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zablife · 2 years ago

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Amnesia

John Shelby x female reader

Summary: John has been away serving in the military. Due to his own mental health problems, he’s been cold and distant. Feeling shut out, you decide to break up with him. When he returns he must deal with the consequences.

Author’s Note: (Modern AU) Written for my lovely friend @magicalxdaydream bc she said she wished someone would write a fic based on the song “Amnesia.” I hope you enjoy it babes!

Warnings: angst, mention of depression

John wasn’t looking forward to going home. He couldn’t bear the thought of entering an empty flat. You had moved your things out two months ago after you’d called him crying over a glitching video call. With makeup running down your face you admitted you didn’t want to be with him anymore. He couldn’t reply at the time, sitting in stunned silence as you explained that he was no longer the man you remembered.

What you said was true and he couldn’t deny any of it. He hadn’t been himself since he had gone away to serve. The things he had seen had changed him forever. When the feelings overwhelmed him and he couldn’t face you over the phone, he would write you letters he hoped you read to know he was still thinking of you. He thought it was more personal than text messages. He couldn’t know that none of his notes actually made it through the mail, making you believe he was more detached than ever.

As John arrived in Birmingham, he found himself restless. After a family dinner, he settled for a drive around the places you used to hang out getting wasted. It reminded him of a carefree time when you were just kids, when things were simpler.

After a week at home his mind hadn’t settled. He hardly slept thinking of you and the last kiss you had shared before he left. He remembered it in detail, how it felt and the way you tasted. He replayed the moment until he drove himself crazy.

He had stayed in that dreamlike state for days, phone ringing incessantly with missed calls from his friends who wanted to reconnect. He’d let them all go to voicemail as he laid in bed unable to escape the memories of falling asleep next to you. He had always loved holding you close until he felt your breathing even out. It calmed him in a way no drug ever could.

He would spend hours looking through his camera roll at all the pictures of the two of you together. He knew it was pathetic, but it made him feel less alone. Then he’d scroll to the ones you’d sent while he was away. Selfies of you going about your life without him. He’d enjoyed receiving them at first before the stress of his job and the depression had seeped in, making it impossible for him to talk to you about it.

Two weeks after he’d arrived home, he got dragged from his flat by his mates. “Hey, man, why haven’t you been around?” they asked pulling him toward the pub. He had agreed because he needed an escape, a way to forget all the stupid little things his brain was holding onto so dearly. Sometimes he wished for a bout of amnesia to wipe them all way. He reckoned a night of drinking would do the job.

His friends told him about the new man you were seeing, but it was painful to hear how you’d moved on so quickly. He wondered how you could leave behind all the plans and dreams you’d had together as though you didn’t need them any longer. It was hard to hear your name again and it hurt to know you were so happy. It was like a conspiracy against him to prove nothing you’d had together was real. As he drank he wondered if it had all just been a lie.

Then he saw you and he had to know. Why did you act like it never happened? How could you act like you were fine? “Cause I’m not fine at all!” he shouted at you. You pulled him by his elbow to the street where it was quiet and took his head in your hands. It had been so long since he felt your touch that he calmed instantly.

He began crying, “I didn’t mean to let you slip away. Tell me this is just a dream.”

“I’m real John and I’m here now so tell me. Tell me what you couldn’t tell me then,” you pleaded.

“Didn’t you read the words I wrote you?” he asked looking at you with a pained expression.

You shook your head not understanding. “I didn’t get any letters while you were away John,” you said tearfully.

So he started from the beginning, taking your hands in his and pouring out his heart, grateful for the chance to explain. When he was through he admitted, “I want to wake up with you beside me again and hold you closer than I ever have before. Will you give me that chance?”

And although you had had someone new beside you everyday for months now, you’d felt nothing but loneliness without your John. Now that he was home, everything felt right.

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

Tag list:

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@tommydoesntpayforsuits

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@easilyobessedbutflighty

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

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@retromafia

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@peaky-cillian

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@floraroselaughter

@cillmequick

@l1-14

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #John Shelby fanfic #John Shelby imagine #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x y/n #John Shelby x you

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safertokiss · 4 years ago

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Through a Different Lens

A/N: Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here. New content wowza. I’d say I’m surprised it’s been a while, but I simply am not. Luckily another fic swap has arrived to get my creative juices flowing once again. The gods have gifted me with another perfect opportunity to write sub spence because I was given @writing-in-april as my person yet again. Hooray! Anyways I hope you enjoy and thanks all you cool cats and kittens for the support (we almost to 1000 yeet skrrt). Also, it just happens to be my birthday today so as a gift to myself I thought about subby Spencer for a while.

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT and can’t forget that fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

ENJOY:)

~~~

It all started completely by accident.

There was no possible way that she would’ve been able to predict just how much they would affect the poor kid.

She could remember, clear as day, the first time she was forced to wear her glasses to the bureau due to her ongoing frustrations with the torture devices that were also referred to as contacts. There were only so many headaches and eye-waterings that she could take before the insecurity of wearing her frames to work shriveled below the point of caring anymore.

But none of those previous insecurities held a flame to the amount of confusion she felt when she entered the bullpen and waltzed over to Spencer’s desk to say good morning with a shy smile adorning her face. Y/n hadn’t even been able to get a complete sentence out before the young doctor had turned to her and froze, his mouth hanging open like a fish, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, the harsh red blush she had seen before, just maybe not to this extent, engulfing his boyish features.

Before she could even attempt to ask him what she had done to warrant such a response, he was spouting out a meager, “H-hey Y/n” whilst simultaneously scurrying off in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

Completely and utterly perplexed over what had happened, she had shrugged it off and made her way back to her desk, silently mulling over the interaction periodically throughout the rest of the day.

It was a couple of the same type of interactions later that Y/n began to take notice of what was actually happening with the boy genius. The stiff and unnatural posture. The stuttering, granted that wasn’t something new, just much more frequent and severe. The audible heartbeat always accompanied by rosy cheeks and goosebumps.

Spencer Reid was fucking turned on by the glasses.

And he didn’t even try to hide it. Or maybe he did and was just really, really bad at doing so.

Either way, Y/n quickly discovered just how much fun it was getting these reactions to pour out of the kid...so of course she kept wearing the glasses even after she was able to wear contacts again. He didn’t need to know that.

It was so fucking easy too.

She would just be sitting at her desk, occupied by some particularly troubling pages of a case file that makes her have to readjust her frames out of stress, when she’d hear a high pitched squeak across the bullpen, followed by the pattering of frantic footsteps she had familiarized herself with in former few weeks.

While she felt some kind of guilt for putting him through this, it was nowhere near enough to overtake the genuine excitement and gratification that came with knowing she could have such an effect on the adorable doctor.

Of course she found him attractive...how could she not with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and nerdy slicked back hair. Ultimately Y/n could understand his apparent infatuation with her wearing glasses as she had caught herself, on more than a couple occasions, openly ogling his own specs.

Maybe they were both weirdos...the whole situation was almost as strange as the Converse kink that she secretly harbored for years. Although her intuition was quick to suggest that, just maybe, both of her unique infatuations stemmed from the same noodle-shaped source.

Perhaps her favorite reaction of his, though, came about during the little office birthday party that the entire team had thrown for him.

He looked so adorable in the gigantic birthday cake hat they had bestowed upon him, Y/n could hardly contain her giggles at the giddy smile adorning his face. She watched on in amusement as Spencer tried desperately to get the candles on his cake to extinguish, to no avail, at least until someone felt bad watching his struggles and decided to give him a hand.

“They’re trick candles Spence, they’re gonna come back on every time.”, JJ chuckled, subtly smirking at Morgan who was also enjoying Spencer’s ongoing struggles.

A couple “happy birthdays” later and the rest of the team slowly began to disperse, leaving just Y/n and him alone in their own little space. He must’ve noticed this too because the blush that had already been present throughout the celebration beforehand seemed to deepen even further as he visibly swallowed down his nerves.

Slowly stalking towards the rouge kissed boy, she dragged a couple of her fingers across the surface of the desk, noting the way his eyes briefly flicked down to follow the movement before hesitantly returning his gaze to match her own.

She also noted the way his knuckles were basically turning white from the amount of pressure he was using to grab the sides of the chair.

“You have a good birthday, Spence?”, Y/n drawled with a teasing smile, now standing directly before the trembling young man.

Seeming to snap out of whatever sort of trance he had been in, he hastily cleared out his throat before responding with a bit of trepidation. “Hmm...yeah-yes uh yes it was v-very good, than-thank you.”

She couldn’t even attempt to conceal the smirk that had made its way to her lips listening to the genius stutter through his words. Such a nervous, nervous boy. So adorable. So fucking hot.

“Well that makes me happy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself pretty boy.”, she paused her thoughts soaking in the little hitches in his breath surely from how close she was standing near him and the added nickname. Deciding to play a little bit dirty, she leaned over directly into his line of sight to reach for the cake set before him.

“Now how about I take this away and cut it up for all of us to eat? Hmmm?”

His eyes darted immediately to the cleavage that was so graciously presented to him as she bent over to pick up the dessert, a sharp little gasp escaping his pretty, pink lips as his pupils dilated carelessly.

Y/n inwardly smirked at his reaction and began walking towards the kitchenette, but only made it about three or four steps before being interrupted.

“Did you know that in some instances birthday candles are safe for wax play?”, he exclaimed before seemingly realizing what had just escaped his lips, his hands flying up to cover his traitorous mouth.

Bewildered, in the best of ways, by what had just been said, she slowly swiveled back around, facing him once again, before placing the cake on the desk beside her.

“What was that Spencer?”, she grinned at the petrified man who hadn’t made a single noise since his unexpected declaration. The poor thing looked like a caged in animal with nowhere to escape. Perfect.

“N-nothing! I m-mean obviously it was um s-something, but j-just uh just forget what I s-said.”, he quickly explained while frantically shaking his hands as if he was hoping he could simply wipe your memory of the last minute or two away permanently.

“No, no please go on.”, she teased. “Now I’m intrigued. What did you mean by ‘in some instances’ Spence?”

She wasn’t expecting the look of confusion, however brief it was, that peeked its way through the overwhelming embarrassment that had been showcased on his face, as if he truly couldn’t fathom that someone was actually asking him to go into more detail about a topic.

Still didn’t change the fact that he was completely mortified.

Clearing his throat, he hesitantly lifted his gaze back to Y/n’s, seemingly debating with himself over whether he could articulate the words to come out or not.

“Um...well..usually many p-people who choose to e-engage in such act-activities will use specific types of c-candles that are uh more designed especially for pl-play.”, he paused and she drank up the way his Adam's apple bobbed along his throat. “Uh… basically depending on the t-type of candle that one u-uses, the amount of pain or um d-discomfort differs. B-birthday candles tend to b-be on the more painful side so only the couples who are in-into that kind of thing would ever really utilize t-them.”, he finished abruptly, his leg bouncing rapidly in her line of vision.

She still couldn’t really believe she had actually gotten him to say anything at all, nevermind an in depth analysis on wax play. In a weird way she was proud of him. Really proud. Sometime amidst her thoughts, she’d found herself standing directly behind his sitting figure, her hands resting on either side of him against the table, the goosebumps visible on his skin from the implications of the position they were currently in.

“That’s really intriguing Spencer. I’d love to find out someday just why it is you know so much about the subject, but I don’t want to make you go into cardiac rest anytime soon.”, she remarked, giggling at the shy smile that made its way to his mouth.

She didn’t even register reaching out to lightly touch his lips until she heard his sharp intake of breath. Until he turned his head so they were mere centimeters apart. Until she watched his puppy eyes dart between her lips and your frame covered gaze. Until the space between them seemed to be lessening with every sec-

“Hey pretty boy! Where’s my cake?”

Y/n grudgingly pulled back at the interruption, watching in amusement as Spencer’s body instinctively leaned forward as if his lips hadn’t gotten the memo and were still searching for hers. “It’s coming right up you lazy ass!” she yelled back with a grin on her face.

She looked back to the boy sitting before her and was almost mesmerized by the dazed look present on his face, the blush slowly retreating as he came back to his surroundings. She could tell there were words that he wanted to say, but they just didn’t seem to be forming fast enough to actually come out. Deciding to put their little moment on hold before he passed out, she walked back over to the neglected dessert and started heading towards the break room again.

“I’ll make sure to save you the biggest piece, Spence.”,she threw over her shoulder, chuckling at the bewildered look still that was still present on his face.

~~~

The day was a big success in her opinion.

Spencer looked even more like a child than usual with the big shit eating grin that remained throughout the celebration and the bulky hat that he refused to take off. She could never understand how someone could have such an affinity for sugar as she watched him devour the huge slice of cake she had carved up for him.

But hours later, it was just her and Spencer left in the building.

And she was not about to let that go to waste.

Y/n could see him from where she stood at the entrance to the kitchenette. She could see the way he slouched over his desk with his legs curled underneath him, criss cross applesauce, as he scribbled down whatever case file he was working on. She admired his determined work ethic, that’s for sure.

But now was simply not the time to work.

Spencer immediately froze as soon as her body situated itself to be leaning against his desk, painfully aware of her gaze on his tense form.

“H-hey Y/n.”, he nervously murmured, the stutter once again making her giddy.

“Hey yourself doc. Wanna tell me why it is you’re still here working at such a late hour? Doesn’t the elusive Spencer Reid have better things to be entertaining himself with?”, she drawled, her piercing gaze making the poor kid squirm before her eyes.

