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xgryffinwhore · 4 years ago

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september nights

request: i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.”

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.”

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door, feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you.

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you.

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations.

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed.

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne.

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special.

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again.

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his.

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek.

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers.

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs.

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill denbrough x you #bill denbrough fanfic #IT movie #it fanfiction #it bill #jaeden martell #jaeden lieberher #jaeden wesley #jaeden x reader #jaeden martell x reader #jaeden martell smut #richie tozier #eddiekaspbrak #stanley uris

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itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

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♥︎ The Struggles of Getting A Valentine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!reader

Summary: The three times Peter tries to ask you to be his Valentine and the one time he successfully does.

Warnings: none. Just a lot of fluff. Peter being a simp, Bucky being the cutest bby ever, and Tony being a dad. This is long. Happy reading💞

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Attempt #1

Peter watched as you vigorously took down notes. From time to time your eyes would shift back up to the projected screen on the board. Your hair would graciously fall past your ear and to the front of your face, causing you to continuously tuck it behind your ear whenever it bothered you. He let out a dreamy sigh at the thought of running his fingers through your hair and tucking the loose strands behind your ear for you.

He wasn’t paying attention in class; he should have cared more about World War II, but you had his undivided attention without even trying. Besides, he could ask Steve for help if he ever needed it, he’s literally lived through part of World War II. Peter felt foolish as he stared at you, a lovestruck expression was on his face while he admired you from afar. You were just a few seats away from him. You were in the next row, two seats ahead of him. He was so hopelessly in love with you, his feelings for you were more than just a crush. He admired every little thing about you. From your kindness to how talented you were as an Avenger; you were the girl of his dreams.

Ms. Atwell’s voice faded in the background while his mind clouded with thoughts of you. Beside him was Ned, who was also taking notes while trying to get Peter to focus once again. When Ms. Atwell turned her back to the class, Ned roughly shoved Peter’s shoulder. The hearts in Peter’s eyes popped and the chorus of How Deep Is Your Love by The Bee Gees stopped playing in his head. He whipped around to look at Ned, annoyed that his friend took him out of his daydream.

“What?” Peter asks him through gritted teeth.

“Ms. Atwell already yelled at you twice yesterday for not paying attention in class, do you really want her to call you out again?” Ned whispered back harshly. Peter was one of the smartest dudes Ned has ever known, but sometimes he could be as dumb as a rock and as stubborn as a mule.

Peter shrugged him off, “She won’t notice.” He looked to the front to make sure Ms. Atwell’s back was still turned to the class, “I think I’m gonna ask (y/n) to be my valentine.”

Getting lured in with curiosity, Ned asks, “Don’t you guys see each other everyday? And do patrol together? How have you not asked her yet?”

“I don’t know—I couldn’t find the right time to.” Peter answered, turning his head back to the front when he sensed Ms. Atwell turn back to the class. She briefly mentions something about the Howlling Commandos and turns back around.

“When are you asking her?” He hears Ned whisper behind him. He leans back, face still towards the board, “Right now.”

Ned nods then takes a double take at the back of Peter’s head, “Now?!”

Peter rips the corner of the page his notebook was open to and began to sloppily scribble the words:

(Y/n), will you be my valentine?

Yes ⃞ No ⃞

— Peter :)

As childish as his note was, he believed that you would find the gesture cute. Little did he know that Ms. Atwell would too. While he excitedly folded the piece of paper, he had not realized that Ms. Atwell had stopped talking and was looking at him with that stern stare of hers. Cluelessly, Peter quietly giggles to himself and tapped MJ, who was in front of him. When she didn’t turn around, he looks up from the note to see Ms.Atwell hovering above his desk, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face.

Startled, Peter jumps in his seat, eyes wide and cheeks growing warm. He looks around the class to see everyone staring at him, including you. Although, you had that same unamused look on your face as Ms. Atwell. Like Ned, you also scolded Peter whenever he didn’t pay attention in class.

“Dumbass.” You mouthed at him shaking your head. A sheepish grin forms on his face as his eyes shift back to Ms. Atwell. Her red painted lips were in a thin line and her hand was held out at him.

“Give me the note, Mr. Parker”

Peter’s eyes widened even more, making him fear that they might pop out of their sockets, “NO—no, no, no. I—I can’t.”

“And why not?” She asks him in her posh accent.

“Uh—because..” Peter struggled to come up with an excuse. His eyes shifted between you and Ned, desperately asking for help. Ned shrugs in response.

“Just give it.” You mouth to him. He shakes his head at you furiously and was about to respond to Ms. Atwell, but the note was removed from his hands. Peter squeaks as he tries to take it back from his teacher but shoves himself back into his seat when Ms. Atwell glares at him. She opens the note, eyes skimming at the words written on the piece of paper. A small smirk grows on the older woman’s lips.

“P—please don’t read it out loud.” Peter pleadingly whispered to her. He leaned forward, “I’ll go to detention, I’ll even grade your papers for you—just please don’t read it out loud.”

You raise a brow at the brown haired boy, wondering what could have been written on that piece of paper that made him beg Ms. Atwell for detention to not read it. You shift your questioning gaze at Ned, who waves off your nonverbal question.

Ms. Atwell sighs, crumpling up the piece of paper, “Detention after school.”

“Yes.” He whispered to himself in victory, hands clasping together. “Thank you, thank you, Ms. Atwell.”

“I’m only letting this slide once. The next time I see you writing notes in my class, I’m reading it to everyone and calling home.” She warned pointing a finger at him. Peter nods eagerly, “Got it, Ms. Atwell.”

She returns back to her lesson while Peter shoved his face into his hands in embarrassment. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and his heart was pounding out of nervousness. He musters up the courage to look at you again.

Much to his surprise, you were already looking at him over your shoulder. He flashes you a shy smile to which you reciprocate with one of your own. You turn back around, resuming to take notes from the board. The smile on his face only grew wider as he stared down at his scribbled notebook, the image of you smiling at him stuck in his head.

Attempt #2

The next time Peter tried to ask you to be his valentine happened a few days after his first failed attempt. He was spending the weekend at the tower after Tony and Steve suggested that he should begin training with them more. Of course, he took their advice; this was an opportunity for him to improve on his skills and learn new things. But most importantly, he would get to see you everyday.

Peter was sat on the floor of the Avengers’ shared living room setting up Netflix on the giant flat screen attached to the gray wall. He had finished training an hour ago and was now going to have a movie night with you. You had also finished training the same time he did and suggested that the two of you should watch some new movie that came out on Netflix. He thought it was an amazing idea to have a movie night, obviously it was an amazing idea, you came up with it. He agreed willingly and insisted on grabbing food for you both. He swung from building to building until he ended up back in Queens at the entrance of Delmar’s. The two of you would go to the bodega everyday after school and pick up your usuals. Then Peter would swing you to the rooftop of some building and the two of you would eat before doing some patrol work around the city.

He pulled out your usual sandwiches from the plastic bag and placed them on the coffee table. To pair with the sandwiches, he also bought chips and two bottles of soda. He set up the coffee table and made it look neat. He wasn’t usually a perfectionist, but he felt the need to impress you. Did table or food presentation matter to you? Would you think he was sloppy if he carelessly placed the food on the table? Or maybe you’d think he was a neat freak from how neat and trim the food was laid out?

While you gathered extra pillows and blankets from your room, Peter continued to fidget with the food on the table. He moved the bottles of soda around too many times and even tilted the chips to make it look aesthetically pleasing. When he was content with how everything was organized, he glanced at the plastic bag. Along with the food, he had also bought a box of chocolates. The red heart shaped box caught his eyes and he felt his fingers inching closer to it. It was almost Valentine’s Day and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. He felt a rush of adrenaline in his body when he took the box from the shelf and purchased it. Peter made the spontaneous decision that he was going to ask you to be his valentine during your movie night. He would place the box on top of your food and when you come out of your room, you would see the box and then he’ll finally get the chance to shoot his shot.

Peter gripped the red heart box and gingerly placed it on top of your chips. He eyed it nervously before shifting his attention back to the tv. He was searching for the movie you suggested on watching when Bucky walked into the living room. The two greeted each other quietly until Bucky caught sight of the box of chocolates.

“Are those chocolates? I haven’t seen them in these heart shaped boxes in forever.” Bucky reminisced, picking up the box and inspecting it. His eyes were filled with curiosity, “Woah, they make them look all flashy now. Back in the day, ours didn’t have bows or glitter on ‘em. It was just some picture.”

Peter found himself smiling at Bucky’s sudden interest in the box. “Did they come in different flavors back then, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky whips his head up to look at Peter, “No! They only had milk chocolate. They come in different flavors now? No way.” Bucky exclaimed, turning the box around to see all the flavors listed on the back. After seeing Bucky’s reaction to the chocolates, he wanted to just give them to Mr. Barnes. But if he gave them to Mr. Barnes, then he would have nothing to give you when he asks you to be his valentine. He didn’t necessarily need to give you anything to ask the question, but it would have made the gesture more sweet and somewhat romantic. Though, that smile on Bucky’s face was a rare sight.

Peter’s shoulders slumped against the couch he was leaning on. He mustered up a smile and told Bucky, “You can have it if you want.”

“Oh no, it’s fine, this is yours. I could ask Steve or Sam to buy me one at the stores.” Bucky waved him off, trying to hand the box back to Peter. Peter shook his head, making the brown curls on his head wiggle, “No, take it Mr. Barnes. (Y/n) and I already have plenty of junk food here. You know, with training and all, wouldn’t want all that work to go to waste just to eat a bunch of junk food.”

“Are you sure, kid?” Bucky asked still holding out the box at Peter.

Peter sent him a soft grin and motioned for him to take it, “Yeah go ahead, you’ll enjoy it more than us.”

Bucky’s grin widens and he holds the box of chocolates up to his chest, “Thanks Peter! You’re not as bad as Sam says you are.” With that, he turns around and walks back down the hall.

“Thanks?” Peter said, a brow raised at Bucky’s retreating body. You come around the corner with an arms full of blankets and pillows. Peter chuckles and gets up to help you.

“(Y/n), you didn’t have to get so many pillows.” He teased, taking a blanket and two pillows from you. You huffed and placed the items on the floor.

“I just want to make sure we’re comfortable, Pete. Comfort is important during movie nights.” You defended yourself.

As you set up the blankets and pillows you glance at Peter, “Bucky told me you gave him chocolate. That was sweet of you.” A tint of red forms on his fair cheeks.

“It was nothing. Apparently they didn’t have different kinds of chocolate back in the day. When I told him, his whole face lit up, it was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen Mr. Barnes.” He explained, sitting beside you on the floor.

You smile fondly at the boy next to you, he truly was the biggest sweetheart. “It’s not nothing. That probably made his day, Pete. We barely see Bucky smile.”

Peter hummed in response, too busy being mesmerized by the light in your eyes. He averts his gaze before you can catch him staring at your face.

Peter’s eyes land at the food on the table. His bottom lip pursed into a pout when he spotted a dent on the bag of chips created by the box of chocolates. The small dent taunted him and was only a reminder of how he should have been already popping the question. He mentally cursed at himself, he couldn’t help but become a perfectionist when it came to you. He couldn’t just ask you the question—you deserved a bouquet of flowers, boxes of chocolate, teddy bears—heck he’d give you the world without you even asking for it.

“Hey! I got you your favorite.” He sees you instantly perk up. That beautiful smile of yours takes over your features and the butterflies in his stomach came to life. He found himself reciprocating your smile.

“Thank you, Peter! You’re the best!” You squeal, pressing a light kiss on his cheek and throwing your arms around him. He was taken aback by the sudden form of affection. Shock was written on his face while his body was frozen. Meanwhile, you were already digging into your sandwich while he was still in his flustered state, processing what just happened.

Attempt #3

This had to be the perfect time to ask you, Peter thought to himself. The two of you were sat on the ledge of some random roof Peter swung you both onto. You were sat beside him, feet swinging back and forth while you looked down on the bright city. Your hands gripped onto the edge of the roof, your fingers brushing against Peter’s once in a while, making the both of you blush.

Wind gently breezed past you, causing strands of your hair to brush over your shoulder. He should have been patrolling the city, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but his eyes were glued to the side of your face. The lights from the city reflected on your features; giving your skin a warm glow and your eyes a sparkle. He thought you looked absolutely stunning.

“It’s not nice to stare.” You suddenly tease him. He’s been caught. His mouth was agape and he quickly turned his head away from you sputtering. You smirked to yourself knowing that his cheeks were turning bright red.

“Oh—um, I wasn’t—yeah, no, I’m sorry.” He muttered. His hand awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he glanced at you. He was thankful that it was the night time, this would’ve been more embarrassing if you saw how red his cheeks were.

A playful smile was on your lips, “I’m playing, Peter. Is there something on my face?”

Besides beauty? No, there’s nothing on your face, was what he wanted to tell you.

“No! Your face is—fine.” He answered smiling nervously.

Wait, why would you say her face is just FINE? He thought to himself. He then continued to stutter out words, “I—I mean, your face is really pretty.”

You stared at him, amused at his flustered state. You always found his bashfulness adorable. He easily blushed at any compliment or kind of physical contact. You could nudge shoulders with him and his cheeks would instantly go red as a tomato. Even though he easily blushed, he was the sweetest person you knew. He cared about others around him, he had the kindest soul, and he knew how to treat a girl right. He was also a thief, because he stole your heart the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You giggle at him and bite your lip, “Thanks Pete. Your face is pretty too.”

