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darkstaria · 7 months ago

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Yandere Superfam - Happy Father's Day!

It was Father's day semi recently, so I wrote this. Note: it is very important to me that every one who reads this understands that I didn't actually write this on Father's Day. I swear!

Oh, and I updated the soul animal au Taglist again, so hopefully I got everyone!

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"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" A voice sung to you, dragging you from the depths of oblivion you found solace in. The sound of opening curtains cut into you like a knife.

"Mmmghhh..." You attempted, keeping your eyes firmly closed against the rising sun blaring into your eyeballs. Couldn't he just go away? You stared blearily. Clark Kent, or rather, Superman was smiling, a beaming ray that burnt into you.

"Come on now, Sunshine. It's Father's Day! Aren't you excited to spend it with your dad?"

No, is what you wanted to say. But you bit the comment down as you often did. It never helped, not with Bruce, not with Clark. How unfair.

"You couldn't have let me sleep for a little longer?" You tried, almost whining. First they use ‘medicine’ to get you to sleep, then they force you to wake up early.

"Sorry but that won't be happening. We only have limited time with you today! We have to enjoy as much time together as we can before you go to Bruce's." He looked apologetic, but you doubted it. He never truly was.

Your life with Superman was an endless spiral of apologies, a litany of white lies hidden by a brilliant smile. A sun that shone so brightly, you almost forgot the burns.

You gave a little sigh, but acknowledged the futility of your actions. A few years of this and you let go of resisting the little things. It made things easier.

You got out of your bed, doing your best to ignore the fervent eyes that traced your every movement. You reached under your bed, pulling out his present from under your bed. It wasn't much of a hiding space, given that it was known by every person that lived in the house, but you appreciated that they let you have little things like this. Or pretended to, anyways.

“Here you go.” You thrust the present towards him, wanting to get it over with.

“That’s Bruce’s present.” He replied, with a slight smirk.

“Eh.. how?” You mumbled, looking down. “You peaked, didn't you!”

“No I didn't not. I just know the difference between your wrapping, and Alfred’s wrapping.”

You glanced down, noticing the immaculately decorated and wrapped present in your grasp. Whoops.

With a swift movement, you reached under your bed and grasped the other present, exchanging the two with a quick action. There was a visible difference in the two, Clark’s being much more shoddily wrapped.

“Forget about that.” You demanded. Trying to get him to ignore it, you pushed his actual present in his direction.

“Woah, hold on there.” He smiled. “Jon’s been waiting downstairs to give me his present too, you two have to do it together, remember.” He patted you on the back. “Come on!”

With your frustrated affirmation, the two of you went downstairs, immediately meeting the excited gazes of both Lois and Jon. Jon in particular was bouncing in his seat, clutching onto a bunch of gifts.

“Happy Father’s day!” He shouted, a beaming smile on his face. Clark chucked, patting Jon’s hair.

“Thank you Jon.” The two began a conversation about Jon’s gifts, and you swiftly became bored. Your eyes strayed away from the table, until you accidentally locked eyes with Lois. She smiled at you, a soft image of happiness. She was definitely the most subtle of the family. It even took you a few escape attempts before you realised she wasn't your ally. After that it became difficult to see her the same way.

“And what about you, sunshine?” A hand ruffled your hair, Clark interrupting your musings with a single gesture. You bit back a flinch.

“Ah yeah, this is my present… Dad.” You attempted to sound jovial. Judging by the smile on his face it had worked, but you weren't entirely sure if that was a result of your actions skills or his delusions.

“Thank you! Let’s see what you've made this year.” Clark took no time in unwrapping the gift. “Ah, another mug, and just look at this drawing, you get more creative every time.” He beamed. You felt like living in this household half the time entitled you to sunglasses.

Your gift wasn't anything fancy, just a simple mug with a terribly drawn face on it. The words ‘happy dad’ were written under the face, in sloppy handwriting.

Clark walked over to a cabinet, opening it up. In the cabinet lay another mug, this one lacking any drawing at all. Instead, it had the name Clark written on and drawn out, and the word Dad swiftly smudged on instead.

That mug was actually one of Clark’s old mugs, you had just stolen it upon learning that they had actually expected a gift from you on Father’s Day. You originally wrote Clark down, but soon realised that would be a mistake, crossing it out and writing Dad. Somehow, he loved it.

In all honesty, you couldn't complain. If you set the bar this low, you could easily up it the next year without having to put in much effort. As long as you were ‘creative’ Clark accepted anything, if it was from you. Maybe next year your mug drawing would be two drawings, instead of one. You dreaded the time when you'd eventually have to put actual effort into gifts. Surely, you'd have escaped before then.

“Come on kids!” Clark called out, drawing your attention back to him. “Let’s enjoy today as much as we can, before Sunshine has to go to Wayne Manor later.”

Jon pouted. “Do they really have to go? They went last year too. They already spent half their time at Wayne Manor as is.” He grumbled. Jon was more obvious in his possessiveness, something that occasionally ruffled the feathers of the Batfam. The tug of war between Jon and Damian was far too frequent, the memory of it making your shoulders ache a little.

“Now now Jon. Bruce is Sunshine’s father just as much as I am.”

Considering neither of them were your father, his statement was a little infuriating.

“What game are we going to play this time?” Your question was both an act of masochism and genuine interest. Feigning injuries never worked against two superhumans who could look into your very bone structure. Instead, you had come to find some enjoyment in watching Clark and Jon bumble about, trying to play fair in a competitive game wherein they viewed you as both weaker and fragile. It was actually a great method for venting your anger, as long as you weren't too overt about it.

If you accidentally hit them with a hockey stick a few times, or aimed a basketball to their face a little too much, it wasn't your fault! It's not like they could feel it anyway.

“It'll be tennis today.” Clark declared, receiving an excited Ooh in response from Jon.

Ah, tennis. A little harder to use, but very much still workable. If it was golf you'd be screwed.

Oh, wait but..

“How are we playing tennis with three people?” You questioned. Lois tended to stay out of your games, preferring to watch.

“I'll play against you and Jon. If any of Bruce’s family show up early again, then one of them can join in too.” Clark spoke cheerfully, but you knew it always bothered him a bit when they arrived too soon.

Clark and Bruce’s ‘shared custody’ of you wasn't always so amicable. At one point it was downright violent. Honestly if it weren't for the effects their efforts were having on you they'd have probably escalated into a war. They had come to an agreement since, but it always bothered them whenever it was infringed on in some form.

“Time to get going Sunshine! Jon’s already waiting for you!” An abrupt push to your back jolted you forward, giving you a small jump of shock. Ugh. You glared at Superman as he responded to your surprise with good natured laughter.

You slowly walked out into the field, Jon handing you a tennis racket, his smile gleaming like the sun.

You could only hope that Batman was a little calmer on Father’s Day.

#yandere superfam #yandere #yandere superman #yandere clark kent #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #darkstaria #my writing #hints of yandere batman #shared custody scenario #yandere jon kent #yandere lois lane #yandere dc

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {7}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Your mother finally gets the truth out of you regarding Max. Warnings: 18+ only, swearing, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

The double bed was definitely not made to accommodate three people, even if you were all spooning, so you found yourself sneaking out at sunrise. You hadn’t been able to sleep with the thoughts running through your head, wondering why Max couldn’t have been more like your mother. You weren’t worried about waking Lando as you climbed out from between them, since you didn’t have an air horn on you, but you were careful not to jostle Charles who was a much lighter sleeper.

After changing into a pair of leggings and a sports bra, you found your airpods and shoved the Aura ring back on your finger before taking a lap of the village. You quickly settled into a good pace, feeling the rhythmic slap of your trainers on the pavement and timing your breathing to match. It cleared your mind and gave you a focus on something other than everything else that was happening around you. For those precious minutes you didn’t think about Max.

So far you had managed to avoid talking about him with your mum, though that was mostly thanks to being blindsided by your relationship status - it had been enough to distract her for the rest of the day. You weren’t so sure that luck would last another 24 hours but you would certainly try.

“Just leave her be, she’ll come in when she’s ready.” Your mother had been watching you all morning from her spot on the window seat, a cup of tea in hand. After Charles had woken up he had joined her and watched curiously, wondering why you were in the garden. “Avoiding me,” she said with a knowing smile. “It’s funny that the only times she would willingly do her chores were when she was trying to hide. It was a dead giveaway, but I never said anything. It was just nice to not have to ask her to do them.”

Charles chuckled as you battled to trim the agapanthus with a pair of rusted and blunt shears. “Should I offer to help?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, checking the time on her watch. “She’s nearly done.”

Charles quirked an eyebrow as he looked at the progress that had barely started to make a dent in the long drive.

“Fuck,” you hissed as you the slimy residue that leaked from every cut leaf made your hand slippery and the shears fell from your grasp, narrowly missing your foot. You went to wipe a wayward hair that fell onto your nose but the sun caught the shimmer of slime and you jerked back with a groan, instead trying to blow it out of your face. You grew more irritated as the hair remained where it was tickling your nose and the urge to sneeze built up. “Fuck this shit.”

Abandoning the garden, you marched up the path and kicked your filthy shoes off before storming through the house.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother greeted jovially. “Lovely day for a spot of gardening.”

“I’m calling Mr Newberry,” you grumbled on your way to the bathroom. “He can sort that mess out.”

You felt slightly calmer after washing away the slime and the chlorophyll that stained your fingers green and that feeling only grew when you found Charles waiting with a coffee made just how you liked it. “Busy morning?” he asked after handing over your elixir of life and taking his payment with a quick kiss.

“I’m just trying to help out,” you said with an innocent shrug. “I made a list of things that need fixing around here and if I don’t make the phone calls they will never get done.”

Charles tried to hide his amusement but when you narrowed your eyes at him he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “Your mother knows you so well,” he laughed as he leaned in to whisper, “She knows you are avoiding her.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does,” he assured you, running his hands along your sides before he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to her, amour.”

A shirtless and sleepy Lando stumbled his way into the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he made a beeline for the two of you. You placed your mug on the table before he reached you and let him fall into the middle of the embrace as his eyes fluttered shut again. He must have been burrowed under the blankets because the heat radiating off him was almost hotter than the blistering shower you had taken.

“Why are you awake?” he mumbled against your neck.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“She’s being a coward and avoiding her mum.”

That made Lando battle his exhausted state and force his eyes to open as his forehead crinkled with a frown. “Why?”

“I’m not.”

“Because she wants to know why that person-we-can’t-mention-for-another-eight-days keeps calling her.”

“You can say his name,” you grumbled. “Max Verstappen, World Champion, Number One. Prodigal Son. Cunt.”

Your mother gasped as she entered the room with a fresh brew of tea. “I should wash your mouth out with soap, young lady.”

You winced at the reprimand. “Oops, turns out we can’t say his name.”

“This has gone on long enough, take a seat - family meeting,” she ordered as she pointed to the table. Lando and Charles took a step towards the door but your mum tutted. “You’re a part of this family now too, gentlemen.”

“Should I put a shirt on?” Lando asked as he looked down at himself. “Or shorts?”

“Please don’t.” “Please do.” You spoke at the same time as your mother, both of you sending each other slightly irritated looks.

“Two Spitfires, Char, there’s two now,” he whispered under his breath as he went to get dressed. He obviously had been in a rush and blindly pulled clothes out because the tense atmosphere wasn’t enough to stop Charles from grinning at the sight of Lando in his Ferrari shirt.

Seated at one end of the table, you faced your mother while your poor boyfriends were the buffer between. Lacing her fingers together, she stared back at you and made that heavy sigh that every parent could which immediately induced waves of guilt. You didn’t even have anything to be guilty over, but it happened anyway.

“What happened with Max?”

You crossed your arms at the direct question. “This is why I don’t bring people home.”

“What happened with Max?”

“Nothing.” You dropped your head to the table with a thud as her penetrating stare became too much to look at.

“What happened with Max?”

“Fucksake,” you groaned as her persistence won over your impatience. “He called you a whore…well technically he called me one too, but it doesn’t matter. He disrespected you, mum, so instead of calling you what he can do is he can take his phone and go fuck himself with it.”

Lando covered his mouth as a quiet squeak slipped out behind his apologetic smile and you reached out with your foot, running it up and down his leg. You felt bad for subjecting him to this drama when he was as introverted as they come - not that anyone would guess after seeing him on tv. Charles seemed to just take everything on the chin and not a lot fazed him at all, but like you he was reaching out to soothe Lando under the table too.

“I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry,” you said as you started to push your chair out.

“Wait, please,” your mum asked quietly as her face softened. “He shouldn’t have said that, sweetheart, and I’m sorry that he did. I’m assuming it was after he found out about the three of you?”

You all nodded sullenly and she sighed. “It’s a shock, that’s no excuse, but it was a big shock. Maybe you should talk to him? It’s been a few days, he’s had time to think and reflect. You might be surprised.”

“Have you ever heard Max apologise?” you asked Lando and Charles. Both of their eyebrows furrowed in thought before they shook their heads. “See, Max doesn’t apologise, and I have no interest in hearing anything else from him.”

“As long as you’re doing it for yourself, honey, and not on my behalf. I have been called every name under the sun, but it's water off a duck's back. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to repair the relationship for some vindication for me. He’s your brother and you have missed so much of each other’s life already.” Your mother sighed again as she saw you had heard her words but they hadn’t broken the wall you had built. “Just think about it.”

She rose from the table, walking around it to rest her hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it,” she repeated before she left the room as you sagged in your chair like a puppet whose string had been cut.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you pulled it out to see your reflection broken on the screen. It still hadn’t been repaired from the last argument you had with Max when you accidentally cracked it. Perhaps it was a good reminder to keep.

Unlocking the device, you saw the notification from family share - alerting you that your location services were in use.

“Fucking cunt,” you groaned before hearing your name from the other end of the house. “Sorry! Can I call him a prick?”

Lando laughed and this time Charles joined in as your mother ranted to herself about your language. You couldn’t help that you grew up around mechanics and drivers, they were the most foul mouthed bunch of people.

Reaching across, Charles took a look at your phone before updating Lando. “He tracked her.”

“What do you want to do?”

Five minutes ago you would have ditched the phone and packed the car. Five minutes ago you might have threatened harassment. Five minutes of talking with your mother changed everything.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you dropped your head in your hands until they were pulled away. You could wear a blindfold and still know exactly who was holding your hand, recognising their touch and feel with the familiarity of intimacy. “What do you think I should do?”

“I’m not ready to forgive him for how he spoke to you, amour,” Charles shrugged. “If he was my brother, I honestly don’t know if that would change anything.”

“I’ll follow your lead, baby,” Lando said as he lifted your hand to his lips. “Whatever you decide. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you look really good in that shirt,” you said as you looked at Charles for confirmation, his smirk evident. “Really, really good.”

“I always look good. Stay focused.”

“I am focused. I am going to call the gardener, and someone to fix that bloody pavement. Then, maybe, I’ll think about what to do next, it’s not like he’s going to be knocking down the door right this minute.”

Both of them turned to the door expecting to hear it knock and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not the bogeyman. He just likes to think he is.”

You took your phone back and opened the family share app, selecting Max’s phone and watched as it zeroed in on the pin drop. “Shit,” you sighed as the blue dot moved along the street. Leaning back in the chair, you craned your neck to see out the window and caught sight of an Audi SUV pulling in the driveway. “I take that back. Can we run?”

Click here for chapter eight.

#charles leclerc x reader x lando norris #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc x you #lando norris x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

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bloodlinemadness · 1 month ago

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Credits: WWE for the pic & @tsunami-of-tears & @strangergraphics-archive for the amazing dividers!

youtube

Part 3 is out!

A/N: I couldn't find this song on Spotify 😭 & I thought this would be the perfect theme for this chapter. So I had to use a YouTube video.

Part 1 (if you haven't read it)

Pairings: Roman Reigns (Bf) x Fem! Reader

Tama Tonga (Ex) x Fem! Reader

Summary: Roman gets occupied when fans meet him & The Bloodline. However, Tama takes that as an opportunity to speak with you alone.

Warnings ⚠️: 18+ Fluff, angst, swearing, stress ofc, emotional wreckage, dirty talk, mentions of sex, arguing, violence, past relationship, alcohol consumption & cheating mentioned. Non-consensual kissing. Past beef. The twins have no filter & Roman punishes them for it 😭 Tama is the villain in this, sorry Tama girlies. Not proofread!

Heads Up ‼️ This needed to be separate : Yandere Tama, he gets obsessive, delusional, aggressive & pushy. ( No r*pe it's wrong & I will never write that. Also respect wrestlers to not write that about them. It was tough to write Tama like this, cause we know he's bbygirl IRL).

WC: 3k

Tag list: @wishyouloveme @jstarr86 @reignsboy19 @yana3sworld @rose-bliss

(if anyone else wants to be on the tag list for the next upcoming chapters let me know!).

Of course this is written for fictional purposes only & is based on their characters, it does not depict who they are in real life. Respect to them & their families.

Enjoy ☝🏽

"So Uce, I'm thinking for our next merch, 'cause they the twos & we the ones?" Jimmy suggested to Roman. Roman nodded his head in agreement "I'm interested." "Who's they?" asked Solo furrowing his brows. Jimmy chuckled. "I hate you" scoffed Solo.

"What are we on about?" asked Jey taking a seat after returning from the restroom. "Merch ideas, thinking cause they the twos, and we the ones" said Jimmy, "yeet!" smiled Jey. "Which I don't approve of, so no yeet!" said Solo, Jey waved him off "our merch not yours, you don't have a say in this."

"Maybe I should get them to put yalls faces on it too!" teased Jimmy, "with an X on top" laughed Jey, high fiving his twin, only angering their little brother more. "Alright Jimmy & Jey, that's enough leave your baby brother alone" you laughed. "They're back" whispered Jacob. You looked at Roman, his expression changed from jovial to irritated seeing Tama & Loa coming back to the table, you kissed his cheek calming him down. They both sat down.

You rested your head on Roman's shoulder, and you swore at the corner of your eye you saw Tama looking at you both with a blank expression. You tried to not let it get to you. You hoped that he's probably moved on by now, and doesn't see you that way anymore, but when Roman mentioned about him looking at you, he probably hasn't. Roman rested his head on top of yours, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You were grateful that you found him. After joining WWE at the beginning of 2019, you met him when he returned in February & welcomed him back with open arms, praising him & his hard work & how much you look up to him. He was elated. You were immediately attracted to him by his warm & down to earth personality. He welcomed you to the company & wished you the best on your makeup career. He even brought the twins over to your studio to do some face paint on them for fun since they miss it like old times. Your friendship went on from there & then in 2021, that friendship grew into love & you both started dating. Like you mentioned to the 4 Fatus, it has been the best 3 years of your life, and you wouldn't trade it for the world, he is the man of your dreams. The light in your life.

"I love you RoRo" you said to the man above you. "I love you too babygirl" he smiled. "Thank you for bringing me out here & to the movies, definitely needed this break from school" you said. "Of course" he said "don't overstudy yourself, it's okay to have fun once in a while too, but also keep that focus. That hard work will pay off" You heard someone clear their throat, you looked towards Roman's side & saw Jey with his arms crossed.

"What?" you asked. "I'm sure Big Uce ain't the only one who took you out, who's idea was it? Especially The Waffle House treat" he said, Jimmy agreed with his younger twin "yeah, where's our thanks?" Roman laughed "give them their holy grail" "okay, thank you twins for taking me out too, to the movies & for organizing The Waffle House lunch. You two are the best, yeet" you praised. "Exactly!" said Jimmy. You looked over at Solo "and thank you & your Bloodline for joining us" you smiled, making Solo smile too. "Of course, missed you & wanted to see you." "We love you sis! Go get that degree!" exclaimed Jacob. "Now seeing us hopefully you're all charged up & ready to kick school's ass!" said Loa, making you nod. "Will do anything to see you happy" spoke up Tama.

Solo's smile immediately dropped, his eyes widened, he looked at Jacob & he shrugged taking another spoonful of his food. "I appreciate that Tama, thank you" you smiled, making him grin too. You felt Roman tense up, you squeezed his bicep for comfort.

"Big hug!" yelled Jimmy next to you wrapping his arms around you & resting his head on your shoulder. "Yeet!" said Jey hugging Roman on the other side. "Your twin cousins are crushing us" you said "I know" whispered Roman shaking his head. "Nice! Let's get this on camera!" said Solo taking his phone out & snapping a pic of you all. "I'll send that to you Y/N, it came out great!" he said.

"Thank you Solo, now Jimmy get off of me you're crushing my bicep!" you said trying to pry him off of you. "My skull's getting crushed" you whispered to Roman "sorry baby" he said lifting his head off of you. "It's okay, I don't mind getting crushed by you just not on my brain. I need that for school" you joked rubbing your neck.

"Here let me get that for you" said Roman massaging your neck. The pads of his fingers pressing against your neck felt so good. It's like he had healing powers. You couldn't help but let out a moan in content. "Geez, wait until y'all get home" cringed Jimmy, making you flick his forehead "ow! That's abuse!" he said rubbing his head. "Ohh Daddy that feels good" mimicked Jey in your voice. Roman forcefully pulled Jey's hood over his head forcing it down, with a smirk. "I can't see Uce!" he exclaimed fighting him with his arms. He finally let go, going back to massaging you. "Rude" scoffed Jey, "yup" responded Roman. "Look at them tag teaming on my annoying brothers, they're meant to be" smiled Solo, making Jacob nod in agreement.

Tama huffed in annoyance, "what happened?" asked Loa. He shook his head & looked somewhere else. Roman rubbing your neck reminded him of the time he did it to you after your shifts in New Japan Pro-Wrestling. Since there were times you'd be craning your neck down or up to put makeup on the wrestlers, it'd hurt. You'd come home & Tama would be the one to massage your neck hearing you groan & moan in satisfaction which made him move his lips onto your neck, leading to something more. Vice versa, you'd give him massages too after his long & brutal matches at times, he missed it all, he missed your touches.

After he was done, Roman whipped his phone out & texted the chat while you started talking to Solo.

Roman: @Jimmy @Jey What's with all the hugging & clinginess???

Jimmy: Hey! We meant that! We needed one big hug, especially you Uce! Turn that grumpy frown upside down.

Roman: @Jimmy stop trying to play therapist.

Jey: @Roman Tama got all lookie with Y/N again. Uce needed to cover her 👀

Roman: I knew it, it was all for show 😒

Jimmy: I mean a bit, but we still needed one big hug.

Roman: @Jimmy We're not the Teletubbies, we're leaving now. I've had enough of him.

Jacob: But I haven't finished!

Jey: @Jacob Damn, you eat slow.

Jimmy: @Roman Y/N needed that hug don't you think Uce? She looks much happier now!

Roman: You're right & that's all I want for her...is to be happy 🙂

Jimmy: Pretty Huuurtsss 🎶

Jey: We shine the light on whatever's worst 🎶

Roman: It's not karaoke night, stop it 🙄

Jacob: PERFECTION IS A DISEASE OF A NATION 🎶

Everyone: JACOB!