“Oh um no...n-not really. I actually don’t mind working late. It’s k-kind of therapeutic in a way. But um...I’m happy t-that you’re here w-with me.”, he whispered the last part as if he was scared you wouldn’t appreciate his gratitude.

But she appreciated it more than he knew.

Noticing the little pencil holder situated amongst the file stacks on his desk, an idea popped into her mind that she just couldn’t shake, prompting her to pick it up and begin fiddling with it.

“Oh is that so pretty boy? Does my presence satisfy you?” Before he could even attempt an answer she “accidently” dropped the holder on the ground, the array of pens and pencils dispersing among the floor. “Oops my bad.”

Spencer immediately scrambled out of his seat and onto the floor to start collecting the colorful writing utensils, the perfect distraction needed for Y/n to situate herself on his desk with her legs spread open directly in front of his face.

“D-don’t worry abou-”, his sentence cut off as he looked up and was met with the tantalizing sight of her white lace panties already damp with her excitement. She swore he could die happy with the way his eyes widened and cheeks flushed. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“See something you like baby?” Unable to even form words, the young doctor slowly nodded his head, eyes still locked on the obvious wet spot between her open legs.

“C-can I..can I um…”

“Use your words baby boy. Can you what?”, she spoke clearly, grasping his chin so he’d look her in the eyes.

“C-can I taste you?” She couldn't get over the desperate way he spoke as if he’d die of thirst if he didn’t get a drink from her.

“Of course you can sweet b-” Not even letting the words leave her mouth, his hands were eagerly pulling her panties down and off her legs, his lips instantly connecting with the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. She swore his tongue and lips were enchanted with the way he was able to effortlessly maneuver his way around, easily picking up on what she loved.

“Oh Spencer you’re such a good boy.” she couldn’t resist threading her fingers through his silky hair and tugging slightly, an action she assumed he enjoyed based on the muffled whine she heard from between her thighs.

It hadn’t even been more than a few minutes before she found herself already on the verge of letting go. No guy had ever been able to make her feel this good and just electric until now. He was quickly ruining her for anyone else in the future. She did not mind in the slightest.

“Baby I really wanna feel you inside me. Is that something you want sweetheart?”

He reluctantly pulled back after a few more kitten licks to her clit, wide eyes finding hers and whimpering out a broken “yes”. More than happy with his response she gently pulled him up by his hair and started undoing his belt, his oversized pants easily falling down without the extra support. Just another thing about him that she had come to adore. She was very pleased by the obvious bulge that protruded through his baby blue checkered boxers.

Before she pulled those down too, though, she very gently reached up and cupped his cheeks, guiding his plump lips to her own, basking in the delighted whimpers that escaped his mouth at the soft but passionate contact. She released his lips with a slight nip and proceeded with his clothing removal, coaxing him to sit down in the swirly chair he had been previously residing in, before straddling his lap.

“You ready sweet boy?”, she asked leaning forward to kiss his rouge forehead and cheeks.

“Mhmm I’m r-ready.”

Taking that as the go ahead, she cautiously positioned herself over his throbbing erection before slowly lowering herself inch by inch until he was completely enveloped by her tight, warm walls.

“Oh-ohh my.”, he whimpered at the overwhelming feeling of being connected so intimately. Gently, she started to move a bit more, hesitantly lifting up before lowering herself back down, flush against his lap, one of her soft hands anchoring herself to his shoulder while the other caressed his flushed cheeks.

“I know baby, I know. You feel so good baby boy I don’t think I’m going to be able to last much longer.”

“M-me neither.”, he stuttered as the pace she had previously set seemed to increase in speed, the excitement and ecstasy getting to the both of them and subconsciously pushing the two of them closer to their shared release.

The fire was quickly building within her body and she knew she was truly crumbling at the seams, but with the way his body was trembling and his dick was subtly twitching inside of her she knew he was right there too.

“It’s ok baby boy, it’s ok. Cum for me sweet boy. I want you to cum inside and fill up my pussy Spence.”, she muttered feeling the beginning of her end crash unexpectedly throughout her entire being, grasping onto the boy underneath her to tie herself to the earth.

Overwhelmed by the utter euphoria of Y/n cumming around him, Spencer let himself get thrown off the edge, his hands tightening on her waist hard enough she was sure little bruises would form come tomorrow, not that she minded at all.

“Oh Y/n!” She watched on, obsessed with the way that his mouth fell open in a little o-shape as his eyes squeezed shut, the tell tale signs of pleasure coursing through his veins, the warm feeling that he left deep inside of her as she gently lifted herself from his shaking legs, reaching for her panties before the warmth was able to escape down her damp thighs.

Looking back at the trembling boy after cleaning herself and him up, she couldn’t help but melt at the lovesick, puppy dog eyes he was giving her, prompting her to lean forward and leave more little kisses on the top of his damp hair.

“That was incredible Spence. Really incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before baby.”

She melted even further at the way he shyly dropped his head to somewhat hide the wide grin that had spread like wildfire across his face. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before his head lifted with a questioning glance.

“How’d you-I mean uh how did you know that I liked you?” There was no way she could control the giggles that left her lips at his silly question.

“You weren’t exactly subtle with the whole glasses thing Spence.”

And then the only sound heard throughout the building was her full blown laughter at the mortification that speedily adorned his cherry cheeks.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

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Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

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sanchosammy · 4 years ago

Text

Baby, I was going to tell you.

Description: You find out through a friend that your husband has taken another job with the guys. This leaves the two of you to have a very serious talk.

Warnings: Mention of Frankie’s drug problem. Cursing. Slight NSFW. Trouble with getting pregnant. Slightly angst, but made up with fluff.

Note: I did edit this while being very tipsy on a margarita...Yeah. I feel like this isn’t my best work, but it is a very cute story. (This does have Frankie and the reader actively trying to have children. If you’re not a fan of children, this won’t be for you. I just wanted to put that out there!)

Word Count: 4,373

Tonight was your turn to host dinner with your favorite neighbors. Jacob and Hannah, the first married couple you met who was tolerable to hang out with. That was considered a rare find in the marriage world. It was nearly three years back when you and Frankie officially tied the knot and afterwards you searched to find your forever home.

And you did four months after the wedding! A beautiful home to raise a future family. Since then the couple next door had been nothing but pleasant to the two of you. They’ve helped out whenever you needed a hand with a house project that turned out to be a little more than a four hand job, and the couple had attended nearly every party you’ve ever hosted. With that, Jacob and Frankie became close friends over the years. The two of them spending time in Jacob’s ‘man cave’ as he called it. A lame way to say they played pool and talked about who knows what on the weekends.

You didn’t mind though, in your mind it was healthy for him to have someone like that in his life. A friend outside of his old service buddies. Not that you didn’t love the men you’ve come to know, but he needed someone who could normalize his life a little.

It was a beautiful night. The sun setting in the distance as the summer sky remained bright. A soft warmness covering your skin from the perfect weather. The four of you sat at the table on the brick patio in your backyard. The string lights hung above you beautifully setting the mood for the evening, it was a small project you asked Frankie to do a month ago.

He loved to tease you about ‘overworking’ him since you’ve bought the house, but it was only jokes on his end. You knew he loved those projects. It was something to prove he was needed somewhere and you did everything possible to make sure he knew you couldn’t do it without him.

“The meal was delicious as always, (Y/N).” Hannah complimented as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, the plate in front of her now empty. Jacob chimed in an agreement as he complimented the taste of your well-known lasagna. It was a meal you continued to make for events throughout the years and it was always praised.

“Thank you,” You responded, a little flustered by the attention but nonetheless happy with everyone’s satisfaction from the meal. You loved to host these small dinners with friends. A part of you knew deep down this was used as a distraction, nothing but a small activity to keep you busy outside of work. Truthfully, you and Frankie had been trying to have a baby.

Sure, it was only four months into the attempt, but your disappointment had started to stick with you. The excitement running out slowly, and was replaced with a small flame of doubt left. Your doctor assured you that some women’s bodies take time after switching off from their birth control, but that didn’t stop the worry you carried each month that passed. Frankie had been so supportive throughout the whole process as he continued to promise you that the time will come when you become parents.

It was sweet of him. He tried so hard to make you happy and somehow always managed to bring back your smile. It reminded you of why you adored this man so much. You just wanted to be a mom… The mother of his children.

Frankie practically beamed with a look of pride beside you. His arm rested against the back of your chair as he placed a kiss on the side of your temple, his mouth still close to your ear as he commented “Thank you for dinner.”

You returned a soft kiss on his cheek in response with a quiet ‘you’re welcome’. No matter how many years passed, you still looked at him like a love-sick puppy and he looked at you the exact same way. His brown eyes softened whenever he looked at his beautiful wife. The only thing that made him feel complete in life.

You stood up collecting Frankie’s plate, that was before he swiped it from your hand casually while picking up yours as well from the table. “No baby, you cooked. Let me clean up.” He smiled as he started to collect the rest of the plates.

“Allow me,” Hannah chirped in as she picked up the side dishes before you could protest. A small tease came from her as she passed by. You were the type to do it all no matter what, and so Hannah liked to force you to relax once in a while. Both Frankie and her tended to bother you about taking on too much.

You watched the two of them head towards the house to put away the used dinner plates. Hannah talking to Frankie about the new window panels he put up.

Jacob was now standing with you, a small chuckle leaving him. “Your husband is going to kill my bank account. Everytime that woman sees something Frankie did in the yard, she wants to change something about ours.”

You couldn’t stop a small laugh. You grinned as you replied, “I’m sorry about that Jacob, I’m usually the one who put Frankie up to it.”

There was a small pause as Jacob looked at the kitchen window. Hannah kept Frankie in place as she talked about something in the house, that woman could talk forever. Jacob’s smile faded as his eyes came back to yours and his voice came out softer than before. “I know things are probably really rough right now, (Y/N). If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. No matter the time or day.”

You blinked at him. You had no idea what Jacob was on about, or what he was being so soft hearted for. Did Frankie tell him about the baby trouble? You didn’t think Frankie would spill such personal information. “What are you referring to?”

“Frankie told me about them calling him into deployment… I know that has to be really hard on you. He’s been putting on a brave face about the whole thing but I don’t think he’ll know how to function without you.”

You paused for a brief second and forced out a chuckle. “Frankie isn’t being deployed, Jacob.” He clearly had Francisco mixed with someone else. You would know if your own husband was being shipped off anywhere. Plus, Frankie said he was never going back to that life. He told you himself countless times. Though your smile faltered as you looked over Jacob’s face and the silence between the two of you became deafening.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Your question came out a little breathless, “Jacob, did Frankie tell you that himself?”

The new information hitting you like a freight train. You watched as the guilt on his face spread. You felt like you couldn’t breathe suddenly and you wanted to burst into tears on the spot.

As Frankie stepped out of the backdoor he saw you. He knew that look, and his movements slowed down. He hasn’t seen that look since the neighborhood cat you secretly fed was hit by a car and you cried for the rest of the week. That heartbroken look hardly showed up on your face and worry shot through him instantly.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he came by your side. He noticed the look of remorse plastered on Jacob’s face. The mood in the air was now stiff, and the light from the summer sky was filled with darkness.

You turned towards him and your voice cracked as you asked “You’re being shipped off?”

He stiffened in front of you. He was going to tell you soon but he wanted you to have a few more days of bliss. This isn’t how he wanted you to find out though. Frankie knew you wouldn’t take this well, he had been married to you long enough to know how devastated you’d be hearing the information. He had planned to be sensitive about this as much as he could, and now here he was looking at the tears filling your eyes in front of him.

His shame now matched Jacob’s and that told you everything you needed to know.

“Baby, I was going to tell you.” His words fell short as you pushed past him. Not allowing him to finish his explanation. You couldn’t believe Frankie hid this from you, and told Jacob before you for that matter.

You weren’t deaf upon him calling your name behind you, but you didn’t want to see his face. You shut the backdoor behind you before rushing upstairs towards your shared bedroom. Tears finally surfacing as you let out a sob.

A few minutes passed by as you sat alone on the end of the bed. The bawling slowly died down into a quiet sniffle. You couldn’t believe your husband was leaving. The two of you had never spent time apart like this since you’ve started the relationship.

Frankie assured Jacob that it was alright after hearing him apologize for several minutes, but he was just attempting to be polite for his own sake. He had enough shit to deal with after tonight, and he didn’t want to add a fight with his neighbor on the list. Plus, he needed Jacob’s support for when he left. He needed to know there was someone there to help you while he was gone.

The house was silent when he entered through the backdoor. It became an unbearable reminder in his mind that you’d be alone in the silence while he was God knows where in the jungle. As he walked up the stairs he didn’t miss the sound of your quiet sniffling behind the shut bedroom door. His heart shattering with the confrontation of how he was hurting you.

His knuckles knocked on the wood. He didn’t want to push your boundaries by walking in when you were in a vulnerable position. The sound of you telling him to ‘Go away’ nearly made him wince.

A sigh escaped his lips as he rested his forehead against the door. He couldn’t stand the feeling of you being this upset with him. Your marriage wasn’t perfect by any means, but you had never shut him out like this. He called out keeping his voice gentle “Please let me in, (Y/N).”

There was a pause as he waited. You shuffled to the door and opened it without looking at him. You didn’t want to face him, but you couldn’t leave him outside the door like a kicked dog. You returned to your spot on the bed without a word.

Frankie awkwardly followed and placed himself next to you.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. He couldn’t take it. He was the reason you looked this upset and that killed him inside.

“This is another thing with the guys, isn’t it?” You asked as you finally looked at him.

