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absolutesort · 2 years ago

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ADELA & FRANKIE — NIGHT TWENTY-NINE.

location : kitchen.

time : evening, during / after the beer pong game.

description : frankie does the dare that says ‘kiss the people you think are into you’ and chooses adela and mali. adela wants to take things further but frankie decides to call it a night.

featuring : adela / @bluemmings with asides from josh, dylan, miles, mali.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬��𝐫𝐨.

"EYYYYYY! it went in!" that makes her score like, fifty fifty. maybe a bit off that, actually. frankie gets up to read the back of the cup she's sunk a ball into. "kiss the people you think are into you." okay, that's tasty. "i'm going to start with you..." she turns to mali, hand sliding up her jaw. "is that okay?" she asks, before leaning in to meet her mouth.

𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨.

oh, so now frankie is going to be kissing everyone now. josh can't believe even after having sex last night, he's still the one getting the least amount of action.

Love Island

the dare says two people btw

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

that's fine

mali wattapohn.

she wants to make a snarky remark in return, the hand on her face distracting her as she looks to frankie with her usual doe eyes, though they've got a little genuine surprise in them. "shut up," she says, very cleverly, before she lifts her lips to meet frankie's, not having to stretch quite as far as with dylan, her hand going to frankie's waist carefully. she doesn't want to overstep, even if she wants to touch a whole lot more.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

it's a game, which means she's allowed to have as much fun as she wants, and if mali's shut up was anything to go by, she hasn't missed the mark. the hand on her jaw draws her closer, her other hand sliding down mali's hip and drawing her in. she kisses by the book, and frankie's always found intinct a better teacher, breath quickening as she sinks her teeth into mali's lower lip and pulls back. "okay, that was one. next..." her eyes scan around the circle. literally everyone here wants her, except dylan, and honestly, maybe even him. frankie swallows, makes her way over to adela. "i could be wrong, but..." her gut tells her otherwise, and so her lips meet adela's, both hands catching at her hips to draw them in against her own. at least this time, layla isn't involved. oh wait layla. maybe she'll be number three. how many is she allowed to do again?

mali wattapohn.

it's hard to come away from that with her breath, a small noise as she's pulled into frankie, pressing herself against her. their tongue runs over where frankie had just bitten with a confused look, not so sure where she stood now, until frankie lists her off as one for the dare, shaking her out of it. "god, way to make a girl feel wanted," she laughs, going to sit back down, with a good natured smile.

𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐳

she's been at a weird crossroad since frankie read off the dare. in a way, she wants her to know that adela is interested, on the other hand she doesn't... though she knows she definitely wants to kiss her, properly, alone— well, without layla's mouth to confuse her further anyways. so she's not entirely sure if frankie will pick her, but once she does, her pulse is racing. lips meet frankie's ferociously, fingers tangling in the others hair as she pulls her in heavy, hard, and confirming the theory with this kiss instead of words that'll betray her. if this is the only kiss she'll share with frankie then she's going to give her something to think about, something to want again and again.

𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨.

he is Looking.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

oh god. adela doesn't hold back. it's like, the moment her lips find adela' she's pouncing, all hands in her hair and hungry mouths and kind of animal. she kisses the same way that frankie kisses, which means when it's the two of them kissing it's completely unruly, ungovernable, breath hot in her mouth as she draws her lips open, hands sliding up adela's back to pull her closer, closer, nose sliding over adela's as she angles her mouth to kiss her deeper. so she'd been right. there isn't enough energy in her to properly bathe in the victory when she's so wrapped up in adela's kiss. she should pull away but fucking hell, this girl kisses like she's trying to prove something.

mali wattapohn.

she is also looking.

miles o'sullivan

he thought he'd be more into this, but . . . he's actually not looking.

𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨.

notices the look on miles' face and clears his throat loudly. "alright, if you're going to jump each other's bones, take it inside or keep going."

𝗱𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀.

he’s actually not Looking because he’s thinking of his sister and how she’s doing in the villa. he hopes she’s doing well. he’ll let frankie have her fun if that’s what she wants to do. “anyone wants more drinks?” he downs his and gets up.

mali wattapohn.

"me, please." she's finding it hard to not look, though.

v𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 k𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐯𝐚

"you can top me off," she chimes in, pushing herself up from standing to go with.

𝗱𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀.

“you got it.” he walks towards the mini bar to refill people’s drinks.

miles o'sullivan

"not gonna invite me?" he offers, grinning. didn't they have a deal?

𝗱𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀.

“glad to know you haven’t forgotten about me again,” he teases. “come on.”

miles o'sullivan

"pretty sure you were the one that forgot me this time," he jokes, getting up and falling into step with dylan.

𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐳

she's a little hazy, thoughts cloudy with soft lips and hands in places where they want to drift further. frankie could do whatever she wanted to her right here and adela would let it happen, an anticipation in her stomach, that excitement, that want to be touched. but she can hear josh's annoying little voice suddenly, a brief snap back to reality as she slows down, tearing her lips away from frankie's, flushed and ruffled, horny and a little embarrassed by the fact she'd got so into it so easily, that now there's no more guessing game with frankie and she knows. she clears her own throat, wiping at her lips before trying to brush through frankie's hair that she messed up. " i mean... unless you want to go somewhere... " she says softly, not wanting the others to hear it, a little shy that she's even suggesting it.

𝗱𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀.

“maybe i was just testing you,” he jokes, taking out the bottles he needs.

mali wattapohn.

she honestly feels like she's intruding now, looking to catch either phoebe's or josh's or marcus's or anyone, really, to make sure she's not the only one.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐡

marcus is chilling like just another day init ?

miles o'sullivan

"oh, is that what everyone means when they say this place is a test?" he laughs, watching dylan take out all the bottles. there's a glance back toward where adela and frankie are, but he's trying not to think too hard about it, face flushing as he looks back, distracting himself by watching dylan's busy hands. "so, walk me through what's going on here. what're you making?"

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

she's a second away from pulling back when adela does, flushed and giggling and vindicated because she knew there was something in that weird energy she'd felt. goddamn it, she's fucking benoit blancing the shit out of this place. "i knew it. i knew you were into me," she says, at the same time adela asks if she wants to go somewhere else, and now she's really flushing, because that isn't how she'd imagined this going. "uh... oh my god." for a moment, she's too startled to respond. "i feel like that's... i think that's a bad idea. because i'm trying to be a good person, and because..." because miles. but she isn't going to say that, because adela already knows, and it would just be like another blow to the head. "you're a fucking good kisser, though. like, props to you. i would kiss you again, for sure." just not right now. sighing, she sits back down by the beer pong table. "where'd everybody go? there's still one dare left."

mali wattapohn.

"flirting while making drinks?"

𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐳

" fuck you. " she scoffs, rolling her eyes despite the grin on her lips. she hates how this feels like frankie has won, but at the same time she feels so much better, relieved it's out in the open without her having to explicitly say 'i like you' bc ew. she can't stop that sinking feeling in her stomach even though if she had just thought about it and took a second, she'd know frankie wouldn't want to go off somewhere and continue... she knows boundaries have been set up and frankie's got more than just adela to think about. she suddenly feels so fucking stupid. " no, that's okay. forget i said it. i was just— " she blows out her cheeks, fanning herself. " you know, in the moment, and, i'm not um ... " she's talking so quick she has no idea where she's going with it so she just shakes her head. " forget it. " she concludes, smile played up to move on from it all when she actually wants to go somewhere quiet and scream. " thank you, " she laughs, like she's just been complimented on a new dress or hair do. " you too, i mean... same, yeah. " she'd kiss her again literally right now. she shouldn't though, and frankie wouldn't, surely. " drinks, right. " she nods, aware miles has moved from wherever he was, trying to spot him without him spotting her. fuck sake.

#im sorry i needed this awkward moment on my blog 4 the viewers bcos it explains why the thread im abt to reply to is so weird #i wanna put more group threads on the tumblr but.... it takes time.#frankie & adela.#frankie & adela 003.#⥂ frankie castro. ╱ threads.