"Alright y'all, Y/N & I are gonna be heading home now. She's got stuff to do & so do I" said Roman standing up. You stood up with him wrapping your arms around his waist as he wrapped his arm protectively around your shoulder. "We need rides back home, Uce!" said Jimmy, making him roll his eyes. "You & Jey paid the bill for the meals?" "yes Uce, but you owe us" said Jimmy. "I don't owe y'all anything, you chose to be mean to Y/N so you had to pay for it yourselves" said Roman. "Should've just kept your mouth shut" said Jey to Jimmy. "Told ya he got a big ass mouth why else do you think we don't tell him shit?" said Solo, making his big brother give him a dirty look. "Aww, come on Ro. It was just harmless joke! I make worse jokes to them" you said laughing. "Yeah, and our feelings get hurt sometimes" said Jey fake crying.

Some fans noticed The Bloodline & came up to take pics with them. "Sorry babygirl, you don't mind?" asked Roman looking at you sympathetically. "Of course not! I'm glad we had some quality time spent together" you said, pecking his lips making him smile. He grinned going up to meet the fans, same with the twins. Fans also came up to the new Bloodline too getting pics & autographs.

You told Jey you're gonna head to the restroom to freshen up & you'll be back, he nodded. You made your way towards the bathrooms what you didn't notice is Tama watching you leave. He saw that Roman was occupied & so were the twins, Solo, Jacob & his brother with fans. He quietly got up & snuck his way towards the restrooms following you.

You washed your hands, touched yourself up with your hair, makeup & perfume, freshened your breath with mouthwash & left the restroom. You walked 2 steps before you saw a figure in front of you, Tama. He had his arms crossed leaning against the wall, looking at you. Tight fitted black shirt, dark washed jeans, his gold chain dangling from his neck, you froze.

"Hey Tama" you said waving awkwardly at him. "Hey Y/N, long time huh?" he said smirking at you. "Yeah, it has been" you said awkwardly smiling at him. "I'll get out of your hair, you probably need to use the restroom room right? I'll see you later" you said trying to walk past him, but he grabbed your wrist making you stop. "I don't need to use the restroom, I want to talk to you, but not here" he said. You started to shiver. You knew you should've went to the bathroom when Jey went, he would've been by your side coming out.

"That's nice Tama, but I really can't right now. Roman's probably waiting for me" you said.

"He's meeting fans right now & is caught up talking to them, we have time. Come on" he said taking your wrist & leading you out.

"Where are you taking me?" you said. He didn't respond, he lead you towards a patio outside which was on the side near the bathrooms. You tried to withdraw your hand from his,but he wouldn't budge. "I'm not going anywhere with you, let me go!" you nearly shouted. "Shhhh" he said putting his finger in front of his mouth. You felt butterflies in your stomach & disgust within you. "Listen, hear me out. It's been a while since we've last seen each other" he said playing with your fingers. You yanked your hand away from him, making him chuckle & raising his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I guess you're still upset with me" he said.

"Upset? I'm more than just upset with you Tama, you broke my heart, you cheated on me, treated me like an object. Did you really love me? Cause I don't think you ever did, I bet you wanted me for my body only" you fought. "That's a lie! I've always loved you ma chérie-" Don't you ever fucking call me that again!" you gritted through your teeth, cutting him off. "Ouch, okay, but still hear me out" he said. "What is there to hear out?" you questioned. "COULD YOU PLEASE LET ME TALK?!" he yelled. You were shaken up by his words & stopped. He saw fear within your eyes & regretted his tone.

"I'm sorry, but please listen to me. Yes, I did a horrible thing years ago when we dated & it was very low of me to do that. I never should've cheated on you & I don't know what came in my head to do that. Even the days I'd come home drunk, I know I get stressed out with work & being away from home, but drinking & begging sex from you were definitely not the ways to cope & looking back at it I'm so disgusted with my past actions. Hell, after you left I beat myself up for it so much. I was a fucking mess without you, you were the best I ever had. I loved you for who you were Y/N, your bubbly personality, your amazing makeup skills, especially the cheetah print face paint you did on me, I adore it so much when I look at those pictures & it reminds me of you, your smile every time I see you, how you were never afraid to speak your mind when you saw injustice, your style, your humbleness, the way you were like my personal cheerleader every time I had a match, the time we spent together-" "okay Tama" you interrupted him "I get it, but please get straight to the point" you said, he nodded.

"I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry for everything for making your life a living hell, for breaking your heart, giving you a hard time. I couldn't even look at myself after what I did to you. My brothers & The Bullet Club gave me an earful after what I did & I know I fucked up bad. I regret losing you & it hurts to live in a world where you hate me, I apologize so much. God, I'm so cruel, I let the best thing go" his eyes started to water up.

"Tama" you said sympathetically. "I don't know what to say..." you trailed. "Just forgive me, that's all I ask for" he pleaded. "Okay, I forgive you" you said, a small grin appeared on his teary face. "But I won't forget what you've done, you really hurt me. I had to risk my job because of this. You made it hard for me to believe in love again. You were not just a love to me but a friend whom I felt I could always confide in & vice versa & not only that you need to apologize to Roman too for the shit you said to him years ago. You can't be near me if you don't respect my man" you said. "I know & I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you. I'm a changed man now" he said. You raised your brow "huh? You mean make it up to us right? Me & Roman?" you said confused.

"No, give me one more chance, I promise you I won't let you down" he whispered taking a step towards you, making you take a step back. "I thought you said that all you wanted was to seek forgiveness? What's this now?" you questioned. "Yeah, that was to break the ice, but I want to give us another go. I'll treat you like a Queen Y/N" he stepped closer towards you. "Tama, you're getting too close" you panicked. He walked closer towards you, smirking.

"I can't get back with you, I'm dating Roman now & I'm happy with him. We're not letting each other go. You need to move on Tama, please. If I can, so can you. There are plenty of beautiful women out there who will love you. If you've changed, you'll do that & if you truly love me, you'll let me go" you said. "I don't want those women!" he snapped, making you jump. His voice softened "I want you. Why can't you see it Y/N? I miss you baby. I think about you every fucking day." "Please, stop. You need to move on! Roman's gonna be pissed if he sees us! And it's not gonna end well for you" you said creeped out.

"I don't care what Roman thinks, he's too busy with his fans to even care about you. That's your knight in shining armor?" See? I'm better. I could never abandon you like that bitch, baby" he chuckled, shaking his head. You slapped him across his cheek which echoed throughout the patio. He held his cheek, breathing heavily. "Don't you dare say another word against him, you fucking psycho!" you yelled with tears in your eyes. He looked at you through his lashes, stomped to you, pinning you against the outdoor brick wall of the restaurant, making you yelp. "The audacity you have" he chuckled darkly before turning serious, " I don't give a fuck though, it makes me want you even more."

"Get the fuck off of me, you sick freak!" you shouted attempting to push him off, but he was too strong. "You need me, you miss me, and I know you miss my touch, right my pretty little psycho?" He whispered into your ear nipping at your ear lobe. You pushed his head away. He cupped your face in his hands & crashed his lips against yours silencing your whimpers, he moaned in content finally tasting & feeling your lips after years of craving it.

TBC...

A/N: Feedback is appreciated!

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ruh--roh-raggy · 11 months ago

Text

Flowers For My Valentine (Steve Raglan x Fem! Reader) - Valentine's Day Special

Hello hello and Happy Valentine's Day my lovelies! We have some sweet and flirty Steve Raglan this time around thanks to a wonderful Anon who made a request (this was so fun thank you so much!) If you would like to see more of this, more fnaf in general, or would like to be added to my tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: Age gap (Reader is in her late 20's, Steve is in his early 50's), office romance, flirting, mutual pining, reader very briefly talks about how she doesn't feel good enough, some swearing, not proofread, if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here! ~ AO3 Link!

Word Count: 6,189

“Good morning Linda!” You greet your co-worker jovially.

“Oh, perfect, you're here.” She waves you over, her long bright red acrylics clacking together. “Could you bring this down to Mr. Raglan’s office? I’d go do it, but he likes you better.” She teases with a chuckle, making your cheeks warm. She hands the pink flier over to you. It was the announcement for the office's annual Valentine’s Day party.

You walk down the plain, beige hallway, the walls lined with matching, cheap doors, their old brass hardware glinting in the fluorescent lights that hang from overhead. You paused in front of the last door on the left, ‘Steve Raglan' printed across the nameplate. You tap softly, a soft smile finding its way to your lips as you hear him call you in. He says your name softly, grinning brightly at you. “What a pleasant surprise.” He motions to the chair across from him. “Please, sit! Um, would you like some coffee? Tea maybe?” He hurries to stand, banging his knee on the desk in the process and making him curse under his breath.

“Mr. Raglan are you okay?” You hurry to his side, your look of pure concern making the older man’s features soften.

“I'm fine rabbit, being around pretty girls just makes me nervous.” He says with a wink. You giggle, growing flustered at his compliment.

“You flatter me, Mr. Raglan.” He gets lost in your eyes for a moment, the playful glimmer in them drawing him in. His gaze flashes down to the paper you held in your hands.

“What do we have here?” He smiles, taking the flier from you. He reads it over silently, running his fingers down his tie. “A Valentine’s Day party, huh?” His silvery eyes flash to yours, a playful smile lacing it’s way across his lips. “Are you going to drag your boyfriend to this thing?”

“Oh, there's no boyfriend to drag along.” You giggle. “I'm probably going to be stuck in some mindless gossip loop with some of the other ladies if I go.”

“If you go?” He repeats the last part of your statement.

“I'm not really a big Valentine's Day girl.” You admit, swaying awkwardly on your heels. “The whole holiday tends to be a bit of a let down if I'm being honest.” Your eyes widened slightly as you realized you were being far too casual. “I'm sorry, Mr. Raglan. I shouldn't be talking about this stuff at work.” You hurriedly tried to head for the door, wanting to excuse yourself as quickly as possible before you became even more flustered. You slam the door behind you, managing to slip into the bathroom just as you heard his office click back open. You silently berated yourself for looking so stupid in front of him. “Let’s just open up to him about every shitty Valentine's we've ever had!” You mock yourself in the mirror. You sigh, studying your reflection. It was silly really. For a brief moment the thought flashed through your head that maybe, somehow, some way, Steve would've asked you to go to the party with him. You splashed some water on your face, reluctantly deciding to go back to the office. Hopefully he would forget about your awkward little interaction by tomorrow.

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“Alright, who is he?” You freeze in your tracks as you walk through the office door.

“Excuse me?” You ask, your gaze trailing up to the reception desk. You were met with the sight of a beautiful, elaborate bouquet made up of yellow, purple, and white flowers.

“They're addressed to you. You better not have gotten a boyfriend and not told me about it, I thought we shared everything!” She pretends to be hurt, making you chuckle.

“We do, you're my work wife, I wouldn't survive without you.” You pout, she laughs, shaking her head slightly. “Was there a card?” Both of your curiosity over the matter bubbled up as you did a quick investigation of the scenario.

“There is, but no name.” She hands the small, cream colored piece of cardstock over to you.

“I know flowers from your secret admirer are cliche, but I wanted to do something special for the woman who never fails to brighten my day.” You couldn't stop yourself from smiling as you read over the message.

“Do you think it's someone in the office?” She asks in a hushed tone.

“I don't see why not. I don't have anyone that would send me flowers at work, even as a joke.” You explain, trying to place a face to the neat script that swirled across the card.

“Wow.” Your eyes snap up to Steve Raglan. His short sleeve, yellow button down with brown pinstripes tucked neatly into his perfectly pressed pants. “Someone's a lucky lady.” He smiles at Linda, more than likely assuming they were from her husband.

“Oh they're not for me, someone has their eye on your best employee.” She states in a teasing tone.

“Is that so?” He shoves his free hand into his pocket, the other holding a comically small looking mug of coffee. “Guess someone might have a date for the Valentine's Party yet.” Warmth pools behind your cheeks as your eyes meet his striking silver ones.

“You didn't happen to see who dropped these off, did you Mr. Raglan?” You ask curiously.

He shakes his head, “I'm afraid not sweetheart, but I'll keep an eye out.” He chuckles. “I have to make sure whoever is trying to catch your attention only has the best intentions in mind for my favorite girl.” You let out a flustered giggle as he winks at you. He pulls his pager off his belt, quickly reading the message. “I'm going to have some new client paperwork that needs to be filed, I'll have it on your desk within the hour if that's alright?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Raglan. I'll take care of it.” You smile brightly at him.

“This is why you're the best!” He compliments you. “Thank you beautiful, I'll be back.” You noticed Linda’s gaze trail after him, watching him intently until he shut his office door behind him.

“Do you think Mr. Raglan might have left you those flowers?” You choke on your drink, coughing and sputtering as you try to regain your composure.

“Now where the hell did that come from?” You ask in response, unable to meet her eyes as you try to hide your nervous expression.

“Well, you're obviously his favorite, everyone that works for this company knows that. He always compliments you, he’s always telling you how pretty you look or how good of a job you're doing. If it’s anyone in the office my money’s on him.” She rattles off the first few reasons that came to her mind.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” You nervously wring your hands in your lap, staring blankly down at the stack of papers that sat in front of you. “I'm nothing special, plus I'm sure he has a wife.” You try to wave her off.

“I've never noticed a ring.” Your breath froze in your throat as you saw her attention turn to you. A smirk spreads across her lips, “and from how flustered you look right now I'm assuming that someone definitely doesn't mind the attention.” She whispers.

“Okay, okay, hang on.” You wave your hand in front of her, wanting to cut her off before she has the chance to keep snowballing her idea. “If I tell you this, not another soul hears about this, not even Mark!” You point an accusatory finger at her.

“Honey, please, my husband doesn't give a rat's ass about work gossip. Tell me everything.” She leans an elbow on the desk as she spins her chair to face you, taking a long sip of coffee from her mug as she waits patiently for the details.

“I might have a bit of a thing for him.” You admit, your cheeks already heating up at the simple confession. “He's funny and charming and handsome and… I don't know, I feel so stupid.” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

“You shouldn't feel stupid.” She rushes to reassure you. “You are a gorgeous young woman, I'm sure he would be absolutely flattered-”

“It's not even about that.” You sigh. Linda gives you an incredulous look in response. “Okay, maybe it is a little about that. But, on top of the fact that he could just outright reject me, he's my boss, he's quite a bit older than I am, he's going to get to know me and see that I'm just some stupid young kid and it's going to make things weird here and I'm going to have to quit my job because of it.”

“I think someone is overthinking this way too much.” She laughs, shaking her head slightly.

“I get it, it's scary. There's a lot of unknowns and different ways it could all pan out. But, you'll never know if you don't try. I'm not saying burst in there right now, rip your clothes off, and try to seduce him.” You can't help but laugh at her over the top idea. “All I'm saying is maybe make a little effort to flirt with him, test the waters, see how it feels.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair, “I don't even know how to even try if I'm being completely honest.”

“Listen up, buttercup, it's time for a crash course in office flirting 101.” She laughs.

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You smooth your blouse as you stand in front of the last office on the left, repeatedly reading over the name ‘Steve Raglan’ printed in neat gold lettering in front of you as you try to build up your confidence. You tap softly on the door, waiting for the quiet ‘come in’ before entering. “Finished up with that paperwork already?” He smiles brightly at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he speaks.

“Yessir, I just wanted to come hand deliver it myself.” You shoot him a coy grin.

“Can I interest you in some coffee?” He asks, still reading from the paperwork you handed him, expecting you to flit out of the room like you normally did.

“Do you have any tea?” You saw him pause, his brows furrowing slightly before he looked up at you.

“I do.” It took him a moment to continue, still trying to process the situation. “Why don't you sit down, I'll put the kettle on.” You nod, plopping down into one of the slightly too hard chairs that sat opposite him at his desk. You can't help but giggle as you glance over your shoulder to find Steve studying you.

“You seem a bit surprised that I stayed.” He snaps himself from his thoughts.

“I am, if I'm being honest. I feel like every time I invite you to stay for a cup of tea you practically sprint out of here.” He chuckles, slowly walking back to his desk and sitting across from you. “I'm not that scary am I?”

You shake your head, “no, you're not. I think you're sweet, Mr. Raglan.” You fidget with your fingers for a moment before deciding to take a rather bold approach to the flirting Linda had suggested. “Being around handsome men just makes me nervous.” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching as the realization set in that he had said something very similar to you the day prior.

He breathes out a laugh, a smile lacing its way across his lips. “Well, thank you rabbit. I'm flattered that a pretty little thing like you thinks I'm handsome. Also, feel free to call me Steve, I think we know each other well enough at this point, don't you?”

“I think you might be right.” You perk up at the sound of the kettle going off, immediately hopping out of your seat to get it.

“Oh, I can-” you cut him off with a small wave of your hand.

“Steve, you have to be one of the hardest workers I know.” You fill his mug first, carrying it over to him slowly to make sure you wouldn't spill any coffee. “I think you should let someone take care of you for a change.” You wink at him, your hand trailing across his shoulder as you step next to him.

“Well how can I refuse such a tempting offer.” He grins, his silver eyes flashing across your features. You made your own cup of tea before returning to the seat across from him. You feel his gaze trailing over your much smaller form as you carefully cross your legs. “Any leads on that secret admirer of yours?” He asks casually, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Nothing yet, but I'm hoping I can figure it out soon.” You run your finger along the rim of your mug. “I'm hoping I can manage to find out who it is before the party.” He clears his throat as he shifts himself in his seat slightly.

“Anything's possible isn't it?” He responds, lacing his fingers together as his hands come to rest on his stomach. You were both interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Steve, sorry to interrupt, you got a minute?” It was one of your coworkers.

“I'll stop by later Mr. Raglan, thank you for the tea.” You smiled softly at him, his eyes locked with yours as you stood, smoothing your clothes slightly before sauntering out of the room.

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You jump when somebody calls your name. You look up to see Steve shrugging into his thick, gray jacket. “You're still here?” He asks with a warm smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“I had some emails to send, I was just about to head out myself.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he slowly approaches you.

“Would it be alright if I walked you to your car?” He asks carefully, as if he was trying to pin down the exact right way to ask you. “It's late, I want to make sure you get there safely, is all.” You could hear the slight hesitancy in his tone, that fact he seemed almost nervous made you smile.

“That's very sweet of you Steve, thank you.” You smile warmly at him. He helps you into your jacket, stuffing his hands back in his pockets as he slows his long strides so you could keep up easily. “Are you going to be bringing your wife to the Valentine's Day party?” You finally ask after walking in silence for a while.

Steve chuckles, “oh, I'm not a married man, rabbit. I'm afraid it's just going to be me.” You feel your cheeks warm at the sound of his gravelly tone.

“It's a shame, I guess we're both going to be single for Valentine's Day.” You giggle.

“What a shame indeed, I'm very surprised some dumb little boy hasn't tried to scoop you up. A pretty thing like you deserves a man who’ll make her feel special.” He smirks down at your flustered state.

“Well, maybe if I can get to the bottom of who sent me those flowers I could get to the bottom of that.” You brace against the cold as he holds the door open for you. Steve holds his coat open, pulling you into his side and shielding you from the wind.

“You never know, he could be a lot closer than you think.” He winks at you, making you let out a flustered giggle. The end of your nose tingles from the cold as you stop in front of your car. “Have a good night, rabbit.” He smiles softly down at you, his silver eyes searching yours with a subtle intensity.

“Good night, Steve.” You pull open your car door, a dull ache settling in your chest as you watch him start to head off. You called his name, making him pause. He turns to glance back at you, your smaller form moving before you have a chance to overthink the situation. You pushed yourself up onto the tips of your toes, your hand wrapping around his strong bicep as you leaned in, allowing your lips to come to rest against his cheek. “Get home safely.” You whisper, letting your eyes linger on him before you hopped in your driver's seat and watched him walk to his own car with an absolutely dumbfounded expression on his face.

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You were one of the first people in the office this morning. Having to come in early to prepare the conference room for a meeting and to send out reminder emails for said event definitely wasn't your idea of fun, but there was something oddly tranquil about the nearly empty space so early in the morning. You had been called over to one of your coworkers cubicles to help with a paper work issue, smiling at Steve as you watched him push into the room, flurries of snowflakes trailing in through the door behind him. The memory of you kissing him on the cheek the night prior raced to the forefront of your mind, your eyes widened slightly, your cheeks growing warm as you rushed off before he had a chance to confront you about it. You had felt guilty about it, he was your boss, now you've probably made whatever small relationship the two of you had extremely awkward. You looked around as you headed back to your desk, expecting him to emerge from nowhere at any second. You froze when you noticed a red, heart shaped box, all wrapped up with a matching satin bow. ‘These chocolates will never be as sweet as you, but they're the closest thing I could find.’ you smiled as your eyes drifted over the familiar neat script. Once again, the card contained no clues as to who your secret admirer might be. You carefully undid the bow and lifted the lid to find a stunning box of extravagant assorted chocolates. “Another gift from your prince charming?” Linda asks with an excited grin as she roughly tossed her purse and jacket into her chair.

“The funniest part is… these definitely weren't on my desk when I got here. They must have just been dropped off.” She eyes you curiously before looking around at the possible suitors within the small space. You noticed her lips pull into a smile as her eyes locked onto someone.

“Well, good morning Mr. Raglan.” Your blood turned to ice in your veins at the mention of his name.

“Good morning ladies, I hope you're having a good day so far.” You reluctantly turn to face him at the sound of your name. “Another present?” His eyes dart down to the half open box before returning to your face.

“Um, yes sir.” You squeak in response. “Still no name though.” You giggle.

“Shame…” he trails off as he studies you. “I hope he reveals himself soon, I'd like to know who's keeping that pretty smile on your face.” He winks before quickly turning and heading off.

“Something happened between you two, I can feel it.” She narrows her eyes, passing you your own mug of coffee as she settles in with her own. “Spill.”

“So, remember how you brought up that whole flirting thing?” She nods. “Well, I may have pushed things a little further than just, you know, giggling and fawning over his muscles, right?” Her silence was making your nerves run rampant. “I may or may not have kissed him on the cheek when we were parting ways last night.” She gasps your name in shock. “It felt right, okay!” You yell-whisper. “He walked me out to my car, I had already been flirting with him a little bit earlier, he was being his usual sweet and handsome self… I don't know what came over me, it just sort of happened.” You bury your face in your hands.

“What did he say?” She pushes your shoulder lightly to regain your attention.

“I don't know, I got in my car and I left.”

“Are you kidding me? You kissed him and then just walked away?”

“On the cheek!” You rush to clarify.

“On the cheek or not doesn't matter, what if that could have turned into something more?”

“Doubtful-”

“But how do you know?” Your mouth snapped shut at her statement. “Give yourself a little more time to feel things out, but I would say after that you should definitely try to make things a little more serious.”

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You tapped softly against Steve’s office door, a pile of folders situated neatly in your grasp. He calls you in, his back facing you as you enter the room. You wait patiently for him to finish up the phone call he was on, jumping slightly as he slams down the receiver. He groans as he spins in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “I swear, they always stick me with the worst damn clients.”

“It's because you’re the best career counselor in the state, if anyone can solve hopeless cases it's you.” You laugh softly, Steve brightens up at the compliment.