He nodded his head faintly. His eyes studied your expression and it was filled with disappointment. You brought your hands to your face trying to remain calm. Your relationship had always been filled with communication and you wanted to keep it that way.

“I’m just so…” You bit your lip feeling the tears coming back. “I’m so hurt. You didn’t even ask me, Frankie. Why would you do something this dangerous while we’re trying to have a baby? I thought you were finished with all of this when we got married.”

He found himself forcing back his own emotions. He wasn’t comfortable with crying; but as with everything in his life, it was different when it came to you. He hasn’t felt this kind of guilt since your second year of marriage, when you found out about his little cocaine problem he tried to hide from you. That was a war within itself that left the two of you crying on the floor a couple of times because you refused to let him spiral throughout his recovery.

He cleared his throat trying to push away the burn. “I know…” He wrapped his arms around you trying to soothe your shaking figure. “I was done… but Santigato needs a pilot, and I thought we could use the extra money for the baby. I thought I was doing the right thing for us.”

You were upset still, but his words melted your heart. That’s Frankie for you. He tried so hard to be the perfect husband. And he was in your eyes. He was such a good man and he did everything for you without a complaint, but he personally struggled to feel like he was enough. A part of you knew deep down Frankie had never forgiven himself for the cocaine situation he had put you through. He carried the guilt on his shoulders, no matter how many times you told him that it wasn’t something for him to feel guilty about. That never stopped Frankie from trying to do more to show his worth and love for you.

“Money isn’t worth your life.” You looked up at him. You noticed his eyes were glossed over before he kissed your temple to hide away his pain. He forced out a strained ‘I know’.

You knew that you could guilt Frankie out of this mission, but that seemed unfair to do to him. He wanted to do this because it would prove that he could provide, and that he was the husband he wanted to be. Could you really push down your own fears to allow your husband on some stupid operation so he can have self closure?

You let out a sigh. You shifted to hug him back and his arms tightened around you in response. You mumbled into his chest “... How long would you be gone?”

He stiffened in realization that you were considering letting him do this.

“I don’t know…A week or two.” His hand started to rub up and down your back. He knew this was stressful for you, and that’s why he was even more grateful that you were considering.

“Is it…” You wanted to ask if it was dangerous, but of course it was. Everything he did with them was dangerous. You silently recalled the stories he told you about the shit he did before you started dating. You take in a deep breath and change the question, “How risky?”

“I told Pope I wasn’t doing anything with active fire.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. At least he put down a ground rule. That didn’t change the fact that anything could go wrong though, and that’s what scared the hell out of you. It was hard to make a call on this when you were wrapped safely in his arms. His cologne surrounded you and brought peace like a favorite candle.

It dawned upon you. “Frankie, what about your pilot license?” You questioned, confused. He was still under review, he couldn’t legally fly anything right now. His chest vibrated as an uncomfortable chuckle came from him.

“It doesn’t really matter in this case… Will knows a guy.”

“Sounds legal.” You joked. He gave a half-hearted smirk at the comment.

You pulled back from his arms with a hesitant nod. He was surprised that you were giving him the green light to do this. His heart beat a little faster as it reminded him of another reason why he loved you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” You collected some air for a second. Forcing yourself to come with the terms that this was going to happen. “If you feel like this is something you need to do… Then I’m here to back you up.”

You blinked before suddenly his lips were on yours. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back and fall backwards on the bed. He was above you as he leaned away slightly, his chest pressing against yours with heavy breathes.

“I love you.” His brown eyes looked over your face. He studied every part of it. He had seen it so many times and somehow each time it managed to take his breath away. How did he land someone like you?

“I love you too, Frankie.” You smiled at him. Your hand reached up to run through his hair. You liked when he kept his hair long like this, and so he never cut it too short. He didn’t care either way since he covered it with a ball cap most of the time anyway.

You didn’t notice his hand started to explore further until your breath hitched. You weren’t sure when his hand slid under your dress, his fingers tracing the bottom of your panties causing you to freeze from the contact.

“Francisco.” You shivered from his touch, which only brought out that shit eating grin of his.

“What?” He played innocent before he started to press kisses in a trail down your neck. Pleased when he heard the soft moan that escaped your lips after he left a love-bite. He could feel himself practically drunk off your perfume alone. “I just want to show you how much I’ll miss you.”

You started to lean into his touch as his fingers pulled at the soft fabric. He lifted himself up to look at you again. The need in your eyes making him weak. You stopped him by his wrist and he paused immediately.

“What about Jacob and Hannah?” You blinked at the sudden memory of your neighbors downstairs. The last thing you needed was your friends hearing you moan from the upstairs window.

“Oh,” Frankie breathed out in relief. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea that you’re worried about the neighbors after everything that happened tonight. “I sent them home after you went inside, honey.”

“Dammit!” You cursed quietly. “I didn’t get a chance to give them dessert, I made cheesecake.”

You frowned at him a little regretful of how the night ended with them. He laid there propped up on his elbow admiring your beauty. He was so beyond whipped for you, and it was the best part of his life. His smile returned as he leaned forward pressing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled back again.

“Too bad for them,” He commented and you watched him move to the spot between your legs. His hands busied themselves unbuttoning the sundress you wore as he looked back at you. Your cheeks flushed as you realized where he was going with this. “I found something else sweet to eat.”

He had only left a couple of days ago, but you missed him so much. The two of you had never spent more than a weekend apart. Plus, you had something important to tell him. Your hands nervously shake as you look at the white stick.

There it was in front of you… The little pink lines you’ve been praying to see. Tears pooled your eyes as emotion took over again. You were filled with an indescribable type of joy. You had no idea which night was the reason for this surprise because honestly your sex life with Frankie was a regular occurance. And now you had a new reason to be thankful for that.

You had taken the test a few hours before but it felt so unreal that you continued to come back and look again. You did a couple of them just to be sure, and everytime the pretty color appeared in front of your eyes. As happy as you were inside from the news, this only heightened the state of your anxiety because Frankie wasn’t home.

You weren’t even sure if you should tell him until he came back. A part of you was worried this would be a distraction that could throw him off, and you didn’t want him to have another thing to worry about at home.

Looking in the mirror as you placed the test back on the counter. The soft smile beautifully placed on your face. You wished Frankie was here to experience the moment with you. You imagined you’d be squeezed into a hug right about now.

You jumped as your cell phone brought you back to reality. The screen lit up from the spot on your bed waiting for you to pick up the call. An unrecognizable number from Brazil…. Frankie?

“Hello?” You questioned nervously.

“Hey, it’s me.” Frankie’s voice was on the other end. You relaxed at the sound. He was safe right now.

“Hey! How’re you holding up?” You asked.

“Uh,” He let out a small huff before he continued. “Everything is planned out… Which means you might not hear from me for a few days.”

“Yeah, I figured so.”

You knew this part was coming, he told you in advance. Once everything was sorted out that means he’d be out of service until they’re back on their way home. That didn’t stop the small pit of sadness from washing over you.

. It was going to be difficult to not know if he was alive for several days.

“Hey, hey,” He called out softly into the phone trying to bring back your attention to him. He knows how easy it is to spiral into every ‘what if’ possible. “I know what you’re doing. It’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

You listened with the phone pressed against your ear. The sound of him shuffling away from what sounded like the guys in the background. He continued talking in a hushed tone for privacy, “This will be good for us… Money for the future baby, right?”

It was an attempt to cheer you up and keep your spirits high about the whole ordeal. Your view shifted back to the bathroom as you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to tell him now, it seemed impossible to keep him out of the loop for several days. What if Frankie died never knowing? The thought made you feel sick.

“Actually, I…” You stuttered out. You paused as your mind raced between the idea of not telling him and spilling out the truth right now. No, no, you couldn’t hold this in. You had to tell him in case anything happened. Consider it encouragement to come home.

“Francisco?”

“Yeah? I’m here, baby.” He waited patiently as there was a small pause on your end. His nerves started to feel uneasy by your sudden hesitation. His own what ifs started to float around his brain.

“I’m pregnant.” You say it in one motion. Not rushed, but quick.

His eyebrows scrunched together and he stood still in the room alone for a moment. His mind trying to process what you just told him through the phone. He heard the words clearly, but his brain wouldn’t connect them together.

“What?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Frankie, I’m pregnant. The test was positive.”

His breath hitched and his heart stopped, “Wait, really?”. The two of you talked about becoming parents for so long, and he tried to be encouraging the past few months. It seemed unreal to finally hear the words out loud. “I-... This is… We’re going to be parents.”

“Yeah,” Your voice broke, but you were filled to the brim with happiness. “We’re going to be parents, Frankie.”

You heard it, and you almost didn’t believe your ears. There was a sob on the other end of the phone. He tried to hold it in as he covered his mouth with his hand, a couple of tears falling down his face in the process. Frankie hardly cried like this. It was the type of cry that comes from the bottom of someone’s soul and it only surfaced if somebody died or a fucking mirale happened to you.

“Francisco?”

“I’m here, baby.” He repeated the words he used earlier. This time his voice strained from emotion. He wiped his face with his hand trying to collect himself before he had to return back to his friends. “I’m just overwhelmed… In the best way possible. Fuck, we’re going to be parents!”

You let out a small laugh trying to stop your own crying. “I’m so happy, I can’t wait for you to come home.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, his voice leveled out now “Let’s celebrate when I come home. Whatever you want to do, I’ll do it. What about that restaurant you’re always talking about, baby?”

You snorted. “Frankie, you hate that place.”

It was true… It was overpriced and he didn’t think the food was worth the forty minute drive, but that didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to spoil you for everything you’ve done. You allowed him to come on this stupid operation in the first place, and now you’re pregnant with his child.

“It doesn’t matter, I know you love their fettuccine alfredo.”

“Frankie Morales, you know my weakness.” You hummed into the phone.

He chuckled in response before replying “How do you think you got pregnant in the first place, sweetheart?”

You burst into laughter “You’re terrible for that.”

His laughing was cut short as someone walked in the room. You heard them mumble out ‘we have to go’ before Frankie replied an okay back.

“I have to go, mi amor.”

The nervousness returned as you were forced to remember this was it for now. You weren’t going to hear from him for a couple of days and you’d have to hope everything went smoothly on his end. “Be careful, please?”

“Of course. I’ll be home in a few days, okay?” He said the words like a promise rather than a reassurance. “Don’t stress yourself out over this, and take care of yourself until I come back. I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Francisco.”

The phone clicked and the call ended. He had such a new fire in him now. His heart pounding in his chest was only a reminder that he lived another day to be needed. His focus was now on coming home in one piece. He had a wife and kid on the way, and nothing would stop him from coming home to you.

Taglist: @warrentrash @mandoclan

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier x you #triple frontier x reader #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #sammywrites #sanchosammy #triple frontier catfish #catfish x reader #catfish x you

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savagesbonergarage · 4 years ago

Note

A quickie with Maul WITHOUT PLOT

Hmmm....

Wise of you to add that on the end there.... But is it gonna be effective? We'll see.

I'm gonna make this 100% just self-indulgent porn since that's really all it needs to be right

I'm malfunctioning how did they get there what's the occasion and the timeline and the state of the relationship and the galaxy and ahhhhhhhh okay I need to get it together

UPDATE: LMAO IT’S SO LONG AND THERE’S KIND OF SOME PLOT, I FAILED SO EXPONENTIALLY HARD. 🤡

(A/N - General ns/fw, definitely more explicit than not, but overall still not super hard stuff?, quickie, bj, power kink I guess?, hidden feelings, I think that’s about it honestly, if I’m missing something let me know)

Throne sex? Throne sex.

Maul

"... And Prime Minister Almec's influence has recruited warriors from among the civilians who would join our cause," you reported.

You stood alone before Lord Maul, who sat in his signature pose with his mechanical leg propped up atop the throne of Mandalore, resting his head on his hand as he gazed out the large transparisteel pane with a look of complete boredom and disinterest. He didn't even bother to look your way as he responded drily. "Fascinating."

You were tempted to raise your eyebrow sightly, but even though he wasn't looking at you, the fear of confrontation kept you from doing so.

"Will there be anything else, My Lord?"

The zabrak finally managed to direct some of his attention to you, his menacing eyes looking you up and down as his countenance changed with an ominous smirk. "Yes. How long before my blissful solitude is once again interrupted?"

You immediately checked the chrono on your datapad, afraid that you may have caught your new leader in an agitated state. The last thing you wanted was to be a recipient of his anger if you displeased him somehow, so you opted to simply be efficient in the tasks you were given. "You have a meeting in about eight minutes, My Lord."

"I see..."

Something about the way he was intently gazing at you made you uneasy, as though you weren't quite finished here and were expected to know why. You straightened your posture and put your datapad away before you geared up to leave. "Do you require anything else of me, Lord Maul?"

There was a new look in his eyes, something you hadn't ever seen until now, and the sudden change in contrast from before of his full and immediate attention on you sent a strange, yet not unwelcome shiver coursing through your body. Somehow you felt the previous uneasiness slip away and in its place was...dare you acknowledge it...want? Whether it was involuntary or not, the powerful man before you had you wishing there really was more you could do for him.

His gaze was nearly leaving burning holes everywhere his golden eyes tracked on you, each place they lingered a pathway into some rather inappropriate thoughts as it was fairly obvious exactly which parts he was shamelessly staring at. What's more, you didn't mind it in the slightest. You felt a little exposed, but in such a delicious way. Could you truly be tempting him, or was he simply teasing you in some show of authority over you - or was he really just that bored?