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bang-to-the-tan · 4 years ago

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Moth to Flame

Chapter 17

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot That is Rapidly Getting Out of Hand Dear God Why Please Help Me

Warnings: Complicated Morality, Lots of Stockholm Syndrome, Addiction, Possessiveness, Vampires (Reference to Biting, Blood-Sucking and Death), Language

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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You reach up to thread your fingers through Yoongi’s hair, scrubbing out the sweat, the dirt, the grime, and replacing it with a gently scented shampoo. He makes a criminally contented grunt deep in his throat and leans into your touch. His own hands pause in their attentive cleaning of your shoulders and collarbone. The water is warm around you, not too hot or too cold; comfort raining down on your bodies. Your leg and neck ache slightly, especially where your new marks throb, but it’s a feeling you welcome. You missed it.

“You sure you feel okay?” he mumbles, squinting at you with one eye against a stream dripping down his forehead.

“I’m sure.”

“You have to tell me if you’re gonna pass out. You’ll break your skull on the tile.”

“I promise.”

When your fingers curl around his ears, his eyes flutter closed and you snort quietly through your nose. Even though the both of you are naked, there’s no sexuality at this moment. Something is...so incredibly human about this. Washing each other off, surrounded by gentle water and the scent of wet, clean bodies. There’s a spark of electricity that passes through you when he lathers up your torso, palms drifting to your belly, up over your breasts, but it’s probably a good idea that you don’t try anything in the shower. He has a point. The tiling has the potential to be a serious problem if you slipped and fell into it.

“Yoongi,” you say after a moment. He hums, distracted, rubbing wide circles into your tits. They’ll be the cleanest part of you when the shower is over.

“I was thinking.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. Do you know if there’s any...any footage?”

He pauses. His lips purse thoughtfully. Sniffs once.

“Not this time,” he says finally, flippant, “But next time I could set something up—”

You push at his hands with a scoff. They hover inches from your chest like he’s forgotten about them. “I don’t mean a sex tape!”

“Why not? Taehyung used to have these really nice cameras—”

“ Yoongi—”

He slinks closer, leg sneaking between yours, a teasing grin pulling at his mouth. He reaches to brace himself on the wall behind you, leaning further into your space. “—not usually one for that kind of thing but I’d be willing to try it once.”

“Yoongi.”

“Put on a good show.” Yoongi’s voice has dipped lower into a rumble, his head craning to plant a searing kiss against your jawline. “For you. If you wanted.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you insist, refusing to be distracted.

He hesitates again.

“Yeah,” his tongue flits to lick at his lips habitually. He squints back up. “Yeah, I figured.”

“I meant of the...The hit and run.”

“There’s probably footage of it somewhere.”

“I want to see it. I want—” you swallow, hard, but there is a determination that has latched deeper, more firmly onto your heart.. “I want to know about it.”

He doesn’t answer that for a moment, instead starting to help you rinse off in silence. He’s obviously turning things about in his head as he guides the water over your skin, your hair.

“I get that.” he says. “Kind of. But you know it doesn’t change anything. What happened is what happened.”

“It isn’t ‘what happened’,” you reply. “It’s what I did. Even if I don’t remember. I want to know.”

He nods, once, but his expression doesn’t change.

He reaches behind himself to shut the water off, scooting past you awkwardly to step out. He grabs a towel off the side and passes it forwards, tossing his hair out of his eyes to peer at you. You take it from his grip, rubbing your body down.

“You know they’re gonna be pissed that I bit you,” he changes the topic, his stare caught by the bite at your thigh.

“Hypocrites. Besides, it wasn’t your fault.” You wrap the fabric over your chest with an absent huff. “I was the one who started it.”

His jaw sets at that, and he looks away. His head bounces. As you step out, he’s wiping himself off with a towel of his own, throwing it over his head and rubbing at his hair.

“I still can’t believe you’re okay,” he adds, slightly muffled. “That doesn’t seem right.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just used to it.”

He straightens, peering at you with a grimace equal parts disbelieving and impressed. “Can you do that?”

You shrug again, more exaggerated. “I guess!”

Just as you move towards the door, head already spinning with half-formed ideas and plans, Yoongi speaks up again.

“What do you think it’s going to change?”

Your feet halt, digging briefly into the rug by the sink. You cast a look over your shoulder, eyeing him as he pulls the towel around his hips. The expression he levels your way reminds you a startling amount of Hoseok—when he’s talking about the person he was before. Earnest. Real, afraid, even. Someone just as confused as you. Dark, steady eyes watch you from underneath strands of wet hair. He looks good now, though, his skin soft and his face clear.

“If you learned everything about who you used to be,” he adds, quiet. “Would that change who you are now?”

“What do you care?”

His eyes widen slightly, lips parting.

“What do you care?” you repeat, shocked by the steadiness of your voice. “Who am I now?”

“I...I don’t know.” Comes the hushed response.

The atmosphere crackles, and your mouth sets into a line without your input. “Then no. Nothing will change for you.”

“Then—”

Here, now, you feel incredibly unclouded for a change. The shower, the haze and addiction quieted, a moment of respite; like vinegar cutting through dust to reveal your own reflection. It feels natural to tighten your shoulders, reaffirm the stance of your feet.

“If I change, maybe it’ll be for me, Yoongi. Maybe I want to make a choice . For once.”

The hallway is empty when you sneak through it, heading back towards your room for new clothes, leaving Yoongi to his sullied bedsheets and his solitude. You’d originally planned to use his phone to seek out news sources and such, but that end to your conversation has put something of a damper on your relationship for the time being, you think. Once again, it occurs to you how little you know these men. Really know. Understand, even. As you get dressed, the fabric of your shirt rubs at your neck and you find yourself scratching absently at it, still frowning into the mirror. Once upon a time, a bite mark at your neck had needed bandaging and managing for days. This one seems to have clotted, scabbed, in record time. It’ll be healed within a couple days.

I don’t know.

Yeah. You, either. But who you were is as good a place to start as any to finding out.

You need something with Internet access. There’s no phones, no computers, in your room, but you’ve seen at least Jin and Joon with phones—it’s a safe bet that most if not all of them have their own devices. And with all seven of them being in the same house now, it’ll be hard to avoid running into at least one willing to let you commandeer it for a sec or two.

You step outside your room, casting a glance about the now-familiar hallway. The strange portraits stare back at you, the faux-old electrical lights flickering at intermediate beats. A hotel for an amusement park, you recall with a slight chuckle. There must have been an immense effort in making this whole place look the part. One that Jin seems to have inherited and maintained, however long they’ve been here. The thought makes you grin. ‘Vampire’, as a title, definitely comes with some steep demands in the name of upholding aesthetic. Despite the details. One of the portraits has a moustache splashed on with neon-green paint, and it kind of ruins the mysterious vibe.

The carpet muffles your steps as you walk, unable to shrug the feeling of being strangely naked. This is the first time you’ve walked this way entirely of your own accord. When you reach the stairs, you slide your palm against the banister, gazing at the wide doors at the foot of the steps. How far would you get? Before someone caught you? Before your own hunger kicked in and you circled back for a re-up on vampire bites? You hesitate, caught in place by the watchful eye of the outside, the moonlight filtering through the topmost window.

You don’t have to deny it forever. The concept of freedom. You’ll shelve it for now. Until it’s convenient for you. Until it’s plausible, and final. Until nobody would come after you. Hoseok said that he’d help you out if you wanted to leave. Then again, how long did you have until that offer expired? Until next his throat ran dry? You sniff, once, and shake your head, continuing down the stairs..

You want to know who you were. Who you are. Preferably before somebody either kills you or throws you in jail. You have to be here for that.

As you touch down on the ground floor, you realize you can hear noise coming from the hallway just behind the stairs. The room opposite where Jin first fed from you. A familiar chill creeps up your spine, curls talons into your shoulders and quickens your heartbeat so that it sounds loud in your own ears as you continue. It’s the youngers of the coven that you can hear—Taehyung, Jimin, and though you can’t hear him over the conversation of the others, you can tell Jungkook is in there, too.

“—past a high school education,” Taehyung rumbles.

“You can’t just decide not to do it,” Jimin scoffs.

“Wasn’t saying I wouldn’t do it, I’m just saying it’ll be harder when its you and me—which its gonna have to be soon .”

Something electronically compressed shouts in a foreign language.

“I can dance.”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll rent you out for parties.” You can hear the eyeroll.

Before you’ve even cleared the doorway, the voices subside.

