel said, scooting closer. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tugged his face into the crook of her neck. She was nothing but protective as she cradled him close, shielding him away from the world.

It’d been too long since he’d spent time with her, too long since he’d had his sister. Was a guy really worth all of this? Because he shouldn’t be. No one should be worth all of this. It should be easy to cut Alex off, to go back to just handling Eff and dealing with life. So why was it such an impossible thing to grasp?

“I need your help,” Michael murmured into the soft fabric of her shirt.

“What is it?”

“I need you to keep me from talking to Alex,” he said. Isobel froze for a moment. “It’s to keep him safe. I just… need reinforcements.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Isobel insisted. She held him still as she reached over to grab his phone. She fiddled around on it for a moment and he was pretty sure she blocked his number.

He should really talk to Alex to his face and tell him they couldn’t be together, that would be the right thing to do. But, really, was anything about this right? It didn’t feel like it. It was unfair and cruel and miserable, but he did this to himself. Michael had been reckless and this was his punishment.

Besides, he had Isobel and he had Sanders. He had no room to complain.

“Can I help with anything else?” Isobel asked cautiously. Michael shook his head, taking a deep breath.

“Just, when I go back to school, make sure I don’t do anything stupid,” Michael requested.

“God, Michael, I didn’t say give me a hard job,” she said, teasing to lighten the situation. He smiled and, though it didn’t last long, it was still welcome. “I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

Walking into school was hellish.

Michael kept his head down and stayed close to Max and Isobel. Any time he was near Alex, he avoided him. In times when Max and Isobel weren’t around, he chose to stick by his teammates who welcomed him into the group without a thought. He just couldn’t be around Alex. He would cave and that would do no one any good.

But whatever Eff had put in him was now gone and he felt somewhat normal. Or, at least, not like he was a ticking time bomb. So that was good. It also helped that Eff hadn’t shown up to take him to the shed. That part, however, made him more paranoid than anything.

He was able to ignore Alex for a few days, but he should’ve known that that time was limited. This was Alex Manes he was dealing with‒he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t oblivious either.

He showed up in his Calc class, his normal bored expression on his face. He never showed just anyone that pretty smile. That was sacred and special.

“Michael,” his teacher called, “Mrs. Doyle needs you, take your things.”

And Michael couldn’t exactly say no, could he? With a stifled sigh, Michael grabbed his bag and followed Alex out of the classroom. This was bound to happen anyway. They needed to talk.

Alex didn’t spare him a look over his shoulder as he led them to their spot. They hadn’t really hooked up in there lately, finding themselves much more reliably in Michael’s bed instead. But here they were, back in the dimly lit, abandoned office. And Alex didn’t show him his pretty smile which was probably a good thing.

“You blocked my number,” Alex said, not even bothering to beat around the bush. Michael’s eyes stayed on the ground. “What the fuck? Can’t even say you don’t want me to my face? You have to block me?”

“That’s not…”

“What? That’s not what? That’s what happened. And, look, feel free to fill in the blanks on what I did that pushed you away so fast. I mean, seriously? How do you go from building me a fucking car to blocking me in two days? What kind of bullshit is that?” Alex demanded. Michael closed his eyes and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Okay, so maybe he should’ve prepared for this conversation more.

“I just… Need space,” Michael said slowly.

“See, that’s what I thought too, at first. Oh, he just needs fucking space, cool, fun, fine,” Alex said, “But then I was like, no, my boyfriend wouldn’t do that without telling me. Then you blocked me. That-that’s not asking for space, that’s cutting me the fuck off.”

“Isobel did it.”

“Okay, and? You didn’t undo it or stop her,” Alex accused. He stopped sounding like he was going to rip Michael’s head off. He had about two seconds to think it was a good thing before he realized Alex had switched over to sounding like he was about to cry.

It was significantly worse.

“What did I do?” Alex asked. His voice didn’t crack, but it wasn’t exactly comforting. “You won’t even look at me. I hate to sound clingy, but, fuck, Guerin, you’re being a dick to me. I get it if you don’t wanna be with me, but have the balls to say it to my face.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t say that. It was so remarkably untrue.

Michael reluctantly forced himself to look up at Alex and he took in the sad expression he wore so plainly. It was honest and raw and it hurt.

“I want to be with you,” Michael said‒because he was so, so stupid. Alex, thankfully, didn’t lighten up.

“Then why are you being so mean to me? I thought…” Alex trailed off, looking at him and then the wall, “Did Flint say something to you? Because this changed after you met him.”

“No,” Michael said firmly, “I’ve just… I’ve been training and stressed and, and I won’t get scouted if I’m out. I thought it would be easier if I just…”

“If you just treated me like I’m garbage and won’t even have a conversation with me?” Alex said. Michael closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Fuck you.”

“I deserve that.”

“Why would you build me a car and meet me brother? Why would you do half the shit you’ve done if you had no intention of being with me for longer than a few months?” Alex demanded. Michael swallowed and laughed softly. Where was Isobel when he needed her to whisk him away?

“Because I didn’t know that this would be an issue. I didn’t know being with you put so many people at risk,” Michael admitted. It was probably too truthful‒he was making it sound like it was more serious than football. Because it was.

But maybe he could convince Alex that he was extremely shallow.

Part of him wished he could simply be honest. If he was around Alex, Flint would find out and he would be completely and utterly fucked. But Alex loved his brother. He was a lot of things, but mean enough to use Alex as a weapon wasn’t one of them. He would just have to push Alex away himself.

“Then talk to me! Be my boyfriend!” Alex snapped, “Don’t just fucking ghost me! We didn’t need to go public. I didn’t want to in the first place and we barely have anyway. I was perfectly content doing nothing but being with you privately.”

Michael kept his eyes on the ceiling. He needed to be rude. He needed Alex to not want him anymore. Hate me. Call me an asshole. Break up with me. You’re better than me, say it.

“You should’ve talked to me,” Alex said.

“Okay.”

Alex was quiet for what really felt like an hour, but was more likely just the worst 30 seconds of Michael’s life. This truly wasn’t fair. In a perfect world, he would get to be miserable and have Alex hold him and make him feel better about this whole shitty situation. They could take a nap together and Alex could shield him from all the bad in the world. Or, actually, in a perfect world he wouldn’t be miserable at all.

“Be nice to me,” Alex demanded. It was in the same tone of voice that he used when he said ‘touch me’, like he was telling Michael to do something that he knew Michael already wanted to do. It almost had him laughing. “I know you. I know you’re not an asshole. That guy who built me a car and let me paint his nails and dreams about being close to me just to keep himself calm is who you are. You’re… You’re not this.”

“And what if I am? What if I’m just really good at pretending to be charming?” Michael asked.

Alex kicked his shin. Not hard enough to hard, but enough to make him look at him in the eyes.

“Be nice to me,” Alex repeated, “Unblock me and be nice to me. If that means breaking up with me to my face, then do it. If it means apologizing to me and working your ass off to make it up to me, then do it.”

The thing about Alex Manes was that his eyes were insane. In a good way, of course, but they were impossible to lie to and impossible to deny. He knew he needed to reject him, that was the safe way to do things. That’s what would keep him and the people he loved safe.

But he wanted Alex.

He wanted slow kisses and warm cuddles. He wanted flirty texts and a place to nap. Alex was everything he wanted and everything he couldn’t have. But, maybe if he was careful…

“We can’t be seen together,” Michael said. Alex shrugged.

“Okay.”

“You deserve someone you can be seen with.”

“Why are you telling me what I deserve? You think I can’t make my own decisions?” Alex asked. Michael sniffled and looked around the room, trying to find the courage to deny him. He needed to. It was the right thing to do.

“We’re going to get hurt,” Michael said. I’ll probably die, he didn’t say. Maybe if Flint was feeling nice he would leave Isobel and Max and Sanders alone. Maybe he could beg. He wasn’t above begging.

“I want to be with you,” Alex said like it was easy, “I’m not afraid of saying it to your face, I don’t care if you think I’m clingy. Either say you don’t want me or act like you fucking do. I’m not here for this passive aggressive shit.”

“You’re a hard man to lie to, Alex Manes,” Michael said softly, shaking his head as he took a step forward. Alex scoffed.

“Then don’t lie.”

Michael took a deep breath and knelt on the ground. Alex didn’t ask what he was doing, simply let him move in close and rest his face against his stomach. Arms went around him and held him there. And, god, it was stupid.

But he felt safe for the first time in days.

“Alex, are you okay?”

“What?”

“You haven’t spoken about Michael in days.”

Alex rolled his eyes and threw a fry at Maria who dodged it with a laugh. For the days that Michael had been vehemently ignoring him, Alex had kept his mouth shut. Liz and Maria had both made it pretty clear they didn’t really approve of them moving so fast, so he kept it to himself when it seemed they were right.

And, well, now that they were going back to keeping it silent, he didn’t know exactly what to say. He really didn’t want to prove them right. But he liked Michael and there was clearly something going on that he wasn’t saying. He could pull the football card all he wanted, but that wasn’t what was actually going on.

Alex didn’t plan on letting him go that easily when he was hiding something that was fucking him up so badly. He’d eventually get him to speak. When he did, he wanted Michael to know that Alex wasn't going anywhere.

“We’re being lowkey,” Alex decided to say. Both girls shared a look that made him want to bash his face into a wall.

“Lowkey?” Liz asked. Alex shrugged, dipping his fry into his shake.

He felt a little bit better about the whole situation after Michael climbed into his bedroom window the night before. Any question on whether he should actually break up with him or not vanished. Michael was shaky and had lost weight, new scars dawning his skin from the last time Alex had touched him. Something was going on. He wasn’t going to let them convince him to change his mind.

“Shit came up, we’re being lowkey.”

“Alex…”

“Nope, not letting you talk me out of it,” Alex insisted, “I don’t want to hear it. If I wanted to, I would bring him up.”

They went through their whole routine anyway. “We don’t want you to get hurt” and “we just care about you” all of which were totally valid, but they didn’t have the full story. They weren’t understanding that something was wrong and he couldn’t tell them because he didn’t know what it was yet. He wasn’t going to just abandon him. Michael had known nothing but abandonment for most of his life and he wasn’t about to be another person on the list.

“It sounds toxic, Alex,” Liz said, “Especially if he’s suddenly trying to force you back into the closet.”

“He’s not forcing me to do anything, it was a mutual agreement. We want to be more lowkey, we liked it better that way,” Alex insisted. It wasn’t even a lie. He preferred being quiet. It was nicer.

And it made it easier for him to scope out what the fuck was going on.

“If you say so…” Maria said.

“I do.”

They lapsed into silence and Alex couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. They were just trying to watch out for him and he was pushing them away. He really just had to stick it out until he was able to help Michael with whatever was fucking with him.

And, more importantly, he just had to hope it was worth it.

#Malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #verse: from a whisper to a scream

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

D R A M

The title of this post is actually what I named the Word doc that I wrote this up in. This write takes place in an AU inspired by a post that said something along the lines of “supervillain winds up marrying the ex-spouse of their superhero archnemesis”. I saw that post and was like “time to make another version of the Superhero/villain AU”. So here you go.

——————————————————————————————

Stan slid into his regular stool at the bar. At the sound of soft muttering, he looked over. He raised an eyebrow. Normally, no one sat next to his stool. But today, a young woman sat there, staring morosely at her drink and mumbling something.

“Hey, hot stuff,” he said cheerfully, leaning in. She held up a hand. Light glinted off the golden band around her ring finger.