Suddenly, your train of thought ended when Maul planted his leg back onto the ground and unflinchingly brought his gloved hands down to work at the sealing strip of his pants. You barely registered what was happening before an impressive phallic appendage was gloriously revealed, held between two of his fingers at the base as an offering. Despite being synthetic, it twitched and leaked just like-

"Well?" he implored nonchalantly with his non-existent brow raised in a curious manner.

It was too late to conceal the slack of your jaw and flush of your face, your heart pounding as you finally processed the reality in front of you. Reflexively, you swallowed and looked over your shoulder and then back to find that this wasn't some kind of joke or game, but a genuine request. It was a miracle you managed to speak coherently at all.

"Erm, right now, My Lord...? In eight minutes-"

"Seven, now," he interjected, adjusting himself to present his lap as a rather inviting seat, "but surely your schedule permits?"

He did have a point - and who were you to deny the needs of your handsome new ruler? You did make an obligation to yourself to do your tasks efficiently, and it wasn’t as though you were hesitant about the prospect of it, either. No, with an opportunity having presented itself like this, it would be suboptimal not to show your enthusiasm, wouldn’t it? Not to mention time was of the essence now, unless you were fine with a group of officials walking in on you fornicating with the dangerous zabrak...which, as you pondered the possibility, it only served to send that pluming heat within you to entirely new heights. He certainly wouldn’t stop if that were to be the case, and a hidden part of you hoped that it would indeed work out that way, if only so you could feel more like Maul’s favored slut.

You wondered if this was solely due to the influence of the beckoning sith atop his throne, or if you had secretly always been such a promiscuous person - in any case, it hardly mattered. The priority of the moment was in being a good little subject and serving your master, and perhaps if you did a suitable job, you’d be given the privilege of doing it again. In a bout of courage that faintly surprised you, you found yourself at the foot of his throne standing mere centimeters from his legs, careful not to touch him unless instructed to as you ardently asked the most important question of the evening.

“How would you like it, My Lord...?” You didn't bother to hide the sultriness in your voice, which seemed to please him immensely as the corner of his lip curled into a scheming smile, his hands quickly moving to your waist to pull you in closer as he answered.

"I trust in your discretion to satisfy me. I believe you already know what I want, and it seems that you're certainly eager to give it."

His hand slid over your thigh and to the source of your radiating heat, burrowing his digits between the crevice that the fabric of your pants was unfortunately shielding from the supple flesh there, yet that didn't prevent his touch from being any less euphoric. It might have embarrassed you somewhat at just how apparent your eagerness was, however it was clear that the man working at your own sealing strip was enjoying the spoils of your arousal already. His words still rang throughout your mind, making you relish in the freedom and permission that was implied there - he was asking you to be as slutty as you wanted, knowing full well that you were ready to be his whore the moment you first laid eyes on him.

He wasn't wrong.

With his affirmation to take charge and the ever-present knowledge that you were pressed for time at the forefront of your mind, you relaxed your inhibitions and got to work. After a few more ruts against his hand, his grip followed yours to your waistband and aided in tugging the annoying material to the floor, returning one to it's former place on your slick flesh as you stepped out of your pants and boots. It was impossible to suppress the moan that escaped your lips, however, you were aware that this wasn't solely for your pleasure.

Six minutes left.

You quickly got down on your knees and carefully handled his cock, licking your lips before you kissed the tip of the wet slit and wrapped your hot mouth around the circumference of the ridge, swiftly lapping your tongue around the head before you started sucking. His groan of approval fueled your movements as you gradually unhinged your jaw and began going deeper, bobbing your head with every stroke and eventually taking him as far as you possibly could. You gagged a little, but it didn't deter you in the slightest as every time you choked on him, a moan was drawn from his lips.

Not only could he feel everything despite not having an organic organ, your ministrations were proving to be more than what he was anticipating as he groaned and moved to grab a fistful of your hair to still your actions. Your hungry eyes meet his as you drew your head back and released his cock with a loud, echoing, wet pop and licked away the string of saliva that connected it with your bottom lip.

"Is everything all right, My Lord?" you inquired with a perverse lowness in your voice, already drunk on lust as he held you in place for a moment before slapping your waist in a gesture to rise through his uneven breaths.

"Up."

You complied with his order, lifting yourself back onto your feet as Maul practically pulled you into his lap by your thighs in a hasty move that nearly had you falling against his chest, but you were able to brace yourself against his arms. His dick rested against your abdomen, still warm and wet from your tongue as his fingers found their way back to your entrance to prep you for his cock. The way he tilted you upwards to lightly jerk himself with your own slick as he lined up with you was so tantalizingly good that you nearly forgot about the time constraint you faced.

Four minutes.

Your canines pierced your bottom lip as he entered you, the galvanizing pressure against your walls as you adjusted to him being so invigoratingly good that your hands gripped his shoulders without warning as you moved to sink down completely, ripping a gasp from the both of you in unison. You knew that you’d need an entire minute just to get used to the feeling of being so full, although sadly you couldn’t afford that kind of time in the present moment.

Maul, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be too preoccupied with that particular technicality and held you firmly by your hips to keep you from shifting, and in an unanticipated move he rested his forehead along the curve of your neck. The heat of his skin and breath tingled across your own flesh, the sensation strangely more intimate than the actual joining of your bodies - rather, it felt like a different kind of intimacy entirely. It wasn’t merely in the way his grip on you remained solid or the new titillation of his lips against your skin; it was in the stillness of it all, how instead of insisting you ride him immediately, he preferred to simply feel you for an evanescent occasion, no matter how brief.

You momentarily forgot the apprehension you had when the compulsion to kiss him infiltrated your mind - not the sort of lustful kiss that would be more appropriate for the situation, but a tender, more profound one. Would he mind such a gesture, you wondered, or would he even be able to discern the difference? One of his hands had moved from your waist up to the nape of your neck as you thought this, eliciting a soft moan from your mouth as he lured you in closer to him until you were chest-to-chest, the indication of the motion prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck so that you were symmetrical to one another.

Two minutes. Only two minutes until...

There simply wasn’t time for this kind of lenient indulgence or immersion, nor did the circumstances permit for the kind of casual affection you wanted to deliver. There was also the fear of him retaliating against a more tender action if he caught one to consider, so with a whisper of a sigh, you started rocking and bucking your hips against him.

Maul had been uncharacteristically quiet up until this point, an audible “oh!” escaping him as you continued your movements and utilized your nether muscles to grip his shaft with an ample amount of tightness. You fully planted your knees on either side of him and adjusted yourself so you could ride him properly - and in this case, that meant clutching onto his dick for dear life while you jerked up and down along his entire length like a jackhammer.

His head rolled back and his eyes became half-lidded, the rapid rising and falling of his chest indicating his closeness as he kept one of his palms on your leg to grip the meat of your thigh for support. For the first time in minutes, he finally spoke again through a strangled groan.

“That’s it, stars it’s so...”

His train of thought seemed to leave him as you worked him even harder, somehow taking him even deeper when you kegeled with the entirety of his cock inside. A twinge of pain indicated that his cockhead was nearly breaching your cervix, a fact that might have concerned you if there was any reason to believe you could get pregnant - and even if there was...you weren’t so sure you would care.

Less than a minute-

Luckily, it wasn’t long before you felt the crimson zabrak tense up beneath you and hold your hips tightly against him once more as he came, the spasming of his cock followed by the release of heat that filled your insides as he stilled and...

...and kissed you.

He had grabbed the nape of your neck again and brought your mouth to his all in one swift movement, capturing your lips with his own in a surprisingly graceful manner. It wasn’t chaste, his tongue immediately finding yours and warring with it as the dual beating in his chest matched the continuous pulsing of his gradually softening dick, but the action still caught you off-guard nonetheless. It certainly wasn’t unwelcome, and you found yourself matching his pace until he eventually relaxed, breathlessly parting from your lips and leaning back into his seat.

There wasn’t much time to even think, as over the sound of your breaths you could hear the faint echo of footsteps down the hall fast-approaching. You quickly pushed yourself off of Maul’s lap and frantically gathered your pants, managing to hastily get each of your legs through the proper channels and hoist the waistband over your hips, still fumbling with the sealing strip while you faced your master as a barrage of stomping boots was perceived behind you. You ruler had managed to tuck himself back into his own trousers in time, a sly smirk hidden beneath his otherwise fierce countenance as he addressed you.

“We’ll continue this conversation where we left off later tonight.”

Your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat. He was wanting to see you again, to have you service him again after this agreeably satisfying evening. You nodded, a faint smile gracing your features as you bowed and turned to leave, brushing past the officials entering the throne room who were none the wiser about the sinful conduct you’d engaged in with Lord Maul of Mandalore.

You still secretly wished the session would have continued longer than it had despite the newfound company.

And you certainly hoped to continue meeting and surpassing Maul’s expectations in the bedroom - or wherever he saw fit - for a long while to come.

#darth maul #maul #maul x reader #maul x you #darth maul x reader #maul smut #lemon #star wars

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ibijau · 3 years ago

Text

on AO3

Beta Nie Huaisang goes to check on omega Lan Xichen, since his lover hasn't gotten in touch in a few weeks. When he finds Lan Xichen nesting, he can only conclude that the child isn't his.

It had been a while since Nie Huaisang had last seen Lan Xichen, and longer still since he had come to the Cloud Recesses. Usually, for everyone’s convenience, it was simpler for the two of them to meet in the Unclean Realm, where people knew to mind their own business, and where Nie Huaisang’s failings as a sect leader gave them a good excuse to spend time together.

It had been over two months since they’d last met. In all that time, Lan Xichen had only written once, and about sect business too, so it hardly counted at all. And so Nie Huaisang, who was in the area for some other dealings of his, had decided that it would probably be fine to drop by and check on the omega.

The men watching the gate did not bat an eye upon seeing him, since it wasn’t so unusual for him to come unannounced, but one evasively warned him that Lan Xichen might be busy. That wasn’t a problem of course. Nie Huaisang had a permanent invitation to make himself at home in the Hanshi for those times Lan Xichen wasn’t free to deal with him right away.

So like always he headed right for the Hanshi, already wondering what tea he’d make for himself while Lan Xichen dealt with his own business. Only when he entered the Hanshi, Nie Huaisang was struck by an unexpected sight.

The Hanshi, usually so neat and tidy that one could have eaten off the floor, was an absolute mess . There were fabrics everywhere in all shades of white and blue as well as the occasional dash of green, plus a great number of cushions of many sizes that Lan Xichen was organising in some manner that must have made sense to him.

Nie Huaisang gaped at the sight.

Lan Xichen was nesting.

There was no other explanation. Although Nie Huaisang was a beta, as a sect leader he’d had to deal with that sort of things before. People were always surprised to hear about it, but Qinghe Nie was very welcoming to omega disciples, and of course alphas had to deal with their spouses. A whole portion of the sect’s budget was dedicated to this sort of things, just because Nie Huaisang had found that it spelled trouble to have a frustrated omega failing to build their nest exactly as they envisioned it. In fact, although he complained about the waste of money, Nie Huaisang found the process somewhat fascinating, and he’d always been happy to give his opinion whenever asked for it.

This nest, though, was instantly hateful to him.

It wasn’t as though Lan Xichen and him had made any clear promises to each other. They liked to fool around when they could, but being a beta he couldn’t mark the omega, and would have been unlikely to ever impregnate him. That was the whole reason why Lan Xichen allowed himself such liberties with Nie Huaisang: it was a safe way to scratch that itch without ruining his prospects for a proper match when the time came.

Still, even without promises, Nie Huaisang had thought they had a certain understanding. He had never taken other lovers since falling in bed with Lan Xichen, and not just because he was too busy for it. Compared to the esteemed Zewu-Jun, everyone else felt boring, no matter if they were alphas, omegas, or betas. But Nie Huaisang himself, by comparison… well, if Lan Xichen had found himself a proper mate, an alpha, he couldn’t be blamed for it of course.

Busy with the delicate task of constructing his nest, Lan Xichen didn’t realise that he had company until Nie Huaisang closed the door behind himself, a little more forcefully than he should have.

He hated the way Lan Xichen’s face illuminated upon seeing him, so pretty like this, kneeling in the middle of his half built nest.

“A-Sang!” he exclaimed,. “I was just about to write to you, as soon as I finished with this.”

He gestured at the mess around him, and Nie Huaisang couldn’t help a disdainful scoff.

“I think I’d have waited a long while before seeing that letter then,” he remarked. “Congratulations are in order it seems. And I suppose I’d better leave you to it, you seem very busy.”

“Nonsense, you simply have to help me,” Lan Xichen protested, picking up an embroidered cushion and looking around for the best place to put it. “I’m not too good at this, but you’ve said you’ve helped with that sort of things before, right? I need your expertise, A-Sang.”

If Nie Huaisang had been a reasonable person, if he’d had a little more pride, he would have left immediately. Hearing himself still being called A-Sang after this hurt too much, as did Lan Xichen’s casual attitude, as if he truly didn’t realise that it might pain Nie Huaisang to discover in such a brutal manner that he had been replaced. Above all, no self-respecting person should have had to help their lover help prepare a nest for someone else’s child.

But apparently, Lan Xichen really saw no wrong with that. Nie Huaisang, kindly, decided to blame it on nesting frenzy rather than on the omega’s tendency to close his eyes to anything he didn’t like thinking about.

Lan Xichen was the only person that Nie Huaisang could have allowed to be so cruel to him without hating him. His one weakness, now and always. So instead of leaving, he quickly untied his shoes and came to join Lan Xichen in the middle of his nest.