The room before you is structurally identical to the one on the left of the hall, more wide than tall, reaching towards the back of the house. But the similarities end there. While the room prior is decorated lavishly, like a gentleman’s sitting lounge, this one looks like a teenage boy’s wet dream. There’s anime posters tacked up directly onto the walls, a huge television set centered in the back with a circle of comfortable-looking chairs that have seen better days. To the far right is a beat-up pool table, and to the far left a thin bookcase that looks like it’s been ransacked. Books shoved onto the shelves, sitting dejectedly in rickety stacks on the floor. Comics, most of them. Some are magazines bearing scantily clad women on the covers. A sexy fireman calendar is pinned at the wall just beside the bookshelf with a thumbtack, the gentleman in question pouting at the camera and slipping a thumb under his bright yellow waistband, dark brows cocked. You get the distinct feeling it isn’t up-to-date, but rather a favored model.

On the television screen, a fighting game waits, humming, paused in bright letters slashed across what appears to be a cybernetic feudal japan rendered in 8-bit. Taehyung and Jimin both, seated on the sagging couch directly in front of it, have craned over their necks to behold you with apprehensive eyes past the blanket draped over the back.

Jungkook perches on the end of the pool table, leaning with a cue propping his chin up. He, too, lends a glassy stare your way.

Nobody moves.

You can taste the seconds that pass on the back of your tongue.

“Hey.” You finally greet.

Taehyung is the first to break into a wide smile that creases his eyes and bares his teeth in a boxy shape. “Hey.” he repeats, teasing, brows flitting upwards. “Welcome back.”

Jimin licks his lips and briefly looks to his companions. “Hey.” he says finally, rubbing at his mouth with a sniff.

Jungkook offers no comment, but the corner of his lips quirk, pulling into a straight line. You’ll take it as a greeting.

“I don’t wanna interrupt,” you continue, awkward, but proud of yourself for standing your ground. “I just need access to the web.”

“We’re grounded.” Jungkook finally speaks up, deadpan. No one moves, watching you patiently as you wait for him to add the ‘kidding’. It doesn’t come.

“...You’re serious.”

“Jin changed the wifi password,” Taehyung explains, with a wry chuckle. “He said he’ll give it back in a few years.”

“As long as he doesn’t catch Jungkook trying to guess it again,” Jimin adds with a pointed glance at his younger.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, huffing once. “If I had figured it out, you’d use it.”

Jimin shifts in his seat, raising his hand to gesture as he continues to accuse, now facing him directly, brows high. “Yeah, but you didn’t, did you? You know if he catches you again, we’re all gonna be in trouble for it.”

“I’d rather die standing than live kneeling.” Jungkook’s voice drops into a deep accent for the dramatics.

Taehyung nods sagely. “Good man,” he returns in a similar timber.

Jimin snatches a threadbare pillow off the ground, smacks Taehyung upside the head with it and beams it directly at Jungkook, who fends it off with a skillful parry using the pool cue.

“Pathetic,” Jungkook intones, thick, torso dropping into a defensive stance, wielding the cue like a bo staff.

Taehyung giggles. “It’s no use,” he adds in a growl.

“Okay,” you interrupt their antics, “So I’ll have to ask Jin?”

“Probably.” Jimin replies, nodding. “Namjoon has it, too.”

“He hasn't been out of his room since you got here, though,” Taehyung interjects.

The cherry-headed kung fu master perched atop the pool table deflates visibly. He flips the cue to lean it back onto the ground again, shoulders sinking. His face resumes its empty stare into space, a slight frown curving his lips.

“Hobi would have it.”

“You could ask him, but he doesn’t like letting people on his stuff.”

“Yoongi?”

“Probably not a good idea. He didn’t look too good—”

“I’m not asking Yoongi,” you say, a little too quickly. Three sets of eyes swivel to you in mild surprise.

“I already...I’m not going to ask him.” You finish, lame.

“Your best bet is just asking Jin. He’ll let you do whatever you want,” Jungkook pipes up, quiet.

“Uh. Alright. Do you know where he is?”

“Probably in the study. Back down the hall. To the right. It’s opposite the kitchen. You remember where the kitchen is?”

You remember. You remember Jungkook pressing you gently to the counter. His hands on your waist. His lips against yours, stolen and perfect. The way his jet eyes burn into yours tells you he remembers, too. You try to focus on the memory of stale crackers instead.

“Thanks.” The word escapes your lips like something small, something almost shameful, slinking past your teeth and disappearing somewhere under the couch.

You move to turn away, to leave them to their games. Talking to Jin might be best, anyways, if your goal was to figure yourself out. He’s always been kind to you. He’s probably most likely to sit still and listen to what you have to say. Probably.

“Wait. Do…”

You pull up short, just shy of leaving the frame. You poke your head back around the corner to find Jimin scooted up on the couch, fixing you with a look that’s as surprised as his companions’.

“Do you...want to play?” he finishes.

A beat passes.

“The game,” he clarifies, tone softening, but his eyes are earnest.

“The game?...” you echo, frozen in place. Ah. The one on the television screen. You blink. “I...I don’t remember how to play video games.”

“It’s super easy. We can teach you. If you want. You don’t have to.” he adds, rapid-fire and increasingly losing his nerve.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He frowns, throwing his gaze to some indeterminate point in space to his right. “I just...they made it sound like you’re...staying. I don’t want things to be weird forever, you know?”

The other two in the room turn their sights on you and you can feel yourself being the center of attention between them; and not for the first time, though now for a completely different reason. You hesitate.

But he’s right. If you’re going to be living with these people for the foreseeable future, what’s the point in leaving room for tensions? And if you’re going to leave, why not convince them in the meantime to see you as something other than a fuckable meal ticket? It can’t hurt. Can’t it?

“...Alright.” you acquiesce, finally. Jimin’s expression melts into a sweet relief, and he’s automatically scooting to the side on the couch, gesturing you over. Jungkook doesn’t move, opting to continue staring as you reenter the room and approach the sofa. Taehyung’s face is impossible to get a proper read on, but he slides to the side and pats at the seat between himself and Jimin in a way you think is encouraging.

You skirt around the corner, navigating past Taehyung’s legs and the wires decorating the floor in front of the tv set, finally opting to throw yourself into the cushions. A yelp of surprise leaves you when you sink further into it than you bargained for, your feet leaving the ground and your sight almost obscured by the sofa’s plush maw. Taehyung laughs at that, his eyes pushing into crescents.

“Comfy, right?”

“It’s, uh,” you struggle to combat your new pillowy prison, thrashing to regain your balance. “Well—”

“It’s a piece of shit is what it is,” Jungkook clarifies through an absent pout.

“Tae won’t let us get rid of it,” Jimin adds with a roll of his eyes, leaning to pass you his controller. You accept it with one hand, finalizing your position atop the seat instead of inside it with the other.

“It’s literally the perfect couch,” Tae defends. “Years and years of wearing it in has made it the ideal specimen.”

“Don’t sleep on it. You’ll throw out your back and walk funny for like a week,” Jungkook warns.

“Nobody said you had to sleep on it.”

“I don’t. I sleep on the pool table. Way more comfortable.”

Jimin shifts closer as they argue, careful not to get too close, careful not to touch you when he points the buttons out.

“These are for attacking, these are for combos,” he’s explaining, patient. “The joystick moves it. All you have to do is beat Taehyung up.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “The dream,” you venture, trying to be more familiar.

To your relief, he returns it, a giggle shaking his shoulders. “This one unpauses the game. When you’re ready.”

“When you’re ready to have your ass handed to you.” A glance at Tae reveals his brows raised ridiculously high on his head, his head tilted back to eye you with an exaggerated air of superiority. His jaw flexes as he chews imaginary gum for punctuation.

“Give her the chance to learn the controls at least.”

“No. Adapt or die.”

You take a breath, trying to cement Jimin’s brief overview in your mind. Are you the kind of person who’s good at video games? It’s a possibility. “...We’ll see who hands whose ass to whom.”

“Foolish.”

With a tap of the button, you unpause the game.

The wolf-man character on the far right of the screen immediately strides over to the winged angel-looking man on the left. You start mashing buttons, suddenly frantic, but the character advances closer and grabs yours, throws him to the side of the screen and unleashes hell on him when he bounces back. The character explodes in shards of light, falling dramatically to the ground, and bright text once again flashes red across the screen.