“I’m married,” she said dully.

“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Stan remarked. She glared at him. “I call it like I see it, toots.”

“Don’t call me ‘toots’,” she snapped.

“Fine. What should I call you, then?”

“By my name.”

“Which would be…?”

“…Angie.”

“Angie.” Stan held out a hand. “I’m Stan.” Angie shook the offered hand. “So, what brings a troubled wife to my favorite dive?”

“My dick of a husband,” Angie groused. She slumped over the bar. “I swear…some days he acts like a completely dif’rent man than the one I married.” Tears shone in her voice, along with a distinct southern accent. She picked up her drink and pulled on the straw. It rattled in the ice at the bottom of the otherwise empty glass. “And I’m all out.”

“I’ll cover it. What’s your drink?”

“Long Island iced tea.”

“Oof. Maybe I shouldn’t get you a second one of those. Those are a bad decision in a glass.” Angie straightened, her eyes boring into Stan’s.

“I can handle my liquor, sir. I bet I can handle it better ‘n you can,” she snarled. Stan held his hands up.

“Okay, okay, I believe you. Man, you’ve got claws, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Heh. I like a woman with a bit of fight in her.” Stan winked.

“Still married.”

“To that dick? Why?”

“He treats me right,” Angie mumbled into her drink. “…Sometimes.”

“Sometimes? What about the rest of the time?”

“He tries to get me to quit my job and be a housewife.”

“Why?”

“If I knew, I’d tell ya,” Angie said with a shrug. She tapped the rim of her glass. “So, about that drink…?”

“Hey, barkeep?” Stan called, flagging down the bartender. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one corner of Angie’s mouth turn up, into a ghost of a smile.

-----

Stan had just about finished putting his boots on when his favorite coworker, Undertow, stormed into the locker room. He watched with a raised eyebrow as Undertow tore open his locker, muttering under his breath.

“You’re in a mood today,” Stan commented. Undertow sighed. He looked back at Stan. The crew’s general policy was to keep masks on at all times in HQ, since there were some new heroes with telepathy who might be able to take a peek at a villain’s memories. Undertow’s outfit had a full cowl, rather than a domino mask like Stan’s, but even partially obscured, he had one of the most expressive faces Stan had ever seen. And at the moment, Undertow’s expression was frustrated and saddened.

“I thought she was fin’ly goin’ to leave him,” Undertow said. Stan’s second eyebrow raised to join his first.

He’s pretty damn upset. Normally, he keeps that accent in check.

“Who?” Stan asked.

“My sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Two.” Undertow sat on the bench next to Stan. “But the one I’m speakin’ of is my twin sister.” Stan racked his brain for any hints about Undertow’s background. As someone without villainous family connections, he wasn’t privy to information that some of his coworkers had. But he remembered hearing once that Undertow came from a long line of villains.

“Is she…in the trade?” Stan asked. Undertow shook his head.

“No. When we were younger, she wanted to be. But she decided not to, when she started datin’ the feller what became her husband.” Undertow scowled. “Her husband’s a real piece of shit.”

“Did he prevent her from being a villain?”

“Nah. He don’t know ‘bout our fam’ly bein’ full of villains. But he’s on the straight ‘n narrow, and wouldn’t have liked his wife to be breakin’ the law.” Undertow sighed heavily. “As it is, he don’t really like his wife doin’ much of anything. Which is why my sister needs to dump his sorry ass.” Undertow rubbed his face. “And I thought she was goin’ to do it this time. But she didn’t.”

“What happened?”

“They had another argument about how he wants her to start poppin’ out kids. She don’t want to yet, ‘cause she feels like takin’ maternity leave right now would cripple her career trajectory. And his response was that she won’t need maternity leave, ‘cause she can just quit her job. He keeps pushin’ that issue over ‘n over. He don’t like her workin’.”

“Sounds like a douche.”

“He is! And after that fight, she came to my house fer a shoulder to cry on. I did my best to sway her, but she still went back to him once she’d calmed down.” Undertow groaned loudly. “Honestly, at this point, I can’t think of a single thing that’d get her to leave him.”

“Maybe I should make a pass at her,” Stan joked. Undertow snorted.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. You’d be better fer her than what she’s got right now.”

-----

Stan went to the bar every night, hoping to see Angie again, but it took a month before she showed up. This time, she arrived after he did, visibly in tears. She made her way to the stool next to Stan’s and sat down. Faint breezes danced around her, kicking up her caramel-colored hair.

Is…is she a super? I knew she was something special. Stan wordlessly slid her his whisky, which she downed in one swallow. He winced.

“Your husband again?” he asked. Angie nodded morosely. “Well, at least he lasted a month before he pissed you off enough to make you drown your sorrows.”

“Nah, I just went to my brother’s last time,” Angie said hoarsely. “He’s got real moonshine, and I wanted somethin’ strong.”

“If your brother’s got hooch, why are you coming here?” Stan asked. Angie slid Stan’s empty tumbler back to him, determinedly avoiding eye contact.

“I…wanted to talk to you.”

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

“Look, lady, I’m not a marriage counselor.”

“I know. But you don’t have an agenda. My brother does. My whole fam’ly does, all my friends do. All they say is ‘leave him’.” Angie met Stan’s gaze. Her eyes were a bright, brilliant blue, swimming in tears. “I just need someone to listen.”

“I can do that, but you’re gonna have to pay for another whiskey for me first,” Stan said. Angie managed a watery chuckle.

“Fine.” Angie waved over the bartender and ordered herself a Long Island iced tea and another whiskey for Stan.

“All right,” Stan said once his drink was in hand. “What’s going on?”

“My ma became a stay-at-home mother when I was a tot. She kept house and raised six kids-” Stan coughed roughly.

“Six kids?” he croaked. Angie nodded. “What the-”

“We’re Catholic.”

“Ah, okay. Carry on.”

“Props to her. It’s a rough job to have, and I don’t look down on it.” Angie slammed her hands against the counter. A wind picked up, rattling the old beer advertisements on the wall. “But it ain’t fer me!”

“Lemme guess. Your husband wants you to be a stay-at-home mom.”

“Yes. Which I knew. But this time- this time, he brought my ma into it! Told me that I’d be good at it ‘cause my ma clearly was. I just-” Angie gestured wordlessly. “How- how could he think that’s a compliment?”

“Probably ‘cause he’s so dead set on you doing that,” Stan said with a shrug. “He’s already decided you’ll do it, so he’s already started complimenting you on it.”

“…That makes sense,” Angie said softly. She groaned loudly. “Why is he like this?” Stan shrugged. “I want to stay with him, to get him to change his mind-”

“That’s not your job. Your job is-” Stan frowned. “Wait, what do you do?”

“I’m a zookeeper.”

“Your job is to keep zoos,” Stan said. Angie furrowed her brow, like she couldn’t decide whether she was amused by Stan’s phrasing or not. “Not to drag your husband out of the fifties.”

“But I’m his wife.”

“And?”

“I’m s’pposed to help him change.”

“What if he doesn’t want to change?” Stan asked. “What do you do then?” The winds that had entered the bar with Angie abruptly died down.

“…Yer right.”

“I am?”

“He don’t want to change. He don’t want to listen to me. I can’t force it, I shouldn’t have even tried.” Angie dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and stood to leave.

“Hey, uh wait-” Stan started. Angie looked at him.

“Yes?”

“I, uh, I never got your last name.”

“It’s Hillcrest.” Angie slid her wedding ring off and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. “But not fer long.” She paused for a moment, watching Stan, then leaned in and placed a gentle peck on his cheek. With that, she left the bar.

Stan stared at the door long after she had gone, his mind running a mile a minute.

Did I just get her to break up with her husband?

-----

Stan walked out of the shower and headed for his locker to get dressed in his civvies. After he had his pants on, Undertow entered the locker room and went for his locker as well.

“Hey,” Stan said. Undertow grunted. “Is it your sister’s husband again?”

“Hmm?” Undertow turned around. “Oh, no, she finally dumped him.”

“Really? Good for her.”

“Yeah. But she’s got a new beau, and she insisted on dinner with him tonight.” Undertow sighed. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Is he a dick, too?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t met him.”

“Ah. I get it. You don’t wanna meet your sister’s new man just yet.”

“No, I do not.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not looking forward to dinner tonight, either,” Stan said, slipping on his T-shirt. “I’m meeting my girlfriend’s brother for the first time.”

“Oof.” Undertow looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t worry too much, Flamethrower. You’re a great guy.”

“Thanks, but I dunno if her brother’s gonna think that. My girlfriend says he can be a bit tough.” Undertow walked over to Stan and clapped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m sure it’ll go great.”

“Hopefully,” Stan muttered. Undertow smiled at him.

“If her brother doesn’t like you, he’s a damn fool.”

-----

Stan walked up to the address Angie had given him. When she divorced her ex-husband, she had moved in with her twin brother, Lute. Apparently, Lute was thrilled to have her with him again.

I get it, though. That twin bond is strong. Stan stopped in front of the door. He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Comin’!” Angie called. Stan felt some of his nerves disperse at the sound of her voice. The door opened, revealing the beaming face of his girlfriend. “Stanley!” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you so much fer agreein’ to this.”

“You said it’s important, so…”

“It is,” Angie said softly. “It really is.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh! And, um, remember how ya told me that yer not exactly…on the side of the law?” she said, her voice low. Stan nodded. Telling Angie he was a villain had been nerve wracking, but she had proven herself once again to be the best possible girlfriend and taken it in stride. “Well, the reason I took it so well is ‘cause I have a lot of fam’ly members who ‘re in the same career.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yep! Lute’s one of ‘em. If things go well tonight, I can prob’ly convince him to put a good word in fer ya, get ya moved up in the ranks a bit.”

“You really think so?” Stan asked eagerly. Angie nodded. “That would be awesome, Ang.”

“Just be charmin’, okay?” Angie messed with his shirt. “But that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Hey, Angie, the oven just beeped!” a voice shouted. Stan’s head whipped up.

That almost sounded like Undertow.

“All right, I’ll come take care of it,” Angie called back. She kissed Stan on the cheek. “Come on in and take a seat in the livin’ room.”

“You got it.” Stan kissed the top of her head and entered the house, following the hallway until he arrived at a cozy living room. He took a seat on the brown couch. Shortly after, a young man that looked eerily similar to Angie entered, holding a glass of water, and took a seat next to him.

“So, um…” the man said. He cleared his throat. “Yer Stan?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re Lute?”

“Yessir.”

“Nice to meet you,” Stan said, holding out a hand. Lute shook it, visibly reluctant. “Angie speaks pretty highly of you.”

“She does the same fer you.” Lute cleared his throat again. “What do you do?”

“I sell used cars.”

“Used cars?”

“Yeah.” Stan shrugged. “It’s just to make some dough while I work on my passion projects.” Lute eyed Stan with interest. Much like when he had heard Lute’s voice earlier, Stan was reminded of Undertow. Something about the look in Lute’s gray eyes was eerily familiar.

“Passion projects? Like what?”

“Oh, uh, I’m keeping them to myself until they work out,” Stan said.

Don’t wanna spill just yet that I want to become a villain full-time.

“Ah.” Lute seemed disappointed. He looked down at his glass of water. After a moment, he spoke again. “You a super?”

“Yeah. You?” Stan asked without thinking. He fought back a wince.

Angie just told you he was a villain, of course he’s a super, you dumbass. Lute smirked. The water in his glass shot up, hovered as a sphere for a split second, then zipped around the room before returning to his glass. Stan’s jaw dropped.