“Hold this,” Lan Xichen ordered when Nie Huaisang knelt next to him, handing him some delicate furs, a present from Nie Huaisang himself some years before. “And this, and…”

“Quite the luxurious nest you’re building here,” Nie Huaisang remarked as he started laying the furs and fabrics around so they would be both elegant to look at and comfortable to lay on. “Is that even allowed by your sect’s rules?”

“It’s my nest, I get to decide how I want it,” Lan Xichen replied in a playful tone. “For once in my life, nobody has the right to tell me how to do this. I will take full advantage of it.”

“Hm. And what about whoever sired your child? Don’t they also get a say? Maybe they’ll think this is too ostentatious.”

For some reason, that remark made Lan Xichen laugh. Nie Huaisang found himself increasingly curious as to the identity of whatever alpha had gotten his friend with child. It couldn’t be another Lan, or else Lan Xichen would not actually allow himself to be so extravagant. A Jin then? He really didn’t like the idea that it might be a Jin, because there was only one of them close enough to Lan Xichen for this to happen, and if Jin Guangyao had dared to touch the omega…

“He won’t mind,” Lan Xichen claimed with laughter still in his voice, before grabbing Nie Huaisang to kiss him.

Again, Nie Huaisang thought of protesting on account of his pride.

But what was the value of that pride when Lan Xichen's lips were on his, tender and demanding, when the omega's arms were wrapped around his waist to pull him closer.

Nie Huaisang had sacrificed his pride for less pleasant purposes before. He didn't mind doing it again, for one last tryst with the man he shouldn't have loved.

One of Nie Huaisang's hands grabbed the back of Lan Xichen's neck. This made him gasp, and gave Nie Huaisang the chance to deepen the kiss, licking into that willing mouth. Then, with his free hand he started pulling on the ties of Lan Xichen's clothes, eager to undress his lover.

Under layers and layers of pale silk, delicate skin became revealed. Nie Huaisang's fingers lazily danced over his lover's collarbone, over a firm chest, taking a moment to play with a nipple, just for the joy of seeing Lan Xichen's lips part for a soft gasp. His chest was still all muscle, but it would probably soon start to soften and prepare for the child’s arrival. The thought sent heat coursing through Nie Huaisang’s groin, for which he cursed himself. By the time such changes started appearing, everything would be over between them, Lan Xichen would certainly have married whatever lucky idiot had managed to breed him.

Enraged by that idea, Nie Huaisang tore off the rest of the omega’s robes, letting precious silk pool around them and adding to the mess of the half built nest. When Lan Xichen was left in nothing but pants, Nie Huaisang roughly pushed him down against the nearest pile of pillows.

Lan Xichen went down willingly, though could have resisted if he wanted. He was the stronger between them, and by far, but when they were alone he liked to pretend Nie Huaisang could push him around, to play the part of a delicate and submissive omega. Another game between them, another thing they didn’t talk about, and Nie Huaisang to this day didn't know if Lan Xichen did it for his own pleasure, or out of pity for his weak lover.

It had to be at least partly for pleasure, with the way Lan Xichen gasped when Nie Huaisang, having pulled down his pants pushed a finger into him to find him slick with arousal already.

“Zewu-Jun, how shameful of you to get in such a state while nesting,” Nie Huaisang teased, pressing in a second finger already, while his other hand pressed on Lan Xichen' s shoulder, pinning him against the side of his nest.

Lan Xichen writhed weakly, as if trying to escape but unable to.

“A-Sang don’t, ah, don’t call me that,” he complained, gasping when his lover’s fingers found the right places to tease. “It’s not…”

“Then what should I call you?” Nie Huaisang asked, trying to keep his tone casual even as he added another finger. “Er-ge? Lan-gege? Xichen-ge? A-Huan, perhaps?”

Lan Xichen, whose eyes had closed upon that most welcome assault, opened them again and whined at that last suggestion. Even though they had been doing this for some years now, Nie Huaisang had never really dared to use his lover’s personal name, fearing it would have been too intimate for the sort of relationship they had. Now though, if he was to lose all this, there was little point in not taking everything he could before it was over.

“You’re so wet, A-Huan,” he accused, removing his fingers from his lover’s hole and carelessly wiping them against the side of his naked thigh. “Isn’t it against your sect’s rules to be unrestrained?”

Lan Xichen pouted at feeling himself empty again, and shivered at Nie Huaisang’s words. As if suddenly remembering something, he quickly sat up in spite of the hand pushing down on his chest, proving that Nie Huaisang was only in control because it was granted to him. Nie Huaisang found it a more potent aphrodisiac than actually having the strength to subdue his lover could have been. He then saw Lan Xichen quickly reach behind his head, saw the white embroidered ribbon he wore be loosened and slide down, saw his lover smile at him with that spark of mischief Lan Xichen only ever showed when they were alone together.

“There, now I’m allowed to be unrestrained,” Lan Xichen said after dropping the ribbon out of the way and carefully laying down on the side of his nest again. “Let’s make the best of this, A-Sang.”

He opened his legs a little wider, shamelessly inviting Nie Huaisang to come enjoy his body. Nie Huaisang, in turn, pretended to ignore him and started undressing himself, taking care to fold everything neatly so it wouldn’t get lost in the luxurious mess of that nest around them. Lan Xichen observed him with hunger at first, which quickly turned to frustration.

“You’re teasing me,” he accused with a slight whine to his voice that made Nie Huaisang want to devour him.

“I’m just trying to be respectful,” Nie Huaisang retorted while fighting with his pants, the last item of clothing on him. “I believe your sect has a rule against undue haste, and against being careless with one’s possessions.”

“Then stop being careless with me,” Lan Xichen ordered.

Nie Huaisang froze, unsure whether to cry or laugh. Once again, he was stunned by how innocently cruel his lover was that day. He really should have put an end to this joke and gone home, leaving Lan Xichen to go get fucked by whatever alpha he’d found himself.

He should have.

He couldn’t.

Instead, Nie Huaisang quickly finished undressing, dropping his pants to the side without even pretending to fold them this time, and came to kneel between Lan Xichen’s legs. The omega smiled up at him, so radiant it hurt.

Without thinking, Nie Huaisang’s hand trailed down his lover’s chest, coming to rest on his stomach. Nothing was showing yet, not even the first signs of softness, though when he probed using spiritual energy, he definitely felt there was something there, a presence too small to have reached consciousness yet.

The pregnancy wasn’t very far along, three months perhaps, which would place its start rather close to the last time Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen had been together. That would fit, of course. Last time, Lan Xichen had needed to leave the Unclean Realm in something of a hurry when his heat had surprised him, forcing him to rush home before it overcame him completely… or so Nie Huaisang had thought at the time.

Back then, he’d been disappointed that they’d barely managed to fool around at all. He’d been disappointed at himself, also, for still not finding the courage to ask Lan Xichen to stay, heat or not. With himself a beta there was so little risk of unwanted consequences, while surely it would have been more comfortable for Lan Xichen to go through this with a partner for once…

As it turned out, Lan Xichen hadn’t faced the discomfort of his heat alone. He just hadn’t wanted to spend it with Nie Huaisang either.

Suddenly, Nie Huaisang grabbed Lan Xichen's arm, forcing him to turn around. Lan Xichen willingly obeyed and got on his hands and knees, a spark of excitement in his eyes. He gasped when Nie Huaisang pressed into him faster than he normally did. But then, normally he wasn't so angry at the man he…

The man he didn't want to love, Nie Huaisang thought as he started moving without giving the omega time to adjust. The man he shouldn't have loved. The man who he should have known he'd never get to keep.

“A-Sang, be gentle,” Lan Xichen begged, before moaning when Nie Huaisang, instead, fucked him harder.

The beta soon fell into a punishing rhythm, skin slapping against skin. The only sounds leaving Nie Huaisang’s mouth were grunts, while Lan Xichen alternated between begging to be treated gently or more roughly, as if unable to make up his mind.

When Lan Xichen's pleasure cries became louder, his body tighter, Nie Huaisang found it in him to fuck even harder into that too willing body, until at last Lan Xichen tensed under him, coming undone with a silent gasp. Nie Huaisang kept going, enjoying that slick tightness for a few thrusts more until he felt he could hold on no longer.

Pressing inside as far as he could go, Nie Huaisang bent down and bit as hard as he could onto Lan Xichen while spilling his seed.

It was a vain effort, of course. Still, when Nie Huaisang’s senses returned to him and he saw the imprint of his teeth on the side of Lan Xichen's neck, almost deep enough to have broken the skin, he felt a twisted satisfaction. The mark would fade in a few days, a few hours even if Lan Xichen expended some energy to get rid of it. But now Nie Huaisang knew what the man he didn't want to love would have looked, had he been able to mark him and keep him.

A memory he would surely cherish in the future, when nothing else remained.

Nie Huaisang pulled out and sat up on his haunches, the better to look at Lan Xichen lying under him, beautiful in his contentment, pale skin decorated by the first signs of future bruises. If he hadn't just come, the sight of such perfection on display for him would have made him hard. Even like that he felt some new desire run through him.

Lan Xichen cracked open one eye. He smiled, turned around to rest his back against the now crumbling side of his nest, and opened his arms in a silent invitation. One that Nie Huaisang should have refused, the same as he should have refused all the rest. One he took, as he had taken all the rest.

It was comfortable to lay like this, his head on Lan Xichen's chest, cuddled against one side of that hateful nest. Nie Huaisang could have fallen asleep like this, sated and warm, with Lan Xichen's long fingers lazily tracing senseless patterns on his back.

Life didn't get better than this, and Nie Huaisang was selfish enough to take what wasn't his to enjoy.

"I was thinking what we should do, since both our sects need an heir," Lan Xichen said, just as Nie Huaisang was abput to fall asleep. "If it's a girl, let's raise it like a Nie. Your sect is more reasonable about letting women rule, so it'd be… you don't like that?"

Nie Huaisang shook his head, his body suddenly so tense he could barely breathe, let alone speak.

That child was his?

He would have assumed… betas weren't very fertile, and everyone said they had better chances of conceiving with a woman of any sort than a male omega. Nie Huaisang had made his peace with that, knowing he and Lan Xichen wouldn't… That there would only ever be a very low chance of...

But a low chance was still a chance.

"It's fine if you'd rather see a boy inherit Qinghe Nie as well," Lan Xichen said, his hand turned soothing on Nie Huaisang's back. "In that case if it's a girl, we'll get to spoil her."

"I don't mind seeing our daughter rule the Unclean Realm," Nie Huaisang weakly replied, still terrified he'd misunderstood somehow, that Lan Xichen had just been carelessly cruel again, that…

But Lan Xichen kissed the top of his head with affection, and took to running his fingers through Nie Huaisang’s hair.

"We'll see when the baby is there," Lan Xichen concluded. "I… you want this too, don't you?" he asked, suddenly sounding worried. "We never really spoke about… if you don't want to be involved, I'll… of course I won't force you. I can raise it alone if you're not interested."

Nie Huaisang rose on his elbows to look at the man he loved, who carried his child, and was shocked to find Lan Xichen looking truly worried. As if there were anyone in the world who wouldn't give everything to be in Nie Huaisang’s place. As if Nie Huaisang himself hadn't been ready to sacrifice any dignity he had left for what he thought were scraps of Lan Xichen’s attention.

"We're raising our child together," Nie Huaisang firmly stated. "I'll claim it if you let me, I'll marry you if you let me. Anything you want from me, just ask and it's yours."

Lan Xichen smiled brightly at him, happy beyond words. Nie Huaisang found it in him to smile back.

He would just have to get Mo Xuanyu to hurry up with that ritual, so that Jin Guangyao could be taken care of before the birth.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #for context I started writing this in october 2020 #I am not very good at sexy stuff ok

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glowingbadger · 4 years ago

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Thirsty Libra anon here again. Thank you. My thirst is both sated and reawakened. (Guess you could say I had an Awakening? lol sorry.) If I may, may I request a nsfw fic with him? Maybe a "together for the first time" type thing? Thank you so much in advance!

Thirsty Libra Anon, blessed are you among Anons xD I actually do have a reader x Libra fic on AO3! It's one of my older ones, so there's a few things about it I don't 100% stand by, but the link is here if you do wanna check it out. If I had a dime for every time I wrote a fake prayer to a dragon goddess for priest-kink smut I'd have two dimes, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that that's happened twice

In the meantime, let's play around with something new for our beautiful priest~

Libra (FE: Awakening) x GN Reader - first time

NSFW 18+

It's easy to get carried away chatting with Libra these days. It had taken you both long enough to make your mutual attraction known to one another, and longer still for your relationship to regain the easy, comfortable familiarity it had prior to confessing. So it was an immense relief that today had felt so natural. You'd passed the afternoon in energetic conversation, trading ideas about some of the more fascinating and obscure scriptures he'd introduced you to (they never talk about the really cool stuff in sermons).

And because you'd had such a lovely time together, you couldn't risk letting him know that a part of you wanted more.

Of course simply being with him was absolute bliss- you'd never thought you could be so lucky. He's a private person, and so elegant, ethereal even. It's hard not to feel downright unworthy sometimes. So thoughts of those battle-calloused hands across your body, and golden hair spilled across your pillow would simply have to be stowed away in the back corners of your mind.

Now, the sun is setting outside the confines of Libra's tent among the encampment, and you've no doubt that he would find it improper for you to stay past dark.

"Well then, I should leave you be for the night I suppose. Wouldn't want people to talk!" it's an awkward joke at best, as you straighten your clothes and prepare to leave, "not- not that you would have any interest, I mean-" you add, refusing to meet his gaze.