“Why thank you bunny.” He says before letting out a quiet chuckle. “I don't know about the best, but flattery will get you everywhere young lady.” He winks at you, making your cheeks grow warm.

“I brought you Mr. O’Malley’s file, along with the applications and other paperwork for the company's we work with that hire people with criminal records. Is there anything else you'd like from me?”

“For you to come to dinner with me tonight.” The request rang in the otherwise silent room like a gunshot. You could hear the blood rushing behind your ears as you processed whether or not you had heard him correctly. “You've been working a lot of late nights, if it's alright with you I'd like to handle things for you for a change.” He smiles warmly at you, you stared back at him with a shocked, empty expression as your mind struggled to catch up with your words.

“I…” you trail off, the warmth in his eyes quickly turning into an expression of panic.

“Sorry if I overstepped, you can say no I won't be offended.” He hurries to apologize.

“Steve.” You jolted slightly at how forceful your own voice came out. You sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to steady your pounding heart. “I would love to. You didn't overstep, I'm just… surprised?” It came out as more of a question but that felt fitting for the moment. You were beyond excited, still not fully believing that he had just asked you to dinner.

“Why's that rabbit?” He rests his chin in the palm of his hand as he leans on his desk, his expression more perplexed than anything else.

Your hand slid over the cool metal doorknob. “It’s just kind of hard to believe that the most handsome man I've ever met is asking me to have dinner with him later.” Your lips pull into a coy smile. “I'll see you later tonight, Steve.” You quickly slip out of his office, heading quickly back to your desk. You decided it was best to wait to mention this to Linda, your nerves were already running rampant as it was. You tried your best to get through the rest of the work day without looking suspicious, but her sharp eyes noticed how frequently you checked the time, how you nervously flipped your pen in between your fingers as you sat idly at your keyboard.

She swivels her chair to face you, her long acrylics drumming rhythmically across the desk. You internally cringe as you watch her eyes narrow. “Spill-”

“He asked me to dinner.” The pressure was immediately too much. “I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to be thinking about it all day but I can't stop.”

“I'm sorry, you didn't want to tell me about the biggest development in your love life since I've met you? He's so into you, this is going to be great!” She tries to encourage you.

“What if he doesn't like me? What if I'm boring or I'm not what he thought I would be like outside of work?” You start to ramble out your anxieties.

“Slow down, that's not going to happen. You are so cool, I need you to remember that.” She starts to dig around through her purse, producing a few makeup products and some tissues. “Go touch up if you want to, I can hold down things here.” You quietly thank her, heading to the bathroom to freshen up your makeup.

The remainder of the day crawled by until five o'clock eventually rolled around. Linda sat at your side, fussing over your hair and trying to convince you to remove the sweater you were wearing to reveal the slinky black cocktail dress you were currently wearing as a skirt. “I'm going to freeze to death.” She practically throws her jacket at you.

“I know exactly which dress that is, you look hot as fuck in it. Give me the sweater.” She orders. You groan and reluctantly pull it over your head, tossing it at her before standing and slipping your arms into the satin lined sleeves. “Heading out, Mr. Raglan?” She couldn't hide the excited tone in her voice as you heard his heavy footsteps approach behind you.

“As long as this pretty little thing is ready to go.” You turn to face him, your cheeks warm as you try to hide your flustered expression. “You look beautiful, rabbit.”

“I'll see you tomorrow Linda.” You smile as he offers you his arm, guiding you into his side as you leave the building together.

He opens your door for you, holding your hand as you lower yourself into the impeccably clean vintage muscle car. He slides into the driver's seat with a soft groan, his gold framed aviators glinting in the setting sunlight. A smile spreads across his face as he studies you in the seat next to him. He silently starts the car, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he turns to back up. As he sits back down his arm remains in place, his large warm hand settling on your arm and pulling you to him. You lean in and place a soft kiss to his cheek, your eyes immediately darting down to your lap. He chuckles, taking your chin between his fingers and running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You better be careful, you might get yourself into trouble doing things like that.” He chuckles, watching your eyes widen under his hungry gaze.

Steve drove you to a cute little bistro that overlooked the river that ran through town. With you tucker safely away into his side to brace against the cold he led you inside. You were sat in a corner, tucked away from everyone else. He ordered for you, wanting you to just enjoy your evening. “Thank you for coming with me.” He says with a bashful smile.

“Thank you for asking me.” Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched his large, calloused hand reach across the pristine white table cloth to envelope your own.

“The Valentine's Day party is tomorrow.” He suddenly chimes in. You hum in response, eyeing him curiously. “Have you decided if you're going or not?”

“I've definitely been considering it. At the very least I'd get to see you, if anything.” You smile warmly.

“You're sweet.” He gives your hand a soft squeeze. “I'll never understand why you willingly choose to spend time with an old man like me.” Your eyes snapped to him, your heart beginning to race as you debated just putting all of your feelings out into the open.

“Well,” your voice shakes when you finally find the nerve to speak, “that's because I-”

“You folks have a wonderful night.” Your jaw snaps shut as the waiter approaches your table to drop off your check.

“You, what, rabbit?” You search his features for a moment, the building confidence spurring you forward had fizzled out in an instant. You slowly pulled your hand out of his, folding it neatly in your lap, he quickly copied your motions.

“I just think you're really easy to talk to.” You mumble, fidgeting with your fork in front of you. “It should be me who's confused.” You try your best to force out a laugh. “I'm just some dumb little post grad who can't find a job in her field, I'm nothing special Steve.”

“Did you know, it took me seven years to find a job in my field after I graduated college?” His voice came out gentler than you had ever heard it. “Bunny just because you're at a different point than you thought you'd be by now doesn't mean that you're not special or that you're falling behind or any way you could look at it. I look forward to coming to work everyday not because I give a singular fuck about what I do, let's not get that confused.” His crass statement made you giggle, you notice your lightening composure made his shoulders relax slightly. “I look forward to coming in every day because I know that you're going to be there. You're going to bounce into the office in your pretty outfits with your cute little heels and that infectious smile of yours… Honey, I know it's hard to see from the outside looking in, but you are a goddamn treasure to have in my life.” He chuckles. Your cheeks burned as you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap.

“Thank you Steve, it's nice to hear something so positive from someone I admire so much.” He settles your tab, walking to your side of the table to offer you his hand. You smile softly, allowing your fingers to ghost over his rough, calloused skin.

“I don't like seeing my girl looking so down.” You squeeze his hand, your fingers pushing through his as he gently tugs you towards the door. You rode back to the office in a comfortable silence. Steve's arm draped over your shoulder as you settled into his side, the warmth creeping into your body from his own making your eyes heavy. As you pulled in you were a bit reluctant to leave. Every subtle, slightly too long glance made your heart thrum, the way you pressed into him felt like a puzzle piece finally slotting into its perfect match. Being with Steve felt like home.

“I had a great time with you tonight.” You state softly in the small space.

“Same here rabbit.” He carefully reaches out, tucking some stray hair behind your ear. “I do have one more, albeit strange, question for you.” He chuckles.

“And what might that be?” You found yourself leaning in closer to him, your gaze slowly falling to his lips that were tantalizingly close.

“Will you dance with me?” As intoxicating as the idea of kissing him was, you were definitely more perplexed by the offer that had just materialized before you.

“I would love to.” Steve found a station playing some old love song, the trumpet’s lazy melody bringing a smile to your face as your stomach filled with butterflies. His strong arm slides around your waist, pulling you to him as softly as he could manage. He treats you as if you were made of glass, as if the smallest rough movement would have you shattering beneath his fingers. The bright light of the full moon made you glow before Steve's eyes.

“You look so beautiful rabbit.” He whispers. You allow him to effortlessly spin you around the pavement, your movements easily falling in time with his. The world around you faded away, leaving nothing but you and him and the dreamy, far off sound of the radio drifting from his car speakers. He dips you low, your body falling into his hands with complete trust. As you pull back up your eyes find his, striking silver that only seemed to draw you in deeper. He takes a step back from you, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“You're a wonderful dancer.” You compliment with a soft giggle. He holds you close to him as he guides you back to your car. He opens your door, holding your hand in his as you lower yourself into your driver's seat.

“You're not so bad yourself.” He grins down at you, shooting you a wink. “Goodnight rabbit.”

“Goodnight Steve.” You couldn't keep the sad smile off your face as he turned to leave.

“You deserve someone who's going to choose you every day, not that it would be a hard choice.” He chuckles. “Bunny, you're beautiful, funny, kind, smart. Anyone would be lucky to have you by their side… especially me.” He states in a hurried tone before leaving you to sit in the still, silent night.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The next morning started out just like any other. You went through your daily routine the same way you always did. But, you couldn't shake the memory of what Steve had said to you the night before. ‘Anyone would be lucky to have you by their side… especially me.’ You finished off your makeup before grabbing your coat and heading out the door. You greeted your coworkers in your usual chipper tone as you made your way to your desk. You were met with the sight of a small, yellow plush sitting on your desk, a rose situated neatly in his lap. You picked it up with a smile, rubbing its soft, velvet ear between your fingers as you study it. The note that was left with it contained a single sentence. But, those three words were enough to tell you exactly who your secret admirer had been this whole time. You struggled to keep your composure as you repeatedly traced over the neat script that you now recognized perfectly. “To my rabbit.” You breathe out through a laugh, your vision blurring as tears welled up in your eyes. You cradle the stuffed animal close to your chest, hurrying down to Steve's office. You didn't bother knocking, pushing through the door to find Steve answering emails, an alarmed expression on his face as he whips around to face you.

“Bunny are you o-” you wave your hand in front of him, cutting him off as you try to find the right words to say.

“I'm falling for you.” The confession hung thick in the air after it fell from your lips. Steve blinked a couple times, his brows furrowing together in confusion. “I'm tired of hiding this from you. I was worried what would happen if I told you, I mean, you're my boss, you could fire me right now and there's nothing I would be able to do about it.” Both of you laugh, the tension melting slightly at your small joke.

“I take it you found out who your secret admirer is.” A smile stretches across his lips as his gaze darts down to the rabbit in your hand.

“Why didn't you just tell me?” You sniffle, a tear trailing down your cheek. He pushes himself out of his seat with a soft groan.

“Because, I had convinced myself that you could do a lot better than me.” He takes your hands in his. “But, I'm starting to realize that's not true…” He smiles as he studies how small your hands were in his. “Sure, I can't give you all the money in the world, I can't buy you fancy jewelry at the drop of a hat, I don't live in a mansion…” he sucked in a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “What I do know is that I want to be the one to pick up the pieces when your world feels like it's falling apart, I want to be the one to hold you tightly in my arms while we drift off to sleep at night. I want to be able to choose you day in and day out because I can't imagine a more perfect woman to fall in love with.” You looked away from him, your cheeks streaked with tears.

You reached out, grabbing him by his toe to yank him down to your level. His lips crashed into yours, two strong hands finding their way to your waist to steady both of you. As you tried to pull back you felt his fingertips press into the soft flesh of your hip, keeping you rooted in place as he drank in every second of this moment. You both separated with a soft gasp, your lungs burning with need for air. “Steve?”

“Yes my beautiful bunny?” He responds breathlessly, tilting your chin up gently with his finger.

“Will you be my Valentine?” He chuckles, no words were needed for you to know his answer. He captures your lips in a much softer, more tender kiss that leaves you feeling light headed.

“Does this mean I should get you more flowers?”

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @loudchaosking @residentevilbeast @weirdoartist21 @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki @dij-ology @maria-moll (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

#fnaf #william afton #five nights at freddy's #springtrap #steve raglan #william afton x reader #william afton imagines #fnaf william afton #william afton fnaf #william afton x you #william afton x reader fluff #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan fluff #fnaf x reader

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snaileer · 1 year ago

Text

To Play Pretend

(PhantomVision Revised)

Let me out! Let me out!

This is isn’t real! It’s not real! Accept it, play along play along. Get out! Convince him, you have to convince him! Get out! Wake up! Snap out of it! Play along play along play along

Wake up! It’s not real wake up wake up accept it wake up wake up wake up get up get up get up

Bruce sits bolt upright with a haze of fog still between his skin and his mind. Immediately, his gut feels off, the way his shoulders are loose with the lack of anxiety and paranoia that he’s grown used to, the way his vision is not quite aligned to his senses.

And yet.. he can’t seem to raise the right sense of alarm. His mind stays slow and calm, even as he mentally screams to start investigating. Someone, something is messing with his mind.

He turns his head to the side of the bed he’s in-another thing he does not recognize- surprised to find Diana laying next to him.

How is she here? No, they were on a mission, investigating.. something. Why can’t he remember? He’d had Oracle on comms, Wonder Woman at his side, it was a Justice League mission- why is he-

Bruce winces, sharp pain running across the front of his brain. What was-

The door slams open, a boy he doesn’t recognize standing there, dark black hair, and blue-green-blue eyes. His mind jumps to son, a shallow feeling of family bubbling up that makes Bruce want to recoil, this isn’t Damian, it’s not Tim or Jason or Dick or Cass- this isn’t his son! This isn’t his family! he wants to yell out.

And yet, his mouth calls him Danny, a name he doesn’t know and says with such familiarity.

“Dad! Babs is being a know it all again!”

Bruce feels his face smile without his permission just as he sees Barbara step around the doorframe.

She’s standing, she’s younger, she looks just a little different, hair pushed back by a teal blue headband- Bruce wants to scream, something is wrong!- instead he smiles more as she ruffles Danny’s hair.

“Little Brother, you’re going to be late for school,” Barbara says, despite the fact that she had always, always been an only child.

Diana sits up beside him, and Bruce can’t even turn away from the two in front of him, no matter how much he tries, barely managing a wide eye look from his peripheral. He can’t tell if Diana even catches it. He can’t move, can’t interrogate the only unknown here, kid or not, can’t research or ask Oracle for more information. Barbara hasn’t been able to reply to him any more than he has.

Within a blink, they’re downstairs-how did they get here, what’s happening, is there a time distortion as well?- and Bruce is standing at the stove top, a pan of broken eggs with small bits of shells in them in front of him.

It’s manageable. He could still finish these eggs- unbidden he steps aside, a jovial laugh as Diana goodnaturedly scolds his cooking abilities, emptying the pan and starting anew.

Bruce turns. Danny and Barbara are both sitting at the table, Danny the picture of teenage recklessness, homework spread in front of him.

Every word looks like scribbles, staring too hard makes his brain hurt.

The toaster dings. Danny looks up at it, glaring. Bruce swears his eyes flash green-

“All done! Enjoy!” The clink of plates hitting the table makes them both look over as Diana sets them down.

Barbara and Diana share a look even as Diana stiffly turns back to the counters.

Bruce looks at the toaster.

Empty.

“Come on, Babs we’re gonna be late for school!”

Barbara hesitates, a pained look hidden just behind her eyes, “Danny, I- my legs hurt right now okay? I can’t drive us to-“ The words sound like a struggle to get out. And Danny stands stock still in the living room, looking at her with unnatural stillness.

“But you always drive us to school.”

Bruce watches Barbara’s body snap back to that same stiffness as before as she moves to stand from the kitchen table.

Bruce forces a step forward, smile on his face, “How about I drive you today, kiddo?”

“Okay, Dad!” Danny smiles, movement returning to the room. He moves to grab his backpack left against the wall and Bruce throws another look at Barbara from the side of his eye. She’s okay for now, body more natural as she returns the look with wide eyes herself.

Still, she stands and follows after them as his feet lead them to the car out front.

It’s an old station wagon, a stereotypical family car.

Even as Bruce walks around to the driver door, keys somehow already in his pocket, he catches Danny staring at the car with narrowed eyes and suspicion.

Bruce looked back at the car- truck, had it always been a truck, no, no, no, it changed it changed, things were changing.

Danny climbed into the backseat like nothing was different and Bruce did the same, Barbara behind him in the backseat.

His body is autonomous on the drive, even as Bruce tries futilely to jerk the wheel or slam the pedals, they continue to go forward on the road, Bruce’s face as calm as ever. It’s almost familiar, the two of them bickering in the back seat, chattering like his own children, there were his own- no! They weren’t! His kids were out there! Not here! Not here not here-

Bruce stops, awareness heightening abruptly, his limbs his own.

They’re at a stop light, despite there being no other cars around.

The backseat is silent.

Bruce turns back, surprised to see Danny staring silently out the window. He looks at Barbara next, grateful to see real emotion, pain, panic, on her face, not just hidden behind wide empty eyes.

Danny continues to stare out the window.

Bruce follows his line of sight across the street to a closed down burger restaurant. The outside looks clean, but the sign looks burnt and destroyed. Yellow caution tape flaps in the wind across the entrance.

“Danny, what are you looking at?” He asks, surprised to hear the words come out, completely of his own volition.

Danny doesn’t move.

“We don’t go there anymore.”

Bruce narrows his eyes, clues filing into order, “Why, Danny. What is that place?”

“We just don’t.”

“Why Danny, why is that place so-“

“We just DON’T, okay!” Danny shouts, face angry as he turns around to yell, and there- his eyes, that flash of neon-

Bruce is facing forward again. The light is green. The car moves, sound resumes.

His chance is gone.

Bruce wants to grit his teeth, clench the leather of his gauntlets beneath his fists. He barely manages to tighten his hands around the steering wheel.

Too quickly they arrive at the school. Barbara slowly getting out even as Danny practically races up the steps. Bruce wants to help her, surprisingly, his body follows. Allow him to support her under a hug, a fatherly hand on her opposite shoulder, fingers supporting her armpit as they go up the stairs.

Danny looks at them with a tilt of his head and furrowed brows.

Words fall from Bruce’s mouth, unbidden, as his feet force him backwards, “See you after school, Danno! Bye, Babsy-pants!”

The look vanishes from Danny’s face.

Seconds later, a man approaches them, eyes zeroed in on Danny.

“Ah, Daniel, glad to see you’re on time!” The man says, and Danny looks at him, blinking harshly with confusion apparent.

“You must be young Daniel’s father… Jack, was it?” The man smiles slightly and turns to Bruce, grey hair tied in a ponytail behind him, “I am his teacher, Mr. Lancer.”

Bruce’s neck tingles, an odd sense of familiar paranoia prickling his nerves, “It’s Bruce, a pleasure to meet you,” he shakes the offered hand automatically, watching as the man’s smile sharpens at the edges.

“And the same to you… Mr. Fenton.”

The name rings hollow in his memory, barely scratching a memory before it is buried under fog and stuffed cotton.

“I just have so much to teach him,” Mr. Lancer smiles again, watching as Danny finally walks fully through the school doors, turning down a hallway.

Even under whatever spell this is, Bruce is wary of this teacher, though he can do nothing to show it, even feel it past a surface notion of wrongness. But still, his feet carry him down the steps without his permission, away from a kid he is ostentatiously supposed to protect.

As he gets closer to the car, Bruce feels the cloud over his thoughts get thicker, step by step, each clogging his mind more.

He catches sight of the school’s announcement sign, the date.

Mid-October, the numbers hard to read, but he caught enough.

They were months into the school year already. How long had he been here? How long before he’d even woken up enough to know it? How long had he been away from his family?

His fingers clasp around the cool metal of the door handle.

Bruce blinks.

The bell rings.

Faceless, unfamiliar kids flood out of the doors and Bruce gets out of the truck- car, it was a car, it was a car-greeting Danny with a hug, Barbara with a helping hand.

They leave almost immediately, the two of them in the backseat as Bruce drives.

Occasionally, Bruce will look in the rear view mirror and find a completely different sight, the road cracked and broken, buildings abandoned, streets empty; and yet when he checks again, it’s gone. The reflection the same as the road before him.

He can only see it like a translucent image in his peripheral.

Somehow their route home does not take them back past the burger restaurant again. Bruce has used and discarded three different mind strengthening techniques by the time they are back in front of the house.

He parks, noticing for the first time how the air shimmers in front and top of it, the light shifting like a curtain covering furniture when he doesn’t look directly at it.

Diana is sitting on the couch in the living room when they come in, a laptop perched on her lap, looking for all the world like a stay at home worker.

The seemingly blank pieces of paper on the coffee table are discarded as she gets up and moves towards the kitchen.

“Welcome home Danny, how was school Babs?” She says, food preparations already set out around her.

Bruce walks towards her, a hand across her shoulders; the picture of loving parents.

He hopes the feeling of solidarity gleams through anyways.

Freedom of movement snaps through his body so suddenly he nearly staggers. He looks at Diana, a thousand words in one glance, then turns to Danny.

The boy is staring at the door on the side of the kitchen. By its placement, Bruce would guess storage, a pantry, a basement maybe. He hesitates to break the unnatural stillness in the air.

Diana is already halfway to the door, Barbara is at the table, thumbs flying across her phone screen.

He makes a decision, throwing away the facade, “Danny, where are we? Why are we here?”

Danny’s face furrows, head tilting in confusion, but his eyes don’t leave the basement door, green light seeping from the edges.

“We’re… at home. Right? I just wanted… I wanted to go home..” Danny says, eyes flickering that damning bright green.

Bruce presses on, he needs answers, “What happened here Danny? What is this? Why are we here?”

“I…” Danny’s face furrows further, “I don’t…”

The doorbell rings, snapping Danny’s attention to it. Taking with it his mind and movement, fog sliding over his senses.

Bruce’s looks at the basement door from the side of his vision, any hint of green light gone.

“Danny, your friends are here!” Diana’s voice calls out.

Bruce’s vision jumps to the front door, thankful that he follows Danny as he leaves the kitchen.

No no no.. no no.. not them, leave them alone, leave them out of this!

Tim and Stephanie stand at the door, plastic smiles on their faces as they high-five Danny.

“Hey guys! Ready to play Doom?!” Danny says, a wide smile on his face, leading them both inside.

Straight past Bruce.

They walk right past him, shallow words and teenage garble trading between them like it’s natural, like it’s real. Why wouldn’t it be?

NO! Not them! None of it’s real! Let them go!

“You know it Danny! I got new mods, maybe we’ll finally beat Steph!” Tim says, loud in way he never is, pulling a bulky PDA from his pocket.

Stephanie laughs, elbowing the both of them, “Not in a million years, T!”

Bruce watches, helpless to stop them as they go past him, raging against his own body.

Tim casts a desperate look over his shoulder before they disappear up the stairs.

He manages a glance at both Diana and Barbara, each returning the tense undercurrent of urgency that runs through them all.

Even as the fog thickens, submerging his thoughts like polluted waters, he forces his mind to center on one thought, even if that’s all he can do for now, he will not be locked back into this lie they are trapped in.

He will fix this.

Somehow.

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moongreenlight · 1 year ago

Text

Greek mythology/the Olympians has been my hyperfixation for going on two decades now and I just… Soap as Dionysus.

Always brings a good bottle of wine and a few rooted cuttings of ivy as a housewarming gift. If he’s fixed his attention on you, he’ll also put a few sex toys in the little bag he brings. Puts them right on top for the pleasure of seeing your scramble to try to shove them in a drawer or tuck the whole gift in the closet.