K.O.

Jimin tries to defend you through laughter, offering advice and scolding Taehyung in turn, who stretches leisurely and cracks his neck with an expression of ultimate self-satisfaction.

“You, are a jerk,” you laugh after a beat of stunned silence. “You couldn’t have thrown one match?”

“A true champion never throws matches,” is his deeply-serious reply.

“In the words of Ghandi,” Jungkook pipes up, “Get good.”

“Ghandi didn’t say that.”

“Ghandi said ‘get good, scrub,’” Taehyung corrects.

“Ah, my bad, namaste.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jimin gripes. “Give me the other controller.”

You turn from him with a look of determination, effectively shielding Taehyung from his grasp as you twist in the seat, despite the inherent difficulty of the maneuver. “No! I was promised the chance to beat him up!”

From the side, you hear Jungkook’s quiet, “Yes, let it flow through you.”

“But he—”

“I want to go again! I’m just figuring the controls out!” You insist, swivelling to glower at Tae. “We’re gonna go again!”

His eyes flash and he grins, delighted in your participation in his little play competition. “Another hot, steamy plate of ass-whooping for the lady?”

“Weird thing to call yourself,” you bite back.

“Ass-whooping?”

“‘The lady’.”

Jungkook hoots. “She’s calling you a girl.”

Taehyung shrugs at that as he flicks a button absently, the words ‘Player 1: READY’ darting across the screen. “I could be ladylike.”

“You’re too much of a whore,” Jimin snarks.

“This is true.”

Your next round doesn’t fare much better than the first. Or your third. Fifth. But it doesn’t take long for you to get caught up in the game as well as the company, the boys visibly relaxing the longer you sit there among them. Jungkook slowly begins to chime in with tips and tricks, occasionally dipping into this ‘announcer’ voice like he’s narrating a sports channel. His favorite thing to shout becomes “That’s gotta hurt!” and for some reason, it only becomes funnier every time he trots it out.

Taehyung talks shit nonstop, constantly, raining endless pain onto your little angel man like its hardly a second thought. Like his fingers are plugged directly into the matrix. Like he was born with this controller in his hand. He doesn’t blink.

Jimin mostly tsks and complains about Taehyung’s merciless demolition of your player character, cheering loudly when the odd hit lands. He almost falls off the couch laughing when you manage to kick Tae upwards with a lucky combination of button mashing and he immediately uses the air to pummel your head into the ground with a one-shot, flawless K.O. It only gets worse at your insistence that the controller is at fault, but you can’t help but laugh with him until the four of you are lost completely in giggles.

“We need to level the playing field somehow,” Jimin gasps, tears in his eyes. “This isn’t a game, this is a massacre.”

Taehyung jumps nearly a mile in the air when the business end of a pool cue suddenly appears in his periphery, rearing back before smacking the backs of his outstretched hands like a stern nun.

“Ow?” he giggles, head turning in confusion, the controller nearly slipping out of his grip.

“Interference.” Jungkook wiggles the pole at him again, playfully dodging like he’s boxing, before rapping him across the knuckles again.

“Hey!” Tae yelps, trying to scoot out of his reach, but Jungkook’s arm and the cue itself are long enough that he just continues to extend with him, waving at him warningly even as he bats at it.

“Press play, press play,” Jimin urges, leaning towards you with excitement, eyes wild.

“That’s cheating, that’s not fair,” Taehyung laughs in a high pitch, trying to shoulder at the cue, raise his knee against it, all futile against Jungkook’s pestilence, gripping his controller for the next round as you hit the button to continue.

“All is fair in war.” Jungkook replies, solemn.

Tae manages to push the stick away just in time to block your clumsy attack, getting a quick combo in, but the end move is cut off when the pool cue jams into a space just beneath his ribs and his whole body immediately convulses ticklishly with a shout.

“Now! Now!” Jimin surges forward, warm hands covering yours to guide your fingers to the right buttons. It’s a split second window of opportunity where Taehyung has to take one hand off the controller in order to grab the cue, but you’re seizing it with a vigor you didn’t know you had, slamming into the buttons so hard you swear they could crack, aided by Jimin’s fingers above yours, everyone breathlessly focused on the screen as your character unleashes one, two, three combos onto the body of the wolf man.

Taehyung roars aloud, intimidating if not for the laughter that pitches the end upwards.

The finishing move.

Simultaneous, moved by one will, the intention towards sheer and utter annihilation, you and Jimin slot the last combo into place. The finishing move is some untenable, seizure-inducing spasm of lights and feathers and halos and something to do with water? You don’t understand whatever it is the angel man shrieks, but you understand the red slash of victory streaking across the screen with righteous fanfare.

K.O.

You won.

Jimin is crowing, beaming, and you can’t help but grin along with him, raising the controller aloft like a trophy won. You’re sweating.

“You did so good!” he gushes, hands shaking yours in the air, still curled around each other. “You did it, you kicked his ass apart!”

“Traitor!!” Taehyung howls, still laughing so hard he can barely see.

As you and Jimin briefly engage in some awkward, silly victory dance, both pairs of hands held above your head, Taehyung places the controller gently on the floor in front of himself, jerking upwards and clamping both hands onto the pool cue, tugging Jungkook off his seat atop the table with one motion. Jungkook shrieks as he’s thrown forward, losing his balance and crashing into the blonde man ungracefully, the two of them carried by the force into you. You jolt when Taehyung’s head lands in your lap, still play-growling and releasing the cue to grab the other boy more firmly about his shoulders. The motion in turn thrusts you at Jimin, who catches you with a small noise of surprise, the four of you tilting like dominos, steadily sinking into the couch like hollywood quicksand. The two youngsters struggle for a moment, Tae’s head thrashing across your thighs, Jungkook trying to extricate himself and knocking into your elbow, Jimin seemingly frozen beneath you, arms forgotten midair, the heat of his midsection warming your back.

All at once, everyone stills.

Your excitement wavers. Dissipates.

What’s happening? What’s wrong?

Realization crashes into you as several things happen at the same time.

Taehyung’s expression drops, turning back to impassive and unreadable. He turns slightly, towards the bite at your thigh, and you can hear the inhale he draws through his nose as he casts his eyes upwards, at you. His pupils dilate. Oh shit.

Jungkook turns entirely to stone, held steady by his forearms on top of his elder. But you can hear his lips part, the sharp breath he takes. His fingers curl absently into the cushions beneath you.

At the sound of Jimin’s tongue flitting to wet his lips, you move to begin turning and facing him, but you jolt, pausing at the feeling of something brushing, feather-light and barely there, at the base of your hair. His breath warms the nape of your neck when he speaks in a hesitant murmur. He’s angled towards the side where your fresh marks sting.

“...Ah. Did Yoongi…?”

Your body is moving before you can think, aided by the heat that floods your limbs. You’re writhing, kicking out from under Taehyung, disentangling yours and Jimin’s hands, pushing them off, away, trying to get leverage enough to be released from the depths of the sagging couch. Taehyung and Jungkook are clumsy and slow, sitting up just enough for you to get out, and Jimin is doing his best to assist you, you think, but you’re still unthreading your fingers, shoving a steadying hand off your waist and pretending that the lack of support doesn’t make you stumble forward. Some part of you is disappointed to leave the warmth, the attention, but you know exactly what would happen if you stayed. And you don’t have time for it. As you struggle your way upwards, finally free, you refuse to look directly at them, but you catch a glimpse of their faces anyway on your way to the doorframe, headed for the hallway.

Jungkook is still holding himself up over Tae, their play fight forgotten entirely. His eyes bore dark, burning holes into yours. Taehyung’s are glued to your thighs, tongue making an appearance to slide across his mouth almost thoughtfully as he sinks leisurely back into the pillows. Jimin is the only one of them that doesn’t look blown-out. Brows raised and angled, plush lips parted in shock—that all-too-familiar hunger has crept behind his eyes but more than that, he looks surprised.

You bite back an apology as you stride to the doorway and through the hall, heading back towards the front of the house. What do you have to apologize for? You aren’t sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Even so, there’s a part of you that’s mourning the most comfortable atmosphere you’ve been party to in what feels like ever.

It was nice, but you forgot.

You forgot what they are, and what you are to them.

You wish it didn’t make your heart ache.

“Wait. Wait!”