“Thanks.” He breaths out. His inner voice then spoke, this is your chance idiot just ask her the damn question. Peter agreed with himself, this was the perfect moment. The moon shined in the night sky, the twinkling lights of the city set the mood, and the two of you were finally alone—this was perfect.

“Hey, (y/n)?” You turn your attention to him to see him fiddling with his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

You laugh, “You just did, twice, but yeah, shoot.” Your joke seemed to loosen him up because it got him to chuckle.

He eyes your hand before grabbing it. He fumbles with your fingers until you decide to help him out and interlock them together. You see him smile at your fingers.

His thumb rubs the back of your hand, “Well, I’ve been trying to ask you this for a long time now. People just keep getting in the way of all my plans. Uh—I was wondering, only if you want to, if you want to be my—“

A shrill scream interrupts Peter. He clenches his jaw, hanging his head down in defeat. You squeeze his hand, catching his attention. The adorable pout was on his lips again and you were tempted to kiss it away.

You flash him an apologetic smile, “We should check on that.”

“Yeah, we should.” Peter grunted, taking his mask and shoving it on. With the hand that was still holding yours, he helps you up from the ledge.

You wrap your arms around his neck while one of his hands rest on the small of your back. He checks to see if his web shooters are on properly and pulls you closer to his chest, “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get ‘em.”

Success

It was only a night away until Valentine’s Day and Peter still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. His heart felt heavy when you didn’t walk through the doors of your shared first period class. You must’ve been running late, he remember thinking to himself. He waited to see you at fourth period, but to his dismay, you were still not there. During lunch, he kept to himself and picked at his food while he worried about you. Asking you to be his Valentine was long forgotten, now he was wondering why you didn’t show up to school. Were you sick? What if you were in danger? Was there an invasion at the tower? Maybe you were on a mission? But that didn’t make sense, since you’d usually tell him you had a mission before hand. His entire day was spent thinking of reasons why you weren’t at school.

The second the bell rung, he rushed out of the school, leaving behind a concerned Ned. He sprinted to the train, then stopped by Delmar’s to get your usual order and another box of chocolates. He shoved the items into his book bag and swung his way to the tower. He greeted the receptionist and squeezed his way into an elevator. When he landed on the Avengers’ floor, he saw Sam, Tony, and Rhodey at the kitchen.

“Hey kid! How was school? Educational?” Tony greeted him, ruffling his hair as he passed by.

“Uh, yeah.” He answered, not bothering to actually answer Tony’s question. “Where’s (y/n)?” He asked them looking around the floor. Sam and Rhodey share a look at the boy’s eagerness.

“A mission came up. She’s out with Nat, Wanda, and Steve.” Sam answered, taking a sip out his mug.

Peter’s shoulders sag, “Do you know when they’re coming back?”

Rhodey glances at the time, “Not till tonight.” Peter curses to himself. Tony raised a brow at the boy, “Why are you so desperate to see (y/n)?”

“I’m not desperate!” Peter weakly defended himself. “I just—I had to ask her a question before tomorrow.”

Tony smirks at Peter, “It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.” Peter sighs and tosses his bag onto the floor. He pulls out one of the stools at the counter and shoves himself to sit on it.

“Exactly.”

“So you finally grew the balls to ask (y/n) out? About time, I was getting tired of seeing the two of you make puppy eyes at each other from across the room.” Sam snickered. Rhodey nodded, agreeing with Sam.

“We don’t make puppy eyes at each other.” Peter grumbled crossing his arms. Tony leans on the counter across from Peter, “Did you get her anything?”

“I got her usual sandwich from Delmar’s and a box of chocolates. I was gonna ask her to hang out in the garden and we’d eat our sandwiches there, then I would’ve asked her to be my Valentine.” Peter explained to the three men.

“You got her a sandwich and a box of chocolates?” Rhodey asked him.

Peter shrugged, “It’s all I could afford! I don’t get any money from being Spider-Man.”

Tony felt bad for Peter. He saw how the two of you interacted; bright smiles and attached at the hip. You guys obviously liked each other, but were too chicken to admit it. This was the exact push you both needed to admit those feelings. Tony patted down his pockets until he felt his wallet.

“I don’t trust you with my card, so here’s a hundred.” Tony slides the bill across the counter to Peter. The boy’s brows knitted together, “For what?”

Tony motions to the elevator, “Go and get your girl some flowers or something, I don’t know. You’ve got time before she gets here.”

“What? Mr. Stark I can’t take your money.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Kid, you’ve been making heart eyes at this girl since the moment you first saw her. Now take the damn money and make this a memorable Valentine’s Day for her.”

Peter takes the bill and shoves it into his pocket, he stumbles out the chair and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He surprises Tony with a hug before running out of the kitchen.

Peter ended up at the nearest Walgreens. He went all out with the gifts, that he needed two baskets to hold his items at the store. When he got back to the tower he headed straight to your room. He wasted no time in decorating your room. He hung up stringed lights with little heart lanterns attached to them on all four of your walls. He got a few stuffed animals and a giant squishmallow. He laid those things out on your bed paired with some of your favorite candies. He also got that lip balm you’re always raving about, fuzzy socks, and a scented candle. The last thing he got, that he knew you would enjoy, was a Harry Potter Lego set. It was only a small set, but he knew you’d like it nonetheless. You’ve always told him that you wanted to build a Lego set with him and now he was going to make that happen.

He stood in the middle of your room admiring his work. Everything was set perfectly and he was proud of his decorating skills. A knock was heard on the door, making him rush to grab the bouquet of roses on your desk.

“Um, COME IN!” He yelled, fixing his hair and standing straight with the flowers to his chest. The door opens to only reveal Mr. Stark.

“Hey—wow.” Tony observered your room, surprised at how it looked. He turned to Peter and gesture to the roses, “Listen Pete, I appreciate the gesture but I’m a married man.” He raises his ring finger for show, snickering at his own joke.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter whined setting the roses on your bed.

“What? I just came in here to tell you that they’re landing in a few minutes. I got your sandwiches out the fridge and sparkling apple cider for you guys.” Tony hands the items to Peter and two champagne glasses.

“Oh, thanks Mr. Stark.” Tony waves him off, “Don’t tell the others, but you’re both my favorites in this building.” The smile on Peter’s face widens.

“I’ll get outta your hair. Good job on the room by the way, good luck!” Tony leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. Peter sets the sandwiches on your desk and takes the roses again. If Mr. Stark liked how your room was decorated then so will you, hopefully. He sits on your chair and waits for you to come through the door. He waits for a few more minutes until he distinctly hears your voice from behind the door.

He gets up again and fixes his hair and clothes. His heart skips a beat when the handle of your door twisted. The door opens painfully slow till it finally revealed you behind it. You stumble in shock once you enter your room.

“Hi.” He breathes out, hands tightening around the stems of the roses.

“Hey.” You greet him shutting the door behind you. Peter scanned your body, not to ogle at you in your suit, but to check if you had any injuries. You walk towards him and stop when you’re just inches away from him.

“How was the mission? Are you hurt?” He questions you. You fondly shake your head at him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “It was good, we were just gathering intel, nothing too hectic.” You reassure him. Peter nods in response while your eyes dance around the room.

“What’s all this, Pete?” You ask him, a playful glint in your eyes. Peter swallows nervously and offers you the flowers. You quietly thank him, admiring the red and pink flowers.

“Well, remember that one night during patrol?”

“Yes, I do. You had a question for me.”

“Yeah—um I’m gonna ask you that question right now.” Peter explains, fiddling with his hands.

“Okay. But are the heart lights supposed to be a hint because I kinda have a feeling I already know what you want to ask me?” You take one of his hands and interlock it with yours. Peter eases up and chuckles bashfully, swinging your hands from side to side.

“I’ve been trying to ask you this for weeks now and every time people would get in the way of me asking you. I wanted it to be perfect and everything—because you’re perfect. And you deserve something romantic and extravagant for Valentine’s Day. I was gonna give you a sandwich and a box of chocolates; because it’s what I can get with my money. Then Mr. Rhodey called me out so Mr. Stark gave me money and—“ He was in the middle of explaining when you interjected.

“Peter, you’re rambling.” You giggle squeezing his hand.

“I know, I’m nervous, I’m sorry.” He apologized blushing. You shook your head and pulled him closer to you, “You don’t need to be nervous, just ask me the question, Pete.”

He looks down at you, gazing into your eyes, “(Y/n), will you be my Valentine?”

You beam up at him, “I would love to be your Valentine, Peter Parker.”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker headcanon #Peter Parker #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland imagine

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blackbat05 · 3 years ago

Text

Jumping in head first

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: This was actually written before the others but not sure why I put it at the back. Been writing a bit more platonic imagines but I always welcome a different interpretation when you read it! To give a bit of context, reader is also an Avenger but she joined later and Shangqi is like the older protective brother? Because I just think that trope is neat. Anyways, hope this idea of mine is engaging as it was in my mind and as always, like and comment if you wish! Appreciate the support!

Genre: PG 13

Warning: Profanity, blood, the usual when I attempt to write an action sequence?

A gunshot rang throughout the department store. Shit. You were still in there. Shangqi races inside, battling against the throngs of shoppers who were desperately trying to get out.

You lifted the little boy up, sprinting away from the sound with all your might. Think (y/n), you tell yourself. Frantically gazing around the deserted store, you decided to hide the boy in a changing room that was neatly tucked in a corner. You removed your jacket, wrapping it around the boy. How nice, you and Shangqi had decided to go to the nearby mall to grab burgers from the new burger joint that had opened before heading to the Avengers compound to train and this had to happen.

‘Hey… hey, don’t be afraid ok? I’ll make sure to come back for this.’ You tried to assure the poor boy. It seemed to do the trick as he managed to calm down. Shutting the door, you peeked out into the open to make sure the coast was clear. You had to direct attention away from this floor. As you turned left to the now stationary escalator, you saw a mannequin at the children’s section. Perfect.

You pushed the mannequin down the escalator, resulting in a large crash the level below. That was going to leave some lasting damage. ‘Someone’s downstairs!’ You could hear the pairs of heavy boots going down to the second level. Good. Now you just needed to see how many assholes were there to carry out your attack. Making sure to keep a safe distance, you went into a crouching position behind a wall, whipping out your phone camera.

Two… Four… Five of them. You were pretty tall yourself but these guys had boulders for bodies. You were starting to think if this plan of yours was just straight up reckless. Before you could decide on your next move, a hand clamps on your shoulder, bringing you down. ‘What the-oomph! Shangqi!’ You gasp. ‘The hell you doing here?’

‘Saving your ass clearly! What were you thinking?’ Shangqi glances up to see the assailants before turning to look at you. ‘The boy’s safe. I managed to get him out. We can engage freely. But minimum damage please.’

You rolled my eyes at him, ‘Says the guy who caused a bus to be chopped in half.’

‘You know that wasn’t me!’ He hisses back. Ignoring the noise of indignation he made, you scanned the area again. It was as if higher beings were looking out for the two of you, only two of the assailants remained while the rest spread themselves out within the level. The both of you were thinking the same thing - you and him and to take down each assailant within record time to prevent any unwanted attention.

Signing to Shangqi, the both of you treaded carefully down the escalator, each taking a side of the walkway surrounding a store selling prams. You signaled to him using your fingers. On three, strike immediately. Three…two…one!

You launched at the unsuspecting man in front of you, knocking him off balance. Before he could react, I wrapped myself around his left leg, forearms surrounding his ankle in a tight grip. ‘Don’t move unless you want to be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life boy.’ The masked assailant whimpers, quickly taking of his mask. He was no more than 16. ‘Alright, I surrender! Please don’t hurt me!’

I stare hard at him. He reminds me to much of the kids that I volunteer with at the shelter. What is his story? ‘Fine, tell me who’s your boss and why is he making you do this?’

‘I swear, for real - I don’t know. All I know is that some guy in a suit and sunglasses came to me and my friends and offered us a heck load of cash if we help to pull of some heist.’

I turn to Shangqi as if hoping the had some answers which he did. Being an Avenger didn’t just consist of battling a genocidal titan. It also meant that they were spread out across the country, lending a hand to the local police. ‘It’s probably the local gangs crawling around Chinatown. They gets kids like them to do heist like these and use the money to fund illegal activities.’

‘What kind?’

‘You don’t want to know,’

‘What kind,’ I emphasized again, not taking no for an answer. If kids like the boy were in danger, there needed to be something done. Shangqi sighs, ‘Drug smuggling, prostitution, organ harvesting. This is just the tip of the iceberg.’

My blood ran cold. Grabbing a rope from the mannequin donned in sports climbing gear, I tied the boy to the metal grills. ‘Don’t try anything funny.’

The two us proceeded to follow the remaining assailants. My brain was in overdrive, full of rage. ‘Can’t believe such lowlifes are allowed to run around San Francisco freely,’ I muttered under my breath, ‘don’t try to stop me.’

Shangqi ascends the steps of the escalator together with me, ‘Who said anything about stopping? Just try not to kill them okay? We still need them for interrogation.’

‘Can’t promise you that.’

Exactly an hour later, the two of us are standing together with a rookie officer who was taking Shangqi’s statement. I keep my eyes on the entrance where first responders were wheeling out stretchers of the injured. I happen to see the little boy who gave me a small wave in thanks. At least my injured shoulder was worth it.

‘Fucking bitch!’ The last stretcher rolled out from the shopping mall with one of the assailants who was pointing furiously at me. ‘That bitch broke my ankle!’

I should have been shocked by the outburst and perhaps slightly embarrassed that tons of onlookers were staring at me. To my credit, it was the opposite - a mixture of satisfaction and annoyance at his behavior. My natural instincts were now controlling me. Striding towards his stretcher, I held a hand out to the medic to give me a minute before grabbing him by his bloodied shirt.