He’s a great time. Has this intoxicating way about him. Like life is a stage and he’s the director. Playful and fun, though a little too enthusiastic at times. Handsy when the two of you hang out. You assume that’s just his nature and excuse it accordingly. Hard not to, gorgeous man that he is. A divine kind of handsome. Like his features are an eons-old amalgamation of all the most beautiful features humans have ever had.

And he gets strangely possessive, even after you’ve been nudging back his wandering hands or putting your hand between his mouth and your neck all night. Borders on vindictive and aggressive if he’s not in the right headspace.

It’s a bit terrifying to see him snapping his teeth in the face of some man at the bar who had only just asked you if you’d wanted a drink. You swear later in the night you see him babbling feverishly to a group of his friends. It sounds like total gibberish, and his friends look even more confused than you feel, but his eyes are wide as saucers and his hands are flying about hazardously. You don’t think much of it after Soap pulls you by the waist to the corner booth and tips a cocktail up to your mouth.

He keeps you out until all hours of the night. Insists on staying jovial. Club-hopping to find the best crowd, best music, best conversation. Keeps you up and active for so long that the confines of reality start to become fuzzy at the edges.

Sexuality expressed through bodies writing and twisting in drunken dance. Bumping up against one another. Collecting strangers and your own sweat in fat beads on your skin that make you shiver when they get heavy enough to trail down the small of your back.

When the room is spinning enough to make you stumble just a bit and you’re unable to do anything but giggle about it, he’s somehow able to make sneaking off into the family bathroom together seem like a good idea. He seems just as drunk as you are, slinging an arm around your shoulders when you walk. Bellowing a laugh when his hand grazes your tit but making no attempt to pull it away.

It’s less easy to be oblivious when you’re in the bathroom together. The muffled music filtering through the bottom of the door. He’s pressing up against you even though now there’s no crowd to excuse his practically grinding his groin on your hip.

It smells like sweat and generic brand bathroom cleaner. You hum when he staggers to the urinal instead of griping at him about how crass it is to take a piss right in front of you. He props himself up on the wall with one hand and a moment after you hear the teeth of his zipper come undone, he lets out a throaty, satisfied groan.

You busy yourself looking in the mirror. Checking your makeup. Seeing if you look as drunk as you feel. It’s filthy. There’s a web of cracks coming from the bottom left where it looks like someone tried to send their fist through to the wall behind it. It makes you a bit dizzy to look at and you have to bend at the waist to get close enough to see the way your mascara has smudged all around your eyes.

And all of a sudden there’s a burning heat behind you. Sickly, feverish heat pressing straight into the pillows of your ass. Soap’s spidery reflection shows up just over your smile sporting a wicked grin. Teeth and eyes flashing.

You try and swat him away, all too used to his comings-on, but he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips bruisingly hard.

“C’mon, hen. Been driving me mad all night. Relax a bit. Jus’ need this. Need you. Please.”

He has to lay flat over your back to hiss in your ear. Teeth clenched like he really needs to put some effort behind his words to sound polite. Like a petulant child who’d just been reminded by their mother to practice manners.

You were practiced in batting back his advances, but for some reason his grit made you falter. His gaze seemed to be burning a hole through you in the mirror. The idea that something inside him was hitting a roaring boil that he couldn’t stop from flowing over made your brain go foggy. The opposite of sobering. His aberrant need was contagious and catching quick.

He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne and dry, sweet wine and woods. Flirty and masculine and overwhelming. And he’s warm and strong behind you, even if he’s pushing his hard cock into you.

Who were you to deny him the pleasure of snapping his hips into your backside a few times? Letting his fingers impatiently tug at the button of your jeans and hastily tug them down with your underwear until they pooled around your ankles?

It didn’t help that the sound of him sending a glob of spit into his hand made you clench around nothing. A familiar warmth gathering between your thighs that made you shift a bit to chase the momentary relief even a touch of friction could provide.

He couldn’t even afford you the decency of pretending not to see. No. Instead he points a spotlight on you and insists you perform for him again. Nudging your legs apart and pressing his thigh flush against your core while purring the filthiest things in your ear.

“Ken I jus’ needed to wear you down, mm? Thought ‘bout this before we went out. Always did get sloppy when you drink. Jus’ needed a little push. That’s it -Jesus- cunt’s so wet. Gonna take good care of her.”

And the club is so packed full of drunken, dancing bodies that hardly anyone notices the way you two stumble out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Even though you’re still fumbling with the button of your jeans with shaking hands.

#this is so self indulgent #he’s fowl and deranged and sure I wrote him this way but idk what you want me to say other than that #he brings the ivy not only because that’s his thing but also because once you plant ivy it’s all but impossible to get rid of.#god forbid you plant it in your front garden and let it crawl all up the side of your house #it means almost nothing to anyone else but Soap sees it as a sign that you’re as devout to him as he is to you #hyperfixation I’ve had since I was ten years old and I could do it for all the boys omg.#moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap smut #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish

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jeonscatalyst · 5 months ago

Note

hi!

what are your thoughts on episode three (especially the taekook spraying jimin with water part)?

there's been some discussion, and a lot of it imo has veered into deranged micro analyzing and projecting that has resulted in villainizing taekook (more so jk....) and infantilizing jimin.

it's not just jimin biased jkkers or obsessed pjms, i've seen jk biased jkkers (one in particular that has been weird towards jimin and his work so yeah... 😃) saying how upset they are with jk's "outrageous behavior".

and then ofc there's a blogger that believes they are "spiritually linked" to jimin and are now a mission to call out taekook's "bullying and absue" of jimin (they've especially been blaming jk....) and are very much giving a white savior vibe.

SIGH!!!!

Anon, you know I watched that episode with the biggest smile on my face as there wasn’t a single thing I found to complain about so imagine my suprise when I checked to see what good things people were saying and saw some people complaining about the fact that Taekook sprayed Jimin with water. My mouth was literally open so much I swear a fly got in.

One thing I have realized is that people just perceive things so differently and most times it isn’t even about the people they are watching but about themselves. How on earth could anyone watch that part and have anything bad to say about it? Atp I’m beginning to think we watched different shows.

I didn’t see anyone being bullied or maltreated. I saw Jimin not being in the mood to get into the pool probably because he felt queasy or was just tired and then a hyperactive Jungkook who just wanted Jimin to play with him. Jungkook was the first one who mentioned that he was going for a swim and then Tae said he was going to join but Jimin didn’t seem like he wanted to. Jungkook changed into his swimming trunks and while Tae was changing, Jungkook brought out the water gun and sprayed Jimin with it while Jimin was just laying there and then he ran and sprayed some on Tae too and then came back, opened Jimin’s legs and sprayed some on his “front” and and then went and sprayed some on his ass. This was so endearing to me because it showed that Jungkook either really wanted to get Jimin to play with him so he kept spraying him with water so Jimin would wake up and chase him, or realize that he was already so wet and choose to get into the pool too or he wanted to make Jimin feel better or more jovial. Tae was right there, all changed and ready to get into the pool and play with Jk but Jk seemed more interested in spraying Jimin with water. Even while in the pool he kept doing it and i’m sure he only gave up at some point because he saw that Jimin had just accepted his fate and wasn’t going to wake up to chase him. How could anyone look at that clip and see anything bad? Tae too was being an total cutie joining Jungkook to spray water at Jimin. If that doesn’t show anyone how much taekook love Jimin then nothing will because they could have easily not paid him any mind and gone about their swimming but they both seemed more interested in playing around with him than just going to splash around in the pool by themselves because even in the pool, they both still tried spraying him with water possibly to get him to come join them after he realized that he was all wet.

Like you said anon, that is alot of micro analyzing and projecting. Jimin laughed about it the whole time and I can bet that he didn’t even find it the least bit annoying.

Sometimes people don’t realize that these are boys. Jungkook is not some villain because he sprayed water on Jimin and neither is Tae. Jimin isn’t some damsel in distress that needs saving. If Jungkook had just left Jimin there he would have been accused of ignoring Jimin but even when he was clearly trying to get Jimin to play with him, he still got shit for it. You cannot blame Jungkook for Jimin not wanting to swim. You cannot blame Jungkook for Jimin not wanting to eat. Jungkook is the one who brought the water to Jimin when Jimin didn’t want to go the water, Jungkook is the one who asked where Jimin was when Jimin wasted alot of time outside while they were at the restaurant so the last thing Jungkook wants is for Jimin to be excluded.

People complaining about Jk’s “outrageous behaviour” probably want Jk to put Jimin on his back and keep him there like a baby. They probably wanted Jk to carry Jimin in his arms and put him in bed or wanted Jk to not have any fun at all and just look miserable because Jimin didn’t want to get into the pool. There are tons of moments of Jk literally treating Jimin like an egg, babying and taking very good care of him but these people cherry pick moments where they feel like Jk didn’t care enough. I haven’t seen anyone villainizing Jimin for laughing his ass off when Jungkook fell into water from the Kayak in NY. I haven’t seen anyone villainizing Jimin for laughing his head off when Jk slipped and fell in sapporro and I haven’t seen anyone coming at Jimin for choosing to ride with Tae while Jk rode alone but if that was Jungkook people would have bitten his head off. I really hope people would be kinder to Jk because this is sad.

#jikook #jimin #jungkook #are you sure #jikook blog #ays #my asks

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differentpostrebel · 5 months ago

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Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

Our boy sanji going through it save Y/N and Camie.

A/N: Alright yall! Welcome back! If you haven't read chapter 1 yet I will link it down below, all chapters will be linked. Thank you guys for taking your time to read the chapter as well as liking it! If you guys like please follow, I can't wait to write more for these chapters I have in store! And without further ado let's get this next chapter started!

Y/N is an established pirate and a formidable warrior, with the third highest bounty in the Straw Hat crew. She's not just another member; her strength and skills have earned her a respected spot among the crew.

Sanji, our favorite lovesick cook, falls head over heels for Y/N almost immediately. True to his nature, he tries every trick in the book to catch her attention, from cooking her favorite meals to showering her with compliments. On the other hand, Y/N may have a small crush on Sanji, but she’s cautious and focused on her goals as a pirate.

As the story progresses, that small crush gradually blossoms into something more profound, but their journey together won't be easy. With the chaos of the New World looming, the dangers they face will test their bond and loyalty to each other. Will their love be strong enough to survive the trials ahead, or will the perils of their pirate life tear them apart?

Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster filled with angst, action, and a dash of romance. I'm thrilled to take you on this adventure with Y/N, Sanji, and the rest of the Straw Hat crew!

Sanji X Y/N, OP x Y/N

Word Count: 5.3K

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 (Here),

We get introduced to Law, Kidd, and Killer! This is about to be a long chapter.

Chapter 2: Hidden Threats Revealed

In the Sunny…

Sanji is talking with Usopp and Franky about when the group will be back. It’s getting late, and they should have returned by now. “I wonder what happened?” Sanji mutters, his worry evident.

“Brother, are you sure you’re worried about the group and not a certain someone?” Franky smirks, raising an eyebrow.

Sanji lights his cigarette, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “I just have a bad feeling about it, Franky.”

“Look, Sanji,” Usopp reassures, “Y/N is probably doing okay. Besides, she’s with Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Robin, Camie, and Hatchan. Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

Just as Sanji is about to respond, the sound of the transponder snail ringing interrupts him. He glances at the snail, hoping it’s news from the group. “That’s probably Nami,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the hopeful glint in his eyes. As the snail continues to ring, Sanji’s thoughts drift, silently wishing it was your voice he heard instead.

“Hello, my love! Did you miss me? Because I missed you!” Sanji says, his voice dripping with affection as he answers the call, already envisioning your smile.

But instead of your voice, he hears Chopper’s voice, trembling and tearful. “Sanji! Sanji, it’s terrible! Y/N and Camie… they’ve been kidnapped!”

Sanji’s heart sinks as he hears the distress in Chopper’s voice. Sanji’s heart races as he listens to Chopper’s panicked cries. “Chopper, you’ve got to tell me everything you know. Where exactly are they? What do we need to do?”

Chopper sniffles, struggling to compose himself. “They were taken to the Human Auction House. I don’t know all the details, but the auction is happening soon. They’ve been put in sacks and… and…”

Sanji’s grip tightens on the transponder snail, his face contorted with anguish and anger. “Damn it! We’re running out of time. I swear, I’ll get them back. Just hold on, Chopper. We’re coming.”

Franky steps closer, his usually jovial demeanor gone, replaced by a serious, concerned look. “Sanji, we’ll get them back. We need to move fast.”

Sanji nods, his mind already racing with plans. “Alright, let’s gather the crew and head to the auction house. I don’t care what it takes. Y/N and Camie are not going to be sold off as slaves. We’re getting them out of there.”

Usopp places a hand on Sanji’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. “We’ll get them back, Sanji. We’ve faced worse. We just need to stick together and be smart.”

Sanji takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself despite the growing storm of emotions inside. “You’re right. Let’s go. We’re getting them back, no matter what.”

As the crew prepares to set out, Sanji’s thoughts are solely on you, his determination hardened into an unbreakable resolve. The love and worry he feels for you drives him forward, and he vows to do whatever it takes to ensure your safety and rescue.

“Hang on, Y/N, I’m coming to save you!” Sanji exclaims, his voice resolute despite the fear that lingers in his heart. He quickly contacts Duval and his crew, urgently explaining the situation. “Duval, we need your help. My friends have been kidnapped and taken to the Human Auction House. We need to get there as fast as possible.”

Duval’s voice crackles through the transponder snail. “Got it, young master. We’ll head over immediately. Just give us the details, and we’ll be there.”

Sanji hangs up and turns to the crew, his expression a mix of determination and urgency. “Alright, everyone, we’ve got to gather the crew and head to the auction house. Duval and his crew are on their way to help us get there quickly.”

Franky nods, his usually upbeat attitude replaced by a serious focus. “We’ll get everyone together and make sure we’re ready. Let’s move!”

Usopp quickly begins coordinating with the rest of the crew, ensuring that everyone is informed and prepared for the impending rescue mission. Sanji’s heart pounds as he prepares to leave, each moment spent away from you feeling like an eternity.

“Just hold on, Y/N. We’re coming for you,” Sanji murmurs to himself, his resolve unwavering as he sets off to rescue you and Camie from their captors.

Meanwhile at the Auction House:

You’re tossed roughly onto the cold floor, a dull thud reverberating through your body as you land. Straining against the ropes binding your wrists and ankles, you inch closer to Camie, who’s huddled in a corner, her eyes wide with panic.

“Camie, breathe,” you try to reassure her, your voice muffled by the tape over your mouth. You shift closer, attempting to untangle yourself enough to offer comfort. “It’s going to be okay. Just stay calm.”

Camie’s eyes darted around, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She tries to speak through her gag, her voice trembling. You can see the terror in her eyes, which only intensifies your determination to get both of you out of this mess.

Just then, a door creaks open and a man in a crisp uniform strides in, his demeanor cold and calculating. Disco, one of the auction house workers, walks over with a smirk. His presence exudes an air of authority that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Disco says, his voice dripping with disdain as he surveys you and Camie. “Two more prizes for our auction. How delightful, a supernova and a mermaid.”

He kneels down to inspect you, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. He reaches down and fastens a collar around your neck “Oh, and these collars come with a little surprise. If you try to remove them, they’ll explode. A nice little deterrent, don’t you think?”

As he stands and adjusts Camie’s collar, you struggle to keep your breath steady. “You know, Disco,” you manage to say, chuckling despite the danger, “once I’m free, you’ll be the first I kill.”

Disco’s eyes narrow with irritation, and he swiftly slaps you across the face, the sting sharp and painful. Just as he moves in to cause more harm, he suddenly freezes, his body going rigid before he collapses to the floor with a thud.

You look around, bewildered, scanning the room for any sign of movement or weaponry. The room is eerily quiet, and you can’t see anyone who could have intervened. Camie’s wide eyes search the room as well, her confusion mirroring your own.

Before you can process what just happened, Disco stirs slightly and gets up, mumbling to one of his workers. “Make sure they’re presentable for the auction. And change her attire—she needs to look suitable for the bidders.”

The worker nods and approaches you with a grim expression, while Disco exits the room, leaving you and Camie with more questions than answers, and a renewed sense of urgency to escape.

“Y/N- Chin! Are you alright? What did they do to you?” Camie says as she takes a second to look at you. Disco’s workers managed to get you changed into a short mini khaki flare skirt and a cropped, fitted white vest. Any other day, you'd be glad to wear such an outfit, but on a day like this, you'd rather burn it to ash. The clothes feel restrictive and uncomfortable, a stark reminder of your current predicament and the indignity of being paraded like a trophy.

They’d managed to take away your blades, leaving only a single hidden one secured within your boot, a small comfort in this dire situation.

“I’m okay, Camie,” you manage to mumble, your voice barely audible. “They haven’t done anything... too bad yet. Just stay strong.”

Camie nods, tears welling up in her eyes as she tries to maintain composure. You notice her collar, the same kind you’re wearing, and the fear in her expression only intensifies.

You notice the humans and giants in the cells around you—some are pirates, and one of them looks awfully familiar. He has long white hair, glasses, and a scar on his face, but you can’t quite place him. As you struggle to get a better look, the worker assigned to you returns and begins adjusting your attire, ensuring you are presentable for the auction. The collar around your neck itches, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

Outside the Auction house…

“Out of my way!” Sanji growled, pushing past Hatchan and Chopper as they tried to hold him back.

“Sanji, wait!” Nami called out, grabbing his arm. “We can’t draw attention to ourselves. We have enough treasure to buy both Camie and Y/N. We need to be smart about this.”

“But I can’t just stand here while they’re in danger!” Sanji’s voice was filled with desperation, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

Luffy, Brooke, Zoro, Usopp and Robin had yet to arrive, and Chopper glanced around nervously. “We need to be patient, Sanji. Rushing in recklessly won’t help them.”

Inside the Auction House…

With a deep breath, Sanji reluctantly nodded, his gaze still fixed on the auction house. As the group entered, the atmosphere was tense with anticipation.

On the left side of the auction house, the Heart Pirates’ captain, Trafalgar Law, sat with his crew—Penguin, Bepo, and Shachi. Law’s eyes glinted with curiosity as he leaned back in his chair, waiting for the auction to begin.

“I wonder what ridiculous item they’ll put up next,” Law mused aloud, his tone both intrigued and amused.

Bepo, pointing discreetly, said, “Captain, look over there. The Straw Hats are here, too.”

Law’s gaze shifted, and he raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Looks like things are about to get interesting.”

On the right side of the room, the Kidd Pirates were present. Eustass Kidd, Killer, Heat, and Wire stood together, their presence commanding attention. Kidd’s eyes were cold as he surveyed the room, his expression one of disinterest mingled with disdain.

Killer, noticing the Straw Hats, smirked slightly. “So, they’ve arrived. This should be fun.”

Heat leaned in closer to Kidd. “Think they’ll cause trouble?”

Kidd’s lips curled into a faint smile. “They always do. Let’s see how this plays out.”

As the auction house buzzed with anticipation, Eustass Kidd’s sharp eyes scanned the room. His gaze landed on the Straw Hat Pirates, noting their number. Something seemed off.

“Killer,” Kidd said, narrowing his eyes, “where’s the rest of the strawhats? I thought they were part of the group.”

Killer glanced around, frowning. “Yeah, I don’t see them either. Just Sanji, Nami, Franky, and Chopper.”

Heat, overhearing the conversation, chimed in, “You’re right. I wonder where they went.”

Kidd’s expression darkened, and he looked more closely at the remaining Straw Hats.

Wire, noticing Kidd’s reaction, asked, “What do you think happened?”

Kidd’s gaze was intense as he observed the room. “If they’re not here, they might be the auction items. We should keep an eye on this and see if anything unusual happens.”

At that moment, the Disco began to speak, calling attention to the upcoming items, and Kidd’s focus sharpened.

As the auction continued, tension filled the air. Sanji, growing more anxious with each passing moment, clenched his fists. Pappag sat beside him, tears streaming down his face as he muttered, "Camie... I hope she's okay."

Nami, determined and focused, kept her gaze fixed on the auction stage, her mind racing as she planned their next move. "We need to get them back. We can't let them be sold off."

The Disco’s voice boomed through the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now down to our last two items for the evening. But before we reveal who they are, let’s take a look at their silhouettes.”

A large curtain lifted, revealing two shadowy figures. The room buzzed with excitement, and among the crowd, the Celestial Dragon, Charlos, arrived and took his seat, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. His presence was marked by an air of arrogance and entitlement.

Sanji’s eyes widened as he recognized the silhouette. His heart pounded as he whispered, "No... It can't be. That's Y/N!"

Nami’s head snapped toward Sanji. “What? Are you sure?”

Sanji’s voice was strained, "I’m certain. That’s definitely Y/N. She's up there along with Camie!”

Disco, on stage, smirked as he saw Sanji’s reaction. “Recognize her? Well, it seems we have quite the star attraction tonight.”

Charlos, clearly excited, leaned forward eagerly. “I must have them. No one else will touch them.”

Nami clenched her fists. “We have to stop this. Sanji, we need to act now.”

Sanji’s eyes were fierce with determination. “I’m going to get Y/N back. I promise.”

As the curtain continued to rise, revealing more of the figures, the crowd’s anticipation grew. The auctioneer’s voice rang out, “And now, for the grand reveal. Let’s see who our final items are!”

Sanji’s heart raced as he prepared to make his move, knowing that time was running out and their friends’ fate hung in the balance.

Moments before your turn for the auction:

“It's showtime ladies, only a few minutes til you meet your fate, any last words?”

You glanced to your right and saw Camie being placed inside a large fish bowl, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. The sight of her trembling made your heart ache as you thought about the possibility of never seeing Sanji or the crew again. Flashbacks of your adventures and moments with them filled your mind, and tears began to well up in your eyes.

With a final surge of defiance, you looked up and said, “Kiss my ass,” before spitting in at one of the workers' faces. You laughed bitterly, as if this might be your last chance to show some spirit. He wiped his face in disgust and ordered another worker to drag you away.

As you braced yourself for the worst, a sudden commotion at the side caught your attention. An old man, whom you vaguely recognized but couldn’t place, approached you. His face was stern yet kind, and he whispered urgently, “Hold still, and trust me.”

Before you could react, he deftly removed the collar and the shackles on your feet and wrists. With a quick, decisive move, he threw the real collars and shackles far away, creating a distraction among the other workers. They scrambled to see where the noise was coming from, allowing a small window of opportunity. You were about to thank him, but he shushed you with a finger to his lips and whispered, “The real collars and shackles are gone, but these are fake. I need to make it look real for now. Don’t worry; I’ll get your friend out too.” Slipping away, leaving you to make your way to the stage, your heart pounding with a mix of hope and trepidation. You stayed focused, knowing that this was your chance to escape and reunite with your friends.

Time of the Auction:

You made your way to the stage, standing in the center with your best acting face on to conceal the fact that the collar and shackles were now fake. You took a deep breath, trying to remain composed despite the gravity of the situation.

Disco’s voice echoed through the auction house, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now down to our last two items for the evening. But before we reveal who they are, let’s take a look at their silhouettes.”