You don’t hear him the first time, too lost in your own embarrassment, but the second time you hear Jimin calling after you, your pace quickens. He’s running after you, breaking into a slight jog when you speed up. He catches up with you at the front door, nearly on top of you, and the thought of him grabbing your arm or otherwise touching to get your attention has your heel spinning to frown at him. He halts immediately when your gazes meet. Your cheeks are still flushed and you hate thinking of how it must look.

“Yeah, Yoongi did. Okay? What do you want, Jimin?”

He recoils visibly, stepping back. His eyes are still slightly dilated, his own cheeks a pretty pink, plump lips parted. He looks hurt. Agitated. You ignore the urge to sidle closer and bite his lips for him.

“I—I just,” he hesitates, spluttering when you move to turn around again and continue to the study, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I just wanted you to...to feel more comfortable with us.” he admits, quiet. “I know things are weird.”

You snort. He winces. “That’s a word for it.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. Being here. I just want you to feel…like...like you can trust us.”

“Trust you?”

“Like you can trust me! I know it’s hard, just being dropped in a house where everybody’s already...and you’re the odd one out…”

“I’m not an in-law, Jimin,” you balk. You remind him just as much as yourself, “You kidnapped me so you could eat me.”

He winces again, rubbing the back of his neck. His tongue wets his lips again, nervous. “I know that. I’m just.” He meets your eye again. “I’m just trying to help.”

You stare at him.

“The last time you ‘helped’ me, you ended up with your dick down my throat.” You reply, incredulous.

The red dusting his face gets so, so much worse and he has to look away.

“That was...different. We...you...it was—” he’s looking for some excuse and failing miserably. “I’m sorry for that, too.” he ends finally. “But! But, I never was going to hurt you, y’know.”

You sigh, hand coming to massage at your temples absently. God, you hope that migraine isn’t planning on coming back. Will drama make your withdrawal worse? “Jimin—”

“I don’t want you to feel alone. Hunted and wanted and scared and alone. And,” he adds, his tone going quiet. “I don’t want...us….” He trails off, restarting with a steadying inhale. “You aren’t hazed.”

The new direction spins you for a moment, taking you completely off-guard. “...no?”

“Are you okay?”

You gape. What is he getting at? But he meets your eye with...fear? Worry? “I’m...fine?”

“Yoongi bit you.”

“Yes…?”

“Without any haze. While he’s...he’s sick. Hungry.”

There’s a pause between you while you try to decipher his point. He eventually gets frustrated with it and casts a brief look about, as if checking for anyone who might be listening in, before stepping in slightly closer. His hands raise, placating, like you’re a spooked animal who might turn tail any minute, at the slightest movement.

“Did he force himself on you?” His voice is soft.

“No more than any of you have,” you retort, stepping back, but Jimin only looks more concerned, eyes darting between yours. “Come on, you can’t pretend that ‘haze’ excuses some of the shit I’ve been through.”

“Haze can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do—”

This again. You could strangle him. “Oh, thank you, Namjoon—”

“—and there is a difference between convincing someone to give you their blood and taking it from them. An important difference. I need...I need to know that we aren’t like that to you.”

“And if you were?”

“Then we’re both leaving.” His response is immediate, grim, and again you’re left somewhat reeling. You watch him for a moment, admittedly intrigued by this convoluted, complicated world view he’s apparently keeping track of. The gray standards he’s holding this entire crew to. It’s weirdly fascinating. Would he really leave them? Just because they didn’t haze you?

“...I went into Yoongi’s room and asked him to bite me,” you say finally. Jimin’s entire frame sags in relief, though his expression morphs into open-mouthed shock.

“You….did?”

“Actually, he was the one that wasn’t...completely into it to start with,” you admit after a beat, recalling the man bundled into the corner, insisting that he didn’t want to hurt you. Something like guilt flashes through you. “He asked me to leave.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jimin looks like he’s this close to crying, head leaning back, brows furrowed. He leans his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair with a deep inhale. He presses his palms into his eyes, disbelieving. “Oh, my god, I was so...I thought…”

You eye him peculiarly. “You really think it makes that big of a difference.”

“It makes all the difference. We have to drink blood. And we can’t always just... ask people for it. But we can make it as painless as possible. We can choose not to let people suffer for it. We don’t have to be...like others.” He takes another breath. “We aren’t like them. We don’t have to be.”

“That is such a thin line.”

“It is,” he concedes. “It really is. But I have to...I have to draw it. For my sake. For everyone’s. I love them all too much.”

“You’re a hero,” you drawl.

“I’m traumatized,” he counters, too quick on the draw, too off-handed. The wry grin that pulls up one side of his mouth is not a happy one. There are scars hiding in his tone, and for a second, you can see how old he is. How old he really is. The shadow of what he’s really been through, passing over him and seeping past the veil that immortality lends. “It does that to you.”

Silence settles into the front hall around you, punctuated only by the odd creak of old wood somewhere in the bowels of the hotel, echoing.

Namjoon’s words rise, unbidden, in your mind.

Jimin...Jimin was my fault. Wait, does that mean that Namjoon—You don’t have time to be horrified or even more confused, because Jimin is shoving his hands into his pockets and exhaling loudly through his nose. He looks equal parts content with his answers and idly thoughtful.

“So you’re okay?” he asks, eyes searching yours. His pupils have almost shrunk back to normal, no doubt distracted by whatever is lurking in his past.

“...I’m okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” his head bobs. “You can talk to me, okay?”

“Without sticking your dick in my mouth?” you snap before you can stop yourself.

His expression darkens. “It…” he hesitates, tongue slipping to wet his lips.

“That...will be up to you,” he says finally, slow, intent.

Your belly roils and again you have to beat back the sudden desire to throw yourself at him, sneak hands beneath his shirt, into his jeans, lick into his mouth. His gaze flicks across your body, bottom to top, before he turns on his heel and slinks back down the hall to the game room. Briefly, you wonder what the atmosphere must be like in there now. You shudder and the marks at your neck and thigh pulse.

It’s too easy for them.

Far too easy.

But you like to think you’re learning.

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#moth to flame #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts vampire au #bts x reader #eyyyyyy she returns #what do yall think

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givelightningherharem · 7 years ago

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Cloud lifting weights but Lightning walks by so he switches the weights for Lightning.

So now he's lifting Lightning.

This is how he flirts.

#he would 100% benchpress lightning #and lightning would let him #let her stoic dork do his thing because she loves him eyyyyyy #and then lightning goes to return the favor #and cloud is just this fucking mess because his girlfriend has no teouble at all picking him up #rip cloud #ahhhhhhhhhh #clightning #clight #lightning farron #cloud strife #cloud x lightning #clourai

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first-and-last-neocount · 3 years ago

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Whumptober Day 22

Eyyyyyy, back to the Escape!AU. Let's check in on Andrys and Narilka, shall we? >:)

I don’t have much to comment on with this one, other than that hoo boy, am I excited for what this is building up to. Andrys, Andrys, you just never learn... Also I think I have not been tagging him as a character, somehow? So I’ll get the fun of going back and having to add his character tag to a few posts at some point, lol. He’s just that irrelevant to me, apparently. XD

Day 22 - Theme Chosen: Obsession

Nothing. All that effort, all that risk, an illegal ritual and a woman's blood on his hands – and he had nothing to show for it!

Andrys paced furiously across the sitting room of his Jaggonath apartment, absolutely seething. He'd been so sure that he was closing in, and then the trail had gone cold just like that, the answers slipping away from him like sand through a clenched fist. Allesha Huyding had barely known anything; she'd told him almost the entire truth, even before he invoked the ritual. Under the verum ex cruor, she'd repeated her story almost word for word – the Hunter had come to her, claiming to be an associate of Senzei Reese and stating his urgent need for the dead sorcerer's journals. He'd offered nothing of his own identity or reasons, only telling her that he would pay her handsomely for the books; Allesha, unsettled by the power she could feel draped around the man like a cloak, had capitulated quickly and easily. He'd taken the journals, given her an absurd amount of gold in return, and told her quite simply that it would be in her best interests to never let anyone know that he had been there – and then he'd gone, with scarce another word, no mention of the priest or his mission or where he was vulking heading next. The only additional information the ritual had pried from her was a few impressions she hadn't even been aware of; from her descriptions of sight and sensation, Andrys deduced that the Hunter had recovered his strength quite thoroughly. The man's aura had been as cold and deadly as ever, the visible weakness he'd exhibited that day in the Hunter's Keep gone without a trace – it clearly hadn't been a permanent injury inflicted by Calesta, as Andrys had hoped, but only a temporary exhaustion.