‘Listen here you piece of shit,’ I kept my voice low to prevent any onlookers from picking up on the situation but loud enough for Shangqi to hear. ‘I’m willing to break more than just your ankle for what you did to those kids. You better spill everything to the police before I break more than just your ankle.’ To send my point across, my eyes playfully roamed down his body. He definitely left on the ambulance traumatized.

‘Woah don’t burn me,’ Shangqi raises his hands playfully as he approaches me. ‘I don’t have to worry about you anymore huh?’

You rolled your eyes at him, ‘What can I say? I’m looking to outshine you one day!’

On cue, the same rookie officer bounds up to us, out of breath. ‘Mister uh-Shangqi, Miss Y/N, I just got another alert from my officer, there’s another attack in one of the financial buildings - we have reason to believe it’s the same group.’

We gave each other knowing looks. It was going to be a longer day than usual. ‘Well, the trip to the compound just got cancelled,’ Shangqi stretches his arms, as if gearing up for a boxing match.

‘Works for me, I have a lot to say to these assholes.’

‘Always jumping in head first huh?’

‘You know me too well!’

A/N: Wow! Legit came up with this during work hours so I’m not sure if my ending was ok? Hope you didn’t get bored reading up till here but if you did, thank you! It’s mid week and then I just have three more weeks left till this god damn placement ends. Until then, stay tuned!

#xu shangqi #shangqi x reader #shang chi #shang chi x reader

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yanderart · 4 years ago

Text

He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step.

It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect.

“So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on.

Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

“Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper.

Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features.

Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened.

“Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands.

"Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness.

"You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.

You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal.

Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag.

"I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he?

If only you knew.

"Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

"You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement.

A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery.

(Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

"Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

"Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer.

(Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both.

As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

"You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight.

"Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked.

"I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law."

Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

"Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics.

"Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth.

"Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

"Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you.

And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

Now that was interesting.

"Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down.

"Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?"

You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

"Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you.

"I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments.

"So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation.

Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role.

"Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage.

"I wasn’t..."

"Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe.

"If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out.

Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did.

When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

"I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions.

You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you.

The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear.

"Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both.

"Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries."

As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody.

It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering.

Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore.

"Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence.

When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.

Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet.

"But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

"You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime.

So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face.

"I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway.

You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze.

For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

"Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain.

(And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

"Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

"But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded.

"I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be).

Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped.

"Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it.

Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped.

"I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you).

When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that.

"Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.

"Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths.

Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced.

It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

"Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer.

"Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

"Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed.

"Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

"Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through.

Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

"Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit.

"Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight.

"None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…"

But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you.

"Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say."

And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected.

The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before.

"More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by.

"Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment.

He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

(You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.)

You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence.

You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

"You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home.

"Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work.

Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago.

(Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

"Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over.

The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.

"Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips.

Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

"Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides.

Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected.

A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent.

"Fucking… get on with it."

However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body.

"But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness.

It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks.

The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself.

If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps.

So goddamn close…

Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them.

Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all.

Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit.

When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork.

"Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment.

But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most.

When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face.

And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust.

"Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured.

However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry.

"Hold on..."

Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

"Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused.

"Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice.

When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling.

"You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago.

But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed.

Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you.

God, even for villain standards you were fucked.

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — —

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha, @snappysnapo and @drxwsyni (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL).

#bnha fanart #aizawa #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha #bnha imagines #mha fanart #bnha x reader #aizawa fanart #aizawa smut #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #aizawa shouta #bnha art #eraserhead #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 5

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader (Gender neutral) Rating: T for language and mentions/references to an (emotionally) abusive relationship. Mild, brief violence. Warnings: TW for referenced emotional abuse, mild TW for possible physical abuse (sorry, angry Dani is not 100% gentle with people she doesn't love-love) Notes: Music for this chapter here. If you're following this story and really want to continue reading, but worry about the TWs for this chapter, just send me an anonymous message and I'll write up an alternative version of this post. It's not something I would do without it being requested, but it's also not a big deal so don't feel like you're bothering me if you want that. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Tocatta

Chapter 5: Poco a Poco (Italian: Little by little)

Finding a schedule for lessons to follow proved to be an insurmountable task. Consistency was something that Daniela struggled with greatly, even when it came to things that she genuinely cared about. Things like ensuring you lived long enough to entertain her. Instead of working with you to find a balance that worked for both of you, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter seemed intent on doing things in her own time. Little by little. Which would have been fine, if the two of you weren’t restricted by time.

Fate wasn’t entirely unkind, however. There were still a few things that Daniella recalled from her “youth”, bits and pieces of musical theory, the bare basics of reading sheet music. Not having to teach her proper posture or the structure of a piano would save you a little bit of time. On top of that, you had been informed that, somewhere in the castle, there were a few books of sheet music you could borrow. Assuming you were eventually able to find them, that is. So far they had eluded you, but you hadn’t even had much time to search, as you were still expected to perform your usual Maiden-related tasks.

In the end, it was Daniela herself that proved to be the biggest obstacle in your way.

“Look,” Daniela said one day, barely ten minutes into a lesson, “I think we should take a break… maybe have some fun?” One of her hands is resting on top of yours, the other tucking your hair behind your ear. There’s a smirk on her lips, unsurprisingly, and she’s mere inches away from kissing you. If not for the heavy threat hanging over your head, you would have already thrown yourself into her arms. Instead, all you can do is sigh, turning away from her as you do. “Don’t be like that, sweet thing. C’mon, no one can hear us right now. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Babe. Darling. Buttercup, honey, cute little button on a bear, you are not the brightest bulb in the lighting department,” you replied, holding the bridge of your nose between two fingers. Instantly Daniela is upset, giving you a (thankfully) playful smack on the arm. Before she can protest more you continue speaking. “Your family would not hear us making out, true, but they would definitely hear us not playing the piano. I’m pretty sure your mother already thinks I’m doomed to fail as a teacher, and the last thing I need is to give her a reason to drop the curtains this early into our performance.”

“First of all, I am not an idiot,” Daniela said, a bit of a growl to her voice. “Secondly, what harm can a few minutes really do? Don’t you think I’ve been working hard enough to earn a little reward?” Now she’s holding a finger under your chin, lifting it up, making sure you’re looking right at her. There’s no dissuading her, it seems, as she leans in for a soft kiss. This was one of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with (courting?) her; communication felt like a one-man play, except the audience was as likely to throw knives as rotten tomatoes. Whenever Daniela acted like this, pushing away your concerns in favor of her pleasure, it felt helpless to try and resist her.

So you kissed back, wrapped your arms around her, and hoped that she’d be more open to compromise afterwards. At least kissing her was nice. Even though it had only been a week since you first kissed her, she was already getting better, evidently learning through experience. The passion behind her movements had grown as well, leaving you a tad breathless. Regardless of her odd perception of romance, and her insistence that she knew best, you found yourself charmed by her. It was scary. Terrifying, really, how you felt yourself falling under her spell. Wait. Hadn’t you been in this sort of situation before?... Staying with someone who wasn’t good for you? Why were you kissing her? Why were you starting to tremble, tears in your eyes, mind falling down a slippery slope of memories?

By the time you snap out of it, you’re sitting on the floor, Daniela awkwardly kneeling by your side. What the fuck? You think, sniffling a little. Head spinning, mind reeling, you struggle to form coherent thoughts. Next to you Daniela is unsure of how to help. But she’s trying, sort of, one hand holding your own, the other gently rubbing your back. She’s saying something, the words going right over your head. Understanding her takes times, focus, like tuning an instrument until the pitch is just right.

“I don’t understand, we were only kissing, what happened? Can you even hear me? Is this your way of tricking me into not making out with you? Because that’s a total dick move and-” she rambles, only stopping when you give her hand a soft squeeze. Then she’s meeting your gaze, looking uncomfortable, shoulders tense. “You’ve been weird for a while. Distant. Like you don’t want to touch me anymore. Don’t you still love me?”

There’s real, honest pain in her eyes when she speaks. If the timing had been different… you’d have thrown your arms around her and covered her face in kisses, promising to hold her onto she felt better, promising that yes you cared. You cared so fucking much. But she’s making you exhausted; every second has to be focused on her, not you. Every moment of concern is flipped around until she’s the victim, or at least the one that needs comforting. You didn’t think that she even realized what she was doing. Well, you hoped that she didn’t, wanted to believe that if she understood she’d change.

“Remember the first day we kissed?... how you pulled me close, and I kissed you harder, and we started…. Remember how I made a move and you pushed me away? I’ll never forget the look on your face. I felt like shit afterwards. I should have asked before I tried anything,” you explain, letting go of Daniela’s hand so you could pull your knees to your chest. Somehow you can’t bring yourself to maintain eye contact with her- not right now, not when you could still remember what it felt like to be on her side of this story. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, or make you feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you like that.”

“Oh bullshit,” Daniela snarled, shocking you, before getting to her feet. Confusion doesn’t begin to describe how you feel in the moment as you watch her pace back and forth. Both her hands are clenched into fists, and she’s refusing to look at you. There’s a buzzing sound in the room, faint but growing louder, like she’s a split second away from entering swarm mode. “We’re a couple, aren’t we? Shouldn’t you be able to tell what I want? Shouldn’t it be obvious what I desire, when I’m pinning you to the wall and shoving my tongue down your throat? What more do you require?”

“Holy shit, Dani, I know communication isn’t your forte, but have you really not even considered talking to me? That’s simple, easy, literally the first thing that should come to mind!” You snapped, too in disbelief to keep your voice down. For a moment Daniela stops her pacing, turning to stare at you with narrowed eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you’d be convinced she was ready to kill you. But she doesn’t move to grab her sickle, or otherwise advance on you, instead groaning and tugging on her own hair in frustration.

“Because that’s not romantic, genius!” She replied. Some dots start to connect in your mind, but you lack the full context, as if looking at sheet music with no clefs or time signature. It’s not until Daniela continues that you really understand; and, by extension, realize just how ridiculous this whole mess is. “None of the books I’ve read involve conversations like this. People just… they just love each other! And figure it out as they go along, reading each other’s body language and facial expressions, inferring what they need to know through touches and reactions. Why can’t we do that?”

“This isn’t a fucking book, dumbass! I don’t have powers like you, I can’t just read your mind and figure out what you want. That’s not how relationships work! Communication is key. And you can’t just talk, you have to listen, hard, and understand,” you continued, still on the floor, heart pounding so furiously you thought it might leap from your chest at any moment. As angry as you are, you wonder if you’re being too loud, too angry, wonder if there was a better way to get through to Daniela. Before you can think of a solution the air is ripped from your lungs. Your “partner”/student is grabbing you by the front of your shirt, yanking you to your feet. Instinct makes you struggle against her, as useless as it is.

“I. Told. You. I’m not an idiot!” Her free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek for a moment, then pulling away just as fast. When it moves back up she’s gripping onto her sickle. The sharp edge ends up resting against your neck, the slightest movement threatening to cut you open. This is the most Daniela has ever openly threatened you, and in that moment all your anger melts back into fear, tears spilling down your cheeks. A flicker of something shows in her eyes, making you think that even she doesn’t like where this is going. “Give me one reason not to end this right now.”

“... I don’t… I can’t think. I… Why would you?” The words leave you in a rush, even with the pauses, and each syllable makes the sickle press into your skin a little more. There’s sure to be a cut there, though you can’t even begin to estimate how bad it is. The blade is sharp, clearly, and it hardly even hurts as it slices you. Thankfully the sensation doesn’t last long. Once you’re done speaking, Daniela’s grip loosens considerably, hand slowly letting your shirt go. Her other hand takes a few seconds to move, but eventually pulls away without any fuss. For a few seconds she just watches you, eyes filled to the brim with a rich sorrow, mouth open but unmoving.

“No lesson tomorrow. I need a break,” Daniela whispers, barely audible. Then she’s dusting herself off, no longer looking at you, and heading towards the exit. Just like the first time you met, she pauses in the doorway. “How’s that for communication, hmm?” When she laughs, it’s empty, forced. Part of you wants to stop her and ask if she’s okay.

Instead, you watch her leave, unspoken words tangling with your tongue until you almost can’t swallow.

Then your feet move, automatically, leading you to the piano. You sit down without thinking. You touch the keys without thinking. When you play, you play without thinking. It’s just a song, the world tells you, and you have no choice but to play. It’s not just a song, you know this, but you can’t think. Can’t argue against the personification of your isolation, or the embodiment of your trauma. All you can do is let yourself get lost in the music, softly, recalling lyrics from a forgotten time.

I’ve been running all my life, trying to find a place to hide ‘Thought that I had settled down, but I guess things are changing now Don’t make me go, don’t make me go Just don’t make me go, this feels like home

As soon as the last note fades out you stand, wordlessly, and leave. Your feet carry you down corridor after corridor, past maidens working, some of whom gasp when they see you. But you don’t stop, not even when you cross paths with Lady Bela, who eyes you with surprising concern. She doesn’t try to stop you, though, and you doubt you would have cared if she had tried. It’s not until you are within your shared room that you finally stop moving. It is there that you sit, shaking, finally pressing a cloth to your neck. Blood stains the fabric, first in just a few dots, then spreading out. There’s not enough to make you fear for your life, but there is enough to make you cry harder. Washing the wound will sting… so you don’t do that. Soon you will have to return to your work, and the thought puts pressure on your skull, summoning an all-too-familiar migraine.