The lights dimmed, casting dramatic shadows of you and Camie. You couldn’t help but growl under your breath, “Perverted fucks.” Your heart ached seeing Camie’s frightened expression. You managed to send her a reassuring wink and mouthed, “Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

Camie’s eyes brightened a little with relief as she mouthed back, “Thank you, Y/N-Chin.”

As the curtain began to rise, the applause and cheers of the auction house grew louder, and the harsh lights made it difficult to see clearly. You squinted into the crowd and saw a familiar face that made your heart leap.

“Sanji,” you whispered, almost breaking down in tears.

Sanji’s face was a storm of fury as he took in your appearance. The sight of your bruised cheek, the signs of rough handling on your arms, and the tight ponytail you wore only fueled his rage further. His hands were clenched into fists as he seethed with anger.

“Nami, I’m going to kill them!” Sanji growled, his voice trembling with barely-contained rage.

“Sanji, don’t worry. We’ve got this,” Nami said firmly, trying to calm him down.

Disco began to announce the starting price, but before he could finish, a voice rang out from the crowd. “500 million berri’s!” Charlos the Celestial Dragon declared with a smug grin.

The room fell silent for a moment as the crowd absorbed the bid. Your eyes begin staring in shock.

Eustass Kid’s eyes widened as he recognized you on stage. “Wait, isn’t that Y/N?” he said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Killer, who had been observing from the sidelines, let out a low, whistling sound of surprise. His eyes locked onto you, and he made no attempt to hide his appraisal. “Well, Captain, there’s your answer,” Killer said with a smirk. “Might I say, her wanted poster doesn’t do her justice.” His gaze roamed over you appreciatively, adding, “She’s quite the sight up close.”

Law, still stunned, glanced between you and Killer, trying to piece together the situation. Bepo, unable to contain his shock, said, “Hey Captain, isn’t that your—” His voice was muffled by the crowd’s noise and the chaos that ensued.

As the auction house buzzed with tension, Nami’s hand trembled as she dropped her number in shock. “There’s no way we can buy both Y/N and Camie now,” she said, her voice filled with despair. “We only have enough for one!”

Pappag and Hatchan, who had been anxiously waiting, began to cry out in distress. “Camie! Camie!” they yelled, their voices breaking with sorrow.

Sanji’s fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white as his rage and helplessness collided. His eyes were locked on the stage, where you stood, and he was tormented by the thought of you becoming a slave to that bastard, Charlos. “I won’t let this happen,” he muttered fiercely under his breath.

But Sanji was caught in a dire dilemma. He knew that if he took action against Charlos or any of the Celestial Dragons, it would set off alarms with the Navy. That would only increase the danger for both you and Camie. His heart pounded with the crushing weight of knowing that any rash move could jeopardize your safety even further.

Shaking, you forced yourself to look at Camie and offered her a reassuring smile, mouthing “It’s time.” You took a deep breath and, with a defiant laugh, began to step forward, addressing Charlos with bold determination.

“Do you honestly think my friend and I are worth so little?” you said, your voice ringing out with defiance. “Well, you, sir, are gravely mistaken.”

Turning to Disco, your rage intensified. “You should really start investing in better equipment. As you can see…” With a dramatic flourish, you removed the fake shackles and collar. “They come right off.”

The crowd gasped as you pulled out your blade, which you had managed to sneak in despite the tight security. “And as I last recalled,” you said slowly, “I warned you the moment I got out of these chains, I would be coming for you.”

With a fierce cry, you lunged at Disco. The blade sliced through the air, and chaos erupted in the auction house. Screams filled the room as the crowd surged, pushing and shoving in panic.

As the auction house erupted into chaos, Eustass Kid's eyes locked onto you, and he was momentarily taken aback. “Well, well, look at that,” he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “So that’s the Straw Hat everyone’s been talking about. Guess she’s not just talk.”

Killer, leaning against the wall, whistled lowly, his gaze intense as he took in your fierce fight. “Looks like she’s got some fire in her,” he said with a smirk. “Not bad at all.” As he watched you, his interest deepened. He couldn’t help but feel a strong attraction to your courage and fighting spirit.

Kid’s gaze was fixed on you with an intense, almost predatory interest. He had been captivated ever since he first saw your wanted poster and heard about you from the other Supernovas. “Damn,” he thought, his eyes lingering on you with a sultry edge. “She’s even better in person. I’d much rather have her with me than anyone else.” His thoughts were charged with an underlying desire, a mix of admiration and something much more primal. “If I had my way, she’d be by my side, not shackled and displayed for others.”

As the scene unfolded, Disco’s attempts to fend off your attacks were futile. You were relentless, your blade slicing through the chaos. Disco, clearly frightened, scrambled for cover. “No! Stop her! Somebody stop her!” he shouted, his voice tinged with desperation.

Bepo and Penguin exchanged glances as they observed their captain's reaction. Bepo’s eyes sparkled with admiration, but his focus was on Law. “Captain, is that really…” he trailed off, unable to take his eyes off you. Penguin nodded, equally spellbound. “Looks like the captain’s got quite an interest. He’s not the only one.”

Law, his gaze fixed intently on you, couldn't hide his fascination. “So she’s more than just a pretty face,” he murmured, his eyes following your every move with a mix of admiration and intrigue. His earlier interest had clearly deepened into something more intense, as he watched you fight with a newfound appreciation.

Nami ordered Franky to look for the keys, to get Camie out of there. “Right, I'm on it!” and Franky leaves to look for the key.

Sanji, charging through the crowd as it begins to die down, finally reaches you. “Y/N! I’m here!” he shouted, grabbing your arm as he pulled you away from Disco. “Let’s get out of here!”

As you buried yourself in Sanji’s embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a sense of relief washed over you. “Sanji,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, “thank you.”

Sanji’s arms tightened around you, his voice soft yet firm. “You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. I’d go through hell to keep you safe.”

But the warmth of the moment was disrupted by the heated gazes of three very different men, each battling his own surge of jealousy and desire.

Eustass Kid’s jaw clenched as he watched the tender exchange. The sight of you wrapped up in Sanji’s arms, the intimacy of it, sparked something primal in him. His eyes darkened with possessiveness. “So, she’s got a thing for that damn cook,” he muttered under his breath, frustration lacing his tone. “Too bad for him—she’s better suited for someone with real power. She’d be better off by my side.”

Killer’s usually cool demeanor was strained as he watched the scene unfold. A low, almost sultry chuckle escaped his lips. “She’s got a thing for cooks, huh? Lucky for her, I’m an excellent chef,” he murmured, his voice dripping with intent. “Maybe she just needs a taste of something different.” His eyes raked over you with a blend of admiration and hunger, imagining a scenario where it was him holding you close.

Trafalgar Law, usually so composed, felt a sharp pang of jealousy twist in his chest. He’d kept his feelings for you carefully guarded, but seeing you with Sanji made something snap inside him. His gaze was intense, his usual calm replaced by a burning desire to intervene. “She deserves someone who understands her,” he thought, his mind racing. “Someone who can protect her without needing to be thanked for it.” The sight of you so vulnerable, so close to Sanji, was almost unbearable.

Killer smirked, leaning closer to Kid, his voice low and laced with playful challenge. “Guess we’ll see who she really belongs with, huh?”

Law’s eyes flickered with determination as he observed the two other men. He wasn’t about to back down either. He stepped forward, ready to act, his usual strategic mind overwhelmed by the desire to pull you away from Sanji and into his own arms.

Each of them, in their own way, was drawn to you, not just by your strength but by the vulnerability you displayed in this moment. They all wanted to be the one to comfort you, to protect you, to claim you. The tension between them was electric, a silent agreement that none of them would let Sanji have you without a fight.

The auction house was on the brink of chaos as Nami looked on to see who was remaining. Tension filled the air as Hatchan, driven by desperation, tried to make a run toward Camie. But as he moved, his cloak began to slip, revealing his fishman identity to the room.

Charlos’ eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he seized the opportunity, pulling out a gun without hesitation. “A fishman and a Supernova? Today’s my lucky day,” he sneered.

Camie, trapped in the fish tank, began banging on the glass frantically, her wide eyes filled with terror. The sound of her desperate attempts to alert the others cut through the chaos. You broke away from Sanji, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to see what was happening.

In that split second, you saw Charlos raising his gun, aiming directly at Hatchan. Without thinking, you pushed Sanji to the side and sprinted toward Hatchan, your only thought to protect him.

A single gunshot rang out, echoing through the auction house. The next moment felt like an eternity. You reached Hatchan just in time, throwing yourself over him as the bullet buried itself in your right thigh. Pain seared through you, but you held on, determined to shield your friend.

Hatchan hit the ground with you on top, his eyes wide with shock. “Y/N! Why did you—” he stammered, his voice choked with emotion as he realized what you had done.

You gritted your teeth, the pain in your thigh radiating through your body. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you,” you said through clenched teeth, your voice trembling with both pain and determination. “We stick together.”

As the sound of the gunshot echoed through the auction house, Sanji’s heart nearly stopped. “Y/N!” he screamed, his voice filled with panic as he watched you collapse on top of Hatchan. Blood began to seep from your thigh where the bullet had hit, and Sanji’s world narrowed to that single point of red. “Damn it, Y/N, you’re always throwing yourself into danger,” he muttered, his voice thick with concern.

“Chopper! Hurry! Get the bullet out of Y/N and tend to the wound!” Sanji yelled, his voice trembling with urgency as he knelt beside you, his hands hovering over your wound, unsure whether to touch you or not, fearing he might make things worse.

Chopper, already in motion, rushed over with his medical kit. “Hang in there, Y/N! I’ve got this!” he said, his small hands working quickly to assess the wound.

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, and then the auction house doors exploded inward with a thunderous crash. Luffy stormed into the room, his eyes blazing with fury as he took in the scene—the bleeding wound on your thigh, Hatchan on the ground, and Charlos standing there with a smug grin on his face.

Beside Luffy, Zoro stepped in, his expression just as intense, though slightly more annoyed as he shook off the aftereffects of the bumpy ride in the Fishman vehicle. “What the hell did I miss?” Zoro grumbled, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword as he quickly assessed the chaotic scene in front of him.

Luffy’s eyes narrowed, the fury within him boiling over as he watched Charlos gloat over your injury. His hands clenched into fists, and he began walking toward the Celestial Dragon with a terrifying calmness. The air around him seemed to crackle with tension as everyone in the room felt the weight of his anger.

Zoro, now fully alert and ready for action, exchanged a glance with Luffy. The unspoken understanding between them was clear—this wasn’t going to end well for Charlos.

“You…” Luffy’s voice was low, almost a growl. Each word he spoke was laced with a promise of retribution. “You hurt my friends…”

Charlos barely had time to register the danger before Luffy was upon him. Without another word, Luffy’s fist collided with Charlos’ face, the force of the punch sending the Celestial Dragon flying across the room and crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.

Meanwhile, Kidd's eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched Sanji fuss over you. A surge of jealousy flared up inside him, and he clenched his fists. “I didn’t come all this way to watch some Straw Hat steal the show,” Kidd muttered, his voice laced with irritation. “She belongs with someone who can handle her—like me.”

Killer, standing beside him, chuckled darkly. “Looks like the competition’s tough. But I’d love to see how she reacts to someone who can handle more than just a kitchen knife,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something more primal as he eyed you protectively.

On the other side, Law’s usual calm demeanor cracked ever so slightly as he observed the scene unfolding before him. “So, this is the kind of devotion she inspires,” he thought, feeling an unexpected twist of envy in his chest. He kept his gaze fixed on you, silently cursing himself for not having acted sooner.

The remaining spectators, including a few of the other Celestial Dragons, looked on with growing unease as they sensed the impending wrath of the Straw Hat captain. The air grew thick with tension, and everyone braced for what was about to happen next. One by one, the remaining spectators, driven by fear, bolted from their seats, abandoning the auction house in a panicked rush. Only the Celestial Dragons, the auction workers, Disco, the Kidd Pirates, the Heart Pirates, and your crew remained, all locked in a tense standoff.

Now, Luffy has finally entered! What do we think will happen next! How are we feeling? Looks like Y/N has some admirers in the stand also!!! This next chapter is about to be fun to write! Thank you guys for tuning in! And as always, thank you for sharing, reblogging, liking and following! If you guys haven't caught up with chapter 1 Be sure to give that a read as well, all chapters will be linked as well.

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sunflowersandsapphires · 6 months ago

Text

You're my sweetheart

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Cute little birthday celebration for everyone's favorite guy!

warnings: swearing, sad Matt (as always) but he gets loved on I promise, underage drinking, fluff, Foggy and Bug being adorable friends

a/n: This chapter is sickly sweet so be prepared. I have some super angsty stuff coming though. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please feel free to reply/reblog/DM, I love feedback!!

w/c: 5.6k

Waking up to a ripple of pain throughout your head and an accompanying twist of nausea in your gut was unpleasant, to say the least. Groaning, you threw an arm over your aching head to block out the sliver of sunlight that had penetrated your thick blinds. As much as you would have welcomed more sleep, the persistent stabbing pain of your hangover was determined to keep you conscious.

Sitting up with a whine, you dug the heel of your hand into your brow, your other hand laying over your uneasy stomach. While last night had been overwhelmingly fun, you’d apparently gone a bit past your limits. You and Oscar had colluded for weeks to plan Jen’s 21st birthday party. You were in charge of food and decorations, Oscar–given that he was of the legal age–had been in charge of purchasing the alcohol. In typical Oscar fashion, he’d gone above and beyond, completely blowing your expectations out of the water.

After a grueling first semester and a chaotic winter break, you hadn’t really tried to be careful. Past-you had been totally fine overdoing it. Current-you was much less ok with that decision. As memories of the night wriggled their way out the sludge that surrounded your brain, your chest constricted with concern. If you weren’t doing well, it was unlikely Matt or Foggy were upright and jovial. Plus, there was a certain matter you needed to discuss.

The conversation was hazy, blurred by the alcohol lingering in your system, but you remembered the important things. As usual, you’d been pretty much glued to Foggy and Matt all night--maybe even more so since Evs wasn't there to put distance between everyone and your awkward, giggly self.

You didn't remember how it came up, but the three of you had started discussing birthdays. Foggy had lamented, saying his wasn't until July, but Matt had gone quiet. After a bit of prompting and a few more drinks, he'd quietly admitted that his birthday was months ago, in October. You and Foggy had screeched in disbelief, chastising him for not saying anything sooner—but the past was the past.

You and Foggy—Matt's only friends—hadn’t celebrated his first real adult birthday. If your own feelings were any indicator, you were sure Foggy was also devastated that he'd missed this. It almost felt like a personal failing.

Though you'd scolded Matt, anyone with a morsel of knowledge about his upbringing or insecurities would know he'd never have told anyone about his birthday unless specifically asked. This was an oversight that you intended to remedy, hopefully Fog did too.

Opening one eye and grasping for your phone, you managed to seize it from your wobbly nightstand before it clattered to the floor. Sliding the device open, you typed the message out at a snail's pace, each press of a key jostling the pulsating knot behind your eyes.

You: U alive?

The sound your phone emitted as the text was sent into the void nearly deafened you. Gripping it to your chest, you collapsed sideways, burying your head into the cool sheets. Your breathing slowed, consciousness ebbing, before a second text tone jolted you awake.

Foggy: barely

Smiling at your friend's parallel misery, you responded.

You: matt there?

Foggy: no. might b dead. will report back.

You: can we chat?

Before you could even comprehend the consequences of what you'd just asked, an ear-piercing verse of Fergie's “Big Girls Don't Cry” blasted through your phone's speaker. Changing Foggy’s ringtone last night didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You muttered, fumbling for the answer button. With a satisfied groan, you answered the call.

“Damn, you sound worse than I feel.” Foggy's hoarse voice chuckled over the line.

“So many regrets, Fog.” You moaned, squirming around on the bed while you waited for the ringing in your ears to subside. “Did we die? Is this hell?”

“Hey, speak for yourself. My good-christian-self is destined for eternal paradise.” Foggy scoffed.

“Point taken. If I'm still alive in a few hours, can we meet up to discuss our dear Matthew?” You asked, praying to god that your head stop aching with every breath you took.

“Discuss what exactly? Who'll be giving his eulogy when I find him dead in the communal bathroom?” Foggy grumbled.

“Please tell me that's a bad joke.” You deadpanned.

“He's fine, jitterbug. He left twentyish minutes ago to puke his guts out.” Foggy confessed.

“Gross, Fog.” You grimaced.

”Hey, you asked!“ He protested.

”I absolutely did not.” You laughed. “Can we meet up later?“

”Oh yah, forgot you asked. What are we meeting about?“ You could picture Foggy’s confused frown as he wondered aloud.

”His birthday, Fog.“ You explained, not quite in the mood to expound on the point.

”Shit, yah we should talk about that. Blue Java at 2?“ He suggested.

”Sounds good. Lower your expectations for my appearance. See you soon.”

Ending the call, you collapsed back onto your pillows and let your eyes fall shut.

Lifting your eyes marginally as the bell chimed to signal someone's arrival, you felt a weight fall off your shoulders as a noticeably-disheveled Foggy shuffled in. His face was adorned with cartoonishly large, heart-shaped sunglasses; even through your own tinted lenses, you noticed the vibrant cherry red plastic accentuating his pale complexion. His long hair was tangled and greasy, tucked haphazardly behind his ears. Not raising his head more than he needed to, he trudged the few feet from the door to the wobbly table you were seated at, collapsing into a dented steel chair with a groan.

“Hey Fog,” You chuckled hoarsely as dropped his head to the table, shielding his face with his arms.

He grumbled incoherently, not looking up.

Snorting, and immediately regretting it as your head pulsed with a renewed ache, you poked his arm. “C'mon Fog, up and at 'em.”

“No,” Foggy groused, tightening his arms around his head as you continued to prod at him. “I'm mad at you.”

Throat tightening, you withdrew your hand. ”You're mad at me?“

”You dragged me across the city when I feel like utter crap. I think it's warranted,“ Foggy moaned.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you began jabbing him with your finger again. ”I think you'll get over it. Besides,“

Sliding a large paper cup over to the miserable boy, you forced it into the grip of one of his hands. ”I bought you a large snickerdoodle latte with extra whipped cream and four shots of espresso. That's gotta count for something, right?“

Foggy hummed appreciatively, dragging the cup towards his face as he gradually sat up. ”You're a godsend. I love you.“

”Damn, make up your mind, Nelson.“ You took a sip of your own coffee, briefly contemplating buying another before turning your attention back to your friend and his garish glasses. ”Those glasses look great on you, by the way.“

Foggy snorted, tossing his hair back over his shoulders. ”Why thank you. I found them in the dorm lost and found when I crawled back into the building after trying to brave the day without them.“

”Who would've thought such a fashion statement would happen by accident?“ You giggled.

”I'll have you know it was a deliberate choice to highlight my existing beauty.“ Foggy scoffed, pinching his own cheek.

Shaking your head at him, your tongue felt cemented in place, your brain not quite sure how to voice your concerns about your other friend.

As if he'd read your mind, Foggy dropped his chin to his chest. ”What the hell are we gonna do with him, bug?“

Tracing a finger around the plastic lid of his drink, Foggy looked downright morose, his glasses beginning to slip down the bridge of his nose as he pouted.

Digging your fingers into your brow, you kneaded circles into it to relieve the growing pressure. ”I have no clue, Fog. You really didn't know?“

”No!“ Foggy cried, clearly a bit offended. ”Birthdays are sacred, bug. Sacred! If he'd told me, I'd have...well, I'm not sure what I would have done. But I would have done SOMETHING.”

Nodding woefully, you tried to stifle the frustration building in your chest. “I know that he's probably not used to celebrating, but I can't believe he kept that from us. I don't know whether to be mad at him for not saying anything or mad at myself for not asking.”

“I hear that. Do we just let it slide?”

“Absolutely not.” You protested, your heart squeezing painfully at the idea of simply moving past this. “I actually might have an idea?”

When you hesitated, Foggy waved you on with a limp hand. ”What are you waiting for? It's scheming time!“

Biting your lip as your excitement grew, you launched into the plan your alcohol-soaked brain had cooked up when you fell asleep. Apparently, it wasn't too incomprehensible because Foggy was practically squealing by the end.

”That's PERFECT! How long do we have to prepare?“

”A week?“ You wondered aloud. ”I don't want him to think we've moved on, but we are going to need some time to make the arrangements.“

”Saturday it is. What do you need me to do?“

Grinning at Foggy's eager expression, you shrugged. “I don't know, Fog. What do you want to do?”

“Oh no!” Foggy shook his head, pointing a finger at you sternly. “You're the mastermind here. It's your job to tell me what to do.”

Laughing incredulously, you put your hands up in mock surrender. ”Ok, ok! One question: how are your cake-baking skills?“

Rolling his head in a circle to relieve the crick in his neck, Matt slipped his glasses off so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd been working on this legal research assignment for nearly two hours at this point and it was beginning to irritate him. His brain was too entrenched with other concerns to process the text sitting on his desk--meaning he needed to run his fingers over the same lines again and again in order to even grasp the subject of the material.

Slamming the book closed, he brought a hand up to his scalp, tugging on his hair with a growl. The thud of the book cover falling against coarse paper echoed throughout the empty room, making Matt frown. He wasn't quite sure what Foggy was up to, but it was clear Matt wasn't invited.

A few hours ago, his roommate had started gathering up his belongings and bundling up without a word. When Matt had asked him where he was going, Foggy had clammed up. Though Matt wasn't able to see it himself, he was confident the other man had been wearing a classic ”deer in headlights“ expression. The combination of his startled tone and scrunched face could only mean one thing: Foggy was hiding something from him.

It was driving him up a wall. Listening to his best friend stammer out some shitty lie about needing to borrow a book from the library had to be one of the worst experiences of Matt's adult life. Foggy was such an honest person, hearing his heartbeat waver with deceit just felt so...wrong. It made him nauseous, in the same way the sound of styrofoam rubbing together did.

Swallowing around the emotions clogging his throat, Matt wet his lips. The more he thought about it, the more logical his anxieties seemed.

Foggy had been increasingly distant all week, and Matt had no idea why. The other man still spent time in their room, but it was limited, and it always felt like he was ready to bolt if Matt asked the wrong question. He'd come home at odd hours for the past three days, reeking of your familiar sweet perfume.

Despite Foggy's inability to admit to it, he'd been spending time with you--and Matt had not been invited.

When Matt had mentioned it to you, you'd waved off his concerns and quickly changed the subject, leaving him thoroughly confused. Both of you were dancing around a massive elephant whenever Matt was in the room, which was infuriating.

He'd thrown himself into their latest legal writing assignment in an attempt to think about anything other than the inevitable end of his two longest friendships, but he couldn't even manage to do that right. Which was odd because his routine this semester revolved pretty heavily around studying on Saturday afternoons.

Suddenly, he was struck by another wave of dread. Was this what the two of you refused to tell him? Was he holding you back from the true ”college“ life filled with underage drinking and loud music by being too concerned with your combined studies? Did you both find his insistence on staying in so unbearably annoying that you'd taken to making plans without him?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts, he inhaled deeply. No. That's not what was happening, he would have smelled the liquor on Foggy. Plus, you never seemed to mind spending a night in with him rather than going out on the town.

Allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the familiar sounds of his roommate returning to their room. At the sound of the door opening, he jumped—ramming the rickety desk chair into the desk with a bang as he tried to turn around.

”Jeez, it's just me buddy, no need to have an aneurysm.“ Foggy chuckled, lingering by the door until Matt regained his bearings.

”Sorry,“ Matt muttered, snatching his glasses from the desk and slipping them on.

”No need to apologize, Matty.“ Foggy responded cheerfully, launching himself onto his bed with a small grunt. ”I should've said something before I came in. What if you'd been with a lady?“

At Foggy's mock-gasp, Matt could feel his sullen resolve dissipating. He snorted, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile. “It's 3pm on a Saturday, Fog. Why would I bring a girl back here?”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Foggy twisted to give Matt a look. “Last week you took a girl home from Sunday Brunch at Tom's, Murdock. There's no telling what the handsome duck will do on a given day.”

A laugh burst out of Matt's lips against his will. Shaking his head, he let himself smile. “You told me to talk to her!”

“Uh yah, because she was making googly eyes at you and I'm a fantastic wingman. C'mon man, keep up!” Foggy smirked.

With a snort, Matt collapsed onto his own bed, letting his face fall towards Foggy's. “You are a fantastic wingman. I should be more grateful.”

“Damn right.” Foggy's grin was evident, the sound of his happy heart a welcomed thud in Matt's ears. The absence of Foggy's noisy self had filled their shared space with a stifling, uneasy silence. Now that the quiet had ended, Matt finally felt like he could breathe again.

”Matt, buddy?“ Foggy's direct question snapped him back to reality.

”Huh?“

Chuckling, Foggy shuffled over to Matt's bed, sitting beside him. ”Fallin' asleep on me, Murdock? I'll have you know, I am RIVETING company.”

“'M not falling asleep.” Matt protested, somewhat unbelievably as his eyes remained closed.

“Sure, sure. Tell that to the cartoon letter Z's coming out of your head, dude. I asked if you wanted to get dinner later?”

Foggy's hands twisted around each other, preventing his usual animated gestures. Matt's mattress shifted as his roommate wriggled uncomfortably. Anxiety was cascading off the long-haired man's shoulders, reigniting the dread in Matt's stomach.

Flipping to face the wall, Matt drew his knees towards his chest and away from his roommate's seated form. “Sure, Fog. whatever you want.”

Patting Matt's leg, Foggy's posture drooped with relief. “Great! You have a good nap and I'll wake you up when we have to leave.”

Giving his friend an indifferent thumbs up, Matt squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stop the tears from falling.

A handful of restless hours later, Matt's jaw was tight as he and Foggy walked across campus to meet you for dinner. Rather than allowing Foggy to guide him, as he'd grown accustomed to, he'd opted for walking alone with his cane. Foggy seemed a bit hurt, but didn't argue. As they closed in on the agreed upon meeting place, Foggy was practically skipping with nervous energy.

While you were still a few blocks away, Matt had focused on your pulse the minute he picked up on it. It was stuttering and unsteady, just like Foggy's–which did nothing to calm his nerves. Hearing Foggy's jacket rustle as he waved to you, Matt tried for a smile, though he was sure it wasn't very convincing.

“Hey guys!” You greeted, jogging over to them. “Long time no see!”

“VERY long time.” Foggy laughed nervously. “Barely remember who you are, actually.”

You snorted, pulling Matt into a hug despite his rigid posture. “Hey trouble. I missed you this week.”

Melting into your embrace, Matt tucked his nose into your scarf, relishing the scent of vanilla and light floral perfume that coated the accessory. You'd missed him. The thought of you valuing his presence enough to notice the absence of it after a few days warmed his heart.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.”

Unraveling your arms from around his waist, you slid a hand into his elbow and squeezed gently. “Everything ok? You two seem tense.”

“Tense? Pfft, never. I'm great. Best I've ever been, even. Off to dinner with my two friends, the three musketeers. Nothing could be better.” Foggy rambled aimlessly, twiddling his thumbs.

Letting Foggy's words hang in the air for a moment, you made a strangled noise, tugging Matt backwards as your footsteps stopped. Resting a hand on Matt's forearm, you chuckled. “Fuck, he's been like this all day, hasn't he? No wonder you seem stressed.”

Gawking, Foggy started to sputter out an excuse but you ignored him, continuing to speak to Matt as if you two were alone. “Don't fret, bubs. He's just nervous he'll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Matt wondered aloud, “What surprise?”

“Yah, bug. What surprise?” Matt could practically hear Foggy staring daggers at you.

“Fog, look at him. He's freaking out.” You observed, frowning at Matt's tight jaw and scrunched brow.

“I am not.” Matt blushed, ducking his head as he felt your eyes roaming over his face. Your ability to read him like a picture book never ceased to unsettle him.

“Sure, trouble. Let's just finish our walk and all this anxiety will be over, ok?” You bumped your hip against his, ignoring his attempt to maintain his suave image. “Don't let Fog scare you, he's just worried he'll lose the bet.”

“I am not!”

“You are too. We both know how dangerous your loose lips can be.” Placing your free hand on Matt's bicep, you turned your attention back to the dark-haired boy. “Promise he didn't say anything to you?”

“I am absolutely clueless.” Matt confirmed.

“Ha! I told you I could keep it a secret.” Foggy boasted.

“We'll see, Fog. We aren't there yet.” You reminded him.

“It's not MY fault I'm so eager to tell him. He's my best friend!” Foggy pouted.

“Which is why we made the bet as extra motivation, Fog.” You chuckled.

“You guys know I'm still here, right?“ Matt asked nervously, feeling too similar to a cow being led to slaughter for his liking.

Foggy threw an arm around his shoulders in lieu of a response, leaning forward to direct his next comment at you specifically.

“You do know where we're going right? Because this feels a lot like walking in circles.”

Matt could practically hear your eye roll. “You know, next time we plan something, you can pick the venue.”

Foggy tossed his far hand into the air. “Hey, I'm not judging.”

“Tell that to your judging tone, Nelson. You're giving me second thoughts and it's a bit late for that.” You teased. “And I'd like to remind you, I was pretty hungover when we planned this.”

“So WAS I!”

Matt let your playful bickering wash over him, feeling the start of a smile playing on his lips.

The walk to your destination wasn't far, only a few blocks, but the combination of the blistering wind and aching cold made it feel like an eternity. Matt was relatively familiar with the campus, but you were walking past the buildings he was familiar with towards a less populated corner of the college. It's not that he wasn't ok exploring an unfamiliar area of Manhattan, it just didn't help his growing confusion about the situation the two of you were keeping from him.

After the 8 block stroll, which Foggy complained about thoroughly, you reached the Northern edge of Columbia. Standing on the cracked sidewalk, Matt could feel the campus fighting with the rest of the city–the sounds of screaming college students competing with blaring horns and shrill whistles just one block over. The sounds were slightly muddled by the brick building you'd stopped at, echoing off opposite walls and ricocheting in all directions.

“Are we finally here?” Foggy groaned, voice muffled by the scarf he'd tucked over his nose and mouth in, what Matt assumed, was a futile attempt to keep warm.

“Matty, remind me to stop inviting Fog to things.” You quipped, knocking solidly on a locked metal door as Foggy gasped in offense.

The thick steel entrance was quickly unlatched by a man, whose deep voice Matt didn't recognize, halting your and Foggy's renewed bickering.

”Thanks Josh!“ You squeezed the man's shoulder before stepping through the threshold and into the strange building. ”Right this way, gentlemen!“ You called over your shoulder to your friends who hurried to take shelter from the winter chill.

Once inside, Matt's shoulders relaxed as the tension seeped out of them. Escaping the awful cold was a welcomed relief, and, on top of that, the unfamiliar space was immensely…quiet.

The surrounding walls were thick and much better suited to keeping city noise out than any of the other academic buildings he'd walked through. Sound-proofed maybe? His practiced ears could still hear screeching tires and pounding club music, but the noises were unusually faint–as if his ears were covered with a hundred layers of spun cotton.

Inside the building, soft classical music was playing. Perfectly tuned string instruments sang brilliantly with the accompaniment of expert percussionists. It was peaceful in a way Matt hadn't experienced since listening to the St. Agnes choir rehearse as a child.

Letting his mind get lost in the melodies drifting through the hallways, Matt absently felt you take his arm, guiding him up a few sets of stairs and into a carpeted room. The scent of burning candle wax and sugar filled his nose, and he could feel Foggy's excitement peaking.

”Happy belated birthday, buddy!” His roommate clapped him on the back, ushering him into a seat as you fiddled with what must have been a window lock.

“What?” Matt asked, truly perplexed as Foggy uncorked a bottle of wine and poured three glasses. His birthday? How did you two even– Oh god. A hazy memory ran through his mind; a confession falling off his inebriated lips. Shit.

“You didn't think we'd forgotten that little tidbit, did you?” You teased, cranking a wobbly handle and unsealing the window. With a quiet 'pop', the window burst open and music flooded the room. “There we go! Let me know if it's too loud, trouble.”

Matt's throat was clenched as he truly took in his surroundings. Though he'd never been, he assumed, based on the context clues, that he was listening to the orchestra practice from somewhere in the music building. He wasn't quite sure how you and Foggy had discovered this space, or gained access to it, but he wasn’t going to question your combined wills. “You did this...for me?”

“Course we did, bud! Birthdays deserve a celebration!!” Foggy explained, pressing a glass of sparkling wine into his hand.

“We got sandwiches from the corner deli, champagne from the market, a cake from Silver Moon bakery, and,” You pulled up a chair beside Matt, squeezing his arm as you sat down. “We get to listen to the Orchestra's rehearsal for their ballet next week!”

Matt opened his mouth to say something, hopefully expressing his immense gratitude in the process, but the words refused to form. Swallowing a gulp of the sweet bubbly drink, he fought back the urge to cry.

“Do you like it?” Foggy asked eagerly, his eyes burning holes into Matt's forehead as he tried to read the blind man's reaction.

“I–I love it.” Matt murmured, eyes stinging with tears. “You didn't have to go through so much effort–”

“Oh stop,” You waved off his customary guilt, bumping his shoulder with your own. “We wanted to, bubs. You deserve to have a good birthday. Next time, maybe even in the correct month.”

Matt chuckled weakly at that. “Thank you both. I—I’m sorry for not saying anything last semester…” Trailing off, Matt debated whether to be brutally honest about his upbringing. A warm palm was placed over his hand, which you then squeezed encouragingly.

“If you want to tell us, we’re here to listen.” Was your soft reminder.

“We love you, dude. We just want you to feel comfortable with us.” Foggy explained, knocking a knee against Matt’s.

“I do, I swear! I just…I haven’t celebrated my birthday since my dad passed. I don’t think the nuns even knew that it was in October.” Matt snorted, his small laugh tinged with bitterness. “I didn’t want to bother you both by asking for something, I guess.”

“Oh, Matt.” Foggy says mournfully, scooching his chair closer to the dark-haired boy.

“You deserve to be celebrated, trouble.” You remarked, fingers dancing in your lap to the rhythm of the music. “And don’t think this belated party absolves you of one for this coming October. This was a backlog situation.”

Foggy raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Downing the small portion of alcohol, he grimaced. “Oh my god! This is awful.”

“It’s the best I could do! Oscar is out of town.” You lamented, coughing on your own swallow.

Matt smiled. “Maybe you two are just weak.”

You both scoffed at that, immediately pouring yourselves more to drink.

The sandwiches were decent, as always, but the cake was phenomenal. Chocolate sponge filled with a rich ganache and covered in vanilla whipped cream. Though Matt loved dessert as much as the next person, it could be hard for him to find things that weren’t filled with chemicals, way too much sugar, or–god forbid–non-edible items that warranted a health code violation. Not only had the two of you managed to find a cake that he enjoyed, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was not just a lucky guess.

The two of you truly knew him.

A month ago, maybe even a week ago, he would’ve been terrified. All the lessons Stick had taught him, the main reason he hadn’t formed any lasting relationships in his two decades on Earth, had boiled down to one principle: proximity to others is dangerous. But you and Foggy had proven his former mentor wrong. Matt’s life had improved significantly since he’d set foot on Columbia’s campus, all because of the two of you and your massive hearts.

Placing another forkful of cake into his mouth, Matt was suddenly giddy with gratitude. The champagne undermining his ordinarily reluctant subconscious and revealing the immense love that he held for the two of you. By the time you’d all demolished the food, his limbs had been warmed by the alcohol.

“At least you know Fog will never find another best friend behind your back, Matt.” You giggled, bringing him back to the present as you drained the bubbles from your glass. “He wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.”

“You make it sound like he’s my paranoid spouse or something!” Foggy laughed.

“Paranoid?” Matt gasped. “Who told you!”

“Uh oh, you’re in the doghouse now, Nelson!” You beamed, licking icing from your fork. “You shouldn’t speak ill of your wife like that.”

“Ok, first of all,” Foggy raised a hand. “He’d clearly be the husband in this scenario.”

“Clearly.” Matt jested, rolling his eyes to you.

“Second of all,” Foggy spoke over him. “Matt has made it very clear that he is not interested in legalizing our profound bond.”

As Foggy broke off into fake sobs, you gasped and Matt cackled. “Matthew! Why would you turn down such a marvelous offer?” You scolded, standing to give Foggy a wobbly hug as his dramatized reaction gradually slowed.

“I know why,” Foggy sniffled, shifting his body away from Matt with a pout. “It’s because of my inadequacy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Fog?” Matt chuckled, crossing his arms as he waited for Foggy to reveal the punchline.

“I can't—can't...” Foggy stammered emphatically. Rubbing circles on his back, you frowned in exaggerated concern, your breath stifled as you tried desperately not to laugh.

“It's ok, Fog. This is a safe space. You can tell us anything.” You reminded the blond, clearly in as much anticipation as Matt was.

“I can't DANCE!” Foggy cried, collapsing to the ground in a heap. “And heaven will burn before Matthew Murdock marries someone who would step on his toes.”

You and Matt erupted into boisterous laughter as Foggy stuck his nose into the air. “It's true. Tell her, Matt. Tell her about my left feet!”

Still giggling, Matt shook his head. “Fog, I'm blind! You've taken a whole semester of modern dance! If anyone has two left feet it's me.”

Jumping to his feet a bit unsteadily, Foggy swept an arm across the room, beginning to slow dance by himself. “Woe is me!” He cried with a forcibly shaky voice. “No partner to dance with!”

“I'll dance with you, Fog. You poor thing,” You cooed, squealing in delight as Foggy grasped your hand and spun you towards him.

Matt beamed as he heard the two of you swaying to the rhythm of the music playing throughout the building. Foggy was humming softly along and you were attempting to get your tipsy limbs to obey the commands your brain was sending.

“Ok, I'm getting way too dizzy. Time to cut in, Murdock!” You chuckled, plopping down into your seat as Matt stood from his.

“Gladly!” Matt smirked, yelping as Foggy yanked him forward and positioned his hands on the long-haired man's own hips.

“I'm confused, aren't you leading?” Matt questioned, body going slack as Foggy began to twirl them around.

“I'm trying! Pick up your damn feet, dude!” Foggy scoffed, kicking Matt's shoe lightly.

“Then why are my arms underneath yours?”

“Because I'M the WIFE!”

“But you have to lead!” Matt shot back, still chuckling.

“Ugh, forget it. It'll never work between us, dear Matthew. Remember me when you dance with your bride on your wedding day.” Foggy clapped him on the back, curtseying before stepping away. ”Farewell, sweet prince!“

Shaking his head as Foggy strode away, Matt turned his attention to you, smiling rougishly. “Hmmm, it seems I'm in need of a new partner. Care to dance with me, sweetheart?”

Shrieking with laughter, you attempted to make your escape by darting around your chair, but Matt snatched you around the waist, pulling your hips towards his.

“I'm no Franklin Nelson, Matty. I'll trip over you!” You protested, weakly trying to squirm out of his grip, smile still gracing your lips.

“I don't mind, bug. If you want to give it another shot, that is.” Matt loosened the hold he had on your hips, allowing you to refuse if you truly wanted to, but you remained mere centimeters from him.

“S-sure, Matty. How do I...” You flexed your fingers, unsure of where to place your hands.

“Fog?” Matt called to his roommate, grinning when the blond rushed over in a huff to 'correct their form'.

With your hands linked around his neck, and his palms pressed gently against your hips, Matt inhaled deeply as he focused on the tempo of the song currently playing. Swishing the two of you from side to side, Matt stepped carefully in a waltz motion, the very one he'd heard Foggy practicing night after night during the slow dancing unit of his class.

His movements weren't nearly as confident as Foggy's but you seemed pleasantly surprised, letting him move you around the room with a bit less force than your other friend had. Tilting into him slightly, you huffed out an exhale.

”Dizzy?“ Matt asked quietly, hearing your eyelids flutter closed.

”Drank too fast, I think.“ You reasoned, scrunching your nose as the ground continued to spin beneath you.

”C'mere, sweetheart.“ Matt clasped his hands behind your lower back, tucking your head under his chin as he slowed his movements. ”Need to sit down?“

”No,“ You sighed, nuzzling into the junction of his neck and shoulder. ”This is better.“

”I'm glad.“ Matt murmured, pretending not to feel Foggy staring daggers into his back.

Humming appreciatively, your thumb rubbed over his nape. ”You smell nice, Matty.“

Huffing out a laugh, Matt battled the urge to plant a kiss to your crown. ”So do you, sweets. Thank you for a great birthday.“

”Of course.“ Your thumb continued to stroke small lines over his neck. ”You deserve it.“

Withdrawing slightly from your embrace, Matt craned his neck towards where his other friend was finishing the last dregs of the champagne. ”Thank you too, Fog. I appreciate you both so much.“

”We love you too, buddy.“ Foggy smiled, stepping over the spread of food to help remove you from Matt's side.

Gently sliding you into a seated position on the carpet, Foggy sat to your left, prodding you until you nestled back onto Matt's shoulder to your other side. Plucking a fleece blanket from the floor, the blond wrapped it around the three of you cozily.

”There we go. Everyone warm enough?“ Foggy asked. You nodded sleepily as Matt hummed his assent.

Tapping his fingers to the steady beat of the percussionists below, Matt closed his eyes, smile never falling from his face.

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

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yallthemwitches · 21 days ago

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Part 2 (with lovesick James POV!) Merry Christmas you filthy animals

“Call me what you want, Evans. I deserve it,” he pants, “But then I’m going to need you to make my Christmas wish come true a few more times because – Merlin– I’ll do anything for it.”

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

(please keep in mind throughout this fic Remus is like this v (because he is otherwise not present))

The only thing more mortifying about kissing the girl you fancy and not being able to reciprocate properly is having to stand in front of a bloody crowd after said kiss and not look like you are about to fucking implode.

It had taken everything to pull him away from her—and he meant everything. His heartbeat had clanged in his ears, the smell of her cinnamon shampoo encircling him like some predatory snare--nevermind the fact that she had kissed him just meters from his bed where he had spent the past four years thinking too explicit thoughts about her to ever put on paper.

Then, after all that, he was expected to stand next to his bloody parents ?

James watches as his dad finishes a rousing speech about ‘goodwill to all men’ and other Christmas adages before pulling his mum in for a sweeping kiss. Typical. But the crowd cheers in applause and James joins them because–of all nights–this is the one he promises to be good. It’s Christmas for Merlin’s sake, he owes it to them.

But he can’t hold back the twitch in his jaw and knows that, if left unattended, he will grind his teeth into little stubs from the anxiety of it all. His parents, their friends, the wandering classmates might as well be speaking in monotonous droning noises—all he can hear is the delicious mantra of Lily Evans kissed me. Lily Evans kissed me. LILY EVANS kissed me.

“Uh. Prongs.”

His nickname breaks through the void. Turning slowly, he finds Peter standing next to him, offering some sort of ruby red liquid with a defenseless, apologetic look.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

James blinks at him, unable to comprehend. The chant is entering and exiting all orifices and licking his lips, he swears he can still taste her on him. Somewhere from behind, one of his mum’s coworkers grabs his bum and he doesn’t even care.

“Didn’t know what?”

“Uh–I mean,” Peter searches for words, knowing a trap when he sees one. “You and Evans just seemed to be pretty friendly, you know.”

Friendly. Suddenly, something cuts the mantra from his brain like taking scissors to a ticker tape. Friendly—a friend.

Lily Evans was–is his friend. He knows so because she has said it many times. How much painstaking work had been done to get to the point of even being just amicable with her? Years worth, at least a solid 365 days if not more. That’s not to say he wasn’t chuffed by the advancement: pathetic git as he was, nights at Hogwarts had delved into anticipation of just sitting next to her, smelling her beautiful hair during their library sessions and maybe (if he was lucky) getting an arm brush against his as she leans over to write some bloody adorable comment in the margins of his parchment, only to be obsessed with her curly, cramped script for the next hour…

It hadn’t not crossed his mind that maybe things were starting to turn flirty. When he was lucky enough to get her to throw her head back in a laugh, she had started to grab onto his forearm for support. Then of course there were the letters. Merlin, how many had he written? Perhaps more than he had ever written to Peter or Moony in his life– and this was just one holiday. Hours of doting on each word, striking the right balance between friendly, maybe a tad flirty, but not overbearing, and if his glasses were working correctly, hers came back just as amicable, perhaps even enthusiastic.

But would some stray arm touches and jovial letters really equate to a kiss?

“Do you think we should throw punch in his face? I think we should throw punch in his face.”

James blinks again to find Sirius standing in front of him, hands on his hips while Peter sports a nervous look.

“You ok, mate? You kind of just…were out of it for a second,” Peter squeaks, eyes roaming and nervous.

“Yeah, fine. Brilliant,” James responds automatically, not sure if he really means it or not.

“Well,” Sirius butts in, “Now that your mum’s lot have got tired of your sorry arse, can we actually have some fun around here. Flea says I can be in charge of the music as long as I keep the bumping and grinding to a minimum.”

“Right, yeah. Sure.”

James’ mind drifts again, all his thoughts slippery like black ice. Warm lips, so soft, tasting like gin and cinnamon…

“Oi,” Sirius snaps his fingers right between his eyes. “If you took some muggle drugs without me, I swear Prongs I’m going to be so upset.”

“Lily was in his room earlier,” Peter blurts out, then clasps his hands over his mouth as though to stop any other incriminating thing from exiting.

“Groovy, Wormtail. Really subtle,” James mutters, and shifts his eyes just in time to watch Sirius’ ears practically perk upwards in interest.

“Oh.” Sirius says in a curt, knowing tone. “Oh, I see.”

“Nothing happened. She got lost on her way to the loo.”

Sirius smirks. “Yeah, bet it is really hard to find the loo when you are too busy using your mouth to–”

“Sirius, fuck off and drop it—Really, nothing happened.”