Libra speaks your name cautiously, and when you convince yourself to look up at his eyes, he's leaning towards you and his brow is deeply furrowed.

"Have I... caused you to believe that I don't desire you?" His hand gently brushes your cheek, which you can already feel warming up.

"Well, uh, not you per say, but I just assumed that-"

With both hands now woven into your hair, Libra pulls you close and kisses you deeply. Your breath hitches in your throat. His tongue pushes between your lips. You feel dizzy, fuzzy, like you're floating, but he doesn't let up until you're breathless and your heart is pounding against your chest.

"Please, Y/N," he murmurs, his breath hot on your skin, "Allow me to repent for this grave oversight. You should never have cause to doubt that I long for you."

It takes you a moment for your mind to catch up, but once it does, you say,

"What... kind of repentance did you have in mind?"

Without a word, he directs you onto your back on his bedroll, and the moment he's above you, he's kissing you again with that same new fire. Your arms drape across his shoulders and his strong hands wrap around to your back and pull you flush against his body. Sometimes you forget how hard and muscular his body really is underneath those conservative robes, but you can hardly think of anything else when the friction between you two is so wonderfully impassioned.

"Libra..." you whisper out his name when he releases your lips to focus his instead at your neck.

"Can you forgive me, my love?" he says against your neck, his lips and teeth grazing your skin as he speaks, "I am prepared to worship each and every part of you that I adore if it will convince you of my earnest desires."

"I'm already pretty convinced, but don't let me stop you," you mutter, the words hardly registering in your own mind. All you can think of is those beautifully soft lips on your skin and his touch down your back. He sets to work removing your clothes; he's methodical about it, taking time to observe and openly admire every inch of flesh bared to him. His long eyelashes almost hide the hunger in his gaze, but not quite. You've never seen that expression on him before, and you're transfixed. Somehow, an edge of passion only highlights the gentle beauty of his features.

With clothing discarded, you're finally exposed to each other in full. Your eyes meet for a moment, but you can't remain idle for long. When he kisses you now, you can tell he's done holding back. You never knew he had this in him, but the way his tongue pulses against you as he nips tender love-bites to your skin is rousing something in you as well.

He spends a good amount of time at your chest. With one of his large hands cupping the outer contour on one side, his lips tend to the hardened nipple on the other. You whimper out his name, your back arches up to him as he sucks and nibbles at the little nub. He groans with raw and unabashed lust, circling it with the tip of his tongue. Then, his kisses trail lower, never easing in their intensity as he travels a path down the center of your torso. You feel him rutting against your inner thigh, his manhood warm and stiff as he says, low and husky,

"Naga forgive me, your body is gorgeous, Y/N."

Before you can make a coherent reply, you feel his fingers at your entrance, massaging gently into you. You inhale sharply, barely restraining your hips that desperately want to buck towards him. One digit pushes inside of you, with the second soon to follow. He maintains a slow pace at first, but his fingers curl up towards him and mercilessly stimulate your most sensitive nerves. Tension winds in your gut already. You're panting softly, and he comes to nuzzle the crook of your neck.

"Relax, my love, allow me to show you the extent of my affections."

"What... what about you...?" You gasp out, leaning into him with the golden curtain of his hair beside you.

"For tonight, do me the honor of allowing me to focus on your pleasure."

He's using that firm-but-kind tone that you recognize from the rare occasions he delivers public sermons, and so you know there will be no arguing this point with him. Instead, you kiss his lips tenderly, and then softly say as his fingers work within you,

"Then please, Libra... please take me for real..."

He takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. Then, his fingers slowly pull out from you, and he positions himself between your thighs. You gaze up at him- at the fair skin punctuated by scars, old and new. At wisened eyes that worship you in the mere act of looking. You give him a shy smile and brush his hair behind his ear.

Libra takes a breath, and you feel the head of his cock pressing to your opening. You've been a bit impatient with him, urging him to enter you without much ceremony or foreplay; still, he's achingly hard, and you can feel his length throb at the mere contact of his body against yours.

Then, he's pushing into you. Your first thought is that his manhood is incredibly thick- a deceptively impressive symbol of masculinity to pair with such a lovely face. A whimper of both need and fulfillment escapes you as he spreads you apart around his girth, driving into you until his hips are held firmly against you. You both take a breath in unison, then, he his lips are on yours once more as his body begins to move above you. The veins up his shaft grind along your inner walls, only enhancing the incredible sensation of his cock pushing and pulling against you, and with each thrust of his hips, the thick head presses to your deepest point.

Libra makes love like in a salacious novel- the kinds of novels that court ladies claim to enjoy for their romances, rather than for their intensely lurid contents. He's tender, focused, passionate, very nearly obsessed. Your thighs squeeze around him, subconsciously urging him closer to you, deeper within you. The entirety of your bodies are joined, intertwined, and you know your climax won't be long.

"I have wanted this since the moment I understood my feelings for you," he whispers to you, a ragged edge to his voice as the pace of his thrusts picks up, "I never dared to dream that you wanted me in this way as well... Nngh..." you reflexively clench around him in response to his words, and he groans deeply, his head dipping down onto the pillow beside you. Your hands cling to his sturdy body, your thighs lift around him just a bit, allowing him to fuck you more deeply.

"Of course I... want you, Libra..." you half-moan, "I adore you... mm! You feel so good-!" His cock throbs and swells, and you feel a tingling rush up your spine. A shudder wracks your body as you cry out his name. You couldn't have expected that this would cause him to snap his hips towards you with far more force than before. "Yes-!" you gasp out, your eyes dazed and unfocused as he chases his own pleasure at last. One hand steadies him beside you while the other wraps under you, holding you to him so firmly that you're practically lifted up from the bedroll. He has incredible stamina, fucking you hard and deep until your eyes roll back and your thighs tremble around him.

And then at last, he holds himself deep within you, only shifting his hips enough to rub the head of his cock against your core. Then, he pulls away. You hear him gasp out your name, and you feel the heat of his release as he spills across your inner thighs. He lets out a truly remarkable amount- which you distantly think that you should have expected, since it's not likely he allows himself this pleasure very often. By the time he pushes himself up from you, panting softly as he regains himself, he poured out all of his cum onto you, though his cock is still twitching in the wake of his climax.

Once more, he holds your hand in his and places a kiss to the back,

"I dearly hope that you can forgive me, my love."

You give him a tired, yet obviously skeptical grin,

"For what?"

"For giving you any cause to believe that I would not desire you. In truth," he goes on, his eyes leveling on yours, "I would have you each and every evening, were you amenable."

Your eyebrows raise, and the pink flush returns to your face.

"That... could be arranged, perhaps."

#libra fire emblem #libra x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem smut #x reader #not sfw writing #feh

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goddessofmischief · 4 years ago

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Blue Monday, Part 1 - Loki x T.V.A.! Reader

Episode One... ‘Welcome to the T.V.A.’

Summary: Loki finds himself in an unexpected location, with a very unexpected partner.

You can read Chapter Two here and Chapter Three here! ...For the first time in his life, Loki Laufeyson was confused. Deeply confused.

All of it... it had all begun minutes ago, just minutes. But it felt like hours.

Minutes, since he had grabbed the tesseract (He’d thought himself so clever then - he was less sure now.)

And since then... he’d been launched into another dimension.

Launched into another dimension. Some thoughts feel stupid, even as if you think them. But there was no other phrase for it.

He’d been surrounded by a group of cloaked persons, then dragged to a location he could not quite place.

Now... now, he stood in an elevator.

And what an elevator it was. There was... a man, standing next to him, who he had not noticed before.

He was a hard person to sneak up on, he prided himself on that. But he couldn’t place blame with himself - this was something else. New magic.

So unlike his. So much... more colorless.

This was earthly magic, devoid of wonder or curiosity. It knew itself. It had bounds.

And he had absolutely no interest in it.

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me?” he said to the man, who looked despairingly ordinary.

“No, I’m taking you someplace to talk.” Loki stared straight ahead.

Everyone always wanted to talk to him - it was what he had to say that they liked less.

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie. Which you just did - cause we both know you love to talk.”

Okay, well, that settles it - he knew not when, and he knew not how - but he would kill this man.

Until then, he would... bide his time.

Find out where the elevator was taking him.

Go deeper to the depths.

"How long have you been here?” The man shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s hard to say... y’know, time passes differently in the T.V.A.”

The T.V.A...

That was the name stamped on his prisoner’s uniform. But why? “What does that mean?” The man merely shrugged again.

“You’ll catch up.”

...

He would slowly, with time, begin to regret that he had come quietly.

When he’d called the place earthly before - well, he had been right. The building was extremely boring. But it became less so with every dropping floor. By the time they had arrived at floor 2T13, it bore almost no resemblance to the building he had first entered.

And this room...

Well, this room was something else.

It nearly resembled a church, in some ways. But there were two armed guards at the front - no, it was a courtroom.

A courtroom. Of all Midgardian things.

But this was not like any Misgardian courtroom he had ever seen. Behind the judge, who was the only person present, except for his escort and the guards, were three large faces, carved into the back of the wall. The judge herself was enough a matter of interest. She wore a cross expression and a red sash, and seemed displeased with him being there.

“Who’s this?”

“Loki Laufeyson,” answered his escort. “The Asgardian, remember?” “Of course. We’ve been expecting him. Crimes?” “Murder. Attempted murder. Attempted overtaking of New York City.” “Gracious,” said the judge. “Attempted!”

“What’re you sentencing him to, Judge?” The Judge appeared contemplative. “Life.” “What?” snapped Loki. He had almost no idea what he was being sentenced to, but he was quite sure he didn’t want to do it for life. “I agree. Judge, surely we can work it down,” his escort offered. “Very well. 2,000 years... or 200 missions. Whichever he arrives at first.” Loki swallowed.

“I’ll brief him,” promised the man, and then he was swept into another elevator and gone.

...

The interrogation room was hardly any less dismal. The ceilings were high, square shaped, and there was almost no light. What light there was made small, geometric patterns on the floor, nearly impossible to see.

“I think I can imagine what you’re thinking,” said his escort. “You’re trying to figure out how to escape. You don’t even know what we’ve brought you into, and you’re trying to escape it.”

Loki chuckled, tapping his fingernails on the small, wooden table.

“Oh, you have no idea. I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”

“You may as well hear us out,” said the man. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Mobius. Mobius M. Mobius.”

“Good name. Easy to remember.”

“And this is you,” he said, placing a hologram puck on the table. An image of himself from moments earlier, fighting in New York, appeared. “...Yes.” Mobius switched out the hologram puck, reigniting it. This time, an image of his older self appeared... longer-haired, and grinning, and shouting something about being Asgard’s savior.

“And this is also you.” “...No,” Loki uttered, shaking his head.

“Well, I’m afraid, yes, it is,” said Mobius. “Except... it’s you a little bit farther down the road from now. You saved Asgard, Loki.” “Why?” “Oh, one reason or another, but you got there. But do you know what the problem is, though?” “Do tell me.” “You die. Yeah, not long after. It’s a sad thing, really.” “No.” “Oh, yeah. It’s a shame. But... you know, I’d like to talk a little about the T.V.A. first. What we do here.”

“Go on.”

“We alter time, you see. Keep it in order. And we had to alter quite a bit of time to get you here, Loki. And do you know why?” “Enlighten me.” “Because we saved you. Like everyone else here, you were saved from a timeline that wasn’t... uh... entirely beneficial for you, let’s just say.” “You reference my untimely death. How do I die, anyhow?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that. It’d mess up the book... say, Y/N, would you mind bringing in the book?” At that moment, the strangest creature he had ever seen in his life entered the room.

You were incredibly beautiful, and he noted that. Were you on Asgard, he wouldn’t have hesitated to attempt at gaining your affections. But here, your arms were crossed, and you wore a pair of dark, denim-type pants, and a long-sleeved, grey shirt. In your arms, you clutched something - paperwork, it seemed.

"This is the book,” you said, quietly, holding it tightly.

“The book?” “He’s not ready for the book,” said Mobius. “No, I’m ready for the book. Give it to me.” “You can’t have the book,” you insist. “You can only learn from it. The book... sees that which has not yet been seen. By us, anyway.”

“So, it’s a magical, future-predicting book.” “Pretty much,” you said, at the same Mobius uttered “Think of it more as a map.”

“A map?” “It will tell you where to go. Where to be. And the tesseract... the tesseract can take you there. At the point we are at, here, in the universe, we are a gateway to every dimension. All things are happening around us, all the time. We are eternal - never changing, never aging.”

“Who placed you here?”

“She was brought here by me,” Mobius said, nodding to you. “And I was brought here by the Creator.” “The Creator?” “A supernatural being. Now that he is gone, I’m in his place. He is not capable of dying, but he is capable of fading away, as he did... scattering his atoms throughout the universe, creating something new. He will always exist, in some way, acting through us. He has been here since the beginning of time, like Ego, like the Grandmaster. We all called him the Creator - well, I just called him Stan.”

“And all that work here, are they... like me?” Loki was looking at you, specifically.

“No,” said Mobius, insistently, also looking in your direction. “We choose... humans with special talents, too.”

“What’s special about her?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you took the opportunity to leave the room.

Mobius shrugged.

“She is waiting.” “Waiting?” “Yes. She knows that she is written in the book, too, though she doesn’t know what, or... why. People cannot see the pages in the book that are written for them, it’s just me that knows. But I’m unable to change or help it... and unable to tell anyone. But she is here for a reason.”