“Whattaya think?” Lute asked snidely.

“…I think you’re a super,” Stan said.

Shit, it is Undertow! How did I wind up dating my coworker’s twin sister without realizing it?

“Yup.” Lute winked. “Better yet, I’m a mask. Give ya twenty bucks if ya can guess who.”

“Lute!” Angie scolded from the kitchen. Lute groaned.

“Fine, I’ll drop it.” Before Stan could think of what to do with the information that Lute was Undertow, the villain in question spoke again. “So, ya sell used cars. What’s yer education like?”

“Uh, high school.”

“That’s it?” Lute asked. Stan nodded. Lute frowned. “My sister has a-”

“Doctorate in herpetology, I know,” Stan said.

“And you don’t think it’s odd at all that someone so educated is with someone who only graduated high school?” Lute pressed. Stan shrugged.

“It just means that she’s smart enough for the both of us,” he said airily. Lute froze. His eyes began to frantically search Stan’s face.

“…What did ya just say?” he whispered.

“That Angie’s smart enough for both of us,” Stan said. A memory abruptly surfaced of a conversation he’d had with Undertow a few days ago. He had mentioned his relationship, as well as the discrepancy between his education and his girlfriend’s. And Undertow had simply replied that Stan’s girlfriend would have to be smart enough for the both of them, then.

“Hmm.” Lute leaned back, still staring at Stan. “Say, yer a super, right? What kind?” In lieu of a verbal response, Stan snapped his fingers. A flame burst to life on his fingertips.

“Whattaya think?”

“Flamethrower,” Lute whispered. Stan extinguished the flame.

“Undertow.”

“Yer- I-” Lute dragged his hands down his face. “Consarnit!”

“Yeah, I gotta admit, finding out that my girlfriend’s twin is my favorite coworker is pretty weird,” Stan confessed. Lute groaned. “But you seem to be taking this way harder than you should be.”

“It’s just- yer my fav’rite coworker, too.”

“You make that sound like it’s a problem.”

“It is. I like ya, Stan, which is goin’ to make it difficult to be hard on ya.”

“Wait, what?” Stan asked. Lute sighed.

“I have to be hard on ya to make sure yer all right fer my sister.”

“What? Come on, man!”

“My sister just got out of a bad relationship. I don’t want her to wind up in another one right off the bat.”

“You know me. I’m a good guy. I treat Angie right.”

“That’s what I thought ‘bout Max,” Lute said softly. “Hell, we’d been friends since we were in diapers. I thought he was a decent sort. So when he ‘n Angie started datin’ in high school, I didn’t bat an eye. I should’ve. If I had, maybe I could’ve stopped Angie from needin’ a divorce.”

“Lute.” Stan and Lute looked up. Angie had entered the living room. She crossed over to Lute, knelt in front of him, and placed a hand on one of his knees. “Don’t blame yourself. The only person to blame is me. I should’ve left the minute he became a hero, and I was goin’ to have to abandon the dream of followin’ the fam’ly tradition. But I stayed. Even when he started raggin’ on me ‘bout how I needed to be a more traditional wife.”

“You were in a toxic relationship,” Lute said softly. “Yer not to blame.”

“The only person to blame here is your dick of an ex-husband,” Stan said. Angie and Lute looked over. “Lute’s right, Angie. It’s difficult to leave a toxic relationship. My mom’s proof of that. But Angie’s right, too, Lute. It’s not your fault, either. Sometimes…sometimes people start out good, but then they get worse. Even if you had been hard on Max when he started dating Angie, things still could have played out the way they did.”

“Yeah,” Lute said. He sighed. “Yer right, Stan. We should be blamin’ Max, not ourselves. Especially since he’s apparently a hero.” Lute directed the statement at Angie, who paled. “Banjolina, what’s that about?”

“Banjolina?” Stan mumbled.

“I didn’t share information either way,” Angie said tartly, getting to her feet. “I ain’t a snitch.”

“Ya won’t be tellin’ us what his hero name is, then?” Lute asked. Angie shook her head. “Hmph. Guess we’ll just have to figure it out on our own.”

“Speaking of secret identities,” Stan said, “why didn’t you warn us that we already knew each other?” Angie grinned.

“I might not have ever gotten into the villainy game, but that don’t mean I ignore the chance to stir up some mischief.” Something in the kitchen beeped. “Oh, I’ve got to get that.” She rushed back into the kitchen.

“Given what ya just said and what I already knew about you,” Lute said slowly, “I’ll drop the protective big brother speech.” Stan leaned back.

“Cool. I mean, no offense, but you’re not as intimidating as you think you are,” Stan replied. Lute rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” He leaned closer to Stan. “Between the two of us, I think we could figure out which hero it is what broke Angie’s heart and trapped her in a bad relationship fer years on end.” Stan nodded.

“I agree. That motherfucker needs to get a firm ass-kicking.”

#I changed Lute's villain name from Tsunami to Undertow bc Tsunami was so that it would match Angie's name of Sirocco #but he doesn't have that motivation for his villain name in this situation #I am a big fan of Drama in my AUs so this AU is v fun to play with lmao #Best Revenge AU #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Stangie #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

If They Knew: Chris

As part of the No Good Horrible Very Bad Week for Chris and Jake! This is more just Chris having thoughts than it is anything else. Kind of a bridge to the next Jake, which is going to be... much more intense.

CW: Head banging mention, stimming/punishment for stimming references, references to noncon, survivor of abuse/torture having some very fucky self-blaming thought processes, conditioned thought processes that include thought of dubcon

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxck-fxck, @slaintetowhump

“Hey, kiddo, whatcha doin’?”

Chris doesn’t look up. “Thinking,” he replies, slowly, just one word. It’s hard to do it, to slow mouth and mind, but he’s trying very hard to be good. Good means keeping your hands still, your head off the wall, your words slow and steady. When he taps, they watch him, and they ask questions.

He was asked questions before, too, and then his hands were tied to his thighs and behind his back and they said if you like to hit your head so much we can help you with that and so when they ask him questions, he stops all the things he’s been punished for.

He sits very, very still.

He is very, very good.

Jefferson sighs and settles himself heavily onto the other end of the couch, giving Chris plenty of space. He doesn’t understand that Chris doesn’t like space. If he has too much space between him and someone else, it starts to itch and burn under his skin, licks up his nerves, alone alone touch me I want this please just touch me anything everything just touch please.

“What are you thinking about?” Jefferson asks.

“There’s… a new… couch… now,” Chris says, enunciating every word. Stop your fucking stammering, you stupid piece of shit. A handler didn’t say that. Someone else did, a woman’s voice, a voice he wanted to understand and hated and thought he was supposed to love.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty nice one, right?” Jefferson pats the cushion, like the couch is a very good boy. Chris swallows against the wish that Jefferson would touch him that way.

I could be such a good boy for you.

“It is… nice. Thank you.”

Chris doesn’t like the new couch.

He’s sitting on the unfamiliar cushions, a little too hard and new compared to the old couch that Nat claimed had come with the house and she’d just changed covers on and kept clean. The plaid fabric is rough to the touch of Chris’s fingertips, which run back and forth along it, tracing a line of deep red thread down the length of the arm, his eyes trapped there, staring at the hints of red and blue layered over brown or green, he can’t really tell.

“Feels better to be in a clean house, right?” Chris glances sideways, looking at Jefferson. He’s older than Jake, but not as old as Sir. His belt buckle is silver and there’s a horse carved into it, words Chris carefully doesn’t try to read. He’s got narrow cheekbones and a hard jaw and he looks like a cowboy, and his boyfriend doesn’t look like that at all.

Chris wonders, idly, if Jefferson would let him be good the way that Jake won’t.

He could find out. It’s just them right now, in the house. Everyone else is in their own houses, living other lives. He could unfold himself and sit in Jefferson’s lap, twist his palm between the man’s legs just right, slide back into his head and let his training take over, and maybe then the aching yawning empty inside his soul would fade, for a while.

Jake tells him that’s not the same as feeling better, but Jake isn’t here.

“It does. Thank… you… for helping,” Chris says, carefully. They did so, so much. There’s a new couch, and a new TV, and a new coffee table and all the glass is gone in here. If he goes upstairs, the rooms are clean with new mattresses, fresh sheets and pillowcases, even Jake’s.

Chris had kept one pillow all for himself so it wouldn’t stop smelling right, and he had that pillow tucked against his side like a puppy next to him.

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” Jefferson says, and his voice is warm and soft. He sounds like the nice handlers, the ones who trick you with good words and low voices and then they hurt you anyway.

Or they don’t hurt you, and that’s so much worse.

The whole house is new and wrong and better all at once, and he doesn’t like it at all. With the insides of the house changed, it feels like a new house and maybe he doesn’t belong in this one. Maybe this isn’t a safe place, anymore, if it’s not the same safe place they brought him to.

Nothing is the same but the paint on the walls.

“They said I can pay his bail tomorrow,” Jefferson says, picking up the remote and switching on the TV. Chris’s eyes jerk to the screen as it lights up, as there are people now talking and fighting and fucking and Chris knows all about some of those things-

Stop.

The voice in his head sounds like Jake, and he listens. He cuts the thought off before it goes any further, slips Jake’s pillow up into his lap between his legs and his stomach, and buries his face in the familiar, soothing smell.

He can’t tap or bang his head because he can’t explain it to them. They don’t understand, no one does. Jake does and Nat does but nobody else and he doesn’t want the questions, he just wants it to be safe again.

The only thing they couldn’t replace was Nat’s computer, and Jake’s laptop, both of them too expensive and no one had any extras of those, not even their friends. Chris wants to ask how Jake is going to do his school things, now, but he doesn’t think anyone knows the answer. Jake will have to go back to class but he can’t go to class if he’s somewhere else, can he? And Chris would go for him but he can’t do that, either.

Maybe Vince will write more checks. He’s always telling Nat I might as well be the money, it’s pretty much all I am now, and Nat snaps back, Money and a poisoned liver, that’s for sure and then somehow they end up hugging and Chris hasn’t figured that out yet.

He doesn’t like that the house has changed, but he likes the people who changed it. Kind people, who didn’t touch him unless he wanted them to, who said nice things to him and mostly let Miss Ruth tell them all what to do. People had swarmed the house for hours and hours, sweeping and dusting and picking up and putting away.

There were new dishes in the cabinets and the fridge was full of food for Chris to eat. New milk and new orange juice, big baking dishes with notes on them, Post-Its he thinks probably tell him how to heat the things in the dishes up, but he can’t read them, and he doesn’t know how to tell everyone that he can’t read them.

He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to tell them he can’t read and isn’t allowed to use the oven, because Jake always says not to tell anyone when he takes him to school.

They drank the coffee, while they cleaned. Emptied the pot and made a new one and then emptied that one, too.

Chris had kept to himself that the coffee was for Jake, that they should stop using Jake’s milk and sugar. He couldn’t be sure Jake would come back unless the coffee was ready. Even as he’d had the thought, he could recognize that it was irrational, it was stupid, just like they’d said in training he was so fucking stupid because he did things like this, like the thinking and the fingers and his head and-

There’s a thing you do in grief, a voice he doesn’t know murmurs, a low voice, soothing and professional. Who spoke to him like this? Handlers were never so kind-sounding. It’s called ‘magical thinking’. It’s not anything you need to be ashamed of-

Chris knocks his forehead hard into his knees, knocking the voice and the thought and the pain that comes fast on its heels away.