He hears the pain in his voice and for some reason it surprises him. They had kissed hadn’t they? But now even that fact was starting to get murky—like all of the pieces leading up to it didn’t make for a greater whole. Maybe it was a mistake, she had just leaned too far in and his lips were just there to catch her. Or maybe she was just drunk?

He could spiral around the thousands of reasons why she could have possibly not meant to kiss him, but the one thing that he knows for certain is that Lily is his friend. Full stop. And friends don’t try to snog friends, do they?

It didn’t feel fair for a teenage boy to have to wade through such emotional traps–especially on Christmas.

Sirius does drop it, though not before arching an eyebrow with a sly look and the boys wander away from the older crowd towards the throngs of Hogwarts students who all have slowly commandeered the front of the bar area. He can’t help himself but to look past anyone who isn’t Lily—wondering if she took his words literally and was still leaning against the edge of his desk where he left her.

“Hey stranger.”

A small hand grasps his forearm. Sofia beams up at him, silvery blonde hair charmed into perfect ringlets around her face like a china doll.

“Alright Sofia?”

She gives a small smile. Telling by her eyes she’s had a few drinks and is feeling good, the liquid confidence equating to her ever grasping hand on him.

“Just wondering if you were going to hide all night.”

“Wasn’t hiding. Just doing my duty as a good son and host for one day out of the year.”

He shoots her a grin, one that he uses to get out of trouble and he feels her hand tighten against his bicep, fingertips pressing in like trying to commit the feel to memory.

“Well, would you have time out of your busy schedule to be a good host to me?”

There isn’t much subtlety there. From behind her, Sirius makes a shrugging expression at him, tilting his head in a way that means your mess .

From the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of red hair reenter the room. Lily steps out of the hall, looking a bit bleary-eyed and nervous. Bee lining her way through the crowd, she completely ignores his gaze, calling for a double gin and tonic and joining Mary and Marlene a few clusters away from him.

Merlin, she looks lovely.

“James?”

James snaps his head back to see Sofia still standing there, a crease in her brow from his lack of response.

“Er–sorry. Uhm, lemme just do some rounds then I’ll come find you.”

The fact that he said almost the same thing to Lily puts a heavy weight in his stomach, but Sofia's smile brightens and she gives an enthusiastic nod, finally relinquishing her grip.

Not knowing what direction to take, James stocks off back towards his room, the party starting to feel like a real drag.

* * * *

During the beginning of holiday, Lily had sent him a letter that he must have read a thousand times.

Dear James,

I hope your holiday is going well too—though I can’t say we have had much time to do anything seeing as it’s only the second day.

To respond to your last inquiry—no, I will not write your Potions essay for you, though if you send it along maybe I can write some choice words in the comments to add flavour ( choice words meaning horrible insults that will no doubt earn you a T…)

I was watching a bit of telly yesterday (box, glowing screen, moving pictures—you have heard of one right?) and I saw a program where this bloke made the exact same stupid voice you make when trying to imitate Professor Binns. I was so caught off guard thinking that you had entered the room, I practically fell off the sofa, then proceeded to laugh at how incredibly thick I was to think that you would just apparate into my home to do something as stupid as that.

Anyways, I don’t know why I am telling you this (perhaps a symptom of my absolute boredom). Maybe it’s to say that if you feel like showing up at my house to work on your impressions before next term, I wouldn’t be mad about it.

Hope you’re well. And sorry Sirius ate all the Christmas cookies.

Lily

It was dumb really. She had even said in the letter that she had written it completely out of boredom, but rereading it even now, his breath catches in his stomach by the implication that she would want to see him, that she had even been thinking about him in the first place. At the time, he probably wasted a hundred rolls of parchment trying to come up with the perfect response that would encapsulate his absolute earnestness to actually visit while not coming on too strong. In the end, he responded by changing the subject almost entirely, too afraid he was getting the wrong impression of her friendliness.

He sits on his bed clutching the letter. Downstairs, the music changes to a rock beat of Sirius’ doing and a whoop from the younger guests signals that dancing is probably picking up. He rereads the letter again, focusing on the way she curls the J in his name. When had she started calling him James? Did he really let such a monumental switch happen unnoticed?

“Uhm. Sorry.”

His eyes snap away from the parchment. Like some beautiful ghost, Lily wanders into the doorway, hands tugging at the sides of her dress.

“Mary’s curfew is coming up and I offered to go back with her.”

“Oh, yeah. Ok.” The feeling of sinking weighs heavy in his heart.

“And Sofia is looking for you.”

“I told her I would come find her later.”

Lily’s face twists into something resembling pain, her eyes becoming glassy.

“Yeah, well. She seems to think it’s later.”

Lily crosses the room and takes a hesitant seat next to him on the bed, letting the end of her dress fan out against her thighs. Well that’s all you're going to think about for the rest of your sodding life.

“Is that…my letter?”

Too busy letting his teenage mind work in overdrive, he hadn’t put down the parchment. She leans in, resting her chin lightly on his shoulder to read the text.

“Oh god. I’m completely mental. I can’t believe you even kept this. I sound like an absolute nutter.”

He turns to her, frowning.

“No you don’t. I think it's brilliant. I love that—”

Oh for fucks’ sake. Why did I use that word?

Lily recovers for him, pulling the parchment out of his loose grasp and giving it a closer inspection.

“You really should have heard it though—it sounded just like you. Like—”

She makes this low droning voice that doesn’t even remotely sound like Professor Binns or his terrible impression of him. James can’t help but laugh, a loud booming one that she’s been able to pull out of him more and more. Small droplets of tears start forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Godric Evans, please don’t go into acting— Here, let me do what you just did.”

He replicates the same gravelly voice, giving it an extra dash of absurdism. It's her turn to laugh, head falling back and lips gleaming as her peals cut through the room. Before, he only speculated that it was his favorite noise, now he is sure of it.

“I didn’t sound like that,” she squeals, giving his arm a tug. “Do the real impression again so I can compare.”

“Nope, sorry. I’ve forgotten how to do it actually. Your rendition has obliviated it.”

“Fuck off with that—c’mon do it.”

She gives him another playful tug and this time he lets his hand go loose under her grip so their hands remain attached, falling limp into her lap.

“Sorry, Evans, maybe next year,” he says quietly. He can tell she is feeling the same vibration from their tangled hands that he is, both of their eyes zeroed in on the clasped fingers.

Did friends hold hands when they laughed? Suddenly it was incredibly hard to remember.

“Look James,” she says, eyes averted out towards the room. “I’m sorry—about earlier. I’m not trying to blow this whole thing up, I know we are mates now and–”

What. In under a millisecond, the past three hours of his life had been reduced to pure idiocy. He hadn’t imagined it. They had kissed and it had been intentional.

“Please. Wait–just stop.”

She recoils and he can feel her hand start to tug away from his but he adds more pressure, resituating his fingers so they thread with hers.

“Lily— ” he stammers. Her eyes lower to speculative slits. It’s now or never Potter. Grab the snitch or get off the pitch.

“You didn’t ask what I want for Christmas.”

Her eyes crinkle, mouth turning downwards.

“What?” she sputters, incredulous. “What are you talking about, Potter?”

“You know,” he pries, “From before—I asked you what you wanted but you didn’t ask me. So go on, ask.”

Lily looks at him. Ever since their kiss he had felt like a storm cloud raining on the Christmas cheer, but sitting here with her has returned him to form, eyes glinting wild and expectant.

“Ok, fine,” she huffs. “ What do you want for Christmas, Potte–”

He crashes his lips down on hers before she can even finish the question, not holding anything back. Unlike earlier where he had been too shocked and guarded to reciprocate, he goes in full force this time, lips frantic and hungry. Everything starts to feel charged, the softness of her lips and the sweet smell of cinnamon revitalizing him and urging him forward.

When they pull away, their lips are swollen and breath shallow, their fingers unraveled and on his cheek, the small of her back. His hand contracts against the warm skin, keeping her in place as if with the slightest movement she will vanish into the night.

“I had wanted you to kiss me then, and I want you to kiss me again now.”

A smile breaks onto her face so wide it tugs perilously close to either ear.

“We’re idiots. Absolute sodding—”

But his lips are back on hers, mouth already open and breathing deep into her. She coils her fingers through his hair, letting the hard lines of their bodies press flush together as he crowds in further, pulling her so close that he doesn’t think he will feel anything as cozy as her body heat against him ever again.

“Call me what you want, Evans. I deserve it,” he pants into her, “But then I’m going to need you to make my Christmas wish come true a few more times because – Merlin– I’ll do anything for it.”

She laughs again, but this time he catches it with his mouth, letting the sound develop into a satisfied moan. She tangles back into him and somehow he needs her closer, needs her more . He doesn’t know how he has even survived off of so little for so long.

“What about Mary,” she gasps, pulling back just enough to speak. “She’s got curfew…I told her…” But even as she says it, her arms pull his neck tighter, her soft lips dragging their way across his jaw to his ear.

He silences her with a kiss to the neck and a bubbling sigh escapes her, now for certain the most beautiful sound to ever exist.

“Tell her to live a little—it's too cold to leave now,” he murmurs, not wishing to waste any more time.

“We’re busy with a bloody Christmas miracle.”

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fanfiction #marauders era #my writing #james being a lovesick idiot for an entire chapter #james x lily #a christmas fic for once in my pathetic life

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heartthrobin · 2 years ago

Text

paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

tags:

@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au

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itsalmostavengers · 1 year ago

Text

“I still hate you,” Tony mutters, voice shaky and entirely unconvinced while his hand expertly unbuckles the clasps of the uniform he designed so carefully, months and months and months ago.

“I know,” Steve responds gruffly. His beard scratches Tony’s jaw as those perfect teeth run down the thin skin of his neck, trace his jugular. His hands are rough iron clamps against each side of Tony’s beautifully tailored Versace two-piece. The fabric will be ruined beyond repair in less than ten minutes - Tony could bet his fortune on it.

They’ve played this stupid game before. Every time, Tony swears it’ll be the last.

Steve hitches him up onto the kitchen counter of the ridiculous New Jersey safehouse, and Tony goes willingly, yanking Steve into the open spread of his legs. This is the closest Steve’s gotten to New York since he first read those damned accords. The closest he can get to home is some 1965-styled kitchenette with pictures of old-timey adverts lining the walls and a microwave that’d probably irradiate you if you went near it.

It’s wrong- all of it. But there’s no changing it. Steve made his choice long ago, and Tony hates him for it. He should remember that. He should tell Steve that again.

“Fuck, God, Steve,” is what comes out instead, breathed against the other man’s mouth. Tony’s whole body is hot, taught, desperate, and he tugs the top half of Steve’s uniform off his torso. Steve spray painted over the colours- the whole thing is dark now, void of any trace of what it used to be. Tony hates that too.

“Tony,” Steve says, like there’s more to it- a name at the beginning of a sentence which never comes out. He clasps his teeth over Tony’s bottom lip, pushes his hands under Tony’s rapidly-wrinkling shirt and brushes his thumbs over each nipple, rubbing quick circles. The movement pulls another noise from Tony’s throat.

Fuck- the man knows him.

Steve steadies himself for a moment to catch his breath, nose brushing against Tony’s. Tony tries not to look into his eyes, whenever they do this. He’s never been good at seeing Steve’s soul - the one he never tries to hide, to mask. He’s not like Tony, you see. Everything he does, he does earnestly and from the heart.

The decision he made to leave with Bucky - to keep the culprit of Tony’s parents’ deaths a secret from him - they’d both come from that same heart. Hence, no eye contact. Tony has no desire to see how truly insignificant the space he takes up in Steve’s soul was.

Except now.

He does it without meaning to- just catching sight of those infuriating baby blues as he leans in for another messy kiss. Error number 1.

Error number 2 is not shutting his damn eyes and grabbing Steve’s dick like he normally does.

And error number 3 is the worst. Error number 3 is when he catches sight of Steve’s suddenly agonised expression, doesn’t ignore it, and instead asks “what?” Thus inviting conversation. They don’t come here for that. They come here to fuck eachother’s brains out for a night and then keep playing their cat-and-mouse chase across the globe as if anyone in a position of authority actually fucking believes it.

Steve goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he swallows. “This… this really makes you miserable, doesn’t it.”

He doesn’t frame it like a question.

Tony looks up at him, breathing hard. “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not looking ecstatic while getting groped by my ex boyfriend in a place that’s decked out like a prop house in a nuclear testing site. Would you prefer for me to giggle jovially while you fuck me amongst the dust and cobwebs?”

They’d used to have sex that was so full of love. This is how Tony always talks to Steve, now.

Steve shakes his head, a minute, grieving little thing. Tony feels the man’s breath skating across his face- feels the warmth of his bare chest, his shoulders, pressing against Tony.

“I thought…” he begins, then trails off for a moment as Tony skirts his hands down his chest, unlatches his belt. “I thought this made you happy. At least a little bit, even if you didn’t admit it. But it doesn’t. ”

Of course it doesn’t. But it’s all I have left of you.

“You think I’m coming here to find happiness? Jesus Steve. I’m coming here for tension relief,” Tony says, because he just can’t be truthful- he did his best when they were together, he really did, and it all failed anyway. Besides: Steve was never as truthful as Tony had always so fervently believed him to be either. “How about we both just stop talking and get down to that part.”

He gets his hands all the way to Steve’s boxers before Steve stops him- a gentle yet utterly unmoving grip. When Tony looks up at him again, Steve shakes his head. He’s grey in the face- if Tony didn’t know better now, he’d even say heartbroken.

“Tony, I…” Steve’s struggling for the words and he looks so beautiful, so so beautiful, just the same as the very first time Tony laid eyes on his photograph in the SHIELD folder he’d hacked his way into. “I didn’t realise you felt that way. Or maybe I did, but just didn’t want to acknowledge it because I was selfish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this with you. To you.” Steve steps away jerkily, half his body lagging while the other half pulls, as if warring with his own system. His pale skin is patchy, covered in faint marks where Tony has grabbed him. “I thought we were both doing this for enjoyment, but you’re not, and so I can’t. It’s cruel.”

Tony realises what Steve is implying here. His heart - what’s left of the poor thing anyway - convulses in panic, and he stumbles off the counter. “I’m not a fucking dog,” he snaps, “I make my own choices.”

“You don’t even look at me,” Steve’s voice breaks then. “I wished more than anything that you’d look at me. But I just saw it, then, when you did.”

“Saw what?”

They’re facing off against one another now - it’s like they can’t stop themselves. They have to be on either side of the argument, they can never just agree, no matter how hard they both want to. Tony hates and hates and hates.

“Your eyes don’t lie to me, Tony.” Steve’s voice is soft, and he says it like that alone is enough. “Your mouth does. And you don’t want this.”

“See, do you see what you’re doing here, again?” Tony steps forward, smashes his finger against the place where the star used to sit proudly on Steve’s chest. “You’re making an executive decision about how I feel, as to what I need, when you don’t have that right. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!”

“But you never do what’s best for you!” Steve’s hands flail helplessly. “You do what’s best for everyone else, or what you think you deserve, and you never think about how it’s going to hurt—“

“I DESERVED TO KNOW MY PARENTS WERE MURDERED, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

Tony was supposed to be making his way to an orgasm right about now - instead he suddenly feels so angry he can hardly breathe. Fucking typical. He just had to go and open his mouth, didn’t he?

He glares at the man who tore his heart out over a year ago. Steve looks back, his expression shattered. Tony feels angrier still when he realises that he’s never going to be able to see this person in front of him and not love him. He’s trying so hard, right now, and he can’t. Even after all this. He can’t find it in him.

“Just fuck me,” Tony says, and it comes out more exhausted than demanding.

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Right. Steve’s made up his mind about what’s best for tony. Again. Was it ever going to go any other way?

Sometimes, the tiredness goes so deep that Tony starts to feel it in his bones. His therapist says it’s psychosomatic- that bones don’t actually creak and groan like wooden doors in abandoned houses. Tony begs to differ.

“If we stop now, this is the last time you’ll ever see me,” he says, hoping, even now, that maybe something will change. That maybe for once, Steve will just put him first.

It’s a pipe dream. Tony comes to that realisation as soon as Steve shakes his head. Stupid.

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Steve’s voice is hoarse. Like each word is painful. Tony wishes that were true - in reality, he doesn’t doubt Steve is just wary of the fight his words will bring - the argument that’ll erupt out of Tony’s mouth in response.

But Tony’s done fighting. It’s a losing battle. Always has been.

He looks at Steve. Nods.

He walks out of the door without another word.

#stevetony #Steve Rogers #tony stark #i hate civil war passionately and yet I am obsessed with writing about their fucked up little dynamic #yesssss boy. hate eachother!!! love eachother!!! blur those goddamn lines!!!#die in one another’s arms and then finally see everything you should’ve done differently with the clarity that only comes when you know #the opportunity to fix it is gone for good!!!!!!!!!!!#anyways

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 1 year ago

Note

Kafka with a tsundere reader (I love Kafka SO MUCH…)

Kafka with a tsundere reader

characters: Kafka x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: GET YOUR WISHES READY. IT'S HAPPENING. Less than 24 hours until Kafka releases. So I decided now would be a great opportunity to write something for her, as something of an offering to the Gacha gods...

I'm so down bad for this woman. I swear...

I wish everyone pulling for her the best of luck and I’ll see you on the other side!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Kafka

While the Stellaron Hunters were composed of all different kinds of personalities, the ones Kafka kept around herself the most weren’t the most jovial of creatures. Silverwolf ironically preferred to ignore the tendencies of the animal in her name and rather work alone, while Bladie never was all too talkative in the first place.

And then there was you, someone trying so hard to match the stone-faced attitudes of your co-workers, that it was almost a crime not to try and get you to show your real feelings. A crime Kafka for once in her life didn’t intend to commit.

Kafka’s teasing was a misfortune every Stellaron Hunter working with her at least once had to endure. One you begrudgingly had to admit was fun to watch whenever you weren’t her target, the urge to join in whenever the purple-haired woman broke through Silverwolfs stoic facade forcing you to bundle up all of your self-control on more than one occasion.

Today however, was not your lucky day, as it quickly became clear who today’s victim would be.

“Come on, finish what you just wanted to say”, Kafka urged you to continue with a smile so devilish even Nanook would have felt creeped out. It had been foolish enough of you to let your compliment slip out in the first place, especially when Blade and Silverwolf were in the room, but all hopes of not drawing a giant Target on yourself were lost when you cut yourself off in the middle of your sentence, making the fact that it was a slip up as clear as day.

“There is nothing to finish, I was just talking to myself”, you lied as naturally as you breathed, hoping it would be enough to get Kafka to stop. Only for your hopes to be crushed in front of your very eyes as you saw her face light up in a familiar way, one signaling that giving up was the last thing on her mind right now.

“You’re lying.” While being called out on your obvious lie already was enough to make you lose your composure, her teasing tone sent blood flooding directly into your cheeks, causing them to turn red in almost an instant

With one swift turn of your head towards Blade you silently begged him for help, only for your fellow Stellaron Hunter to face away, putting all of his attention onto his weapon. And while you ought to have felt betrayed by his action, knowing how you did the same whenever it was someone else’s turn made you unable to hold a grudge against him.

Silverwolf however was a different story. As when you glanced towards her, you weren’t just brushed off, but instead were greeted by an amused smile, one radiating enough Schadenfreude to feed an entire planet of sadists. Before you knew it however, your attention was once again drawn to Kafka as you tried your best to find the right words to say.

“...I said the new coat suits you”, you murmured out just loud enough for her to hear you, nevertheless she gave you one more teasing smile, one wider than all of the previous.

“That’s interesting, I could have sworn I’ve heard a ‘B’ somewhere. Something along the lines of ‘You look beau-’”, she continued, dragging the last word out in anticipation of what you would say while forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“You look beautiful today”, you finally whispered in defeat, her ears immediately picking up on your words. For a moment you expected her to pretend she didn’t hear you, forcing you to say it once again, just louder. However, it seemed as if getting you to spit it out was enough for her as she showed you a satisfied grin before letting you finally go. Sparring you the embarrassment of having your fellow crewmates hear what exactly you had said that caused you to get this stand-offish.

Or at least that’s what she let you think for a few seconds.

“Oh you think I look beautiful today? Thank you, you’ve got quite the looks yourself.” The big smile on Kafka’s face was hard to miss, although you were far too embarrassed to look back up at her, your red face glued to your shoes for at least the next hour.

No matter how hard you tried to match your colleagues' blank expressions, there was always one person for whom you were as easy to read as an open book.

#kafka x reader #hsr kafka #kafka x y/n #kafka x you #kafka #kafka honkai star rail #kafka hsr

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hoiststowline · 21 days ago

Text

winter of our youth

prologue _ prev strike seven

"Wisconsin?" He'd suspected you'd be at the very least slightly more jovial about such a discovery, but instead found himself in a conversation he'd rather not have. Your confused prompt was enough of an answer for him, clearly rattled by his untimely drop of such nearly unbelievable news. "I mean, are you sure? You didn't mix up a few numbers there?"

"Why has this become a controversial topic?" Briefly, he harks back to the argument from the other day, remembering how shaky and unsure you'd been in accompanying him when it was time to go. "The signal was weak. I have not heard anything else besides those coordinates."

You pause, index finger coming to tap at tightly pressed lips, thinking intently for a moment. "Did it sound like someone you know?"

Magnus recoils slightly, wordlessly impressed that you had thought of such a thing and he had not. "No. But I do not know which Autobots are on Earth, and the channel was arduously unsteady. All I could find was mostly static,"

It had not jarred or dawned on him immediately who was on the other end of the line, more so that they recognized his code and knew his designation. This level of inanity was beyond him, rushing headfirst into something because he wanted this lost and lonely feeling to be swept from his processor in the snap of a finger. But you had quelled that, if only in the present, and when you bring up such outstanding points, he finds it difficult to turn a blind eye. The more he mulled it over now, the more he was willing to say firmly that it was not Optimus Prime who picked up his distress call.

He silently swears, shaking his helm. "Allow me to rephrase. Why is this destination of Wisconsin such a difficult subject for you?"

"First of all," You begin counting on your fingers, and he knows he's in for a long-winded rant without the formality of asking for one. "It's far away, like states away. Second, you don't even know if that's your team!"

"Distance is not an issue." Magnus stands, beginning to pace the cockpit as you're left on the dash, looking up at him with wide eyes. "No other Cybertronian would have access to that channel unless they were near in proximity to interfere. And as far as my sensors can reach, I have found no other life forms that resemble a Cybertronian's signature, at least within our circles."

"Just because you can't 'sense' them doesn't mean they aren't out there. What if they found a way to cover their trail?" Arms come to cross your chest, hands gripping at your upper body as if to hold yourself upright. The memories come back in sparse and disoriented stints, but you will never forget those nearly piercing red eyes, offhandedly certain what you saw did not call this planet home. "I'm just saying. Hell, half the time I don't know what is going on. But if you want my opinion on this instance, it sounds like a setup to me."

When your tone wavers just enough, he pauses, whipping his helm to stare down at you, rather intently. "Is there something you are not telling me?"