So. The Hunter was still alive, still at large, and was rapidly regaining whatever edge he had temporarily lost. Meanwhile, Andrys was no closer to deducing why in God's name the accursed adept was running around collecting books or what his next destination would be. Disgusted at the failure of his plan, Andrys had been forced to bring a still-compliant Allesha outside of the city; he'd disposed of her in the privacy of a small copse of trees half a mile or so beyond the city limits, leaving her body where it fell. The scavengers would deal with most of the corpse well enough, and even if some unfortunate soul found her bones later on, they'd assume it was a mugging gone wrong with the flesh and its incriminating ritual marks gone. Now, he was constrained to waiting.

The case wasn't entirely hopeless quite yet. He had a long shot still, one he'd hoped he wouldn't have to fall back on, but was now his only recourse. The only silver lining to his habit of numbing his trauma through the use of various illicit substances was that Andrys knew some interesting people; naturally, they in turn knew other people. Erna's criminal underground was vast, thriving, and well-connected, and Andrys had spread the word that he needed information and was prepared to pay well for it. Unfortunately, he could do nothing to accelerate that particular process, and was now forced to simply bide his time – while the Hunter's lead grew ever greater.

To compound his frustration and disappointment, Andrys had returned to his apartment with the anticipation of at least being able to reunite with Narilka – but when he had unlocked the door and stepped inside, he had known at once, by the dust and the silence, that his lover hadn't been home for days. Terrified that she might have fallen afoul of the Hunter when he was in the city, Andrys had rushed to her workplace; Gresham had informed him, however, that Narilka wasn't even in Jaggonath anymore. It seemed that in the end she had been unable to accept the danger Andrys was facing, and had ridden after him. Now, Andrys was alone and fretting, hoping fiercely that they had simply missed each other on the road and that his beloved was alright.

As if in direct answer to his prayers, at that moment, there was a rattle and click as someone unlocked the apartment door. Andrys froze and spun around, heart soaring – and sure enough, the door swung open to reveal Narilka, looking tired and travel-worn. Despite her clear exhaustion, when she saw him, her whole face lit up with radiant joy.

“Andrys!”

“Nari,” he choked out, relief crashing through his veins so hard that it left him dizzy. Leaving the door to swing shut on its own, Narilka dashed forward and flung herself into his arms; Andrys caught her and cradled her close, feeling the frantic flutter of her heart against his chest and revelling in the reassurance that she was alive and well. “Oh God, Nari, I've been so worried. When I got back and you weren't here-”

Narilka laughed wetly, her vibrant blue eyes shining with tears as she pulled back just enough to look up at him, shaking her dark curls back from her face. “I was delayed on the road, and I still missed you by only a day,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “When I reached the Forest, the other men told me you'd just left the morning before, heading back to the city. Andri, what happened? They said the Hunter was dead, but that you were raving about him having survived, that you'd gone off thinking you were chasing him...”

“He is alive,” Andrys said firmly, his throat tightening with fresh dread at the reminder. “I saw him, at the Keep. The vision that the Patriarch saw that confirmed his death must have been false; he was very much alive and well, and that damned priest that was travelling with him is a traitor. He was the one who knocked me out, and they both got away.”

Narilka looked horrified. “And you thought the answer was to go after them alone? Andri, what were you thinking? If you'd caught up to them, the Hunter would have killed you instantly!”

��I couldn't just do nothing. You of all people know how dangerous he is, Narilka,” Andrys said, shaking his head. “I had to do something. I couldn't convince any of the Crusaders to come with me, and I didn't want him to get too much of a head start – though much good that's done me. I know he was in the city, but I can't figure out why, and I have no idea where he went from here.”

His thoughts of all the places the Hunter could have gone, and all of the havoc he could be wreaking at this very moment, were already starting to consume him again – but he was shocked out of it when Narilka suddenly pressed her slender hands to the sides of his face and held him, her blue eyes blazing as she stared into his green eyes. “Andri, you need to stop,” she breathed, a sudden fierce urgency in her voice. “I know that look, and it doesn't lead anywhere good. Please, please, just let this go.”

Andrys stared at her, stunned and a little hurt. “You want me to just let him get away?” He couldn't quite keep the dismay from his voice. Narilka didn't falter, though; if anything, her expression just grew fiercer.

“Listen to me, Andrys, please – this doesn't have to be your fight anymore.” She slid her hands down from his jaw to rest flat against his chest, bracing there, firm and pleading all at once. “The Crusaders were talking about burning the Forest when I left, so his bastion of power is going to be destroyed, if it hasn't already gone up in flames by now. If he tries to rebuild, let the Patriarch worry about that. Let it be the Church's problem, let it be some Lord's problem – let it be anyone's problem but yours.”

Andrys could only stare at her, rendered speechless by her sudden fire. Narilka continued, the words spilling out of her in a tide; she'd been holding this back since before he left, but now the floodgates were open. “The Patriarch already asked far too much of you, he should never have put this burden on you. You're not responsible for the Hunter just because you're his descendant. By some miracle, you survived the assault on the Forest; you've done more than enough already, let someone else carry on the fight now.” A sudden, bright smile lit her face, rendering her even more lovely than before. “Besides... I seem to remember that you promised to marry me, if you came back alive. A gentleman always keeps his word, or so I've been told.”

Andrys chuckled a little, breathless. “I hadn't forgotten,” he promised her, bringing his own hands up to cover hers, lacing their fingers gently together. “I love you, Nari, and of course I still want to marry you. I just... I don't know if I can find peace when I know he's still out there.”

Narilka's expression darkened a little again, and she looked at him for a long moment. Finally, she said softly, “I don't think you realize what you look like right now, Andri. There's more than just a distance in your eyes; you look... haunted. Like you carried something of the Forest's darkness back home with you.” She clutched his hands more tightly, her tone falling into soft pleading again. “Obsession only leads to destruction, my love. The Hunter's gone for now, and if he returns, someone else can take up the cause; please don't let him take any more of your life away from you. From us.”

She doesn't need to know about the contacts you reached out to, a voice purred in his mind. The cadence was reminiscent of Calesta, but it didn't sound like the demon's sibilant rasp; it sounded like Andrys's own voice, low and conspiratorial. She's right about one thing, why should he get to take this from you? Marry her. Wait. Live your life. When the word eventually comes, you can slip away for a weekend; tell her it's a hunting trip, tell her it's for a business meeting. Tell her it's about taking back the Neocount title, or about anything at all. She won't want to question her happily ever after.

Andrys relaxed, and let himself smile at Narilka, warm and wide and loving. “You're right, Nari. I shouldn't let him dictate our lives.” He raised one of her hands, and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Well, my darling – since I never formally asked you...” He let go of her other hand so that he could sink down on one knee, smiling up at her. “Will you be my wife, Narilka?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her eyes shining with tears of joy now as she clutched his hand. “Yes, Andrys, I will. And we can even get married at the Church – I converted, you know.” Seeing the shock on his face, she laughed. “Oh, I have a story to tell you about what happened on my journey...”

As Andrys stood and guided her toward the sofa, a kind of languid satisfaction curled through his veins. This was actually a perfect way to handle the situation; he could marry the woman he loved, and begin building his new life – and when his contacts eventually brought him the information that he needed, he could simply slip away to deal with it, and finally achieve the genuine peace he'd been chasing since his family's deaths. No matter what Narilka said, he wasn't obsessed, and this proved it; he was moving on, looking toward the future. If that future happened to include the tying up of a few loose ends, what harm was there in that?

What she doesn't know can't hurt her. And when it's done, I'll tell her that he's gone for good, and she'll be glad of the peace of mind as well.

After all, she'd once been the Hunter's prey. Andrys had held back from ever discussing the matter with her, out of consideration for the trauma that she must undoubtedly carry, but he knew how those memories must weigh on her. He didn't need to ask to know that she must hate the Hunter nearly as much as he did – her soul was simply too gentle to express it. That was alright, though. He wouldn't burden her with any further concerns over his pursuit of their shared nemesis.