Grief doesn’t always show as sadness, sometimes it comes out as anger-

He hits his head again, and this time the voice stays gone.

It’s a stupid voice, and his thoughts are stupid, and he’s so fucking stupid. Making coffee won’t make Jake come back, but he can’t stop thinking it, can’t quit the circle of his thoughts, only one train will stay on its track, just the coffee train, the one that chugs along and whispers stupid boy, stupid boy, your fault, stupid boy, all your fault, stupid boy, because of you as it runs and runs and runs around his head. All the other trains are crawling along in other places.

“You like Shawshank Redemption?” Jefferson asks, sounding a little more hesitant this time. Chris doesn’t look at him, only hugs the pillow tighter and shrugs his narrow shoulders. “Yeah, okay,” The man continues, frowning. “I guess everyone likes Shawshank.”

Chris doesn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t like when good people get locked up when they didn’t do anything wrong and he doesn’t like when the other prisoners act like handlers and shove the good guy up against the wall. He doesn’t like that he just lives there for years and years and years.

He only likes the end, where the good guy gets away. At least, he’s pretty sure he does.

“So… kiddo. Um. Chris.” Jefferson pauses. It’s a long, long pause. Chris curls up into a tiny ball, on the brand new couch, and hides his head behind his arms, his legs. His toes are cold but his toes are always cold and there are no Jake-spots in the bed anymore to warm them.

Chris slept in Jake’s bed all by himself last night, and he dreamed a jumbled mix of nightmares, training and the big mansion and the shelter all run together. He dreamed that Sir had Jake in his bed instead of Chris, and he couldn’t beg hard enough, couldn’t be good enough in the dark to take his place.

“When, uh, when they come back, you know… cops aren’t always… good, to people like him. That break the law for the right reasons. You… know that, right?”

Chris nods, but doesn’t look up from the warm darkness he’s created with his head buried against the pillow, behind his thighs and his arms. His heart beats fast behind bone, under skin, and he twists one hand into his lap so he can silently tap the pillow, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, trying to calm his voice before he speaks. “I... know... that,” He says, muffled.

Chris understands, although no one will admit it to him, that what has happened here is that they came for him - and Jake went instead. That’s why he won’t come back looking the same, that’s why he’ll come back hurt if he comes back at all.

He knows this because when the cops returned while they were cleaning the house, they showed Miss Ruth and Naomi and Jefferson and the small crowd of Jaden’s friends pictures. They didn’t show pictures of Jake, or Krista, or Leila or Antoni or Nat. They showed pictures of Chris. They asked questions about Chris.

Never seen him, Jaden had said, the eleven-year-old’s face set with sincere helpfulness. You’d never have known how angry he’d been when the cop car pulled up. The other boys had stood right by him and lied, all of them well aware Chris was hidden in the coat closet peering through the slimmest little space in the slightly opened door. There hadn’t been time to get him to the hiding spot upstairs.

They come and go, Naomi had said, bouncing baby Kaelah on her hip. I’ve seen probably a couple dozen of those homeless people she helps, since I bought the house. I’ve never seen that one.

Jesus, that one looks like a kid, Jefferson had said, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

He’s eighteen, the cop said, flatly. His guardian assures us-

Like fuck he is, Jefferson’s partner muttered, until Jefferson jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. The cop hadn’t wanted to be there, and they hadn’t wanted him there, and eventually he left, driving slowly away. They let Chris out of the coat closet, then, and eventually they finished cleaning, and everyone left but Jefferson.

He is here waiting for Jake to come back, but they were looking for him. They cut up the beds and the couches and broke everything because they didn’t find Chris. If they’d found him, they would have taken him home to Sir and everything would be okay for everyone else. Sir always said if he ran they would hunt him down and take him back, and he knows that’s what happened, but they didn’t take him, they took Jake instead.

He is stupid - stupid and a coward, because he could have gone with them and Jake would still be here, but instead he hid in the closet. He let someone else go in his place.

He’s trying to do it all just right, but he’s not really sure what right is, anymore. He didn’t move - he stayed still and quiet, in the dark, just like they told him to. But if staying quiet means Jake won’t come back, that’s just as bad as being dead.

It’s worse.

Chris understands that, deep down, that being what he is would be worse, to someone like Jake, than being dead. It’s why he can’t go to counseling with any rescues outside the house, even though Antoni and Leila go. He can’t go because they all know that his kind of Box Boy is worse than all the other ones.

It’s why Kauri doesn’t stay still, why he never stops going places, because if he stops he’ll go home to his Sir, who he calls Mr. Owen, and everyone knows it.

They could make Jake be like Chris, that’s what the dreams mean. That Chris is what he is, and Jake could be that, too. And if that happens, it’ll be Chris’s fault for staying still and hiding and thinking that that was the right thing, only now it’s been three sunrises, two sunsets, since they took Jake away, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the other things he could have done instead.

He tried to tell Jefferson his dreams, when he woke up. That he dreamed that Jake was the one on the hooks on the wall, that Jake was in the navy sheets, that Chris was being taught and made to understand how he had been bad. Lessons he already knew, taught in different ways. He tried to explain about his hands being tied down to his legs to keep the still. But his words were all scrambled, his mouth kept moving on all the other tracks of thought and not the one he wanted to talk about. Eventually, he gave up.

Eventually, he made himself speak slowly, softly, carefully choosing all his words. Like he spoke to Sir. He stops trying to explain. He doesn’t talk about his dreams. He just stays on the couch, and he waits.

He keeps his thoughts inside his head and lets them spiral-swim beneath the surface and back up, derail and crash. He stares at birds outside and thinks about how Nat likes to bring home bunches of flowers from the grocery store, the ones that have brown or wilty spots, to see if she can nurse them along just a little bit longer. Jake doesn’t care about flowers but Jake likes the trees, more, and likes to water all the garden plants and Chris’s feet begin to tap, cold toes against the couch cushion, rocking them up and down.

Sir has trees but Chris was never allowed to see them.

My beautiful little secret, aren’t you? Sweet boy. Karen knows how to let a man buy what he wants, hm?

He shudders, feeling a sudden surge through himself of something he’s never felt when he thinks of Sir, not ever before. Chris thinks of his Sir’s oil-slick smile and the fingers that held his chin and he doesn’t feel like he misses him, or wants to be back in his silky sheets, or any of it.

Chris thinks of Sir’s touch and he’s disgusted by it.

I hate him.

The thought barely seems like his own voice, it seems like someone else, a voice that’s his but not his at all. Under the surface, buried beneath the rules and the training and the pain. It’s a stronger voice than his real one. It’s the voice of someone who had people who loved him.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I don’t ever want him to touch me again. I didn’t want any of this and I don’t ever want to do it again.

He must have made a sound - a breath, a loud exhale, a choked-off sob - because Jefferson suddenly shifts around to look at him, leaning over, cowboy-smile, a little sad, a little unsure. “Hey, you okay, Chris?”

“I d-don’t want, want to go back,” Chris says, trying to keep his voice slow, but he can’t quite hold the words back this time. He hugs the pillow tighter. “I don’t, don’t-don’t, don’t want, want to to to to go back to, to my Sir, I don’t want Jake to be-be hurt, I don’t want it. I don’t. I don’t want it.”

“Your what-... holy fuck,” Jefferson mutters, staring wide-eyed at Chris. He waits for the repulsion that will follow shortly after, but instead, Jefferson only shakes his head, like a dog shaking water off its back, and scoots slowly across the couch, until he’s sitting right next to him. “Can I… can I hold you, Chris? Would that help you feel better?”

Chris nods, numbly, and Jefferson’s arms are warm around him. He tucks his chin under the sharp line of the older man’s jaw. He is skinnier than Jake is, he’s not as warm or as comforting, but he’s something.

Jefferson is kind, and Chris knows - like Kauri knows, he thinks - that men are usually only kind if he’s good in a certain way.

If I turn my head and kiss your neck, if I tilt my head just right, bite my lip, if I do all of it just right, will you be just like him? Are you just like him? Is everyone like him, in the end, or are they better, if you let them be?

If I wanted to be good for you, would you let me?

Chris doesn’t know the answer, but he knows something better - he knows he doesn’t want to try. He wants to just be Chris, who runs and taps and thinks about birds. He wants to be those things, he doesn’t want to be empty, or good, anymore.

Jake would be so proud of him-

He cuts the thought off before the tears can do more than threaten around the edges of his vision, and blinks them away.

“We’ll pay his bail as soon as they let us,” Jefferson says, softly, unaware of the battle raging inside Chris’s mind. “Both of them. They’ll be home before you know it. It’ll be okay, Chris. Now we can tell Nat we know, and we’re all in this together, right? We can help you guys out a little better this way. Okay?”

“Oh, okay,” Chris murmurs. There’s a sound he doesn’t understand at first from the kitchen, and Jefferson tenses up, tightening his arms around Chris, looking over. Just as Chris realizes that he heard was the scrape-squeak of the old hinges on the basement door, he hears a voice he knows very well.

“Oh, wow, that table is new,” Antoni says, muffled, and Chris is already twisting out of Jefferson’s arms, unfolding himself, Jake’s pillow dropping with a soft sound to the floor as he all but flings himself across the entryway and into the kitchen beyond it.

“Antoni! Antoni-antoni-ant-ant-ant-” Chris throws himself at the other man, who catches his balance just barely and lets out a startled, soft laugh.

“Chris! Oh, thank God, you’re okay.” Antoni holds him and Chris breathes him in. He doesn’t smell like Jake but he still smells like safe to Chris. “You have been here the whole time? I’m so sorry, Chris, when we heard the door-”

“You, you you you you-” Chris can’t catch up to his mouth, his thoughts are whirling, and he drops his head onto Antoni’s shoulder lightly, once-twice-three-times, trying to soothe his jagged nerves, slow himself down. “You, you-you had to go, had to, I was still upstairs. Jake hid me, Jake kept me safe, Jake kept, he kept, kept me me me safe.”

“Good, good. I’m glad.” Antoni doesn’t react to the gentle tap of Chris’s forehead against his shoulder, only holds him tightly, looking towards the front door. “Where is he? Leila is still with Nine and Jenna. We haven’t heard anything, but…”

“Jake is, um.” Chris swallows and buries his face in Antoni’s neck. There’s a circular scar right there, where Antonis owner pressed cigarettes into his skin. He would say, Antoni says in counseling, while Chris pretends he’s not eavesdropping, to be his pretty ashtray. I was good at being an ashtray. I would like to be good at other things, now.

“He’s what, Chrisha?” Antoni goes very still. “He’s what-”

“He’s in jail,” Jefferson says from the doorway. Antoni raises his head, surprised, and the two men stare each other down. Antoni tightens his arms around Chris, sets his jaw. “He got arrested during the raid. I’m Jefferson, I live across the street.”

“He’s helping, Antoni,” Chris says, sliding his arms around Antoni’s waist, tapping fingers on his back, just to the right of his spine. “Everyone came, came over to help me.”

“Who is… everyone?” Antoni asks, but his arms relax, just a little.

“The neighborhood,” Jefferson says, and moves into the kitchen. Antoni tenses again, his eyes locked on the man as he moves, slow like he’s trying not to spook them, to lean his back against the countertop and cross his arms. “No worries. We’re just here to help. We fixed up the house, they trashed it pretty hard. Kid was left behind. We figured one of us should stay with him ‘til Natalie and the other one get back.”

“Jake,” Chris says, softly. “And he’s coming, coming back for me. He, he promised, Antoni, he, he he he promised.”