When you close your eyes, you don’t mean to fall asleep, but that is exactly what you do. And when you dream, you do not wish for nightmares. You never do- and fate never denies you their company.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #big oof in the chat for this one boys #introducing the secondary conflict #don't worry the next one will be happier :)#tw emotional abuse #we learn little hints of the reader's backstory here

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blackacre13 · 3 years ago

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I love ALLLL of your prompts. I specially loved the childhood friends AU and I was wondering if you'll revisit it maybe about how it was when they started to realized they loved each other more than best friends do?

Thank you so so much! I loved that version of them. Here’s the original and your moment below:

“Mom says I can date now. You know, now that we’re starting high school,” Debbie mused aloud. “If I want to,” she added, as if an afterthought she could both introduce and swat away simultaneously.

“Do you?” Lou asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence between them as Debbie erased something furiously from her worksheet and Lou crossed out assignments in her planner.

Debbie looked up at her.

“Did you want to start dating? I mean,” Lou smiled nervously.

Debbie shrugged, looking back down at her homework for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind. It would be nice to have someone take me to the movies or dinner or something I guess. But I can’t think of any boys I’d like to date.” She paused. “Maybe high school will be different.”

She looked up at Lou, almost studying her, waiting for a response as her heart fluttered nervously, her palms starting to sweat though she was unsure why.

“I don’t think I’ll ever like boys,” Lou spoke softly, looking down at her own work. “I mean, what’s the point? I could take you to the movies. Or dinner. Whatever you wanted.”

Debbie nodded before she could fully comprehend what Lou was saying, the blonde looking up at her shyly as her cheeks became rosy, two pairs of eyes locking in on each other as they realized the gravity of what the blonde was hinting at without even realizing.

“Debbie,” Lou whispered.

“Yeah?”

“What if we dated?” Lou asked quietly, flipping the pencil between her fingers around again and again as her heart hammered in her chest, the blonde afraid that Debbie might even be able to hear it.

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” Debbie asked, a smile twitching at her lips. The word felt natural on her tongue and even better thinking it could be attached to Lou. Her best friend. Her favorite person. Her girlfriend.

“Yeah,” Lou blushed, nodding her head. “Yeah, if you want. I think I’ve wanted that for a while actually.”

“Me too,” Debbie whispered, growing excited. Things were clicking into place in her mind and she could see the same reflected back at her in Lou’s face as her smile grew.

“We already share everything,” Lou laughed. “We help each other with homework and parents and well…I’d say dating or crushes but neither of us has ever really…”

“I think I’ve always had a crush on you,” Debbie muttered. “All this time…whenever you make me laugh or hold my hand or sneak me my favorite snacks or…”

“Deb?” The blonde whispered, leaning across the pile of worksheets and planners and strewn writing supplies on Debbie’s bedroom floor, her lips only inches from Debbie’s as she let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.”

“Me too,” Debbie smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear nervously.

“Can I?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Debbie admitted.

“Me either,” Lou shrugged.

“But I want to,” the brunette insisted. “I want you to be my first kiss.”

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bimsha · 3 years ago

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All of Our Stars (Sano Manjiro x Reader)

"You're on the other side

As the skyline splits in two

Miles away from seeing you"

Song - All of Our Stars by Ed Sheeran

“And you all have to read the next pages…” The voice of your teacher droned in the background as he repeated the homework for which it felt like the trillionth time after starting the period. Your eyes wandered aimlessly along the Sakura trees which were bare against the melancholic nature surrounding them. Winter break was close at hand, nature was getting ready to welcome the coldness.

You collected your things as the bell rang snapping you off from your daydream. Students rushed out of the classroom, grateful that another exhausting school day was over. Everyone was getting ready for the upcoming exams which were close at hand. You didn’t care much about them. You’re a third year middle school student and everyone in the class was already choosing high schools while you knew you wouldn’t be able to choose yourself. It’s already chosen. You’re moving with your parents to America next year. Your mind was occupied with different thoughts as you took the stairs, finding your way through the crowd of students heading home.

Your eyes wandered to the gate when you noticed him standing there as usual, but he was in his casual attire, not the school uniform. “Skipped school today?” You asked, walking to Mikey. It had been a whole year since you two started dating. It was almost as if when you two are together, time accelerates. You could recall every precious memory like a vivid polaroid. Your first Christmas together, the games at the arcade, and the things you went through when the world of delinquents suddenly crashed into your safe bubble of love. It was beautiful. Every scar, every memory was beautiful.

He stood up straight, no welcoming smile. “You didn’t tell me, Y/n, Why?”

Your smile faded, he knew. You averted your gaze to the ground, absentmindedly poking the sole of your shoe against the ground. “I found out a couple of days ago. It was a sudden decision” You sighed, “So they say”

Mikey stared at you for a moment, “Y/n, what do you want to do?”

You shook your head. That was the question you had in your mind for days. What do you want to do? You didn’t have any idea whether long distance relationships actually worked. Sure, you could visit when it’s a holiday but what about the rest of the days? “C’mon” Mikey took your wrist, guiding you out of the school. You two walked in silence as he slipped his hand to yours, entangling your fingers. A small sign of reassurance. Mikey was good at subtle affectionate gestures. That’s how he loved you, subtle, but affectionate.

“Y/n” He rubbed his thumb across your skin, his eyes looking at the fallen leaves making a thick carpet of red and orange under your feet. “I don’t want to end this”

You smiled, it was obvious, neither did you. “Same here.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “We could try long distance.”

“I know…” Your voice trailed off, “But Mikey, what if you-” You stopped, the question was obvious. What if you find someone else? Someone better? You shook your head, “I don’t know”

Mikey tipped his head backwards, looking at the blue sky, heavily covered with clouds. It would be a matter of weeks till snow starts to cover the streets. “I had the same thoughts.” He admitted, turning to you. Both of your fears were valid. Human hearts are fragile and needy. You didn’t know what the future held. “But” He started, “Then I thought of something else. Come, there’s something I have to show you.”

Suddenly, both of you were running across the streets, passing people who were busy with their phones and groceries. Cold wind brushed against your cheeks as you two dashed past annoyed people groaning about youngsters'' manners these days. You didn’t even know the destination until you both stopped in front of a wall filled with graffiti. You knew the place well. Mikey and you came here for your first date. Your eyes instantly reached the bottom corner where Mikey’s messy handwriting was. Written in black ink, contrasting against the patch of white was just one line:

“All of these stars will guide us home”

It was an inside joke between you two. A comfort song of sorts. “Remember here?” Mikey crouched down, his hands softly running over the words. Just underneath his messy writing was your own neat handwriting.

For you and me, and for a future with us together.

Just the first date, but both of you had high hopes for each other. It was rather naive to hope for a future when it had been mere days with you two together. It was precious nonetheless. “You screamed at me that day. Called me out on vandalizing the walls.” He smiled, reaching out a hand to you. You took it and sat down beside him, leaning against the wall, icy cold but holding a vague sense of comfort. This was the first place you two planted an icon of your love together.

“Then five minutes later, I was vandalizing the wall myself” You finished. “You’re such a bad influence, Mikey”

Mikey raised his brow, “I think you’re the bad influence, Y/n. I didn’t beat the crap out of guys with only my shoes.”

You huffed, offended. “First, they were trying to harass me. Second, my heels were the only good weapon I had in my hand. Third, those guys were crap at fighting.”

Mikey shook his head with a laugh, “When I came to the scene, it was all over. I wanted to play the knight who saved the princess, but you didn’t let me.”

You nudged his ribs, “You played the knight several times, Mikey.”

He turned to you. You breath catching against your throat as he reaches for your hair, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your cheek as he held you in his arms, clutching to you as if you were his lifeline. You didn’t blame him. He lost so many people in his life, you knew how much he loved the people around him. Toman wasn’t his treasure. The people in the gang were his treasure. “Where to, next?” You asked, your voice muffled against his black jacket.

He pushed away, “To a certain street sweet shop”

Ah right, you thought as he started walking towards the busy streets of Shibuya. Both of you looked around, taking in the busy lifestyles around you. There was that feeling again, you were detached from the world when you’re with him. It was just him and you, and your hands brushing together as you walked by. You’re going to miss this. You stopped in front of the shop. The pleasant aroma of different types of street food caught your nose. Your mouth waters at the smell. This was the best shop.

Taiyaki sizzled loudly on pains, turning into a golden colour. Mikey’s eyes were firmly planted on them as he ordered two fish shaped cakes, handing one to you. “I will never get sick of this” He spoke through a mouthful of his own.

You kicked his shin playfully, biting into your own. The soft cake melts inside your mouth. “Of course you aren't going to. You stole mine one day!”

Ironically, it wouldn’t be wrong if someone said Taiyaki brought you two together. You two met at this shop. He with his delinquent friends crowded around him, you with your school squad with you. It was a summer evening and there was only one Taiyaki left. You ordered first, but he being the spoiled brat, took it from the man, dropped some coins and dashed out of the shop. You would’ve let it go, but it was your Taiyaki. You dashed after him, ignoring the cries of your friends and the grins of his friends. You chased him down to the river bank where he stood, chomping down on the Taiyaki like a madman.

“I took it first and I paid for it.” He countered, snapping off your thoughts. “I own it, Y/n. I’m no stealer”

“No” You find yourself childishly arguing back, “I ordered it first. You stole it.”

“It’s not stealing when you pay for it.”

“And how are you coming to that conclusion?” You chomped down on your own Taiyaki furiously, getting drowned in crumbs as the crispy sweet crunched at your harsh actions.

“It’s a thing because I say so” Mikey grinned with satisfaction at his argument.

You frowned but kept chewing harshly, as if to offend him. It was a thing with Mikey, you can be childish and at the next moment you could act like mature adults. “You look like you want to bite my face off” He commented, finishing off his and dropping the paper slip into the trash bin.

“I’m afraid I would '' You countered, imitating his actions and looking dusting your hands. The crumbs fell to the floor.

“You’re a messy eater, Y/n” He said, reaching his hands and wiping the corner of your cheek, your eyes lingering against each other for a second longer. “Usually I’m the messy one. Good to have a change of roles” He dropped a kiss on your hair, nuzzling his nose on your head.

“You lovebirds are blocking the door!" the shop owner yelled. But the smile on his face was inevitable. They were regulars at his shop and he had seen both of them grow into lovers from rivals to friends.

“Sorry!” Mikey called out with a slight wave as they both exited the shop. It was like a walk down memory lane. From one thing to another. Shibuya was your love story. Everywhere were scattered memories of your love. “Remember that bench?” Mikey said, gesturing towards a metal bench under a bare Sakura tree.

“We shared my lunch together under that tree” You said, tilting your head as a slight flush reached your cheeks.

Mikey grinned, “You accidentally came to school on a Saturday.”

“Shut it” You huffed, marching to the opposite lane. You knew where you would end up if you just continued to walk. It was another place you made memories. The place you made most of your memories. Mikey skipped a few steps before reaching you.

The river bank was colder than you expected it to be. The wind rushed through your hair as you breathed in the cold air around you. Mikey sat down, patting the grass beside him for you to sit. You slid to the ground and drew your knees to your chest, looking out at the water, overlapping with waves in a soundless muttering. This is where you two came when you needed to talk. The time didn’t matter. You two had midnight talks with each other spilling the insecurities. Somedays, it was just to stay in silence. Nevertheless, this was your happy place. It was the same from all the dangers or reality. A place lost in time.

“Shibuya is going to be a nightmare after you leave” Mikey was laying on the grass, a hand dropped behind his head as he stared into nothingness. “Everywhere I go, it’s memories of you and me. Tiny specks of moments we shared.”

You hummed, “America is going to be even lonelier. No memories. Everything is going to be new and foriegn. Even the people. I’m kinda scared, maybe even terrified, Mikey”

He turned your head and stared at you, “I don’t want to break up, Y/n.”

It was getting dark, you noticed. The sun had already set through the horizons. The stars, one by one came into view, sliding away the darkness with a speck of comfort. The lamp posts on the streets glowed in a healthy yellow breaking through the black night. “Even if we’re going to be away, we’ll be staring at the same sky, watching the same stars each night.” You were talking nonsense, but you did not want to stop. “Mikey, let’s try. I don’t want to let you go either.”

His lips quirked upwards into a soft smile, “Yeah, we should try. You can always come home to me, Y/n. If things get tough out there, you always have a place right here” He said, tapping his finger against his heart. “Don’t be scared. Just be the badass girl you are, they’re going to be terrified”

You let out a surprised laugh, “Terrified enough to send me back home?”

He shrugged, “Worth a try” There was that, his childish tone you adore. You loved him for the man he is. The childish yet mature person. The one you can confide all your secrets to. The one who holds out his hand for you when things get tough. There was no way to let go. You were committed, both of you were. That was love for you. He sat down and turned to you. His dark eyes are watching you intently. “Call me?”

“Every night, I promise” You assured, taking his hands. “Wait for me, Mikey. I’ll be back. If you can wait-”

“I will wait.” He said, cutting you off. He drew closer to you, “There’s always a home with me for you. I promise”

You closed your eyes as you felt tears threatening against them. Love was a series of promises and words. It could be the simple moment you shared with him tonight under a sky filled with stars. For you, love was him and him alone. “I love you” your whispered words were carried by the wind into the night.

“I love you too, Y/n” He said, connecting your lips. Your lips danced together as he pulled you close. The world didn’t matter. His warm hold, cocooning you in mattered more. Your arms held him tightly, lips exploring each other’s warmth and comfort. When you pushed away he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss you, Y/n”

You nodded, unable to form words. You’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him. Your universe. Your guidance to your place called home.

"But I can see the stars from America

I wonder, do you see them too?"