“But she is useful?” “She is. Exceptionally clever. Terribly determined. I have mentored her, until now. Now, she mentors you.”

“Her? A human? I’d hardly find us compatible.” “Think of her less as your mentor and more of your... companion. She understands the system - the book, and its workings. You may have to do some of the heavy lifting, but I assure you, without her, you wouldn’t be able to travel more than a few feet. You - the both of you - will need each other. You’ll come to see that.”

“And what if I refuse?” Mobius shrugged. “You can spend eternity in our prisons, for all I care. That’s what we do with interferers around here, Loki. And you’re an interferer if we ever saw one. We’d just rather you worked for us, is all. And... if you sign this... 200 missions. Just two-hundred missions. Then we’ll put you back in your timeline, and you can go die, for all we care.”

Loki sighed, eyeing the contract on the table.

It would seem... he had no choice.

Tag List: gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader

#loki x reader #blue monday #blue monday: a loki story #blue monday on disney +#loki x reader angst #loki disney+#loki imagine #loki #loki series #mobius

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unnecessarywriting · 4 years ago

Text

Wait, Wrong Holiday - Sirius Black

Request: Could you possibly write a really angsty into fluff young Sirius story? Reader is close family friends with James’ family so they celebrate Christmas together, with Sirius and the person awkwardly avoiding each other until late Christmas night maybe when he confesses his feelings? Change as you want but something like that? Thanks so much in advance, I love your writings!! And merry Christmas :)

A/N: I hope I did a good job with this and that you liked it. Merry Christmas and Enjoy!!

Italics are flashbacks

Wait, Wrong Holiday

You and James were told for most of your lives that you were made for each other. What did this mean exactly? Well, your parents wanted the two of you to get married so they could all become one big, happy family. The problem? You and James never thought of each other romantically. In fact, the idea almost disgusted both of you. There are times when people who grow up together see themselves as the ideal couple, but in your case, it felt wrong. The two of you could only see each other as siblings, and you were fine with that. Your parents were beginning to get around to that idea too, but it's not like they were ever forcing you to marry him.

You were sorted into Y/H and you often found yourself finding James at random times. He always watched out for you, and he even studied with you. You both found your own friend groups in no time, but the two of you always remained close. Sometimes, you would see him with his friends, and you would wave towards him. This managed to catch the eye of one Sirius Black.

“Prongs, who is that girl waving at you?” James turned his head in the direction Sirius was pointing to.

“Oh, that’s Y/N. We grew up together. Our families are really good friends, so we’ve spent a lot of time together.” James smiled at you and waved back. You returned to what you were doing before.

“Good to know,” Sirius commented. James glared at him.

“No Padfoot. Y/N is good. Don’t go thinking you can just use her. She’s too good for that.” Sirius took that comment as you were off limits, but he couldn’t help but be fascinated by you.

The close relationship between your families meant that every year you would spend Christmas together. When Sirius ran away from home and took shelter with the Potter family, he was invited to the gathering between the families. This was unknown information. You had wished that when you walked through the door of the Potter household you were aware of this guest. Your parents chose to not disclose this information. They were more than excited to have another guest, especially someone who shared their ideals. A pure blood who hated what purebloods stand for? They knew he would fit right in, especially since your family wasn’t too fond of the other Blacks.

The issue with Sirius Black? He was spectacular. When you heard about him leaving his family, you were ecstatic because you had met the Black family, and you were not impressed. Oftentimes, you would get lost in his beautiful eyes. You melted at his voice, but you knew he was untouchable. Every girl at Hogwarts wanted to be with him, and if rumors were true, quite a few of them had first hand experience. You had no chance with him, so you tried to stay away from him as much as possible. Not because he was bad, but because you knew that there was no way that he could ever see you as anything more than just some girl that James happened to know.

Sirius was terrified to see you standing at the door with your family. James had told him that you were going to be there, as it was a tradition, but that didn’t stop any nervousness he had. From the day he saw you wave at James, he had been infatuated. He learned a lot about you from stories and from studying. He watched you all of the time. Sometimes, he would try to invade your study sessions with James, but then you stopped going to them, claiming that there were other friends that needed your help. James thought that it was true, but Sirius believed that you had some sort of hatred for him, probably because of his family, and that you couldn’t stand to be around him. Of course, he was only half right.

“Hello Mr. Potter and Happy Christmas!” You gave the man a hug and entered what you considered your home away from home. “Mrs. Potter! It’s great to see you. Happy Christmas!” You offered the woman a hug. James walked towards you after greeting your parents and pulled you into a great embrace. “Happy Christmas James,” you mumble as he was practically squeezing the life out of you.

“Merlin woman. It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages since you stopped studying with me. We hardly spend any time together.” You laughed awkwardly not wanting to cue him to how you were avoiding him because of his friend.

“Nonsense. You’re just being dramatic, as per usual.” You caught Sirius off to the side. You nodded in his direction. “Happy Christmas Sirius. It’s great to have you here.” You tried not to sound too robotic. Soon enough, your mother saw him and he was no longer your problem.

You spent as much time as you could away from Sirius. He seemed to be avoiding you as well. You thought Sirius was judging you for not being good enough for him, plus, you didn’t want him to talk to you and find you the most boring or most annoying person in the world. You spent a lot of your time in the kitchen preparing dinner. The only time you would leave was to give something to Mr. Potter or to your father. Sirius was also keen on not being around you. If it appeared like you would be with the men for long, he would retreat to the restroom for a bit. He truly believed that you had something against him, but he also couldn’t get close to you because of James. He thought that you were completely off limits, so he didn’t even bother trying to get close to you.

James was becoming a bit suspicious of your behavior, but he kept it to himself. You typically loved to listen to the stories shared between your fathers, but you seemed adamant on being with the women in your families. He almost began to think something was wrong with him. James also didn’t miss the change in behavior of his closest friend. Everytime you walked into the room, Sirius avoided eye contact and became silent, which was unusual for him. James thought he knew what was going on, but he was unbelievably wrong.

After a very uncomfortable dinner with you and Sirius both being unusually absent from the conversation, James pulled Sirius aside.

“Did you ignore me and sleep with Y/N? C’mon Sirius, I asked you not to. She deserves so much more than that.” James looked both annoyed and disappointed.

“Prongs, I didn’t sleep with her. I wouldn’t do that to you, or to her. Plus, you told me not to go anywhere near her, which might I say, is very difficult to do. She’s perfect you know? I wish everyday that you didn’t make that rule.” Sirius didn’t even realize that he just confessed how much he really liked you.

“Wait, do you actually like her? I don’t mean the way that you like girls to just sleep with them, but that you want to actually have something with her?” James was almost excited at the idea of having two of his best friends get together. If you weren’t going to marry James, then Sirius was the next best thing, only if he was being serious about it though.

“I do, but that doesn’t change anything. You told me that she was off limits, so I am staying away from her. Also, I don’t think she likes me anyway. She probably thinks I’m just like my family.” Sirius pouted.

“First off, Y/N would like you more for getting away from your family. Yes, she hates your family but she even told me that she was proud of you for escaping and doing what was best for you. Second, I never said she was off limits. I said that she wasn’t someone you could just sleep with and ditch. She’s not like all of those other girls that you have hanging around you. If you really like her, then say something to her. I think it would be good for both of you. But let me say this. If you do or say anything to her that breaks her heart, I will not hesitate to hex you into oblivion.” Sirius was excited beyond belief to know that he had permission to talk to you for real. He just needed to get you to his side.

It turns out, you were not someone who was willing to be close to Sirius. This was incredibly irritating to him as well as James. He caught wind of how hard you were avoiding Sirius, and he wasn’t about to have you get away with. He told Sirius that he would talk to you later that night. Luckily, your family was staying the night, and he would have plenty of time with you. He soon pulled you aside to have a word with you, much like he did with Sirius not too long before.

“What’s going on? Why don’t you want to be around Sirius?”

“What are you talking about? I don't have a problem with him.” You weren’t even convincing yourself of that lie.

“What did he do wrong?” James sounded genuinely concerned.

“Fine, but you can’t say anything about this to anyone.” James nodded. “I’ve kinda had some sort of a small, tiny, nearly nonexistent, crush on him. The issue is that I’m nothing like the other girls he has around him all of the time. I don’t want him to get to know me and find me completely annoying or worse, boring.”

Your honesty hurt James. He thought you were incredibly interesting. You had fun stories to tell, and you were known for going on adventures all of the time. Maybe they weren’t as obnoxious as the ones that he had, but you were far from boring. Not to mention, you didn’t have an annoying bone in your body. If anyone was annoying, it was him, or even Sirius.

“Listen, just give him a chance all right. You’re absolutely amazing, and Sirius can see that. Plus, if he says anything to you, I will hex him into oblivion. Trust me, he knows.” You took his word for it, but the opportunity didn’t seem to come your way.

Everyone decided to go to be slightly early since the firewhiskey had been passed around. You, however, couldn't fall asleep. You got up and made your way to the kitchen to make yourself some hot chocolate.

“Hey there!” The voice startled you.

“Oh, hey Sirius. Couldn’t sleep?” He nodded. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Yes please!” You offered a polite smile and finished with two cups. You both sat on the couch drinking in silence.

“Hey, look!” He pointed to the window. “It’s snowing!” You smiled at him and returned your gaze to the falling snow. “C’mon.”

“What do you mean? I’m not going out there. It’s late.” He laughed at you and pulled you out the front door.

You two started throwing snow at each other. You were running around like idiots and giggling like children, although, you constantly tried to shush him because of the time.

“Y/N, I like you. I like you a lot, and I want to get to know you on a proper date. So, will you go on a date with me?” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him.

“Are you serious? You know what,” you started quickly, “don’t answer that. Yes, I will go on a date with you.” He laughed and picked you up. He spun you around in the falling snow, as you two continued to giggle. You both had James to thank for you two finally getting over your stupidity.

From the window, James was watching his two friends run around through the front yard. He giggled to himself, proud of his work. He had a strong suspicion that the two of you were going to be amazing together.

“Well, call me Cupid because I am the best match-maker the wizarding world has ever seen.” James paused for a second. “Wait, wrong holiday.” He laughed to himself and went to lay down and wait for Sirius to return and tell him everything that just happened.

#young sirius x reader #young sirius imagine #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #harry potter x reader #Harry Potter imagine #james potter imagine #marauders imagine

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munsontm · 3 years ago

Note

does eddie prefer to be called a dungeon master or a game master? had eddie ever been a player or has he always been the story teller? tell me more about eddie and his relationship with d&d

@slutgun

The meme for this is somewhere...I dunno where. But the problem with D&D is that I only know so much about it myself. It's always a bummer to take on a muse and not be able to fully comprehend a part of them. Metal music I can do. I was raised on GnR, Black Sabbath and various other groups. But D&D required some research, so bear with me.

But for the first part of the question, Dungeon Master is the absolute answer. While I think Eddie would definitely be into other kinds of table-top RPGs, D&D is his #1 love and always will be. And to slot in your wanting to hear more about Eddie's relationship with D&D. I can say, personally, for my canon, D&D helped save Eddie's life. He comes from the roughest background we've seen so far in ST. Criminal family, trailer park trash, outcast, the whole shebang. The people of Hawkins always assumed the stereotypes attached to all of that background about him were, of course, true. He was a bad guy, and he should be avoided at all costs. But as we know, that was all bullshit and just came from small-minded people who didn't care to think further beyond the end of their noses. But when Eddie was finally removed from his father's care when he went to prison. Eddie spiralled hard. He was about to enter middle-school and was suddenly living with a relative he didn't know very well. Wayne treated him much better than pops did, but it was still a very fragile time in Eddie's life.

I'm not 100% decided on how Eddie got into D&D yet. Perhaps he saw it in a store, and Wayne treated him because Eddie hardly ever got gifts as a kid before then. So, when Wayne saw him taking an interest in D&D, and despite not really understanding it himself. He let Eddie have it because it seemed to make the kid happy. Yeah, maybe that's the origin story; we'll see. But playing D&D gave Eddie the chance to explore escapism that wasn't just in a book. He'd read LOTR, The Hobbit and TCON multiple times, and literature is one of the few subjects he really excels in. But after discovering D&D he could create those sorts of stories himself and do it with other people too instead of himself. This, as well as his music, distracted him well from the fact that he essentially had been abandoned by his entire family except for Wayne, and at times it made him forget how unloved and unwanted he felt in the world.

As for Eddie's role in D&D, he does primarily take on the role of DM. In his opinion, it's the most powerful position in the game, and power is something Eddie has NEVER had in his life. He's been the bottom of someone's shoe since the day he was born. But being DM gives him a sense of power and control over something for once in his life. That's part of why he's so utterly defensive over his sub-culture as a nerd and metalhead. These things have given him agency in his life and freedom too, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone step all over that. And when he sees others struggling perhaps in the same way he did. Taking Mike, Dustin and Lucas, for example. Eddie takes them in because he wants people to have a place where they can feel in charge and not like they're the bug under someone's shoe or something small and insignificant.

Finally, Nancy wasn't wrong to suggest Eddie was the bard when playing D&D, which he occasionally does. The singer and storyteller fit him to a tee, and I don't care if it's a cliche that he'd be the bard. He is the bard. And playing the bard as a supporting character fits perfectly, too, they buff offensive teammates and debuff enemies, and Eddie would just get a kick out of messing with people's stats. But I think Eddie also suits the mechanics of a wizard, too, particularly an offensive one that can cause a significant amount of chaos.