“Jake wouldn’t break a promise to you, Chrisha. If he said he’ll come back, he will.” Antoni hesitates - there’s a long pause - and then he says, softly, “Thank you, Jefferson. We… we didn’t want to leave him, but-”

“Say no more.” Jefferson holds up one hand. “You’re a Boxie, too, right?”

Antoni’s lip twitches in a faint smile. “Is that what you call us?”

“Yep.”

They lock eyes for another long moment, a tension Chris doesn’t understand in the air. He taps against Antoni’s ribcage and his back, seeking out the comfort in it, the certainty of the motion.

“I am.” Antoni inclines his head, just a little. “A… Boxie. Do you know when Jake and Natalie will come back?”

“I’m going to the jail to pick ‘em up tomorrow, I hope,” Jefferson says.

There’s another long silence. Chris doesn’t like long silences, and he leans up on his tiptoes so he can whisper in Antoni’s ear. “He’s, he’s nice.”

“I can see that,” Antoni replies, tilting his head slightly, that dry smile still on his face. “Are you safe with him, Chrisha?”

Jefferson tenses, eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t try to argue. He waits, and lets Chris try to calm his mind enough to come up with an honest answer.

“I think, um, I think-think-think so,” Chris says. He wants to nuzzle into Antoni’s neck just to be pushed away, but he pushes down the urge. “Hey, um, hey Antoni? Antoni can I tell you, you something? Can, can, can I tell, can I tell you-”

“Of course, Chrisha.”

“Today I, I, I thought of my Sir, I thought of him, of Sir, to-today.”

“Yeah?” Antoni’s voice is carefully steady and neutral, but Chris can read the unhappiness in it. Antoni never thinks of his own owner, when he isn’t in counseling or having nightmares. “What did you think about him?”

“I hate him,” Chris whispers into Antoni’s ear, fiercely, with real conviction. “I hate him so, so, so much.”

Antoni huffs out a silent laugh, gives Chris a tight squeeze. “We’ll have to tell Jake when he gets back, hm?”

“He’ll be, do you, do you think he’ll be be be proud of me?”

“He is always proud of you, Chrisha. We all are. But he will be proud of this.”

“Hey,” Jefferson interrupts. His belt buckle flashes, reflects the kitchen light. “Um. Can I ask… when he says ‘my Sir’... does he, uh, mean-... what I think he means? Like a weird… uh, S-E-X thing? Because that kid can’t be of age, right?”

“All pets are of legal consenting age at time of signing,” Antoni and Chris intone together, instantly, memorized words in robotic voices.

“Jesus Christ,” Jefferson says, eyes wide. “Is that a yes? Because-”

“I’m eighteen,” Chris says, firmly. “I’m, um, I’m I’m I’m eighteen.”

“It means exactly what you think it means.” Antoni sighs. “How much do you know about us? The, um… Boxies?”

“Not much. Just that it’s wrong as shit and fucked up.” Jefferson frowns. “Do I need to sit down, if I ask you to tell me more?”

Antoni keeps one arm around Chris, holding him tightly around the waist. Jefferson is watching them, watching Chris press instinctively into Antoni’s side and stay there. Chris understands that Jefferson is reading Chris, seeing him in a whole new way than he had before.

They think we’re whores, that’s all, Kauri says heavily some nights, when he’s low and he can’t go see his friend he calls on the phone. Or when they’ve had a fight again. They don’t get that we didn’t want to be, it wasn’t our choice.

Jefferson looks like he might… understand, that Chris doesn’t want to be.

“If Chris says I should tell you, I will. But we’re not supposed to talk about it to anyone.”

“Am I gonna wanna shoot whoever the fuck this ‘Sir’ guy is if you tell me?”

A pause. “Probably.”

“Then I’ll take a seat.” Jefferson flops down into one of the new kitchen chairs. “All right, Antoni. Let’s talk. What exactly are we gonna be circling around to protect you from?”

Antoni takes a breath, hugs Chris close, and then nods and moves to sit, as well. He stares Jefferson in the eyes for a long, long moment, and then folds his hands in front of himself as Chris sits next to him, scooting his own chair until his knee is touching Antoni’s, tapping on the table, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap.

“They will tell you we signed up for this,” Antoni says, heavily.

“I’m eighteen,” Chris says quickly, automatic. “I signed, signed, signed up for, for for for for-to be, um, to be this.”

“They teach us we signed up for this,” Antoni continues. Jefferson’s eyes are on Chris’s tapping fingers, but he doesn’t say anything. “But we didn’t.” Antoni hesitates, then rolls his long sleeve up to his elbow on the right side, showing Jefferson a line of perfectly placed circular burn scars that go from just beneath his palm to the crease inside his elbow. “Do you think I signed up for this?”

Jefferson sits back, staring. Then he slowly raises his eyes. “Uh. Fuck no. Nobody could ever-”

“This was only pain,” Antoni says, rolling his sleeve back down. “Chris - those like him - survive far worse. They tell us in training that what people like Chris survive is nothing, but I know… I know better. There was one in my home, too. I know better.”

Chris bounces in his seat, avoiding Jefferson’s eyes, feeling the heat rise in his face.

“What did Chris survive?” Jefferson asks, voice dropping. He sounds like Jake - angry and deep-voiced. Chris closes his eyes and pretends Jake is here right now with him. Jake will be home soon. “What did-... I know he said about his age, but… is he lying?”

“He was taught to lie. We are all taught to lie.”

“You didn’t answer the first question. What did Chris survive?”

Antoni clears his throat, swallows. Chris’s tapping speeds up, imperceptibly. “... do you know the designations? Do you know what a Romantic is?”

Jefferson is silent for a long time, and then slams his hand flat down on the table so hard Chris jumps, jerking back and away with a soft surprised cry, and Antoni puts his arms around him again to keep him where he is. “You have got to be fucking kidding-... shit. Fuck. I… I need a minute. I just. What kind of fucking piece of shit-... You’re telling me that kid was-... that he ran away from-”

“I am telling you,” Antoni says quietly. “Exactly that.”

Jefferson shoves himself to his feet wordlessly, stalks out of the house, slams the new front door behind himself so hard it rattles in the frame. Chris stares, wide-eyed, after him.

“Did, did, did I, did I mess up, did I say-say, say say-... was, was I bad, Antoni? Was, was I, was I bad-”

“No, Chrisha. Natalie always says more people would help us if they knew.” Antoni sighs. “Now he knows. Can I make you some lunch?”

“There’s, um, still some, some-some-some pizza, so we-”

“Pizza? Why is there pizza?”

“Um.” Chris tries on a small smile, and to his relief, Antoni returns it. “Um. So, so, so when you asked, um, about the-the neighborhood?”

“Yeah?”

“The, um, the the the neighborhood… bought me pizza.”

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amoosewritesfanfic · 4 years

Text

Prompt 1: Stockings +18

[+18]

[Katsuki Bakugo X Female Reader]

[Warnings: stockings, office sex, throat fucking, teasing, light choking.]

Now usually on a Friday night he would be busy with his girlfriend, his long time girlfriend that he loved, but tonight, he had paperwork.

That's why he was frustrated, it had been about four days since he last saw his lover and he's obviously pent up so he's in his moods.

But when his door swings open and shuts with the sound of a lock turning he can't help but slam his pen down before looking up at... you.

His girlfriend.

Dressed in nothing but a trench coat, black heels and stockings from what he could see. Your face covered in make up but fuck did you look delicious even with just your make up, those pretty black painted lips... it had him shift in his seat.

"Babe what are you doin' here?" He asked almost standing up but you motioned for him to stay seated.

"I heard my lover gets a bit grumpy after a few days of not being satisfied~" as you spoke you started to undo your buttons one by one.

"He gets so pissed off for no reason and I've been asked to help him out a little~" you hummed popping off the last button before letting the trench coat fall to the fall.

Now his expression had you smug, red hues drinking in the black laced lingerie. The garters holding up the thigh high stockings and fuck that pretty tattoo you had gotten saying 'Property of Katsuki Bakugo'

You stalked over to him, letting him drink in your appearance before you straddled his lap, you could feel his arousal pressing up against you, arms wrapping around his neck as your lips pressed against his ear.

"Hey Ground Zero~ you better fuck me hard, otherwise I'm gonna leave you unsatisfied for as long as I see fit~" you purred into his ear, a groan escaped his lips as he squeezed your ass and started kissing and nipping at your neck.

"I'm gonna mess up that fuckin' make up." He growled against your neck before he pulled back, wrapping his hand around your throat causing you to smile, your head tilting back slightly.

"You better~" you hummed as he gave your throat a squeeze making you hum quietly.

His free hand moved up your back and unhooked your bra, you helped him by pulling off the lace piece.

Once it was off he dipped his head down and took your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it as his free hand tugged at your other nipple.

You could feel he was really getting into it, especially with how his hand was squeezing at your throat. He wasn't cutting off your air, not yet anyway.

With his mouth stimulating your nipple your hands trailed along his chest moving down to his pants, unzipping it as you shifted your hips slightly to pull down his pants and boxers, he lifted his hips a little but decided to lift you up and sit you on the edge of the desk.

His pants and boxers were resting just below his cock which twitched in the cold air.

Red hues staring at you for a moment before he captured your lips, running his tongue along yours.

Probably smudging your lipstick not that you cared, you loved that...

"Lay down on your back." He ordered after pulling back from your lips, you did as he asked laying back on the desk, your head hanging off the edge.

Usually he would have you get on your knees to suck him off, but today he was examining your body, taking in how sexy your legs looked in the stockings... how full your breasts looked.

His tongue ran along his now black stained lips as his hand wrapped around his cock which he slowly guided to your lips.

You kissed his tip leaving a lipstick mark, but you didn't stop there and he didn't let you.

You were kissing along his shaft you had even kissed his balls marking them with your lipstick.

Once he was happy he aligned his cock tip at your mouth which opened up as wide as you could manage.

He slid his cock into your mouth, inching his way closer to your throat, you couldn't help but run your tongue rubbing along his length, he pulled back slightly and gave one quick thrust.

His cock immediately finding it's way down your throat making you gag.

Your hips almost bucking from the sensation of his cock as it started moving in and out of your throat.

"F-fuck... baby you look so pretty with these stockings on~ its driving me fuckin' wild~" he groaned moving his hips more against your face, your saliva was already dripping down his balls and on your face, smudging your lipstick completely.

His hips didn't stop moving, not until he gave a few more thrusts into your mouth, his cock throbbing in your mouth before he came.

His head tilting back slightly as he shifted a little before pulling out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.

"Fuck..." he grumbled.

He moved over to the other side of his desk, pulling you to face him, your legs dangling off the edge of the desk.

Katsuki sat down in his seat and lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing along your thighs hands trailing along the soft material of the stockings, eventually he dipped his head between your thighs.

Running his tongue along your soaked slit making you moan quietly.

His didn't hesitate for a moment, after he nipped on your clit his tongue dived straight into your needy hole, wriggling against the walls of your cunt as his thumb rubbed against your clit.

He was lapping up your taste, taking in your sweet scent.

He even ignored the knock on the door, or perhaps he couldn't hear it over your lustful moans.

His tongue delved deeper into your cunt before he pulled back and stood up.

He aligned his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, lubing it up so he could slide in easier, which he did.

His cock slid in with ease making you moan, he groaned in delight and started kissing your breasts as his hips started moving.

Pushing your legs up against your chest as his hips smacked against yours.