#Mikey x Reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjiro #xreader #female reader #tokyo manji gang #song fic #Tr #fanfic #slight angst #Sano Manjiro x Reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x you #mikey

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

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Hi, could you pls write something about Y/n finding out she’s pregnant and she decides not to keep the baby. Like, maybe Harry and y/n are not married (not that you have to be married to have a baby, it’s just a suggestion) and maybe Harry gets kind of mad at the beginning but then understands why she doesn’t want the baby. In every fanfiction they always end up keeping the baby, yes it’s cute, but babies take a lot of your time, they are expensive and sometimes annoying. Maybe it’s not the right time for them to be parents!! Make it extra angst pls

A/N: I agree with you, honestly it's okay for women/partner not to want kids in a relationship.

Warning: Mentions of abortion and angst.

Y/N just came back from one of the sleepovers of her bestfriend. It was fun, no offence but every food-ly item there made her sick to her core and atlast she ended up throwing. Ofcourse, all her girlie-bestie were there to give her a back rub, hold her hair for her, made her chamomile tea and most importantly did a serious talk to her in their pillow fort while sipping onto their hot bevy.

When Y/N told them she's been feeling like this from goodly two weeks they all gasped making Y/N's nerves jumble furthermore —--- what they advised her next flew over her head as she kept on poking her finger through the loops of her crotched cardigan, "Huh?" She hums innocently tucking her loose hair back.

"You could be pregnant. . ." Feli told her softly grabbing her hand, "Perhaps, could be sick too." Y/N scoffs diverting her eyes somewhere else and all her friends sighed in utter sympathy for her.

Y/N doesn't want to think about it at all. No way! This could happen. It's not right. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. She knows that the worst's been waiting for her as it hits her that her periods are late.

"We can find out, though . . ." Feli slides the offer cautiously to her and when Y/N shook her head in rejection everyone insisted because they care about her. So, they ended up taking the test and it indeed came out as positive now Y/N's a crying mess cuddled with her friends as they assured her that it's gonna be alright.

"I don't wanna go home . . Can't face, Harry." She whimpers. Her heart beating wildly at the cluster of assumptions and thoughts. What she'll do now? What will happen to them? What if their decision wouldn't be same? What if he'll leave her?

"You've to love, Nia will drive you home yeah? Talk to him, I'm super sure he'll understand, he's been so supportive of you since you guys met." They all hugged her warmly before departing her off and Nia told her to call her in the morning walking her to the door.

When she enters the whole house has been dimmed to mellow light just mere instinctive noises of telly buzzing and when she pads inside she's met by the most adorable sight of Harry lounged over the couch one leg dangled over the floor and his neck craned in a bad angle; it seems like he fell asleep waiting for her and Y/N was about to retreat when he stirred up calling for her name.

"Pet?" He tries to open his peepers rubbing them with the back of his hand stretching out like a lazy cat, "You look devastated pet, what happened? Were ye'cryin' baby?" She stays silent taking in large breathers nibbling onto her lower lip. He scoots aside patting the spot beside him to make her sit and grabs her jaw to see her properly.

She looks down lip wobbling as she struggled to utter the sentence, "Harry . . ." She sniffs and he nods caressing the corner of her lip, "'m listening my love ��- promise it's not somethin' scary." It is for her.

"I'm pregnant." Time ticks by and it feels like the air has densed to the point her lungs stopped functioning. His thumb, it halts in their loving to her and his breaths hitches in his throat glossing his eyes with lack of oxygen or joy? She can't diminish.

He cackles breathily as if he's hallucinating and then gasps out of the epiphany, her heart shatters into million pieces for giving him fake beacon of happiness when he hugged her tightly to his chest.

"Jesus. 'M so happy darlin'!" He squeaks into the crook of her neck bouncing his knee in excitement and she pushes him away shaking her head, "No, no, no — Harry, I don't want it." Her voice wavered as her eyes held plead for him to understand fisting the hem of his sweater out of anxiousness and Harry feels like someone snatched his grounds, numbness sets into his toes from the distress that's bolting shut his heart chambers.

"Wha –-- what? But we talked 'bout it darlin'." He stammers baffled at her descion. He's too sensitive and all over the place right now, his mindset's isn't capable of doing something that's best for them and maybe it's because of all the images of his own lil baby in all the corners of his home, it would be such a blessing to have one wouldn't it? His conscience screamed at him.

"We did — " She says but he cuts her off, "Then why?" His own voice breaking and she clears her throat to pull some courage. His weakness makes her weak too.

"Let me speak." He nods curtly at her to continue.

"We did. Yes, I want kids with you, Harry nothing will be more beautiful than that but . . . but 'm not ready now, financially, mentally and physically." He stands up at this pacing back and forth massaging the furrowing lines at his temple. At his closed off and cold demeanour Y/N sobs throwing her hands in air.

"Would you speak somethin'!?" He turns in a snap. His eyesblooshot lips quirking up into a bitter frown, he's outraged and been burning from inside but doesn't want to dump it at her knowing it would hurt him more than it would hurt her. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he'll break the heart of his most precious human and the person who's been with him through thick n' thin.

He jeers furiously irritated at him and her, "What's there to speak? You've already made up ye'r mind, I've no say in it. Though, you know that 'm enough to raise our baby and could take care of you at the sametime." She grits something under her breath and he squints, "What?" His accent thick and gruff.

"I'm saying you're being a total, asshole!!" She tries not to yell at him groaning into the throw pillow.

She wants to kick him in shin when he just shrugged carelessly, "Okay."

"Trust me Harry not everyone's a rich millionaire like you!! I told you I'm not financially stable to have a kid and you rubbed it in my face, do you have any idea how your words were a jab to me!!" She wants to have an equal share of money in raising her kids, to give them the idea that in this household none of their parents are inferior or superior in bringing them up and she'd love for Harry to take extra care for them but his ruthless words made her feel so small and empty pocket infront of him for the first time.

She didn't notice until now that tears are dripping down his throat. Regret, remorse and guilt evident on his face but he wouldn't apologise and she's well aware of it. Wish she could hug him and kiss him to calm him down but he caused equal damage to her too.

"I'll go to clinic, in the morning." She mutters leaving him pooled into sorrow and the pricking shadow of telly while he cried to himself silently.

If it's the end. Then it should be a better one.

His boots click against the hard tiles getting loud hushes from people in waiting. He ducks down panting hopelessly, slamming his fist at the reception counter and looks at the nurse with furious eyes, "You're here to pick someone, sir?" He nods jutting his lips in attempt to take a good breather.

"Miss Y/N – "

She quickly points at the ward, "There, she might be unconscious at the mo'." He quickly shakes his head running towards it despite of all the stares he's getting from women of all ages.

There she was sitting at edge of bed in a gown –- looking small, defeated and devastated clutching the fabric of it from her knees. Her head perks up at the commotion taking in the sight of a disheveled Harry with a sandwich, vanilla moose, a tinsy plushie and sunflowers tucked under his armpit.

His chin quivers and eyes well up with bulky tears, "I'm sorry." He mouthes to her and she shakes her head with equally glossy eyes. He pads towards her carefully and sits beside her forwarding her the vanilla moose with shaky hand.

"Sorry couldn't get the chocolate one." A tiny sob breaks through her smile, "Don't like the vanilla anyways —" Her meeting his gaze was the ending point for him as he bunches his angel in a hug, smushing his face into the crook of her neck with little sniffles.

"It was very shitty of me." He admits tightening his arms around her waist and she calms him by rubbing his back, "We both weren't at our best last night." She whispers and he nods.

"I don't think you're any less than me baby, rather you're more stronger person than me in every way -- didn't —-- didn't wanna hurt you, promise. I love you so much for some different descion to tear us apart." His thumb runs in circles against her shoulders and she cups his face to look at him properly.

"Forgive me, please."

"I did bug —- the moment I realized you're a human being with emotions and feelings that could tipple over at their worsts. You've dreams too and I'm so sorry I wasn't able to fulfil them at the moment."

"You don't have to, yeah? No more apologising. We'll have a family when we both are ready." He kisses her temple, stroking her head affectionately and she bathes in that warmth.

"We could buy the chocolate moose on our way back home." He quips wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

A teasing smile breaking through his caring persona and she grins, "Shut up." scooping some of it but he takes the tiny spoon from her feeding it to her himself heating her cheeks with shyness.

#harry angst #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles requests #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry #harry styles smut #fluff #harry smut #harry styles blurb #cute harry #harry styles

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awanderingtortoise · 4 years ago

Text

a/n: first of all, i would like to thank my genius brain for answering the ask this stemmed from privately, therefore losing all access to it and anything i typed in reply. i would also like to thank google docs for housing the backup copy of this fic, ensuring my panic lasted only half the time it could have. finally (and the only serious thing here) ty to @nabrizoya for giving this idea during my 'i cant write banter only dad jokes help' panic, i loved it and wrote far more on it than i expected.

laughter in the rain

ao3

word count: 2.1k of pure fluff and crack

blurb: in which Nikolai is much too found of puns while Zoya is the polar opposite, and a young, incredibly chaotic Squaller child wreaks absolute havoc on literally everything.

(from tumblr ask: how about nikolai interacting with zoya's students and them finding nikolai's dad jokes funnier than zoya does (though she does secretly enjoy them)

----

Zoya knew she was in for it when she agreed to teach Damyen to summon lightning. Possible consequences listed themselves in her head without regard for her anxiety: Getting half her hair burned off. An emergency fire drill, minus the drill, at the Little Palace. Possibly a few roasted pigeons falling from the sky. The ten-year old Squaller was undeniably one of her most gifted students, possessing a striking talent for both the Small Science and utter chaos. Unsurprising, really, considering the child both worshiped Nikolai and had a disposition remarkably close to the latter’s. Zoya’s rant on the young Grisha amused him to no end.

“A miniature me,” Nikolai mused, glancing thoughtfully at Zoya as he sat on the edge of their bed. “And shaping up to be quite the handful.”

“You have no idea,” she grumbled, brushing out a stubborn tangle in her hair, eyes still bleary from her slumber or lack thereof. She’d slept terribly and dreamt her kefta had been on fire. Though she was never much for fortune-tellers or prophetic hogwash, she had an inkling this particular dream would soon be reality. “You could be brothers with how much you have in common. Insubordinate. Endless chatter. Utterly chaotic.”

“Handsome?” Nikolai suggested, inspecting his boots before putting them on. “Charismatic and startlingly intelligent? Really, my dear; you don’t have to be quite so negative.”

“I’m likely about to be set on fire. I have every right to be negative.”

“Now, now,” He said soothingly. “I’m sure it will be a very- enlightening experience.”

Zoya froze mid-brush stroke, turning to give him a withering glare. “Nikolai,” she hissed.

He grinned. “Yes?”

“We have talked about this.”

“Have we?”

“No more puns,” Zoya ordered. For every joke Nikolai in his love for infuriating humor could crack, these were the worst. The only people in the palace that found them amusing were Tolya and Nikolai himself. Which meant, of course, that Tolya was the only one Nikolai didn’t subject to this banal torture.

“Why?” Nikolai whined. “I find them rather electrifying, don’t you?”

She slammed her brush onto the table and stalked towards him, seizing his wrist. “I will blow you out the window. I will tie you to a tree and let Damyen use you for target practice.”

“From the sound of him, he wouldn’t dare. He loves me.”

“He’s also remarkably similar to you and has every ounce of your taste for drama. He might, and if he doesn’t you have my word that I will do it myself.” Zoya let her eyes flash silver, static crackling in the air.

“Alright,” Nikolai sighed, unperturbed by the display. “Fine. I concede. It’s but a trifle. A storm in a teacup, if you w- ow !”

She had sent a small shock through his arm, and now scoffed at the reaction to her handiwork. “Consider this a warning,” she sniffed, before turning to leave the room. “I have a Squaller to teach.”

“Storming off, are we- ow- ”

Only once the door was safely slammed behind her did she let her frown shift, lips quirking upwards. “Damnable idiot,” she muttered, smile clear in her voice.

“You love me for it,” Nikolai called from inside the room.

Zoya scowled. She’d need to have the walls thickened.

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

To Zoya’s right, a flock of very terrified and slightly singed geese squawked and took to the skies. Their nest lay in a steaming pile of ash. She raised a single eyebrow at her pupil. “Damyen, this is-”

“Awesome!” He cackled, gathering the ash in his hands and tossing it in the air like confetti. The flakes drifted down, settling in Zoya’s hair and eyelashes.

“I was going to say dismal. I do not recall asking you to set birds on fire. Your aim is terrible.”

“But I shot lighting!” He stared at his fingertips with such utter reverence for himself that Zoya didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“If you want to shoot lighting without setting your friends alight, I’d suggest you learn to hit your mark,” She said as sternly as possible. He’d picked up on the skill remarkably quickly, in all honesty, and the currents he summoned were more than good for a start. She was impressed, but her approval would only be gained with sufficient effort. And after more than a few sharp comments. “You aim worse than a blind mole rat. Again.”

Damyen sighed but brought his hands together once more, brow knitting in concentration as lightning began to form in his palm. Strands of his bronze hair fell onto his face and he squinted through them at the target. Adjusted his hands. Squinted again.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Zoya muttered. “Perhaps you’re waiting for the Saints to come riding down on a shiny chariot?”

He snorted, apparently genuinely amused, then let the bolt fly. At the same moment, a golden-haired figure strolled into the lightning’s path.

Zoya shrieked, hurtling a gust of wind towards Nikolai and blowing him to the ground. The streak of electricity slammed perfectly into the target’s center, setting the whole thing aflame. Damyen whooped, throwing up his hands and sending wind blowing every which way; scattering leaves into the air as Nikolai groaned and swore from his spot in the grass.