You freeze, jaw snapping shut in defiance or surprise, not entirely sure which. "Uh...no?" It comes out eventually, not even venturing to sound remotely believable. "All I'm trying to say is that it seems a little sketch that you're so confident you're alone out here."

"This mission has tried my patience more than I care to discuss nor think about," Magnus gravels, still studying you keenly as if your lie was ready to be made true. "I have waited endless rotations for another beat of Cybertronian code within these perimeters. The night I found you, the only life form I could find was yours."

Faltering, you toy with the idea of telling him what you saw, unsure if now of all times would be best to start divulging calamity lies. Ultimately, you shake your head, losing such a recalcitrant stance as you slump into a defeated one, words slipping from your tongue as if your subconscious begged its release. "That...can't be true. The thing that was chasing me had these bright, red eyes." Sensing his follow-up question, you hurriedly continue. "Not like mine. They shed light, Magnus. Like yours."

A familiar silence overcomes the room and releases a query if it could, you're positive you just watched his eye twitch. "What?" He dares, unmoving.

"I didn't realize the significance of it until this very moment, or else I'd probably would have never told you." It releases as an uncomfortable whisper, unconfident to move forward, gaze now trained on your shoes. "I'm not being difficult for fun; I'm being honest. I saw something, and I'm pretty sure it was-"

It's almost frightening how he moves without making a sound, startling you as two hands slam on either side of your form, swaying your already unsteady stance. Here, you look up at him confused, hurt- a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they are fiercely blinked back for the sake of obstinacy.

"Why the hell would you keep such essential information from me?" He seethes, leaning forward until there is only a foot or so between your noses. It only flares his temper more when he thinks back only to the previous night, where a red light had been seen so close to your home, swept out of sight every time he'd scoured the horizon to catch a glimpse of it once more.

Instead, your fingers ball into fists, squeezing them taught to stifle the fear that slipped back up from your stomach to settle in your jumbled words. "Because you never asked." Blindsided by heated rage, you can only imagine the anger that brims in his chest as a snarky reply to boot wasn’t doing either of you any favors.

"I did." This reminds you of the night you met Ultra Magnus, that same unapologetic terror that rises like a vice in your throat. "And you lied."

Magnus had known something was chasing you, that was quite obvious per your restless behavior. It had crossed his mind that there was a high probability that it was another Cybertronian, even a Decepticon, and that is why he intervened when he knew he should not have. But after you’d fainted, he’d burnished the area, and there was not another living soul to be found.

Why you looked so terrified was beyond a simple question, though it was insanely difficult to determine whether you’d be forthcoming in sharing such information. As it all makes sense, coming together like an unfortunate accident, he can’t help the indignation that seeps into his tone.

“We haven’t seen it since last week anyway, so why does it matter?” You press, trying to swallow the tears that recoil up from your stomach after every swallow. “You’re acting like you just saw it yesterday.”

When he doesn’t reply, a painful cue arises that he wasn’t being entirely truthful either. “…Right?”

All too quickly, his snarl recedes, slumping his shoulders forward until his helm is hung just at your chin. “I did see it last rotation, yes.” He toys with the idea of not telling you where, but he’s all but lost this battle, an unfortunate observation. “Outside your habsuite, just after you went to sleep.”

It doesn’t take entirely long for you to decode what ‘habsuite’ means, an irritation ebbed free. “Are you fucking joking?” It’s not fair, you understand deep down he doesn’t deserve it, but it’s an immediate reaction that you cannot control. “Magnus, it’s tracking—“

“I know that now.” He ex-vents, digits twitching as they move to slide closer to muddy shoes as if you would disappear at any moment. “If you had relayed that intelligence to me earlier, I likely would have moved the pace of our endeavors a little faster,”

Fingers come to your hair, pushing flyaways back as scrambled thoughts peruse a crowded mind. “You initially asked me when we first met. I didn’t think telling you then, as it was supposed to be the last time we saw each other, would be beneficial- I honestly forgot about it.” That same fear now accelerates, finding it increasingly more difficult to control the tears as the outlandish notion hits you in full force. "It knows where I live-"

The now infamous tremble in your voice sends a vast number of warnings to his processor, alerting him that you are in immediate distress and your heart is beginning to beat wildly an unfairly familiar sound. "I said I would keep you safe," Magnus pulls back, only slightly as if to address you. And I intend to keep that promise."

"How?" You rasp, skipping over his stumbled recollection of a promise, finding well-known tears slipping down rosy cheeks. "We don't even know what it is!"

"Stop fretting," Hesitantly, he lifts one hand off the dash, suspecting that he should try to comfort you, though he isn't fantastically certain on how he should. Awkwardly, it hovers just to your right, just a step away, but your mind reels so fast to process it. “It will do no good now.”

Still vexed, you decide to offer him sarcastic condolences for Pandora's box he most certainly just opened. "Sorry, what should I be doing?"

He takes your question as a literal one, something you were afraid of the moment the question left you. "Formulating a new objective that will get us to Wisconsin the fastest."

Since so many truths were being imparted, you felt it was only right to offer him the one of most importance, at least to you at this very moment. It had been danced around previously, skating the edge of willing versus wanting, and when it finally pushes within the final stretch, a great weight is lifted off your shoulders. "Who says I want to go to Wisconsin?"

For a very painful juncture, you both lock gazes and contumaciously glower at each other until the stalemate comes to an end, but it evidently never does. You hold firm, wanting a reply that wasn't a dense shimmy around the subject, preying on your vulnerabilities as if you could be strong-armed into saying yes. It wasn't a definitive no, more so an uncertainty, but it wasn't impartial of Magnus to just assume you'd drop everything and follow him.

To your utmost nonplus, it is the massive mech at your front that forfeits first but holds firm in his choice of words. "Do you think I would have asked such a burden of you if I thought without a singular doubt that I could accomplish this alone?"

Giving pause, you analyze his words, taking a deep breath before giving a rational reply. "No. I don't, but the line is starting to become blurry as to when this goes from assisting to..."

Magnus offers you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you don't give any inclination to continue, he cues you with a simple: "To?"

"I'm afraid." He makes a noise of displeasure when you backpedal but begrudgingly allows you the floor to do so. "As much as I don't want to say this aloud, I fear I see a resolution that doesn't end well for either of us,"

"And what is that?" It's a murmur, an utterance you wouldn't believe came from him if you weren't the only ones in the room.

"Goodbyes are hard." A simple shrug follows closely to feign indifference. "Might as well just get it over with now, as much as I want to punch you in your stupid face."

A long goodbye is an instance he's well acquainted with, yet your attachment was something that was not accounted for in this bemusing equation. Rather yet, his attachment, and though he will never outright implore you to pursue this mission with him, he is not one to give up so easily either. The notion of his 'stupid face' is passed over for the time being, but he opts to circle back to it at a later date so as not to agitate you any further.

"Suppose we do," He finds amusement in the way you balk slightly, as is offended he went along with your proposal. "And what would I gain, y/n? Leaving you here defenseless with whatever was spooring you?"

Magnus feels disgusting deploying such scummy tactics to heighten your fear and exploit such guilt, but he could bear it if he were to be selfish just this once. Comrades would argue this whole endeavor had been thoughtless, employing organic assistance in scenarios that could have likely gone other routes, but in his view, this was the singular case in point.

He watches your eyes jump wide, shoulders locking as he can practically see the gears turning in your mind, surveying your options. Eventually, you relent, sighing in grieving defeat, not without emitting a well-deserved swear. "Asshole." It comes out from clenched teeth, easily biting your tongue. "I'm gonna have to call work for an early vacation...and go back to my house and pack a bag."

Though somewhat amazed at your unlikely surrender, he regains his composure rather fast. "I can work with that."

"Let's say...twenty-four hours for departure time?" You sniffle, trying to create a schedule in your mind that doesn't completely destroy your work hours. "Or do we need to get going sooner?"

Ultra Magnus softens, if only a bit. "I am not going to rush you, not at this rate. That is perfectly adequate for me."

"I guess I owe you an apology, too." Tiny fingers find one of his, patting his digit gently and averting your gaze at all costs, unable to meet his eyes any longer. "For not telling you- not being entirely honest. I shouldn't have lied, it just...felt best at the time."

"There is no reason to dwell on it now. All immediate crises have been averted." Giving in to your touch, he doesn't pull back as you patiently expect him to. "I accept, though I owe you one as well. I only had your best interest in mind, y/n, if you can find it in you to forgive me."

Teeth sink uncontrollably into your bottom lip, gifting him two simple nods. "Yeah. I can manage that."

That same repeating silence overcomes the cockpit, to which you can't help but wheeze a laugh to break its overpowering furor. At your nervous rattle, Magnus tilts his head to the side, curious about the origins of its seemingly abrupt interruption. "Is something amusing to you?"

"I don't know whether to laugh or to cry," A shameful admission, one that you hesitate to carry out earnestly. “Just, one more thing. Promise you’ll take me home after all this is over?”

Such an obvious request, one that he had no intentions of denying, especially with how eventually easygoing you’d been in this whole encounter. “Certainly. I promise.”

He pulls back, proffering his pinky, to which you tap it with a gentleness he’s always known you to have. “Good.”

The drive back home was eerily quiet, chin in your hand as you balanced some of your weight on the passenger door. Everything out the window looked scarier at nightfall, trees twisting into long shadows as he eventually reached the dirt road that leads into town. Nausea overcomes you, still unable to convince your psyche that what you were doing was right, an unwillingness to defray somewhere else.

“Would you prefer that I stayed this time as well?” It’s the first thing he’s said to you since the promise in those metal walls, a soft rumble as his voice envelops you in the cabin. “If it were to ease some of your nerves, I do not mind.”

”No,” Chewing on your bottom lip, you hardly look at the dash before moving your head back towards the faintly frosted window. “You’ve got things to do, as do I. I should be ready to regroup around noon tomorrow.”

It appears his overture was not a suggestion and more of an insistence, to which he gives a noise of disquiet. "Hm, very well. If at any point in the evening, you find your habsuite is no longer safe, I stress that you phone me immediately." The seat cushion nudges you as if to say 'pay attention', but you hardly give him a nod of acknowledgment.

"Mhm." You now recognize the hunch as anxiety, fearing this was all rushing together faster than you can keep up with.

"Are you listening, y/n?" A little more than a prod this time, alike a soft shove, the interior mirror jerking your way erratically. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"To call you if I see anything," You mumble, slowly moving to look at the mirror. As if he didn't believe you, he huffs in response but continues onwards without another word.

With vast reluctance, he unlocks and opens the door upon arrival at your home. He'd already asked too much of you, and beseeching that you remain with him for the next rotation would be crossing an already thinning line, and he'd rather you stay commonplace with him rather than become upset.

When you don't say anything, opting to clamor out and down the stairs, apparently very eager to get inside, he calls after you. "Rest well, y/n. We have a long journey ahead of us next rotation."

He's taken aback for a second time as you only wave over your shoulder, arguably lost in thought and not even realizing your impertinence. "Yeah, g'night."

Magnus watches you up the stairs, closing the door over only after you've made it inside, not even sparing him a passing glance. He wasn't so comfortably insulted, he's exhorted much of you in a short amount of time and understands your havering. After adding much to your already overflowing plate, it's not insane for you to feel overwhelmed or downright exhausted, a familiar feeling, lest to him.

Perhaps out of habit or subconsciously due to keeping his promise, he lingers just out of sight from your home, keeping an eye as a good watchdog does.

#sul tf writes #transformers #maccadam #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers prime #ultra magnus #ultra magnus x reader #ultra magnus transformers

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lilap20 · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter IV : Heaven is where we meet at the foot of the Heart Tree. P.2

Part 2 updated, hope you will like

@koobratzy

@beebeechaos

“Go for Nymeria” huh?

But what an idea, I'm much too shy and impressed to do that kind of thing. Standing next to the Place of the Queen, which is actually empty, I take a look at the assembly. They are all dressed richly, wearing the distinct colors of their houses. My red and gold dress reveals my shoulders, its long gold lace sleeves covering my arms. She is the perfect mix of my House and Velaryon's, my hair is held in a braided bun behind my head with rubies in it like Rhaenerya.

But those who are the most impressive are the Velaryons, dressed entirely in gold, adorned with jewels like gods, they walk down the long aisle towards the table proud and arrogant. It's in these moments that I miss my uncle Daemon, he would have laughed at their pride and relaxed me. But he's not there, and I'm next to a ghost queen's place.

-We are here to celebrate the union of two individuals but also of two great Houses who have been friends for a long time. My father begins, taking his cup

I look towards the Hightower table and don't find the Queen, part of me wishes she had a bad fall down the stairs.

-May this evening be dedicated to love and…

The doors open wide, with a noise that attracts the attention of the crowd. My gaze freezes at the appearance of Prince Daemon proudly dressed in red and black, his short hair combed back with a bit of dragon's breath in it.

I want to jump and run into his arms, punch him and argue with him, and I know my sister's heart is pounding. My uncle comes forward with a mocking and jovial smile, he approaches the table and faces my father, who, with astonishment allows him to sit with us, thanks to the Gods at my side.

-Nice entrance, uncle. I greet in a low voice which makes him chuckle

The King resumes his speech, raises his cup and drinks which allows us to do the same with smiles and cheers. We all sit around, the guests talking and eating, the music dancing around us. My uncle tries to look at Rhaenyra and I know she's looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Embarrassed by their attentions, I concentrate on the crowd, looking as usual for the Nordien table.

Usually at a banquet or a big event it is always empty, but tonight it is full, Cregan's men and himself always drinking and eating a little apart from the others. As if he knew I was watching him, Cregan turned towards the royal table, met his gaze with mine and raised his cup towards me.

-This time you got noticed on your own. Taunts Daemon while drinking

I barely have time to reply before the doors open to reveal the Queen wearing green. The entire room falls silent as the Queen appears in her war colors.

It is in these moments that “Dracarys” is invoked in my head, but I must remain silent so as not to fan the destructive flame that Alicent Hightower is creating. The Queen dressed entirely in green representing nothing other than her House challenging us, the Dragons, with her head held high and proud.

I might vomit.

We all get up except Daemon who, despite his gesture, insists that I get up. I do it reluctantly, blowing so that the table can hear me and Daemon chuckles. The Queen confronts my father and I almost grab my knife and thrust it into her hand, then she sits down and we all do it.

Viserys let anyone challenge him and now everyone realizes we are divided.

The music resumes, the dances and the words too, but the table is slightly tense. I quickly drink a little of my wine trying to shift towards Daemon who is laughing.

-I never thought I would see you here, uncle.

-I wasn't going to miss my niece's wedding. Daemon smiled while drinking

-You like dramas so much. I swear with a little smile

-And not you perhaps?

I give him a sideways glance and he chuckles loudly enough for our table to glance at us, I hide my laughter by drinking some more wine. Rhaenyra looks at us, raising an eyebrow, managing to calm Daemon's mocking laughter.

-Your look doesn't change, I turn to my uncle, you still look at him just as intensely, he plays with his glass attracting the attention of the whole table, too. When is your trip to the North?

I choke on my drink, Alicent turns slightly outraged, my father and Rhaenyra raise an eyebrow.

-Daemon. I whistle

He smiles brightly, and I nudge him which makes him burst out laughing, by the Gods I'm glad he's back, I missed him. His humor, his provocations. I missed everything.

-My sister, Rhaenerya calls me, will you accompany me for a dance?

I smile, nodding, getting up at the same time as her, my eldest quickly comes to my side and takes my arm, smiling, completely ignoring the green plant next to us.

-Happy dancing Princesses. Daemon smiles

We had barely arrived in the great hall when Rhaenyra was taken by my cousin and fiancé Leanor for the first dance. In the front row, I look at them with a little smile on my lips, they are magnificent and perfect for each other in terms of appearance.

After a few minutes, guests arrive to dance with them, the dance floor receiving again and again couples for dances, the music spinning the Ladies' dresses.

-Do you want to dance?

I jump a few steps with my hand on my chest, Cregan laughs under his breath and I roll my eyes at his mocking laughter. He holds out his hand to me and I accept with a beating heart. My smooth skin slides against his calloused hand, it is small in his and I find myself liking this contact.

Cregan takes me to the dance floor among all his guests, my sister who is dancing with Ser Harwin raises an eyebrow when our eyes meet, and I look away, turning red.

Cregan's hand slides down my back spreading goosebumps, raising the dragon fire within me, our bodies brush together as we begin to move, his two-colored gaze holding mine, our hands linked, my hand on his shoulder, his on my back.

-Your eyes are incredible Princess. He compliments in a deep voice, they fascinate me

I blush when I hear his compliment and a small, intimidated smile stretches my lips.

-I thank you, Lord. But I have to be honest with you, his hand tightens on my back crumpling my dress, your eyes are even more fascinating.

Finishing my sentence, my voice was only a whisper, Cregan remains a little shocked, his pupils dilating a little, his hand bringing me closer to him in a caress that sets my veins on fire. My breathing becomes ragged again, my right nose becomes red, our breath caresses our faces and we forget the room around us.

POV External

The Prince, Queen, King, along with Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, all watch as Nymeria and Cregan Stark dance as if no one is watching them.

-Princess Nymeria and the Lord of Winterfell seem to get along well? Notice Lord Corlys

-I don't know what you're talking about, Lord Corlys? Viserys retaliates by cutting his meal

Daemon chuckles as he drinks for the umpteenth time. How Viserys can be so stupid and blind? Marrying Rhaenyra to Leanor is one thing, but not seeing that there is a real attraction between the young Wolf and the People's Princess was just absurd.

She's grown so much, he thought, she seems so mature in the wolf's arms, but also very shy.

-My brother, Daemon intervenes, even if my opinion does not count, I only want the happiness of my nieces, and the young Wolf and my little Dragon have always been connected.

-We will do without your opinion Prince Daemon…

-I'm not talking to you Alicent, so don't interfere in the lives of the Princesses, you are nothing to her. Daemon growls exasperated by her

Viserys tenses in his chair, while Princess Rhaenys rolls her eyes an old smile on her face, she's agree with Daemon, but she will never say it. Lord Corlys cannot hide his smile while drinking and suspiciously watching his son talking with his date. If his son does not pull himself together he will not survive at court, everyone will look at him since he will be the husband of the heir to the throne.

-I support Prince Daemon's opinion, Princess Nymeria seems to appreciate the young Wolf just like him. Explain Lord Corlys

He glances at the King who stops eating to watch his youngest daughter dance with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on her lips. She was happy with the young wolf, and he realizes it, she laughed with him, and he too, but he didn't want his only memory of Aemma with Rhaenyra to go far from him.

-My brother, Nymeria deserves to be happy, and King's Landing is not the place for her, she likes adventure, not court. Finishes Daemon by emptying his glass

His gaze finds Rhaenyra dancing with Ser Harwin, swallowing his bitterness he turns his eyes towards Leana his little cousin, a grin stretches his lips.

-Please excuse me.

-Daemon!

POV Nymeria

The cool wind blows through my hair, goosebumps rise up my back, Cregan caresses it gently, his warmth making me blush for the umpteenth time that evening.

-Your hands are warm for a man from the North. I notice smiling to myself

As soon as I say the sentence I widen my eyes, my remark is completely inappropriate and may allude to…

-Forgot what I just said.

Cregan bursts out laughing, removing his hand and I suffer this loss violently, he stops walking and I do the same standing in front of him facing his hoarse laughter.

-I like your remark Princess, whatever form it took in your head.

Oh gods, are we flirting now? My heart begins a maddening race.

-What, I swallowed, what shape did it take in your head? I ask breathlessly

Slightly shocked, Cregan frowns, approaching me a little, his mischievous gaze igniting my violet gaze.

-Are you flirting with me Princess Nymeria? -Nymeria, I swallowed in front of his gaze, just Nymeria.

The noise of the gardens, the wind in the branches of the trees, his hand caressing my ribs, all my senses activate and discover a sensation that I can describe as desire.

-Then call me Cregan, just Cregan.

Our noses brush against each other, my memory takes me back to our meeting in front of the Heart Tree, our hearts beating in unison, I avoid his gaze, his breath against my temple, his hands on my hips, I sweat I breathe and I die at the same time.

-Nymeria… Cregan whispers and I faint

I grab the back of his neck and kiss him without him even realizing it, I don't think, I slide my lips against his letting myself be carried away by my desires. Immediately Cregan takes a deep breath, he holds me against him, our mouths hungry for each other respond.

His tongue teases my lips and I open them so that our kiss becomes more passionate, his hands are everywhere, mine claw at the back of his neck, play in his hair, our breathing is heavy and damn I feel so good in his arms, so well until this noise which startles us.

-Princess Nymeria! shouts a distant voice

Cregan breaks away from me, a hand on my arm as I slowly pull myself together, he caresses my elbow as I look at him in complete wonder and fear.

-I'm sorry… I, you are running away from this kind of situation and I…

-I wanted it Princess, Cregan smiled shyly, I wanted to kiss you since our first meeting. I wanted you Princess Nymeria, from the beginning. He confesses

My heart has just stopped or it has just started again, hope, love, happiness I don't know how to put a name to the emotions that run through me.

-So why ? During your last visit did you…

-My father speaking to the King, he avoids my gaze while swallowing, his Majesty did not want to separate from you while you were all in mourning, and I understand that.

It is true that I was ten and four years old, my mother had just died, my little brother too, and my Uncle was kicked out of the court. It’s true that it wasn’t the right time for me to leave.

-And I didn't want to make a decision without talking to you first. I didn't want to force your hand…

-I will be gone, I cut him off with emotion in my voice, I will be gone with you Cregan.

Surprised and bewildered, Cregan approaches me a little further, taking my hands in his.

-Will you still speak to the King? I ask looking at our hands

I pray to the Gods of ancient Valyria that his answer is positive. Cregan has been married before, lost his wife quickly and told me he doesn't want to remarry anytime soon only here we are in this garden talking about my future and his.

-Only if you want me to talk to him about it. he responds while maintaining eye contact

-I want it Cregan, I find his eyes, I really want it.

-Then I will talk to him.

-Princess ?

Our hands linked, Cregan and I turn towards the voice and slowly I remove my hands, meeting Ser Erryck's gaze. I lower my head before looking back up at him as he looks at the two of us.

-Everything is fine ? I ask approaching him

-Blood has been shed Princess, Ser Joffrey was beaten to death in the great hall by Ser Criston Cole

My mouth drops completely open at my shock and Cregan steps forward shocked too.

-We were looking for you Princess, everywhere, the Crown Princess is about to pronounce her vows. Continue Ser Erryck

-I'll be there right away, I turn to Cregan and he nods.

When I run into the great hall, the floor is covered in food, the blood of my cousin's lover is on the same floor and on his clothes, Rhaenyra is disheveled, her white dress stained with blood , dried tears on the face.

-Sister ? I ask taking her in my arms

-By the Gods, I was so scared. She whispers

She smells of Daemon I notice, his scent is all over her. And before I even ask him a question, the Maester calls out to us.

-Let's go Princess, let's get ready for the wishes. Begins the Maester

And this is how the second royal marriage begins, in a bath of anger, unspoken, and blood. A glaring example of our family, us Targaryens. Welcome Leanor.

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