The Crusade had never been necessary. Andrys knew, in his bones, that he could do this by himself; he'd grown wiser since their last confrontation, had accepted that he would have to harden himself to succeed. He just needed to catch up to the Hunter once more, and this time, the adept would not walk away.

I can start my happy ending a little early. But the moment I know what direction he's headed... I'll be ready.

#whumptober2021 #no.22 #Obsession #coldfire trilogy #fic #andrys tarrant #narilka lessing #the neocount writes

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nevermore-ocs · 4 years ago

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13 x Plus-Size!Reader-- A Real Woman

Author’s note: EYYYYYY FIRST WRITTEN ONE SHOT FOR 13, and it’s SAUCY AS HELL AT 3.6K WORDS, hope y’all enjoy!!

"Are you kidding me?"

The amount of irritation that filled your body and threatened to explode out of you could put a volcano on the verge of erupting to shame. You picked up the sliver of cardboard that had the black-lettered numbers imprinted on it. It was the right size. It was clear as day. However, when you glanced back at yourself in your long, standing mirror, the (favorite color) fabric very obviously hugged your body and curves in a less than comfortable way, good thing you kept the receipt...somewhere in the bevy of bags you had scattered at the foot of your bed. It was quite frustrating, honestly, the dress was the clothing you were so excited to come home and wear, only to be shot down at the height of your excitement. It was also pretty disheartening, the sight of the dress strained in the more fuller areas, even more so when it was a bit of a struggle to peel the clothing off of your form, just fold it away and take it back, all you could do now. "Darling?" The knocks rang through your head like a loud siren, 13, Remy, you forgot you had told her that showing off your new dress was a surprise for her. She must have gotten impatient and walked to your room from the living room where you left her at, teeming with overwhelming eagerness to see whatever you had in store for her. "Darling, it's been quite some time now, can I come in?" You heard the metal doorknob jiggling with her turning it. "U-Uhhh, one second, Remy!" You called out, silently praying to yourself that she would listen, but knowing your SCP girlfriend, listening when she was this ecstatic was out of the question and wasn't coming back either. "I have to wait longer? But, darling, I want to see you now, I've been waiting far too long!" You could hear the growing need in her voice, and that alone tugged at your heartstrings. Balling up the dress with the tag and the receipt, you snagged one of the bags from the end of your bed and you tossed the items, hurriedly, into it and set the bag to the side, hidden, right in time for Remy to throw the door open. "Hmmmmm? Darling, I thought you were going to show me the new clothes you got, I've seen this underwear pair on you before!" It only now hit you like a ton of bricks that you were stood in front of her, almost fully naked, in nothing but a bra and panties. "But, I adore seeing that perfect body of yours, so this is wonderful as always!" She went up to you, her arms hooked underneath your thighs and she easily hoisted you up into her arms and she kept you pressed against her formally dressed chest. Her lips peppered all over the skin on your face, your lips, the bridge of your nose, and the tip of it too. You, at the very most, attempted to return as many kisses as you could, but Remy, knowing you like the back of her hand, which may have seemed extremely creepy to some, read you like a book. "Darling?" She set you down on the bed, carefully, "What's the matter? Usually, you keep up with all of the kisses I give you! What's going on?" You almost didn't want to answer, mostly out of the fear of Remy going out to the store where you bought the clothes and her just, going on another rampage. Without saying anything, other than letting out an audible sigh, you leaned to the side and grabbed the bag from before by the woven handles and you lifted it, handing it to her.

The bag was empty now, she was looking over the dress and holding it out in front of her to get a good look at it, "It even looks like it'll barely fit me!" She let out an actual growl, it turned into a snarl when she took another look at the tag in her other hand, and in a huff, she stuffed the bag back full. She would have thrown it to the side out of pure angry if it weren't for your hand going onto her arm to stop her. "Remy, it isn't a big deal-! I'll go and return it," she gently-she was always so tender with you as if you were going to break-paused your words by taking a hold of your hands and she knelt onto one knee in front of you as you sat on the mattress. "But still, darling, you sounded so excited when you came back home with this! I can tell when you're troubled, this is an insult from them if anything!" She shook her anger off, for now, and refocused all onto you again, "Tell me, darling, what's wrong? Is it the fact that you paid for it and now you have to take it back?" You let a small smile, albeit with some sadness to it, slip onto your lips listening to her words, your fingers threading through the fluffy, onyx-colored hair she had on her half-shaved head, her eyes fluttered close, her head craning into your open palm and her own wide, sharp-toothed grin spread across her face like a fire spreading through a forest. "Remy, it's, it's not because I paid for it, it's because...." you were dreading to tell her this, out of everything, she despised it when you spoke like this about yourself. "Darling?" She squeezed your hands, "It's because it didn't fit in the first place. That's why I'm upset," the moment that the words dusted from your lips, your lowered your head and silently prepared yourself for a verbal lashing. She stood back up to her feet quite abruptly when she heard that. Her brow furrowed, but a sigh left her lips and she sat down next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping down slightly when she did. "Darling...we had this conversation already, you know your body isn't an issue." She repeated it so much, the words were starting to stay stuck in your head like a mantra you could repeat to yourself and you tried to, honestly, just some days, it was harder than others. "I know that Remy, you tell me every day and I-I appreciate you telling me it's just-" your words got cut off in your throat when one of Remy's fingerless-gloved hands took a hold of your chin, specifically her thumb and index finger. With a gentle tug, she urged your head to turn and face up towards hers and the moment you two locked eyes, you could feel her unnaturally colored eyes boring into your soul in an unwavering, unbreakable gaze. "And I tell you the truth every time I say it." You felt her turning on the bed, you were so fixated on her eyes that you didn't even realize that now, she was facing you. "Darling, your body is...gorgeous. It's perfect," you opened your mouth, to be defiant on your words but she was quicker than you, and she put a finger over your lips, hushing you softly. "It's real, it's beautiful, you aren't some whore who had vulgar things done to it, it's you, it's perfect," her hands went from your head to your shoulders, and cascaded downward in a warm, massaging way. "The way your body fills out my palms when I squeeze you, when I hold you," her words paused momentarily, you felt her hands glide over your hips and when she did, she took a handful of you and squeezed, drawing a gasp out of you and your hands instinctively shot up to her broad shoulders and you held onto her, your fingers digging into the cloth of her navy blue vest. "It's heavenly," the words escaped her lips in a soft, shuddering her breath, feeling your body alone did that much to her, you could feel the excitement resonating from her body by her heavier than normal breathing.

Her hands moved back, they pressed against your lower back and while she motioned you to lay down, she continued to speak, her voice was so low, so addicting, her words flowed into your eardrums and stuck themselves into them like super glue. You, out of all people, knew just how talented she was with words, "Now, lay back, relax," when your body rested against the mattress and your head cradled by the surplus amount of pillows piled up at the head of the bed, she moved up onto her knees above you, her hands moved up and took hold of her bowtie and she untied it, her eyes never breaking from your body. "Let me show you how beautiful you are..." when her bowtie came undone, her vest was unbuttoned quicker than you expect. She leaned down, her hands planted at the sides of your head to keep her elevated above you. "Darling~" The word rolled off of her tongue so smoothly, that time she said it, it sent jolts running rampant through your body before shooting down straight into your core, it made your thighs press together and it occurred to you that she noticed since after that happened, one of those signature wide grins settled onto its usual place on her lips. She began to move her hands up to your bra and your bosom, when they arrived, she hooked her finger around the clip at the front of your bra, however, she paused her movements when she did and waited before she even attempted to undo it. "May I?~" You couldn't the smile that broke out across your face. She always asked. With a nod of your head, you pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before relaxing again, "You may~" the moment the words left your lips, she pulled upwards on the clip and your bra unfastened. Your breasts spilled out of the cups when she pulled the clothing away and set it to the side for whenever you needed it back. Her hands instantly went back up, she cupped both of your breasts and squeezed, drawing a breathy gasp to come from your mouth, "How your body reacts," she started again, her voice was beginning to get drenched in that recognizable, insatiable desire, all for you. "It's otherworldly~ Every breath you take, seeing your breasts rise and lower," she ran her thumb over one of your nipples, teasing the hardening nub with her fifth digit before adding her index finger and she pinched it tenderly, giving it a soft tug too. "It makes my blood boil in the best of ways~ It stirs this, this, want for you," her words drifted off when she leaned closer to your right breast. Her inhumanely long tongue slinked out of her mouth and she dragged a long, wet, lick up your nipple at first, then she closed the distance, her lips wrapped around your breast, and she sucked on it tenderly. You could feel those sharp, dangerous teeth of her grazing against your skin in almost a teasing way as if she was preparing to bite down, but, wasn't going to.