“Hello,” He said weakly. “Atmosphere’s rather charged around here, don’t you think?”

She huffed and pulled him to his feet, glaring daggers.

“No shocks,” Nikolai noted.

“I may change my mind. Care to explain yourself, Lantsov? In the habit of trying to kill yourself?”

“I hardly need to try. I’m a magnet for life threatening situations. Though I’ll admit that today it was a personal decision.” He beamed, spreading his hands. “I simply wanted to help you make good on your threat.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. “Why are you here? Has something come up with the Fjerdans? Did the Kerch renegotiate the trade-”

“Zoya, Zoya, Zoya,” Nikolai sighed, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount for this fickle country. Answer the question, or I truly will have him target you.”

“Is it so hard to believe I came here only to see you?”

“Yes.”

“You wound me. But if you must know, I thought I could be of some assistance.”

“As target practice?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve had quite enough of that. As a mentor. As a bribe, perhaps; for your little firecracker over there.” He glanced at Damyen, still stripping trees of their hard-earned leaves and seemingly unaware that he’d nearly killed his beloved idol. “You seemed like you could use some help.”

She raised her chin disdainfully. “I am perfectly capable of wrangling the little-”

A loud crack sounded and the sky darkened rapidly, clouds swarming over their heads as rain began to pour furiously in a matter of seconds. A few meters away, a bright flash enveloped a tree, sending the trunk bursting into flames.

“Damyen!” Zoya screeched.

The boy stared at her, wide-eyed and grinning in a mix of elation and fear. “I made a storm, Your Highness!”

“Congratulations. Now do you mind stopping before you kill us all?”

“But I-” His eyes found Nikolai and realization set in as he beamed and the rain poured even harder. “Your Highness- es !”

Another boom, and a second, larger tree was wreathed in electricity and fire. It groaned, wobbling dangerously before crashing to the ground.

Nikolai’s brow furrowed, squinting against the pouring rain. “That,” he started. “Was a centuries-old sacred cypress planted by the first Lantsov kings. Now firewood. Impressive.”

Damyen’s chest puffed with pride.

“You can fawn over each other later,” Zoya snapped. “Damyen, enough with the storm. Turn it off before you start a forest fire.”

He grinned sheepishly. “How?”

She muttered obscenities, raising her hands and dispelling the clouds with a flick of her wrists. The sky cleared, small patches of pouring rain left to quell the still-burning trees as Nikolai whistled appreciatively, clapping; and Damyen gave a small bow. Saints, these two would be the death of her.

“So,” Nikolai said, soft enough that Damyen couldn’t hear. “Changed your mind?”

She sighed. “Fine. Make your attempt. You’ve always loved trying your hand at the impossible.”

“Improbable,” he corrected, then strolled over to Damyen, running a hand through the golden strands plastered to his forehead. Soaking wet and almost cooked alive, and he still looked every bit the regal prince; she thought, a grudging, now-familiar fondness rushing through her like a horrible, tooth-rotting sweet. She scowled.

“Lovely morning,” The prince greeted. Damyen bent over in a hasty bow, but Nikolai waved his hand. “No need. Are you the wonderfully gifted Squaller her Highness speaks of so highly?”

Zoya snorted, but Damyen’s eyes practically doubled in size. “She does?”

“Oh, yes,” Nikolai said seriously. “You’re quite talented, I hear.” He lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Just between the two of us,” muttered Nikolai, very much loud enough for Zoya to be able to hear. “I think you remind her of herself, when she was your age.”

She opened her mouth; ‘What utter bullshit,’ already on the tip of her tongue but Nikolai raised a gloved finger, eyes twinkling. With much effort, she clamped her mouth shut.

Damyen seemed he might faint on the spot. Nikolai went on. “Really, there’s quite a lot you two have in common. Powerful. Willful. In possession of a rather strong attachment to me.”

The young Grisha was eating up his words. Zoya wanted to strangle the both of them.

Nikolai took a seat on a faintly smoking tree stump. “You seem to have quite a lot going on for you, learning to summon lighting and all. A rather current affair, don’t you think?”

The silence seemed to stretch on infinitely. Then Damyen gave a toothy grin and guffawed far, far louder than that sorry excuse for a joke deserved.

“Oh for Saints’ sake, Nikolai,” she groaned, shoving her face into her hands.

“Zoya, dear; no need to thunder about like that,” Nikolai said soothingly. Damyen bit his cheek in an attempt to control himself, but whatever smidgen of respect he had left for her kept him silent for barely a second before he burst into a fit of giggles.

Zoya threw her arms up in frustration and from the clouds a deep, deafening roar answered her-- how’s that for thundering, you nincompoop-- as the sky flashed once more, bright streaks lacing every cloud in an intricate web. Damyen’s gleeful expression faltered at the sight but Nikolai only grinned wider, patting Damyen on the shoulder before standing and holding a hand out to catch the rain.

“Don’t let her dampen your spirits,” he called sagely over the rumble, and it took a good amount of self control not to smite him on the spot. Nikolai flashed a thumbs-up at the boy before jogging over to the spot where Zoya stood, arms crossed and glaring. He clasped her hand in his, opening his mouth to speak.

“Not one word,” she warned. “Not a single pun or I will have Tolya read you every Ravkan epic in existence while dangling you off the palace roof.”

“No puns,” he promised. “For now. I only ask that perhaps you let the sun shine through-”

“I will not sugarcoat my instructions for whatever reason.”

“The storm, my dear,” he said gently. “Not your teaching methods. We’re nearly soaked through.”

She glanced towards his dripping sleeves and the damp fabric of her own kefta. “Fine,” Zoya muttered grudgingly, raising her free hand to call away the storm and let the clouds fade to fog. “But enough of this foolery. I can’t have Damyen running around being able to summon lightning and having no idea how to wrangle it. He has to learn.”

“And he will. Let me work my magic and I’ll have him perfectly eager to learn to control his.”

“Without the puns.”

“With slightly less puns?” He asked, brow knit together as if the fate of his jokes were a matter of life and death.

Zoya frowned, but Nikolai’s pleading look wore away at her and she sighed. “Slightly less puns.”

His eyes lit up and he beamed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

“Oh, I will,” she remarked drily. “But perhaps not enough to shock you again if you can manage the walking fire hazard.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” He bowed theatrically before turning and running back to Damyen with a ridiculous grin on his face, sunlight gilding his hair and shining in his gaze; his form so full of light that she couldn’t help but smile.

“Nikolai,” she called after him.

He turned, cocking his head. “Nazyalensky? Is everything alright?”

Zoya closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She opened her palm, summoning the smallest thundercloud, letting raindrops pool in her outstretched hand. “Right as rain, Lantsov.”

He laughed, and the sound, golden and unrestrained and bright, was worth every joke she’d ever have to endure.

#zoyalai #i am an idiot #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #horrible puns terrible puns #nikolai duology #grishaverse #tortoise tries to write #me

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Can yoy maybe write about sirius getting injured during a game, and remus gatting so frustrated because hes not the PT anymore so he cant help him right away?

♡♡♡

Yes, indeed! We haven’t done any angst/ hurt comfort in a while and I’ve been noodling around with this idea for a bit now. Thanks for the recommendation! Sweater Weather credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

TW for unconsciousness, mild concussion, beginnings of panic, and bruising

Sirius hit the ice, and he didn’t get up.

Remus’ heart skipped a beat.

He was next to him in an instant, gloves and helmet long forgotten as he carefully unbuckled Sirius’ chin strap. A fight had broken out behind him, but he tuned it out—he knew this process. He was trained for this.

But this was Sirius he was holding, Sirius whose eyes were still fucking closed and even though his breathing was steady he was limp in Remus’ arms.

Pulse. Check.

Eyes. Glassy under the eyelids.

Patient nonresponsive to his name or touch.

Stop shaking, Remus ordered his hands as he worked through his list. Stop it right now. You have a degree, you were trained for this.

“Mr. Lupin, please move so we can take a look,” a new voice said.

“I’m helping.”

“Mr. Lupin, we’re the medics here—”

“I’m helping,” Remus snapped. “His breathing is even but he’s nonresponsive, possible concussion.”

“We need to make room for the medics.”

“I am the fucking medic.”

Emmeline’s hand was gentle but firm on his bicep. “Remus, you’re a player now. Let us do our job. We’ll take good care of him.”

“Let me help.” Why is my voice breaking? I’m perfectly calm. “Please, let me help.”

“You already did.” Slowly, he scooted aside so she could kneel by Sirius’ shoulder and run the same tests Remus had just cleared him for.

“I already did that—”

“Remus.”

“I’m sorry.” The fingers that laid cold in his palm twitched and Remus immediately leaned forward again as Sirius’ eyes opened. “Sirius? Sirius, can you hear me?”

Sirius muttered something and Emmeline glanced behind Remus; a moment later, he felt someone’s hands pulling him up from under his arms. “Come on, Loops, give them space,” James murmured.

“Let go, I can help.” Remus struggled, but James’ arm was a steel bar across his chest as he skated backwards a few feet. Sirius was looking around now, answering questions with a dizzy expression. “James, he needs me—he needs me, I can help.”

“The best thing you can do is take some deep breaths with me. In and out, Re, in and out.”

Sirius stood on unsteady legs and leaned on the medics for support as they practically carried him off the ice; the rest of the team skated after them at a safe distance, all clearly worried. No limp, no wincing, red cheeks, headache? Concussion? No broken bones, no soft tissue damage, please God let him be alright. Something warm trickled down Remus’ chin. “I can help.”

“You already did.”

“Stop it,” he said harshly. “Stop it, don’t tell me that. I can do more, I have to do more, it’s my job.”

“No, it’s not.”

“He’s my—” Remus’ voice gave out. “He’s Sirius.”

“I know.”

Logan was skating back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of the bench, his eyes locked on Sirius’ retreating back. The hit replayed in Remus’ mind—clean, fast, brutal. A simple trip over a misplaced stick, then Sirius flying headfirst into the boards and going limp as the dumb fucking rookie scrambled to his feet.

Dumo went over and led Logan into a side hug by his elbow. A tremor visibly ran through Logan’s body and Remus went cold. Had he missed something? What was it? What test didn’t he run—

“Sit with me.” It wasn’t a question. He nodded, and James guided him to the bench, past Logan and Dumo as they talked quietly in French.

“Lupin, are you alright?” Coach asked before they even came off the ice.

“They wouldn’t let me help,” he said weakly.

Something akin to pity crossed his face. “We’ve got six minutes left. Sit this one out.”

“I can play.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Will someone please just let me be useful?” Remus startled himself a bit with his volume and felt James’ hands go slack with surprise on his arms. He swiped furiously at the sweat—not sweat, it felt different—that covered his cheeks. “Please, Coach.”

“You’re done for this game,” Arthur repeated, though his voice was kind. Remus wanted to hate it, but he couldn’t. “We’ll keep you updated. Pots, go get Tremzy off the ice. You’re on for this shift.”

“Yes, Coach,” James said, giving Remus a quick squeeze. “Deep breaths. He’ll be alright.”

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

Sirius was still in the PT room when the final buzzer went off; Lions win, 3-2. Remus barely got his pads off before he went running down the hall with Logan hot on his heels, leaving their gear scattered haphazardly in their stalls.

Emmeline was just closing the door when they arrived. “Can we see him? Is he okay? Concussion protocol was updated so my tests might not have been enough but is he still awake?” Remus blurted out in a single rushed breath.

She didn’t miss a beat. “He’s up and talking. We think it’s a very mild concussion that just hit a little weird and knocked him around.” Logan’s grip tightened on his forearm and her eyes flickered down to it. “Both of you can relax. You’re welcome to go in if you like.”

They were halfway through the door before she was even done speaking. Sirius was sitting upright on the PT table, still in his under armour and holding an ice pack to the side of his head. He lit up when he saw them. “Hey, I was just—”

“Are you okay?” Remus demanded. He pulled the ice away and prodded the bruised skin, then stared directly into Sirius’ eyes to check for any lack of focus. He looked alert, which was a good sign. “You look worried. Does it hurt? Are the lights—”

“Re.” His hand folded over Remus’, and tears clogged his throat. “I’m fine. Emmeline and the team cleared me, and Hestia did all the tests. Did we win?”

“Yeah,” Logan said quietly. “Coach didn’t let either of us back on the ice.”

“Who fucking cares about the game?” Anger flared in Remus, hot and sudden. “You were unconscious.”

Sirius remained infuriatingly calm. “I was.”

“You—you hit the boards and you didn’t get up.” Eyes not open. Breathing shallow, but even. Heart rate steady. Follow the process. “Sirius, you didn’t get up.”

“I promise I’m okay.” He reached out and pulled Remus close, rubbing small circles on his back with one hand and reeling Logan in with the other. “It was a rough hit, that’s all.”

“They wouldn’t let me help you,” Remus whispered. His voice was muffled in Sirius’ shoulder and he tucked his face into his neck, holding him even tighter. “I’m so sorry, love.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Sirius placed a small kiss behind his ear. “Est-ce que ça va, Tremz?”

“Ouais, plus bien maintenant.” They shifted slightly as Logan pressed his forehead to Sirius’ with a sniffle. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

“Seconded,” Remus muttered.

“Got it,” Sirius laughed lightly, kissing the tops of both their heads before releasing them. His eyebrows rose as he spotted something over their shoulders. “Um, hello.”

“Hey,” nine Lions said from the doorway. Emmeline looked mildly amused at their sardine-crammed position. James drummed his fingers on the doorframe and tapped his foot at the same time; if they didn’t come over in the next five seconds, Remus was afraid he might explode.