Moans, grunts and smacking filled the room.

"What a pretty... fuckin' princess~" he groaned moving his hips faster.

And didn't stop when his phone rang no.

He picked up his phone as his hips moved harder, his cock pressing into the deepest parts of your cunt.

"What...?" He snapped.

"Uh.. sir, Midoriya Izuku is here to see you." Your secretary spoke.

"Tell him to fuck off, I'm busy fuckin' my girl..." he spoke as his hips moved faster, his hips pressing up against yours so his cock could press against that sweet spot, making you gasp out.

"I can tell him to wait?"

"Fuck... tell him to come tomorrow... I gotta please my girl..." he groaned into the phone.

"Alright sir..." Katsuki had put the phone down and turned his attention back to you, his hand wrapping around your throat as his hips snapped against yours.

Your moans becoming a bit louder as your head tilted back in pleasure, you kept moaning his name over and over knowing how much he loved to hear your voice.

After a moment or two it finally happened you teo had both become undone.

His hot load shooting inside you and your love juices squirting all over his cock, your hands gripping his table as his hand loosened around your throat.

He had leaned down placing a lazy kiss on your lips before pulling out.

"Do you wanna clean my cock baby~" he teased.

"Hmm of course~ you can finish your paper work in the mean time~" you said sticking your tongue out at him as you got up off of his desk and on your knees in front of him, hiding under his desk.

You almost immediately took his cock in your mouth. Sucking and licking at it. Lapping up your mixed juices.

He carried on with his documents.

And well after he finished he fucked you one more time before dragging you home and fucking you a few more times there~

[An abrupt end lol]

#bnha smut #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha imagines #bnha #boku no hero x reader #reader x my hero academia #smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha bakugou katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou smut

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

Rogue Whisper (Donny Donowitz x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @marlenemarauders

A/N Reader is Jewish & Polish

TRIGGER WARNING: Holocaust/Death

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

_________ ***1939*** Only your eyes were visible, peering over a scarf that belonged to your mother, and under a wool hat to keep you warm. It was the only thing you had from home, now. You scanned the unknown. Your heart raced. Everything ached. Most of all, your heart. Words could not even begin to describe the heaviness... All you could do was run, and never look back. The same prayer running in your mind, sunrise to sunset. Even in the dreams you did have, you found the same words racing through your mind, in an attempt to find some solace. "Reisepass." 'Passport' The nazi sitting at the table demanded without so much as looking up.

After so many days running, the words were now muddled, as the skies were blurred with your tears. You could not speak.

You blinked, and hesitated for a moment too long. He looked back up, his barking "Reisepass!" You were hardly able to whisper, your heavy eyes burned with rage now that there were no more tears, "Tut mir leid." 'I am sorry.' Your voice was so quiet at that point, he didn't even notice your accent. He looked at the picture on the document, then looked back up at you. "Dein Name? Alter?" 'Name? Age?' Some day, you could tell someone your true name, but for now, you only repeated the details that had been forged to save your life. Your heart shattered leaving Poland and your family behind, but if you turned now to find a sign of them, it would all fall apart. All of this would be in vain. You took a breath, and looked at the nazi, as you gripped the gun hidden in your coat. It would have to wait. Some other time... He looked at you then back at the passport as he brought down a stamp. Your heart skipped a beat. "Nächster." 'Next.' ***1943***

The basterds were sitting around a fire, talking about rumors and stories they'd heard during the war. Hugo took a long drag from his cigarette before remarking, "There are others like me." He spoke with certainty, but added nothing else. He didn't need to. The basterds believed him. He had always been a man of few words. Those that he did say were always enough.

But this time, he had something more to say. He looked up, as if he could see his memories come to life. When he was in prison, he'd heard a rumor. Something that was terrifying the nazis stationed all over Europe. "Whoever it is, is not part of any rebellion or resistance that we know of, but seemed highly skilled. Trained." He took another drag from the cigarette. Omar looked up, smirking a little. He was always skeptical of these stories. Frankly, he didn't believe half of what was said about Hugo until he met him. "By who?" Hugo shrugged, "No one knows. A rogue soldier, perhaps. But whose soldier, was the question. Sightings and killings started in Poland, in 1940, or '41. It depends on who you ask. They were always the same. A sniper." "So it's some Polish kid who didn't think the resistance was enough and went rogue." Hugo shook his head, "Nazis almost caught whoever it was. Someone claimed to have shot them, and maybe that was true, because there was no more signs of the sniper in Poland." Omar shrugged, "So the sniper got away and might've died. Or someone's lying." "They would have found a body, asshole." Donny muttered as Wicki passed a bottle of whisky to him. "And woulda fucken paraded it around to scare people from rebelling too." Hugo nodded, "Maybe. But after that, there were nazis killed by a single sniper all over Slovakia, then in Bohemia, a few in Berlin, Paris, and back. Whoever it is started to move around, so nazis all over Europe were scared." "This sniper got a name?" Aldo asked, intrigued with the idea of finding such a talent. He did, of course, pride himself in having an eye for that kind of talent. "The story goes that the Polish resistance called the sniper Szelest." Hirschberg looked up groggily, "What the hell's that?"

"I don't speak Polish." Utivich straightened up, furrowing his brows, with a quiet 'Hm...' His grandmother was from Poland, and he remembered a thing or two. "It means a whisper or rustling. Something like that."

Aldo nodded with a sly smirk, "Not too shabby." **************

Some time passed, and the basterds had gotten into some trouble. Honestly, it was looking a little grim, as their mission was botched and they were all being held at gunpoint by nazis. The nazis' taunts stopped cold, as they all heard something like a whisper in the winter wind that snaked through the tree branches. "Wer ist da?" 'Who's there?"

There was silence then, as snowflakes began to fall again, covering that morning's fall. The nazi stepped away from his group, again demanding to know who was there, only to be met with a new sound, familiar to every single soldier in the war. The sound of a gun. The unmistakable sound of a sniper. One, two, three, four shots. Seven dead nazis. One left alive, but screaming in pain as a bullet sliced through his hands, forcing him to drop his weapon. He whispered shakily, through a terrified sob, and wide, ghostly eyes, "Szelest..." Hugo turned around quickly, searching for any sign of a sniper, but found nothing. Smitty, Hirschberg, and Omar circled around, but also saw nothing. Aldo called out, "Hello?!"

The only response was an echo. The last surviving nazi whimpered, blood trailing from his hands, smearing on the white snow that caked the forest ground as he crawled, desparately trying to reach his gun. Wicki saw, and stepped on his hand, causing him to scream. Wicki paid no attention, he looked to his lieutenant, waiting for orders, "Aldo?" Aldo was still looking intently at the distance, thinking aloud, "Whoever it is must've known we like leavin' a witness too...If that sniper don't come out, why the hell else would they leave one of 'em alive?"

Smitty nodded, as he took a coat from a dead nazi, shuddering from the cold, "Sounds right to me, sir." Aldo nodded, "Yeah..." He turned around, seeing that all his men were alright, he said "Donny." "Yeah?" "Go 'n see if you can find anythin' about our, uh...friend." Donny nodded once with a sly smirk, "Sir." and trotted off into the hazy white distance, looking for any leads. There were no footsteps... The snow had fallen just enough to cover any up. There was nothing left behind. No trace, not even a... He heard a branch creaking, though the wind had turned to nothing but a soft breeze. He looked up slowly, and saw a figure sitting on a high tree branch, bundled up in clothes meant for trekking through snows like these, with a scarf covering the face. "Hey." Donny grumbled at the lack of response, and shouted, "HEY!" You turned slowly, and looked at him. "Why're you hiding from us?!" You shook your head. You? Hide from the basterds? Ridiculous. "Why didn't you...Why aren't you talkin'? What's-" He trailed off. He had so many questions.... And he realized there was a chance you might not even speak English.

He stammered, trying to scrap together all the words in other langauges he knew. And there wren't very many of them. "Uh...Bonjour? Parle français? Oder Deutsch? We have a guy that uh...Wir haben zwei...uh guys...who can....Uh....Polish, right? Ah fuck...uh...Szelest? That's you, right?" You sighed and leaned against the cool tree bark, "If I were to hide from you, I'd pick a better place than this." His eyes widened, and he tilted his head. He didn't expect to hear a woman's voice. Frankly, he didn't expect yo hear you respond to him at all. He smiled a little, "Guess you're right...So uh, what the fuck are you doin' up there anyway?" "Cleaner shot." He mused with a grin, "See anymore nazis?" Still, he looked up at the great height you'd climbed, wondering how you could have done that in the middle of winter without your hands freezing off, or you slipping. You shook your head. Both of you were silent for a moment, until you tossed something down at him. You threw his baseball bat to his feet, hitting the snow with a thud. He looked up at you, and you said, "I believe this is yours."

He picked it up, without taking his eyes off you, "So you do know who we are..." "There aren't many people in our line of work, sergeant." "So you know who I am?"

You lowered your scarf away from your face, instantly feeling the blisteringly cold air. "Anyone who steps foot in these woods should." He laughed, "Ain't that the goddamn truth, kid." Though he snuck as many glances at you as he could. You noticed, but said nothing. "Look, my lieutenant wants to ask you some questions. Mind comin' down?" In restrospect. Donny would realize how strange that moment in his life was. Talking to a girl with a sniper up in a snow covered tree in the middle of a war? Then again... he'd remember what it was to see you for the first time, and he'd remember what it was like to feel love at first sight. Then, he'd reason it would've been crazy not to talk to you. Back in the present, your response was simple, clean cut, like your shots. "I work alone." "Oh that a fact?" He spoofed, and you crossed your arms, leaning back against the tree. He grumbled, "Look, I know you been followin' us around. There's been one or two shots lately that we can't account for." "You boys are sloppy with your work." "Maybe you can help?" He looked up, genuinely hoping you'd give them a chance. And maybe you would... You jumped down from the tree, landing in the snow expertly, and started heading to the site of your latest kill. Donny was completely in awe, never having seen anything like that in his life. He found himself running after you after being stunned for a moment by all that you were. "So uh...I heard they call you Szelest." "Yes, sir."