#ooc #slutgun #𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 : 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍? 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 🎸#watch me know nothing about D&D

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staysaneathome · 3 years ago

Text

The Collection

(An Entity-swap WIP, where the swap is the places the Entities hold in the world rather than the people who serve them)

“Something happened to you, didn’t it?”

The man asking him this looks too nice to be here. Fancy suit, fancy hair, fancy clean face with a smug smile. Too clean for the miserable day outside the library, where even the patrons who are in teacher and businessman clothing have flyaway hairs and rain on their shoulders and mud on their trousers.

Jon’s hands tense on the book in his hands, crumpling pages about exotic spiders, giant spiders, spiders that hide in the ground and in the trees, but still not big enough, not sinister enough to be the Spider, the one that—that—

He shudders. “Maybe. Why are you asking?”

The man’s smile grows. He looks far too pleased at Jon’s question, more pleased than any other adult has. “Because I recognized it. When something happens to people, something that everyone else says couldn’t have happened, that you must have been making it up, that the things you saw can’t exist.”

The man leans forward. His eyes are so, so, so bright. Jon’s heart is in his throat and he feels slightly sick. “I believe you, Jon. I know what happened to you. Would you like to know, too?”

Jonathan Sims toddles out of Bournemouth Library, following the man who he never told his name to.

His grandmother spends twenty minutes asking, then haranguing, then begging the library staff for the whereabouts of her eight year old grandson.

Even the witnesses who thought they saw the boy coming in and talking to someone can’t recall a detail about when or how he left, as if some magnetic force directed their eyes to look anywhere else. The cameras spool looped footage, the child there and then gone, as if into thin air.

Jonathan Sims is eleven when he escapes the Collection.

The man didn’t lie to him, is the thing. He knows what Mr. Spider is now. Knows about the Web, about all the rest of Smirke’s fourteen. Knows what a Leitner is. Knows what happened to Tommy after he entered that door, knows it with an intimacy that makes him ill when he thinks too long about it.

But the man didn’t tell him until much later that in return for learning, for knowing, Jon wouldn’t be allowed to stop. That he’d have to keep going, and going, and going, until he can hardly think for all of the awful, awful things he now knows, until the only things that can spill from his mouth are all the stories and secrets he’s learned, in voices that barely sound like his.

It’s changed him. He Knows this. Knows he used to only be able to stomach one story a day, when he looked pitiful enough to wheedle someone into telling it to him. Now he only needs to Ask the Right Question (and he somehow always Knows what that is, always) and not even all the horrors and experiences of a person’s whole life feel like enough to him, anymore.

The man likes him best, out of everyone in the collection, everyone who stands before him and recounts what they’ve drawn out of their—their prey, feeding on tales of misery and suffering and fear. He calls Jon “my prized Recorder”.

Elias was the last one who was prized before him. Sallow and shaking, always staring at Jon with an expression like disgust, like resignation, like fury. Jon initially thought the teenager had hated him, when he first arrived, when he didn’t know any better.

Now he’s the one with the fancy suits, fancy hair, fancy clean face but with the wrong bright eyes staring out eagerly, fixated on Jon.

He knows he’s next. That once he’s got enough stories in him, once he knows enough, that the man who was known as James before, and now as Elias, will take him aside to the Head Collector’s office, and it will be his turn to come out with wrong bright eyes and fancy clothes and hair.

He tells this to Sasha James, nineteen years old and the closest thing to his friend here, brought into the Collection at fourteen in trade for the key information her father needed to publish his thesis. She had shivered under the thin blankets they used to share and hugged him tight. “It’s okay Jon. It’ll be okay. I won’t let that happen to you.”

But then Sasha is sent out to gather a specific story, learn all about a certain life, absorbing more and more of it until her face doesn’t look like her own anymore, until her mannerisms and personality are that of a total stranger, until she stares blankly at him and answers only to the name “Alexandra Rhodes, of the Orsinov Institute”. And Jon realizes his friend is gone.

He hopes this realization will make it hurt less when she stops coming back to the Collection altogether. It doesn’t, and he shivers under the thin blanket alone.

He needs to get out.

He’s careful to keep that information embedded among more “harmless” memories of terror that he learns instead of tucked away like he wants to. The Watcher he and the others feed loves uncovering secrets, but it’s possible to hide in plain sight from it, if you pretend like you aren’t hiding what you want to hide at all. It’s hard, since Jon’s never been good at lying, but he tries not to think too much about it and is glad he already had the nervous habit of ripping up things as he tears bits of cloth from his blanket.

The Collection moves around, so its searchers can bring in new stories for their patron. On special occasions before they leave a certain area for a good while, there is always a “live account” from some poor sap in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The man who used to be Elias is the one who asks the Question at these events. Everyone will be just as blindly riveted as he is once the speaking starts, so if Jon can use that...

As the young man named Timothy Stoker opens his mouth and begins recounting every thing that he’s ever seen, thought, wondered, believed, experienced, lived, Jon stuffs the strips of cotton into his ears. The blindfold is tight, and he’s scared he’ll bump into something, that he’s misjudged the distance to the door despite counting it out to himself over and over these past few weeks.

Fourteen steps to the exit. Twist the doorknob, left, then right, then left again to open. Move the big brick in front of it so it will stay closed a little bit longer when it shuts.

Then he’s tearing off down the street, pavement harsh and sharp and wet under his tender soles, not Knowing for once where he’s going or what he’ll do when he gets there.

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ashesandhackles · 4 years ago

Text

More of where Snack came from

This is what happens when you discuss narrative parallels between them and end up creating scenes during the conversation. @thedreamermusing wrote the Sirius parts, while I wrote the Snape ones.

Here is a little AU, where Sirius lives at the end of Order of Phoenix.

When Sirius sees Lily's patronus--beautiful and graceful and almost forgotten in the years in Azkaban -- landing in the kitchen of Grimmauld place, he's mystified, remembering when James saw it for the first time. 'We're made for each other,' he'd said, spinning Lily around in his arms. Sirius reverently reaches out an arm to touch it. And then---'Black,' a silky voice made of grease and cold water says. 'Your godson is of the opinion that you aren't uselessly hiding away in your mother's house and somehow thinks that you're with the Dark Lord. Do try to prove him wrong and stay where you are.' As the patronus fades away, the only thought left in Sirius's mind is 'Motherfucker'.

Snape always wondered if his life was an elaborate joke. It was humiliating enough, revealing his Patronus to Black, of all people. He was dreading stepping foot in the house. It was amazing - how showing that vulnerable part of himself, that part he asked Dumbledore to swear no one must know, makes him feel like a teenager again. Powerless. Anxious. Twitchy. This is all the fault of that stupid boy - if he didn't prize that connection of his, if he had heeded what was said, he would not have been in this position. It's only luck that no one got killed for his stupidity. Luck favours everyone but him, apparently.

To Snape's horror, he was early at the headquarters. Black was sitting at the long table, reading a letter. He stilled when he entered. "Snape" Black acknowledged gruffly, without looking up. He didn't deign to respond. It was a trap - whatever it was. He wondered when that ridiculous woman would come and knock over the umbrella, so that the entire house is filled with Black's delightful mother's shrieks. There was an uncomfortable silence, broken by Black looking up at him. "So....Evans?"

Snape's insides were glacial. Don't react, don't react, don't react. He used her maiden name to get a rise out of you .. lull you into a false sense of security...

It seemed that Black was amused by his inability to respond. This made him angry. "Well, it turns out I no longer doubt your alliegances" he continued. "So what's in it for you Snivellus? Revenge?"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Spare me your curiosity. You know as well as I do that I have no inclination to chat with you". "But I want to chat with you" Black smirked. "You see, I want to make sense of this". Snape reached for the handle of his wand instinctively. "Contrary to whatever you may believe, Black, you are not entitled to any answers and certainly not from me".

"When did you turn spy?" Black asked abruptly. "Were you the one who told Dumbledore that there was someone close to us who had betrayed us?"

Snape said nothing. He would give nothing to Black, no information about that hideous year spent fearing for her life and his own, tangled in loyalties he knew not where. "I am going to take that as a yes" Black said, his grey eyes boring into him. "Why did you do it? What really made you turn?"

"Shut up" he hissed, finally drawing his wand and flicking it into his most useful spell, Langlock. No one can know. No one, he remembered telling Dumbledore.

Black stopped speaking as his tongue got stuck to the roof of his mouth. He looked furious as he whipped out his own wand. The Order filed in just then - all looking unsurprised to see them both pointing their wands at each other. "Sirius, please" the werewolf implored. Black looked up at him angrily, but his jinx rendered him unable to say whatever was on his mind.

For the first time since he stepped into the house, the anxiety in Snape's chest eased a bit. He still had power. He was no longer that young boy - no longer. "Unfortunately for us, Black wouldn't be gracing us with his remarkable wit today," he said, stuffing his own wand back into his robes. The werewolf glared at him. He sneered. "It's quite alright, not like he has been upto anything useful recently - apart from not getting lured into the Ministry to run after his idiot of a godson. And we don't want endless reminisces of that, do we?"

'Fucking Snivellus,' Sirius thought furiously, hardly listening to the Order meeting. It burned--burned him to think he owed his and Harry's life to the greasy bastard, that he'd listened to the warning and stayed put, that Harry and his friends were apprehended before they went on to make a tragedy of things at the Ministry. He never would have thought Snape would be capable of such depth of emotion, that he felt so deeply for Lily. He'd known of course that they were friends of a sort in their initial years at Hogwarts, something James railed about constantly back then. But he'd never considered it important, thought Snape was a bit of a charity case for Lily. But he should have known better; Lily wasn't one to make friends out of charity. She'd seen something in him evidently, something they had all missed.

And yet, none of them had seen anything in Peter.

Sirius glares at Snape, who continues to glare back. 'Fucking greasy bat. Why couldn't you just be an enemy?' To think that Sirius had gotten it all so wrong about Peter, his brother in all but blood, the boy he'd patiently tutored through the animagus transformation, the boy who he would have died for while Snape, fucking Snivellus Snape, would end up being loyal to a friend who'd cut him off years earlier, would switch sides and save Sirius's life even--it's funny really. He's tempted to laugh, laugh like a maniac, at the absurdity, the injustice, out of grief--let out all his curled up emotions in a big hearty laugh. But then again, that hadn't worked out so well for him 15 years ago. So the only thing he can do is glare at Snape. But the familiar hatred is more unsettling now than comforting.

Snape couldn't help but stiffen at the prickly sensation of being watched during his meeting report. He knew without really looking that it was Black - Black trying to fish out his truth with his grey eyes, truth that he is not willing to give to him. He would leave immediately after the meeting - perhaps ask Dumbledore whether he could just give his reports in person, in his office, rather than bother coming to Headquarters. After all, the Order is hardly a democracy with Dumbledore controlling what information gets presented in his report and what remains between them. What's the difference? It's not a good idea anymore to come here. And Black will surely be prepared for his jinx next time - he can't be stupid enough to hope he will get him to shut up everytime.

So when the meeting got over, he jumped to his feet, ready to escape, when a thin hand gripped his shoulder. Snape turned around, pulling out his wand and wasn't surprised to find it pointed at Black's face.

A small, teenage part of him wanted to yell, leave me alone!

"Easy" Black said, quietly. He made no move to take out his wand. It could perhaps be the werewolf close by, watching them. "I want answers. I am grateful you saved Harry's life- and if I hadn't known what I know about you now, I would have not thought too much about this. But I want to know, Snape. I want to know what happened before they died. I want to know how many other transgressions I should be killing Wormtail for".

Snape took in the look on his face. "You want me to help with murder? Great idea Black, since I was on receiving end of your clever jokes-"

"You don't want to kill him?" Black interuppted, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. "You wanted to get me Kissed by Dementors because you thought I killed her and now-"

"I can't kill him!" Snape hissed at him.A twisted truth came tumbling out of him. He wanted to - oh, he wanted to. He went on: "Unfortunately for you, not every fight is won by smashing your way in like a moronic Gryffindor - there are things only I can do and I don't intend to put myself in any position that is dangerous to the cause".

There was a silence. "Fair enough. " Black said, stepping back. Snape thought it was safer to put his own wand back into his pocket now. "You don't kill him" Black simply said. "You help me find him".

Snape looked at him in utter disbelief. He couldn't believe him ."Didn't you just hear me? I am not risking blowing my cover. There will be a time for that and an opportunity will arise - he is no longer useful to the Dark Lord. But I don't want any eyes on me and certainly not for your schemes. Get your wolf to do it for you - at least he can plead temporary insanity".

"Leave him out of it" Black said harshly, glancing at him sitting close by. "Too late for that, isn't it?" Snape said, softly. "You involved him in the first place. What's the matter? These are your rules, I am just playing by them".

Black looked like he was praying for patience before he said what he did next. "I don't suppose you will tell me about that year". Snape sneered at him. "No, I won't. Now, goodbye Black " he whipped out of the headquarters, hoping he'd never have to step foot in it again.

Remus approached Sirius, a little amused. "Well, that went well. " Sirius shrugged. "I suppose. I still need him to tell me about Peter". Remus' eyes were cold. "You think he would help us?"

"He has to," Sirius said flatly. "After what Peter did to Harry in the graveyard, I am going to kill him with my bare hands if I have to".

Now if anyone wants to make this full fledged AU where they all corner Wormtail and revise their traumas and deep projections in the process, feel free to continue. XD

#snack manifesto #hp snack #hp AU #Sirius black × Severus Snape #sirius x severus

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