“Is our turn now?” Kuny ventured, standing on his tiptoes to see over the rest. “Cap still okay? Not hugged to dead?”

“Death,” Nado corrected quietly.

“Cap not hugged to death?”

“Really, I’m fine,” Sirius laughed as they all tumbled inside, rushing to check in on him. Remus noticed Logan place himself like a brick wall if someone got too close to Sirius and felt a wave of affection go all the way down to his toes.

“Give him space,” Emmeline reminded them from the door. “The concussion is mild, but it’s there.”

“I would love to see you try to get those boys out of here,” Hestia snorted as she entered. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Remus and he nodded to her; she winked and shot him a quick smile before grabbing the clipboard off the wall.

“Treatment plan?” he guessed as she tore a piece of paper off and handed it to him. Dumo was still hugging Sirius in a vice grip.

“It’s so nice to have someone who understands this stuff,” she sighed. “Pretty easy, to be honest. I’ve written a few reminders, but you know the drill.”

“Thank you, Hestia. Really.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “I promised to take care of your boys, didn’t I? Have a little faith, Loops.”

“I have so much faith in you it’s embarrassing.”

She laughed at that, throwing her head back and clapping him on the shoulder. “I guess that’s what happens when someone tapes your face back together, huh?”

“Exactly. Can I take him home now?”

“Go easy for the next couple weeks,” she teased.

Remus rolled his eyes and stuck the paper in his back pocket. “Alright, alright, very funny.”

“You should probably go home and get some rest, though. He’s not allowed on the ice for the rest of the week and I, for one, don’t want to be the person breaking that particular news.”

“What?” She left with a final kiss blown in his direction; unfortunately, Sirius did not seem to have overheard her. “Wait, you don’t get to just leave! That’s such a cop out!”

“What’s a cop out?” Sirius asked.

Remus closed his eyes and huffed. This is going to be fun.

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nicknellie · 4 years ago

Text

Anonymous requested: It would be really cool if you could do a library AU! Maybe one of them works at a library and they keep running into each other or something.

I have been unbelievably excited to write this one, I’m so happy I’ve finally got around to it! This is where my mind went as soon as I read the prompt, I really hope you enjoy it! (If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for a part 2 I’d be more than happy to do that once I reopen requests.)

Featuring he/they Willie because I really need to include that headcanon in my writing more often. Willie’s pronouns alternate throughout.

Books on Boards

Usually it was Reggie whose excuses began with “In my defence…”

“In my defence, I couldn’t see where I was going… In my defence, I forgot water and electricity don’t mix… In my defence, if Luke didn’t want to be shot with a Nerf gun then he shouldn’t have been standing in my way…”

Sometimes it was Luke.

“In my defence, no one told me not to… In my defence, I didn’t realise it could go this horribly wrong… In my defence, I did try to do it properly and I don’t know how it blew up…”

On rare occasion, it was Julie.

“In my defence, I was a little lost in my own head… In my defence, I’m terrible at comebacks… In my defence, I have an extremely annoying boyfriend and he was trying to talk to me about our new setlist the whole time which was very distracting…”

But it was never Alex.

Until now.

“In my defence,” Alex began, raising a hand and talking over Julie, Luke, and Reggie’s shouts, “I have to go to the library a lot. I’m an English major and it’s where all the books are!”

“But you don’t need to be at the library for five hours a day,” Luke countered.

Alex sighed. He had a point, and Alex had no excuse this time. Well, that wasn’t strictly true – his excuse was an adorable library assistant who just so happened to be very friendly to Alex and, by some miracle, worked whenever Alex needed to study. But he couldn’t just admit that to his friends, each of whom was staring at him with flat disbelief.

The assistant’s name was Willie and he was simply wonderful. The first time Alex had met him had been right at the start of his first semester – he had never been to the university’s library before and it was bigger than the one at Alexandria, so he was unbelievably lost. Alex had half-convinced himself that he would be stuck there forever, doomed to wander between the shelves looking for the section he needed, eventually becoming a ghost and haunting the place, still trying to locate his books.

Enter Willie. They had scared Alex half to death – in Alex’s defence, he hadn’t expected to be knocked off his feet by someone on a skateboard in the middle of a library the size of Buckingham Palace. And yet, he had landed on the floor, flat on his face and winded, understandably startled. As he scrambled to his feet, he heard his assailant exclaim, “Aw… you dinged my board!”

Alex had started to berate him but stopped in his tracks when he looked at the guy and realised that he had been knocked to the floor by a literal angel. His long dark hair was majestically swept to one side and tucked behind his ear, his soft eyes were sparkling, and he had a lopsided smile on his face despite the fact that Alex had been shouting at him just a second earlier (well, whisper-shouting at him – they were in a library, after all).

“Sorry,” they had said, picking up their board. “I didn’t see you there. Books were in the way.” He had pointed to a heap of books now strewn across the floor, some splayed open, some with ripped pages. Alex realised that he had been carrying the books stacked up in front of him, skating along with them.

“Oh!” Alex exclaimed, bending down to help pick the books up. “No, sorry, it’s fine. I was just stood there. I’m a little lost, no problem, my fault.”

Together they had stacked the books back up, and Willie heaved the stack onto a nearby table before introducing himself. Alex did the same, shaking Willie’s hand and trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach – he couldn’t let himself get distracted by a cute guy with a skateboard, not while he still had all his books to find in the labyrinthine library.

“So,” Willie had said conversationally, leaning back against the table. “You said you were lost? Anything specific you need to find?”

Alex dug around in his fanny pack before pulling out the list he’d scribbled down. “Yeah, all of these. Do you know where they are?”

“I’d be a pretty terrible librarian if I didn’t,” Willie chuckled. At Alex’s bewildered look, he had raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m not a terrible librarian. I’m actually really good at it. I mean, I don’t usually knock over customers, but these things happen.”

“Oh,” Alex said, clocking on too late. It made sense – of course that was why Willie had been carrying so many books, he was a librarian. Alex didn’t know how he hadn’t guessed before. “Right, I get it, because of the books and the… Right, okay. What about the, uh… the skateboard?”

Willie had picked up their board, smiled at it fondly. “It helps me get around faster. This place is huge, man, you don’t seriously expect me to walk around it all day? Anyway, come with me, I’ll take you to those books.”

That had been five weeks ago.

It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Willie was incredibly cute. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Willie’s shifts happened to perfectly align with his studying time. But he couldn’t deny that it was his fault that he had stayed there for hours on end every day since, talking to Willie about everything and nothing. And it was also his fault that he had done that very same thing today, checked his watch and seen that he was an hour late for band practise, and kept talking to Willie anyway.

Usually, Alex thought about consequences, but he had been having so much fun talking to Willie that day that he hadn’t considered them. Now those consequences had caught up with him in the form of one very angry rock band.

“Alex,” Luke said imploringly, “you’ve got to get your head in the game! We have a load of gigs coming up, really important ones–”

“We do?” Reggie interrupted, looking baffled. “I thought we’ve got that one at the old folks’ home and then that’s it for, like, a month?”

Luke waved him away. “That’s not the point. These gigs are just as important as any big ones. Dude, we’ve got to build up our repertoire so that we can start playing bigger venues, but that’s not going to happen if our drummer is too caught up in his studies!”

Alex inwardly sighed with relief. At least Luke thought the reason he was staying at the library so often was because he was working hard, not because he was talking to Willie. He would have preferred his tiny little crush on Willie stayed secret for a little longer; whenever Luke found out that Alex or Reggie liked someone, he became unbearable.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if Julie had other ideas.

She huffed an incredulous laugh, saying, “You seriously think he’s staying late because he’s studying?”

Luke nodded, confused, as Reggie gestured to Alex and said, “Of course he is, what other reason could there be?”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, nodding. He knew that the hitch in his voice was unconvincing – in his defence, he’d never been a good liar. “What other reason could there be?”

Julie raised a challenging eyebrow, but the smirk on her face told Alex that she knew she had already won. “Alex, can I just ask, who was working at the library today?”

Alex cleared his throat and tried for nonchalance when he said, “Willie.”

“You mean the good-looking skater-boy history major, right?” Julie said slyly.

Alex shrugged. “Yeah. I guess he is those things.”

Julie nodded slowly. Luke and Reggie were watching the interaction carefully, though it didn’t seem like the realisation had dawned on either of them yet.

“And who was working last Friday when you didn’t arrive back here until almost ten p.m.?” Julie asked.

“Willie,” Alex said under his breath, avoiding eye contact.

“Right,” Julie replied. “And what about Tuesday when you missed three lectures and were smiling too much to even care about how much that’ll drop your grade?”

Alex scowled and didn’t say anything. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know the answer, and judging by the ‘O’ shape Reggie’s mouth was making and the wide grin that had made itself at home on Luke’s face, they had figured it out too.

“Bro,” Luke said excitedly, “you’ve got a crush on Willie!”

“No,” Alex spluttered, “no, I do not. We just happen to get on really well and he’s always working when I need to study.”

“But he is the reason you’re always there, isn’t he?” Reggie prompted.

Alex shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled.

Luke leapt up, clamped his hands onto Alex’s shoulders and jumped up and down like an over-excited puppy. The ecstatic smile on Luke’s face didn’t quite make up for how annoying it was.

“Dude,” he said emphatically, “you’ve gotta ask him out!”

“Don’t be silly,” Alex said, shaking his head, “it’s not like that.”

“It’s like that,” Julie, Luke and Reggie chorused. Alex just rolled his eyes.

“Look, Alex,” Julie said. He looked past Luke to her, but only because in situations like this she tended to be the voice of reason. “I actually agree with Luke.”

Apparently, that day she was taking a break from being the voice of reason.

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but Julie interrupted him. “Hear me out. No matter what you say, you’re clearly head over heels for this guy. And it is distracting you – we’re two hours into rehearsal and you haven’t even set up your kit. If you ask him out and he says yes then you can hang out with him at other times as boyfriends, not when you’re meant to be spending time with us. If he says no, you can get him out of your mind and move on, getting your mind back on the band. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Again, Alex tried to respond, but this time Reggie and Luke both yelled over him.

“No!” Reggie shouted. “We agreed never to ask him that question again!”

“Have you forgotten last time?” Luke questioned furiously. “That was the longest three hours of my life!”

Julie held her hands up. “Sorry, sorry, it slipped my mind.”

“Okay,” Alex said, ignoring them and deciding to get the conversation back on track. “Even if I did do that, there’s so many things that could go wrong. I don’t know if he’s into guys, and if he says no for any reason at all then I can never go back to the library.”

Luke shook his head. “Dude, Willie’s the head of the university’s LGBTQ+ Society and he introduces himself as ‘Willie, he/they, gay’ at the start of each session.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been a couple of times. Hey, wait, we should all go, it’s actually super chill and–”

“It sounds great, Luke, but we’ll talk about it later,” Julie said, easily calming him as he started getting over-excited again. “Right now we have other things to focus on. Alex, if Luke’s right then Willie is definitely into guys. And from the way you’ve gushed about him and your conversations without realising it, I’d say he definitely has a thing for you. And he seems cool – I’m sure even if he said no then he’d act completely normally around you.”

“Yeah,” Reggie agreed, “the guy doesn’t find anything awkward. Last week I was looking through a book for my psychology class and just as I flicked to a… questionable page, he came up behind me. He just laughed it off and then offered to sign it out for me once I was done looking through it.”

Alex thought about it for a moment. It sounded too good to be true. Luke said that Willie was into guys, Julie said they might like Alex, Reggie said that they’d be cool with it no matter what… Good things like this didn’t happen to Alex too often.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. The others sighed, Reggie throwing up his hands with exasperation. “I will! I’ll think. But we should get to rehearsing.”

Almost two and a half hours later than they should have, the band finally set up their instruments and Alex counted them in.

He was at the library. Again. He was always at the library these days, just this time he really did need to be working. He had a big assessment coming up and needed to cram some last-minute studying in.

It would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t been trying to avoid Willie the entire time.

In Alex’s defence, it felt like the most reasonable option. Sure, he could see Willie and ask him out, but if Willie rejected him then he wasn’t sure he’d ever live it down despite his friends’ reassurances. He could have seen Willie and not asked him out, but then he’d be living in constant wonder of what could happen. So he had elected to do the sensible thing and just not see them at all.

It had been going well for the most part. His legs were beginning to ache from springing himself behind bookcases whenever he caught a glimpse of Willie, but it was worth it. Besides – he needed to focus, and an angelic librarian wasn’t about to help him do that.

He made his fatal error when trying to exit the library.

He had been so caught up in scanning the surrounding area for Willie that he hadn’t been looking ahead, or down at the floor. He heard the shout of, “Watch out!” too late.

Alex stepped forward, his foot landed on a skateboard, and he was sent flying down to the ground, landing hard on his coccyx. Pain shot up his back and he let out an agonised groan which earned him a “Shhhh!” from a tired-looking student sat at the nearest table.

“Alex,” came the same voice who had shouted the warning, the voice Alex now recognised as Willie’s. So much for avoiding him. Willie came and crouched down beside Alex where he was still laying on the floor, leaning over him, looking concerned. “Hey, Alex, you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left my board lying there, I was only restocking that shelf.”

Groaning, Alex eased himself into a sitting position. Willie sat back, still looking worried.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex lied. His coccyx was killing him. “It’s fine. I won’t sue or demand you get fired or anything.”