"Donny." He was almost insulted that you didn't call him by his name. You glanced at him, and it was clear to him that you were hesitating. "Call me Donny," He smiled kindly. It was the kind of smile you hadn't seen since before 1939. "Yeah..." That smile entrapped you. It took you somewhere safe and warm for a brief moment. "Yeah, Donny." You turned, and kept marching through the snow. The war was far from over, and you still had bullets. "Hey wait a minute!" Donny trotted after you again, wondering why you walked with so much intent, determination. You were quite a bit shorter than him, so it amused him to see you walk that quickly. "Yes?" You half turned, but didn't really look at him. He expected you tell him your name, but upon second thought, he remembered that names in your line of work were prizes. They could be bought and sold, exchanged in trades and deals. One name for another. Still, it was silly, since you knew who he was. "Oh, what? You think I'm gonna tell a dead nazi what your name is?" You laughed. And that was the most at ease Donny had seen you. The most alive. You nodded, with a sigh, agreeing only because he was one of the basterds. "Y/n." He smiled, instantly engraving your name in his heart, "What..." It took him a moment to put himself together, "What rank are ya? What army are you really with?" You looked at him with a sly, amused grin. "Oh...shit...You're not even a rogue soldier. You're just...you're just-" "Good at what I do," you kept walking. "Why?" You stopped in your tracks. You lowered your gaze to the snow below with a sigh. You hadn't spoken to anyone in the past four years or so, aside from classified exchanges of information with a resistance here and there, or asking for a room in a hostel. That was all. It was odd to actually speak to someone, and someone as infamous, inglourious, and...absolutely stunning as that American sergeant. Well... A few words slipped. A few more than you would've liked. "I'm Jewish and I'm Polish, and I haven't been home in years." The one time you were able to go home after your escape, you did not find your family. You did not find anyone. But you knew what had happened. You knew you'd never find them again. That was all you needed to say. Donny put two and two together, and his grip around his bat tightened, his knuckles went white, though his heart sank as he murmured, "Hey..." You shook your head. "There was nothing left for me there..." That was when you started your work. You took your vengeance on those that took everything from you. That was the first rumoring of a rogue soldier, a lost whisper in the winter wind that brought death to nazis and vengeance to thousands. That was where it began. Donny understood. He kept quiet, which he didn't do very often, and walked with you to the team in silence. The cold was beginning to cut your dry lips, so you pulled your scarf back up. You knew that nazi was still alive, so you also pulled your hat down to hide as much of your face as possible. If there was one thing you didn't need, it was for the nazis to get a description of you. The nazi now had a bloody mark on his forehead, and raised his eyes deliriously when he heard your boots pressing on the snow. "S-s-Szelest..." he sobed and stammered in fear when he saw you approaching, sniper behind your back. You turned to the man with the scar on his throat, hands on his hips in accomplishment, and a blood machete. He turned to Wicki, "Wicki tell that shitface nazi fuck to go 'fore we let our friend here have at him." Wicki didn't even finish translating before the nazi ran off. Aldo sniffed some tobaco, and asked, "You the one they call Szelest?" You nodded. He offered you a cigarette but you declined. "You a damn good shot, you know that kid?" "Thank you, sir." He didn't even bat an eye when he heard your voice. Nothing really surprised him after all he'd seen in his lifetime. "Now...I know you got a lot to offer, aint'cha?" You took off your scarf, and adjusted your hat. "Good set of skills like yours are hard to find. We're down a few men, now..." He took off his own hat out of respect for Andy, Michael, and Simon, "We'd be damn lucky if we could count you as one of us. Now, kid I know workin' alone's got its merits, but I wanna know if you wanna go pro." The rest of the basterds stood still, eagerly waiting to hear your answer, though none more than Sergeant Donny Donowitz. You smirked, and that was answer enough. You marched with the basterds through the forest after that, to a hideout of theirs. By the time you got there, the sun had set. You all ate whatever scraps of food were around, and called it a night. You stayed outside a while longer, by the dying fire, having long befriended the cool and cruel winters. Donny walked by from the east, where there was a river. He'd just taken a bath, and was heading into the hideout. "Aren't you cold?" you mused, as you looked at him through the few embers that were rising. He shrugged, "I'm from Boston." "Does it snow so much there?" He tilted his head, realizing maybe not everyone in the world knew a whole lot about Boston. "Yeah," He smiled a little, as though he could see his neighborhood in the distance, "Yeah, it sure does..." He sank down by you in front of the fire with a sigh. You noticed he'd taken his bat with him, even to the river. You were looking at the names that were written on the surface. He noticed, and handed it over to you. That would shock any of the basterds, who knew to never touch his bat... Frankly it shocked Donny himself, but he couldn't help it, as he explained why those names were there.

"You wanna write some on it?" You smiled, and nodded once. You wrote names of your family there, and gave the bat back to him. L/N. His eyes wandered over the inscription of your last name, then back to you. He smiled, finally knowing your whole name. Y/n L/n. Just another kid fighting in a war that should have ended long ago.

Something about that moment...something about you, the way you looked at him... It seemed to flip a switch in Donny's mind. In that moment, when you gave the bat back, his hand grazed over yours. And in that moment, you became the most important thing to Donny. He couldn't change the past, but he'd make damn sure no one else ever hurt you again. In that moment, the world was at your feet. You glanced away, and cleared your throat, trying not to let him see your world changed in that moment. You took your scarf, and handed it to him, "You'll freeze." In that moment, all he wanted was to give you the stars. He took your scarf, and his smile was warmer than any fire could ever keep you. His eyes were brighter than any star in the sky, "Thanks, kid." You both sat together, silently. By the time the moon was in the middle of the sky, he was holding your hand, and he swore to himself that when the war was over, he'd never let go.

#Donny Donowitz #donny-donowitz #donny donowitz x reader #donny donowitz imagine #aldo raine #hugo stiglitz #Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine

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bbmyungho · 4 years

Text

Blank - Jeno

genre: angst, fluff, soulmate!au, highschool!au

idol/group: Jeno (NCT), NCT dream mention

"Um, excuse me, would you happen to know where Mr. Kwon's room is?" Jeno turned to see a girl dressed in a baby blue cotton dress and a long cream-colored cardigan, long black hair flowing prettily down her shoulders and back and a cute pair of round glasses covering her deep brown eyes.

"Uh, no, I don't. I can take you to the counselor's office, though? Surely they have a map or someone to walk you there." He offered sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah, that would be great." She smiled, gesturing for Jeno to lead the way as he closed his locker in defeat.

Where are you?

After dropping his companion (Eva) off at the office, he made his way to his next class, his mind once again accompanying his eyes on their short-lived journey to his wrist. His pale, blank wrist.

You see, everyone has a tattoo, from the time that they're born, of the first words their soulmate will ever speak to them. That is, everyone except for Jeno. He was born blank, and he'd remained so ever since. From all of the research he'd done, he figured he just didn't have a soulmate, plain and simple. The only cases he'd ever found of blanks were those who didn't have a soulmate, or maybe their soulmate had died. Still, he couldn't help hoping that, one day, just a little, tiny, faint scribble would find its way to his wrist.

"Maybe it's for the best. Or maybe I'm just delusional." He muttered, rubbing his wrist solemnly.

All of a sudden, he felt a heavy weight hit him from the side, an arm wrapping around his shoulder and pulling him close to the other party.

"Heya buddy, how'ya doin' on this fine Thursday afternoon?" Jeno's best friend, Jaemin, greeted rather quickly, a big smile plastered on his bright face.

"Hey, Jaem, I'm good. I assume the same goes for you?" He questioned, playfully shoving his friend off of his side.

"Incredible. The sun is shining, Mrs. Kim's not here, and I got us some snacks lined up for our study date tonight." He beamed, wrapping his arm around Jeno's shoulder once again and pulling him impossibly closer than before.

"Good for you, Jaem. What kinda snacks?" Jeno asked, pulling his jacket sleeve back down to cover his wrist as they made their way to their next period.

"All your favorites: chocolates, sour gummies, and I asked my mom if we could go get ramen afterwards." He smiled proudly.

"Thanks, Jaem. Can't wait."

"Mooooooommm! Your favorite child's home!!" Jaemin called, plopping his bag down next to the kitchen table as he announced his presence in his family home.

"Jeno!!" She exclaimed, playfully pushing past her biological child and hugging the other boy standing shyly next to his place at the table. "Oh, it's been so long!!" She cooed, cradling the boy's head.

"Hi, Mrs. Na." Jeno chuckled, smiling at Jaemin and giving his mom a side hug before scooting his chair from under the table.

Jaemin's family was basically Jeno's at this point, and vice versa, given the boys' closeness since childhood: if Jaemin wasn't at Jeno's house, then Jeno was at his. They were invited to every family function on each side, Christmases and family members' birthdays included, and every interaction was so natural from such an early age; Jaemin used to joke all the time that he and Jeno were actually soulmates, despite his wrist actually having words tattooed on it.

"Okay, Jen, ready to get started?" Jaemin asked, taking his seat after receiving a kiss on the head from his mother before she disappeared back into the rest of the house.

"Ready."

"Bro, hurry up and pack your stuff up, I'm hungry~" Jaemin whined, pouting as Jeno placed his books and papers carefully into his bag.

"I'm hungry too, Jaem, especially since someone ate the majority of the snacks he bought for us to share." Jeno said with a pointed look, zipping his bag shut and meeting his sullen friend at the door.

“I’m a growing boy, I need to eat a lot.” Jaemin pouted, rubbing his tummy pitifully.

Jeno just scoffed and smacked the side of his friend’s head playfully, opening the door for them and following Jaemin out into the cool afternoon air, finally in search of some ramen.

“Thank you, sir, please come again!” Renjun beamed as the last customer in line left, finally allowing him to lean on the counter and take a quick scan of the small convenience store he was currently working at. Luckily, just as Renjun was about to get bored restocking gum and chocolate bars, his friend and co-worker, y/n, came around from the shelves with a large smile on their face.

“Hey, where ya been?” He asked, smiling as they approached.

‘Stocking the aisles, cleaning the bathrooms. Trying to keep busy.’ They signed, smile widening before they tossed a pack of Renjun’s favorite chips on the counter. ‘And, I got you a snack; just so happened to come “punctured in the box.”’ They said, winking at him as they made their way around the counter and hopped up to take a seat. ‘I already slipped some money to Mr. Song.’

Renjun smiled gratefully at his friend, opening the chip bag and handing one to them before taking one for himself. While they waited for someone to enter the store, the two sat up at the counter, y/n every once in a while holding up something from nearby for Renjun to sign to them or playing tic-tac-toe on receipt papers. It was a typical slow day, but neither of the friends was complaining as they hoped that their manager would decide to close the store just five minutes earlier than usual.

‘Oh, I almost forgot, I need to wipe down and restock the cooler. Be right back.’ y/n nudged Renjun’s shoulder and disappeared into the back to take care of the maintenance before the boy could even get a word out.

He wouldn’t have had much to say anyways, because, almost as soon as they left, the bell above the door rang signalling the arrival of new customers.

“Hey, Renjun!” He heard someone call.

“Jaemin! Jeno! Hey, how’s it going?” He greeted the two walking in, Jaemin practically skipping to the counter with Jeno in tow behind him. “What brings you here?”

“Ramen. Got any good kinds?”

“I mean, we just have cup noodles and stuff in stock, but I could slip you some sauce packets or something from the break room to spice it up.” The boy offered, smiling.

“That would be great, thanks Jun.” Jeno thanked him, turning to the aisle behind him to sift through ramen flavors and snacks for him and his friend.

“Hey dude, you got the drinks and stuff? I’m gonna go ahead and put my stuff on the counter, I gotta use the bathroom real quick.” Jaemin said. Jeno just nodded, not paying the boy much mind at all as he continued to debate whether he wanted chicken or shrimp flavored ramen.

When he’d made his choice, he followed the sound of dull buzzing back to the drink coolers, deep in thought about what he was in the mood to drink that day, making a sharp turn around the back end of the aisle. Feeling a weight hit his chest, snapping out of his thoughts at the sound of bottles hitting the ground and rolling haphazardly every which way.

“I’m so sorry, here, I got it. Oh my God.” Jeno swiftly apologized, chasing a few bottles down the nearest aisle and scooping them up into his arms, hardly paying any mind to the person frantically trying to collect the bottles nearest to them on the floor. However, as soon as he turned around, the entire store went still. They were staring at him as if they’d seen a ghost, clutching their wrist, the bottles around them laying long forgotten. Jeno’s breath got caught in his throat at the sight of them, his mind straying to his own wrist. His thoughts wandered so intently from what had just happened that he actually almost forgot about the situation at hand, just about releasing the bottles from his arms. Almost.

And then he remembered.

Surely he didn’t have a soulmate.