Willie chuckled lightly and then held out his hand. Alex took it automatically and was a little startled when Willie began pulling him to his feet – maybe it was the shock, but he had thought the hand holding was them simply having a moment. But no, of course it was too good to be true. Willie let go of his hand the moment they were both stood and then bent to pick up his board.

“I hadn’t seen you,” Willie said. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

Alex shrugged. “Oh, nowhere. Just… doing my English work. In the quiet area.”

Nodding, Willie replied with something that made Alex’s blood run cold.

“That’s cool. It’s just that I was just talking to Luke a minute ago and he said there was something you wanted to ask me?”

Eyes wide, jaw open in shock, Alex looked behind Willie to where they had pointed. Sure enough, standing by the end of a nearby bookcase with his nose in a book (which he was clearly not reading because it was upside down) was Luke. He gave Alex a nervous wave when he saw him looking.

Trying not to sound murderous, Alex said, “Yeah. There was something.”

He realised too late that hadn’t been what he was planning to say.

“Yeah? What is it?” Willie asked with a smile.

Alex’s eyes darted from Willie to Luke and back again, then up to the ceiling and around the library for inspiration, and then they landed on his own wrist and the rainbow bracelet wrapped around it.

“I – well, we, me and my friends – we were wondering if there would be any space for us to join the LGBTQ+ Society. Luke mentioned you’re the head so I figured there’s no one better to ask than you. Right?”

Willie blinked, face faltering for just a moment. Alex tried not to panic – had he said the wrong thing, had he somehow offended Willie? But the look was gone quick enough for Alex to convince himself he’d imagined it, replaced by his radiant smile.

“Yeah, the more the merrier,” he said. But then he cleared his throat and added, “You’re sure that’s it?”

Swallowing nervously, Alex cast another glance to Luke who had given up the pretence of reading and was now urgently gesturing at Willie, making kissy faces, and mouthing words Alex couldn’t understand – but he got the message.

“Okay, no, there was one more thing,” he said quietly.

Willie tucked his hair behind his ear and Alex’s eyes caught momentarily on his earring.

“I was wondering,” he began, slow but steady, “if you would… by any chance… And you can say no, I won’t be offended! It’s just, I would really like to go on a date with you. And if you would like to go on a date with me then I think we should. Do that. Go on a date. Together. If you want?”

As awkward as it felt, Alex maintained eye contact – he was glad he did, because a moment later Willie’s face split in a beautiful grin that didn’t look mocking or apologetic, it looked genuinely happy.

“Yes,” Willie said, laughing quietly. “Yes, I do want that.”

Alex sighed with relief. “Thank god. I’m going to kill Luke.”

“Don’t,” Willie said, shaking his head. “I can’t have you getting arrested before I get to go on a date with you.”

“What about after the date?” Alex joked.

“Yeah, man, that’s fine.” Willie laughed but after a moment their expression softened. “I’m really glad you asked. I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.”

Alex scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah. That’s the same reason it took me so long to do the actual asking.”

“Well,” said Willie, “that doesn’t matter now. Does Friday work for you?”

Alex’s only form of a social life was hanging out with the band, and his plans for Friday consisted largely of sitting in his and Reggie’s shared dorm room, eating cold pizza and watching reruns of Friends.

“Yeah,” he said coolly, “I can probably make it work. Might have to reschedule some stuff, but it’ll be worth it.”

Clearly not believing him but polite enough not to call him out, Willie laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Great. My shift finishes at five that day, I’ll let you be a gentleman and pick me up. I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll catch you then, Alex.”

“See you,” Alex said.

Willie walked away and was seamlessly replaced by Luke, who gripped Alex’s arms and shook him up and down. “Bro! You got a date with Willie! You can thank me later.”

Alex left the library, Luke trailing behind him. “I’m not thanking you,” he said, fighting a smile.

“Why not? I got him to come talk to you!”

“You didn’t ask him out, I did that. There’s nothing to thank you for.”

“That is where you’re very much wrong because…”

As Luke went on for a solid ten minutes about why Alex and Willie finally agreeing to go on a date was actually all down to him, Alex zoned out and let himself be happy. He had a date with Willie, the angelic librarian, the good-looking skater-boy history major. He couldn’t believe his luck.

When they arrived back at the studio, Julie smirked and said, “You’re grinning like an idiot, Alex.”

“In my defence,” he returned, “I'm going on a date with Willie.”

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thedeathdeelers · 4 years ago

Text

Juke fluff, right this way (based on this post)

you’re music to me (now on AO3)

“So, how come you guys are always here?”

Julie was staring down at her latest doodle, contemplating adding some more purple to bring out the details, when the question popped into her head. She had been wondering for a while now why the boys weren’t using more of their supernatural ghostly powers to their advantage, and figured that now was as good a time as any to ask.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and both Reggie and Alex had disappeared off to wherever they liked to spend their free time. Whenever they weren’t practicing, the boys usually found ways to entertain themselves, mostly at the expense of the other members of the Molina family.

Luke on the other hand, could usually be found either in the studio cooped up writing new lyrics, or hanging out with Julie in her bedroom (although even then, he would still have his notebook on him, jotting down words and melodies as inspiration struck), as was the current case.

Julie and Luke were sitting cross legged across each other on Julie’s bed; Julie doodling on a school notebook, and Luke working on a particularly difficult bridge for a new song they were hoping to premiere at their next gig in a few weeks.

So when Julie had asked Luke her question and she wasn’t directly met with an answer, she had just figured that he was busy writing down new ideas in his song book. But when the silence stretched longer than was usual for Luke, Julie finally looked up and noticed him staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

“What? Did I say something? What’s wrong?”

“Do you- do you want m- us to leave? I- I mean we thought you were fine with us living here, what with the band picking up and- But of course, if you want us to leave, that’s completely fine. The boys’ll understand and-“

“No! No that’s not what I meant at all!” Julie’s eyes got incredibly large, as she realised how her words must have been perceived. She frantically shook her head, her ponytail whipping at her cheeks with the movement, as her hands, covered in smudges of colourful ink reached out to rest on his knees.

“No, Luke. Of course I don’t mind you guys staying here - I really do like- love having you guys around. I just meant- I mean you guys can literally teleport anywhere, do anything, and not have to worry about getting caught. But as far as I can tell, you guys just hang around here all the time, or meet up with Willie every now and then at some random celebrity’s house.” Julie pulled her hands back in her lap, shrugging. “I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering why?”

She could see him visibly deflating, the odd expression on his face having morphed into a more composed look. He let out a breath, tapping his pen loudly against the pages in front of him with one hand, while the other rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we- I mean we just haven’t felt the need to do anything else, I guess? When we first got here, we explored all of our old haunts,” insert smirk here, “checked out some of the new music that’s been taking over the scene - we even went to a few concerts.” He shrugged, his hand coming back down to rest on his knee. “But nothing’s really pulled at us enough to seriously want to leave for any extended period of time.”

She found that quite strange. Here she was talking to the boy who told her that their instruments were attached to their souls, and he was simply shrugging at the idea of being able to go to any concert anywhere, for free, without any consequences.

“You’re telling me you’re not even interested in checking out some of the older bands you guys were really into? Attend some of the concerts you always wanted to go to but couldn’t because they were on the other side of the country? Of the world?” She could hear how dubious she was starting to sound, but she couldn’t help it. None of this made sense.

Luke tilted his head to the side as he looked at Julie with a look that made it seem she was missing the obvious.

“But you wouldn’t be able to come with us? Where would the fun be in that?” He smiled at her, a small glint in his eyes. She rolled hers at him in return.

“Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, Luke, aren’t you, for lack of a better word, dying to go see certain people, certain bands, live? For free?”

He shrugged again, seeming unbothered by her line of questioning.

“Not really. I haven’t really felt any pull to check out new music in a while. I’ve been more excited about the stuff we’ve been making anyway.” He paused, playfully tapping her knee. “Plus I’m not sure I’d be able to properly enjoy a concert if I knew you couldn’t be there. Not as fun.”

She stared at him, wondering if his sanity had been touched.

“Not as fun? Really? I hope you realise you’re not making any sense. You know damn well that having Reggie with you alone would be enough. He’s the life of every party, dead or alive.”

She heard him snort, his head bending back down as he prepared to refocus his attention on the song book in his lap.

“I don’t know, Julie. It’s hard to explain. I just-“ He stopped himself mid-sentence, suddenly seeming to be too engrossed by the words on the pages in front of him. Only she knew better.

She put her notebook aside, and crawled across the tiny space between them, coming to rest on her folded knees right in front of him. She put her hands on his, stilling the tapping of the pen, and covering the words on the pages. She patiently waited for him to finally look up, focusing his attention back on her.

“Luke, you know I’d never hold it against any of you guys if you were to go and have fun without me. You guys deserve it - all you do is hang around here, unless we’re playing a gig somewhere. You should be enjoying your afterlife, not spending it constantly practicing or writing new songs or worrying about our next gig. Live a little!” He was frowning throughout her speech, but she could see the corners of his lips twitching a little at her choice of words.

He stayed quiet though, just staring at her, his eyes searching for something on her face. What it was he was looking for, she couldn’t tell you.

But after a few minutes of silence, he took a deep breath, tilting his head backwards as he closed his eyes, his hands twisting around, threading his fingers through hers.

“It’s not that I- that we would feel guilty, Jules. We’re happy with the way things are here. And to tell you the truth, I haven’t really felt the need to look for new music for a while now - what we create, you and me and the boys, it keeps changing and shifting and surprising me everyday.” He sighs, bringing his face back down, his eyes opening as they centred back on hers. In a softer tone, he continued. “Why would I go looking for something else, when everything I need is right here?”

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about music anymore.

“Why would I want to go searching for something else Jules, when I’ve already found the best? Something that I have right here, right under my fingertips?” He let go of her hands as he reached for her face, hers falling limply into his lap. His fingers brushed her cheeks lightly, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, before they settled under her jaw, cradling her face in his palms. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to.

“I have no desire whatsoever to go to concerts or look for new music, new talent, when you literally live under the same roof as I do.” His thumbs caressed her cheeks, his face moving closer to hers.

“You are music to me, Julie. As long as you’re in my life, my afterlife, whatever you want to call it, I see no reason in looking for anything, or anyone, else.”

He closed the distance between them, his forehead coming to rest against hers. She could do nothing but stare up at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, her mind furiously trying to process Luke’s words.

You are music to me, Julie.

Her heart was beating so quickly, so loudly, it felt like it was about to burst out of her chest and take flight. She tried to focus on her breathing, taking deep breaths to center herself, before she gave up and threw herself into the stunned ghost’s lap. She wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. With the shock of the impact, Luke lost his balance, sending both teenagers tumbling backwards onto the bed. But even then, all Julie did was press herself closer against Luke, hoping he wouldn’t try to pull away.

To her delight all he did was readjust their position, tucking her head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tighter against him.

“What did I do to deserve such enthusiasm?” He chuckled, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Julie just shook her head, her lips moving against his neck. She felt him shiver beneath her, causing her lips to tilt upwards.

They remained in this position for a while, Luke rubbing her back, as Julie continued to breathe in his scent, enjoying this quiet intimate moment with him for as long as possible.

But then she felt Luke shift as he turned to his side, her head softly hitting the mattress beneath her. With their legs still tangled, and her arms still securely wrapped around him, she looked up at him, his face hovering a few inches above hers.

“I just want to try something,” was all he said.

And with that he moved down until his head cane to rest against her chest. His arms snaked around her waist, as he pressed his ear closer to where her heart was currently beating a mile a minute.

With a loud sigh, Luke stilled, remaining in that position. Julie tried to stay quiet, tried to keep her curiosity at bay, but she simply couldn’t.

“Luke, what are you doing? I mean, not that I mind but, is there a reason you moved?” She tugged lightly at his hair, her fingers finding refuge in his soft brown locks.

She could feel him shake his head under her fingers, as he quietly started to hum a melody she couldn’t recognise. His fingers then joined in, tapping along to an unknown beat on her waist. She shifted her head to the side, craning her neck trying to get a glimpse of Luke’s expression.

She could see a smile making an appearance on his face, and could swear she could feel his touch getting warmer, see light emanating from his every pore.

“Luke?”

A beat of silence. He opened his eyes, as he looked at her with a tender look and the softest smile gracing his lips.

“I’m just listening to my favourite song.”

“Oh? What favourite song? I heard you humming it, but I’m not sure I recognised it?”

“No, no. I wasn’t humming the song, I was just adding a little melody as an accompanying piece.”

Julie was thoroughly confused. “I don’t get it. Accompanying piece to what?”

“To my favourite song silly, I already told you. It’s more of a beat, really, but when I’m listening to it I swear I can hear the sweetest sounds in my head.”

When Julie still didn’t understand what in the world he was talking about, that frustrated look refusing to leave her face, Luke took pity on her as he started tapping out the beat on her waist again, demonstrating to her what he meant.

It took her a little while, but once she focused, she realised he was tapping along to her heartbeat. It stuttered at her realisation, and Luke’s fingers followed, not missing a beat.

Oh. Oh.

Her hands tightened their hold on his head as she tugged harder, guiding him back up towards her. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, refused to hold it in anymore. Once he was at her eye level, close enough she could feel his breath on her lips, she whispered-

“I love you.”

The brightest smile she had ever seen took over Luke’s face, his eyes shining as they competed against the brightness of his smile. His hands reached up, cradling her face again as he whispered back against her lips:

“You are music to me now, you are music to me forever.”

Forever. She liked the sound of that. If she could somehow manage to keep him for that long, it might just be enough.

FIN

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #juke #juke fic #my fics #fluff #so much fluff #it’s ridiculous #luke patterson #julie molina #julie x luke #thedeathdeelers fics

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