The figure at the end of the aisle stood, approaching Jeno slowly, hand wandering towards his own wrists. The boy wanted to step away, tell them that he wasn’t it, but he felt like he couldn’t.

He dropped the bottles when they took his wrists in their hands and went to study them, a bright smile blooming on their face as he stared on in awe. Before he could register what they were doing, they whipped out their phone from their back pocket, typing something out with shaking hands before turning the note for him to read.

‘Do you know sign?’

Jeno looked up, eyes wide, studying the person’s face. He shook his head slightly, a mixture of emotions washing over him. Why’d I never learn?

‘That’s okay, I’m a fast typer :)’ They typed out in reply. And below that: ‘Hi, I’m y/n. It’s very nice to meet you.’

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spidersfanfics · 3 years

Text

Believe in Me

Jack Kelly x Katherine Plumber | Mild CW: Catcalling/Harassment (It's like two lines but just in case)

Jack has worked hard to save up enough for a day out with Katherine. But things don't quite go as planned.

"Morning Mr. Pulitzer!" Jack said the moment he bound into the room.

Pulitzer glowered at him, "You sure are cheerful this morning."

Jack grinned, "Sure am sir, I'm here to pick up your daughter." He technically could have waited outside but despite everything, he couldn't help gloating about his past victories every now and then. Especially where it concerned Katherine.

"Ah, yes. I do recall she said something about that," Pulitzer responded with a frown. "Sweetheart! The boy is here," he called, turning further inside.

"Coming!" Katherine's voice replied, and a moment later she came dashing out. "Have a nice day dad," she called, grabbing Jack by the arm and whisking him out of the room.

The two set off, all smiles. "So where are we going today, Jack?" Katherine asked eagerly, "You've been excited about today for quite some time now and you still won't tell me."

Jack chuckled, a look of pride on his face. "Well you see, I've been saving up and I've got enough now to get us front seat tickets at the Bowery."

Katherine raised an eyebrow, "Wow, that can't have been easy."

"It's worth it for you," Jack replied earnestly.

They soon arrived at the Bowery and in a rare occurrence, Jack led the pair through the front door instead of sneaking in through the back. He waved to Medda Larkin who gave them a pleasantly surprised look but said nothing.

Jack grinned at Katherine, "'Aint this neat? We've got actual seats today, and a perfect view."

"What a luxury," Katherine teased but kissed Jack on the cheek to reassure him she was joking.

Jack looked even more pleased with himself at this. "I've got enough for drinks too," he offered, "Doin' those cartoons for the papes pays better than just sellin' 'em."

Katherine hesitated for a moment then shrugged, "Why not. It's a special occasion."

"Is it?"

"Every moment I'm with you is a special occasion," Katherine told him with a playful grin, causing Jack to make a startled cough and lose composure for just a moment. Katherine laughed, "Come on, silly. Let's get those drinks."

Jack cleared his throat, "Yes, let's."

He hurriedly led the two over to the bar which was in its usual crowded state of chaos. Katherine glanced at her pocket watch, "Do we have time to get a drink? Doesn't the show start soon?"

"It'll be fine," Jack reassured her, "Stay here." He started pushing his way to the front.

"Jack wait," Katherine started, looking nervously at her watch again but he was already gone. She waited anxiously for him to return, trying to stare through the crowd for him. At last, he returned, with not a moment to spare.

She grabbed him by the wrist the moment he was back, "Come on Jack, let's go."

"Yeah, I'm coming," he insisted, following after her, careful not to spill a drop, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't think it would take that long."

Faster than was probably safe, considering Jack was holding two full drinks and Katherine was in long skirts, as usual, the two made it to their seats. They sat down, breathless. The second they did, the show began. "You're cutting it close," Katherine whispered.

"It's fine, we made it," Jack replied sheepishly and handed her her drink.

She nodded in thanks and settled in to watch the show.

Unfortunately, she didn't get peace for very long. Under the cover of music and darkness, the man to her left started to get bored with the show on the stage. "Hey beautiful, you here with that kid?"

Katherine scowled, trying to ignore him.

The man did not give up. "Wouldn't you prefer a real man?"

After several minutes of intermittent whispering, Katherine finally replied. "Will you let it go, I'm not interested," she hissed.

The man scoffed and leaned in to say something, causing Katherine to lean back, bumping into Jack.

"Hey, you alright?" Jack whispered, finally noticing what was going on. His eyes widened then his face scrunched up into a growl. "Hey, creep. This show 'aint interactive, so keep your hands to yourself!"

He punctuated the last phrase by throwing his drink fully in the face of the man.

The man leapt to his feet, sputtering. "Why you little-"

"Hey!" The lights flashed on and the show screeched to a halt. There stood Medda Larkin, hands on her hips. "Get out," she insisted pointing at the man soaking in alcohol, "And make it quick."

Jack waved awkwardly, "Sorry, Miss Medda."

She scoffed and waved her hand dismissively, "You didn't do nothing wrong, Jack. But maybe you should leave too, stay out of trouble."

Jack grimaced, "Yeah, maybe." The crowd around them murmured and he pulled his hat down, ducking his head. "Definitely, come on Katherine."

He moved to leave but he didn't get very far before Katherine grabbed his arm. She smiled at him, tilting his head up and linked arms wordlessly. He gave her a puzzled look but she only pulled him an inch closer and left the theatre together.

They didn't break apart until they had gone a little ways away. "What was that for?" Jack asked.

"Didn't want you to think you did anything to be ashamed of," Katherine explained, "You were only helping me." She pretended to swoon and laughed, "My hero."

He smiled weakly, "Man this has been quite the day, hasn't it."

"Yes."

"Not quite what I had planned."

"No."

Jack buried his head in his hands with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he groaned, "I 'ain't ever done all this before, with a girl ya know. Properly I mean."

He peeked tentatively at Katherine who was staring at him with an amused expression. "I've made a mess of things haven't I?"

Katherine laughed and sat down next to him, "Jack, is that really what you think?"

She reached out and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him towards herself. Jack let himself lean in and huffed, "Maybe, kinda. Yeah. I don't know."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Katherine reassured him, pressing them closer together. "This was the most exciting date I've ever been on."

"Is that a good thing?" Jack asked skeptically.

Katherine shrugged, "Sure it is, would I date someone boring?"

Jack chuckled, "I suppose not."

"Exactly," Katherine took his hands and smile at him, "Today was lovely."

"For sure?"

"For sure."

#Jack Kelly #Katherine Plumber #Newsies #Spider Writes Musicals

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malethirsty · 4 years

Text

Suspence: Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Summary: Having a partner who’s an actor is exciting, they could channel whichever character they wanted to fuck you, and with an actor as versatile as Jeffrey Dean Morgan, the possibilities were endless.

Warning: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Cock Cage

A relationship with an actor can be many things, boring is never one of them. With Jeffrey Dean Morgan, a man who was so infused with his craft, you never knew which side you’d get. Some nights he’d be smooth and romantic like Jason Crouse, some nights he’d be gruff, rough & tough like Negan. But he never bored you, so you always were excited to see who he would become in the bedroom & besides, either way, the sex was good.

As you heard his bike on it’s way up the drive, you had a notion that he was gonna be Negan this evening, the bike usually meant Negan, a car’s engine meant Jason, and being able to distinguish between both helped you prepare. Your prep now was ruined as the door was flung forwards “Where’s daddy’s baby boy? He’s got a surprise for you!” Putting on a needy act, you ran to the hallway flinging yourself into Jeffrey’s arms “Here I am daddy!” “Fuck, you’re excited, come sit on daddy’s lap where you damn belong!” Hearing him talk as Negan was hot, so it never occurred to you to ignore him, you followed him to the bedroom and got into position, Jeffrey gripping you ever so tightly & sat down. “Now remember when I was midway through fucking you, and you shot your load before I came?” You nodded, a shameful look on your face "Well I have a solution.” He lent over to his bag and removed a cock cage “This goes on your cock, and it stops you from getting hard so you can focus on me.” You looked very upset “Don’t you like daddy’s present?” Jeffrey looked at you with big puppy eyes “I do. I want to shoot my load as well, I love knowing how far you push me sir. Knowing that you are the only one to make me fall apart around you, it’s amazing.” Jeffrey grinned at you “It’s only to help you, and one day you won’t need it, you’ll be able to control your orgasms with daddy. Wear it tonight for me.” He said it so sweetly that you found yourself nodding, stripping and donning the cage “Good, daddy loves you so fucking much.”

He forced you to your knees “I want to see if you understand the fundamentals of what I am trying to help you achieve. So suck daddy’s big dick, make him hard enough to fuck you.” You began to suck his cock, determined to prove yourself to him “Fuck, suck daddy’s dick, get it all in your mouth” He grabbed your head & shoved forwards, making you gag “Yeah, choke on daddy’s dick, it only makes me harder.” He set a brutal pace, using your mouth for his own “Damn, this mouth is gonna make me cum early!”

He pulled you off him, dragging you back up. He gave you a kiss, taking you onto his lap before thrusting his cock into your ass, causing you to scream “FUCK DADDY!” “Yeah, that’s right, you belong to daddy! Daddy’s got you, daddy’s gonna treat you right like his prince deserves.” His rough pace from the blowie continued, him pummelling away at your ass, chasing his orgasm. “Worship my tattoos” he groaned, eagerly you moved to his left pectoral, and licked his tattoo, whilst moving your left and right hands over his other ones on both arms “Glide over daddy’s tattoos, keep sucking on my chest one. Daddy wants to see something.” You hadn’t noticed he had stopped fucking you, focused on worshipping his tattoos, suddenly his cock prodded your G-Spot, making you yell “See how hard you make daddy, I didn’t even need to fuck you, you made my dick so hard it found your G-Spot all on it’s own. Who could love you like that?” You were practically breathless “I asked you a damn question! Who. Could. Love. You. Like. That?” As he said this, his hand laid several slaps to your already worn out ass “Fuck, you Daddy! You’re the only one who could fuck me like this” Jeffrey stopped “That’s damn fucking right!”

Jeffrey resumed his brutal pace, loving your moans & yells as you experienced his brutal side. Your cock ring flopped lazily on his stomach making him laugh “You’re daddy’s desperate fucking slut, tell me what you are?” You struggled for breath, as much as it was “I-I’m daddy’s desperate fucking slut. I chained my dick up so daddy could experience more time fucking me, and I let him treat my manhood like that. I am his pussy, only for daddy, my beautiful, sexy daddy” Jeffrey raised himself up & kissed you. “Fuck, those beautiful words are gonna make daddy cum!” He groaned out a lot of expletives, your name mixed within them “Y/N! Shit! Fuck! I’m gonna come! Clench down right there! OH YEAH!” He practically bellowed as he shot his load deep in your ass “Fuck, we look a damn mess, all covered in sweat, you with my load all up in your ass. We need to get clean” at these words, you used whatever strength you could to hold Jeffrey down “Baby boy, what the hell are you doin?” His question was answered as you began to clean him, mouth on hand to mop up his sweat “Oh fuck, you crave daddy anyway you can have him!” Jeffrey groaned.

Eventually you did as much as you could & Jeffrey leaned back up to kiss you “Fuck, you taste like a strong man after you cleaned my sweat & you did it unprompted. You also didn’t shoot whilst in the cage, so daddy will give you a reward.” He scooped you up and took you to the showers “Let’s get under that shower, I’ll take the cage off & you can come all over my chest hair. I love you so damn much!”

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Male Reader #Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Male Reader #Jeffrey Dean Morgan Smut

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