"Remy~ Haaahh~" Your hand, shakily, reached up and your fingers snaked into her fluffy, soft, black hair. You gripped it and gave a soft tug, and in turn, it pulled a low, rumbling growl from the pit of her stomach. You felt the sweet, pleasurable vibrations go through your breast, alongside the suckling from her, and how her tongue flicked across your nipple over and over again. Pulling back, she breathed out quite heavily, panting shortly after, and whilst she did that, her fingers hooked around the edges of your panties, and she tugged downwards. "No, no it's not a want-it's a need~ It's as if I don't get you, if I don't claim you, I can't go on~ You and your perfect body awaken this, almost primal desire for you," she reached downwards to unbuckle her belt, however, this time, you beat her to the punch. Letting hand press against the tent in her slacks, you wrapped your fingers around her restrained, hard cock, and you pumped it a few times. She gritted her teeth, sucking in a soft breath through the gaps, her hips bucked somewhat into your hand at the pleasurable friction, "Can't you see what you do to me, darling?~" She breathed out, "Remy?" You questioned after slipping the black, leather belt out of the belt loops of her slacks, "Don't you feel just how erect you got me?~ I'm throbbing, it's almost uncomfortable in my slacks, haha!~" She took over, taking a hold of the zipper, she pulled it downwards and pushed her loose slacks down with her boxer briefs. She breathed out a low groan of relief when her imprisoned length sprung out from her cloth restraints and stood hard at attention. "You did this, darling~ Your body did this to me, those, mhm, delectable moans and noises you let out~ How your eyes roll back when you get lost in your pleasure," to prove her point, one of her gloved hands made its way to your wet slit, she slid her finger downwards from your clit to your entrance, letting your wetness collect on her digit, then she slid it deep inside of you. It made you moan out quite loudly, and your actions repeated exactly what she had said. Your eyes rolled back, you threw your head back into the pillows and moaned out openly. "Just like that~" Her finger steadily pushed in and out of your slit, her other hand, free as it can be, went to your thighs and kept your legs spread open for her. She caressed it thoroughly, going across the inner part, then moved upwards and across the top of it, then to the outer side, and she gripped tenderly, her fingers digging into your body somewhat, not enough to do any kind of damage though of course.

Pushing her finger into you deeply, she kept it buried inside of the warm, wet crevice, she curled it inward towards her palm over and over again, and her thumb planted gingerly on your clit, and she rubbed it in tantalizingly slow circles, "How soaked you get at my touches, you're a sight people dream about~ That they wished they had~" She continued, watching and taking in the sight of just how you writhed with pleasure on the bed, your fingers gripped and held onto the bed-sheets tightly, if you had the strength she did you were sure to tear through them. "Remy~ Hah~ Anh~ Please, that's so good, I-I had no idea you thought all of that about me~" You managed to get out, taking in that grin she had. "Then I'll always make sure that you do~ And even if you forget, I'll gladly repeat it, I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, as many times as you want, darling, you are so perfect~" She slowly retracted her fingers from your dripping wet slit, causing you to whimper in a needy way, desperate to feel something of hers to fill you up again. As if right on cue, she began to answer your desires all over again. She slid herself into place, snuggly in between your thighs, and when she did, she placed her hands under your legs, and she moved them until they rested comfortably at her waist. "And darling, seeing you like this, your body burning, the scent of my love's essence pooling out of her and filling my senses, I cannot wait for another moment," her hips adjusted and you could feel the head of her cock brush against your folds, it nudged past them, but she didn't enter you, yet. "I have to take you~" When she leaned over you, you took the chance, your arms hooked around her neck, and you pulled her down to your level. Your lips crashed against hers in a much-needed, deep, passionate lip-lock, your tongue, feeling bold, ran across her bottom lip and she instantly received the message. Her mouth pried open, welcoming your tongue, and it made the kiss deeper, hotter. Your tongue swirled around with her inhumanely long one, it made your legs tighten around her waist, and you felt her hips begin to rock. It made her cock grind against your cock, it gradually gathered your wetness on the length of it, making it slick. "Then take me, Remy~ I need you too, I, God, I need you so badly~"

Hearing you beg was the best music in the entire world to her, better than her favorite song in the same. "Gladly, darling~" She reached down, wrapping her hand around the base of her cock, she lined herself up to your entrance, you felt yourself breathing heavier, preparing yourself for what's about to come. Her hips pushed forward, her slick, hard length slid deep inside of you, her hips pressed up against yours when she easily hilted herself, letting herself be engulfed by the welcoming feeling of your wet, velvety-soft walls hugging around the shape of her cock, "Ooohhhh, darling~ You always feel, mmmm, wonderful~ How you hug around me, no one is as perfect as you, my dear~" She leaned down, and pecked your cheek, "Hold onto me, I don't think I can contain myself anymore, now that I'm," she pulled her hips back, almost sliding herself out all of the way, only to snap her hips forward again and pump her cock deep inside of you. "Inside of you~" Doing what she said, you kept your arms locked around her neck, your fingers clawing at the back of her shirt as she started to thrust in and out of you at a steady, growing pace, her hips slapping up against yours. Her name escaped from your lips in loud moans numerous times, like a mantra, as if it were the only thing you knew, she wasn't as loud, but her low groans, matched with a few quiet, breathy little laughs sent shivers up and down your spine since her mouth was right next to your ear. Your legs wrapped properly around her waist, your heels digging into the spot above her rear, her arms moved down and wrapped themselves firmly around your waist and she clung onto you. Thanks to your legs, it made her thrusts grow faster, her forehead rested against yours, you could see just how red-faced she was, she panting, breathing heavily. "Darling~" She gasped out, it took you a couple of attempts to pry your shut-tight eyes, but when you did, you were greeted with the sight of her red sclera, light grey irised eyes focused onto (eye color) ones, the sight made you feel safe, it made you feel loved, she never scared you or anything like that, it made your heartbeat louder with uncontrollable love all for SCP-013. "I love you, darling, I love you so much~" She had leaned forward, and you, surprising her, leaned forward too and closed the gap in between the both of you for another warm, passionate lip lock, "I love you too, Remy, I, mmhf!~ Hahhn!~ I love you~"

Her thrusts grew faster, more rapid, inconsistent, she was getting close. Her noises got louder than before, her panting started to turn heavier and almost sounded more primal-like due to her mouth being open as it was, "D-Darling I'm, ohhh, I'm so close~ You feel, so, hnh, unf, amazing~" Nodding, as your orgasm was at the precipice, ready to come crashing down and hit you with all the force it had, you pulled her down closer to you, her head next to yours and instantly, she turned it and nestled it into the crook of your neck, placing several kisses all over the side of your neck, along with little bites here and there. She attempted to contain herself, however, after the whole incident with the last bite she did to one of your thighs and almost gave you a heart attack when she lifted her head and she had blood on her lips. "M-Me too!~ Cum, hahh, cum inside of me, Remy, please!~" You could feel her grin against your skin, "I wouldn't want to anywhere else, hnh, anyway, darling~" You laughed breathlessly alongside her, turning your head, you pressed your lips against her cheek and onto one of the swirling, deep tissued scars that spiraled across the exposed side of her face. She pumped and pounded her hips down into yours a few more times and it was that last one that made her hilt herself all of the way inside of you, keeping her hips locked down onto yours. She groaned out loudly, her hips flexed forward with each pump of her cum flowing inside of you, flooding you, she hadn't even begun to pull out when droplets and dribbles of her cum seeped through the gaps of her cock buried deep inside of your slit. She was never too keen on pulling out of you, not that you had a problem with it. "Hopefully," she started, huffing out a much-needed breath, and she hiked herself back up above you, her hands planted on the mattress much like before. When she adjusted herself like that, that damned, large, wide, sharp-toothed grin slid onto her face and made itself at home on her lips.

"That got through to you, darling~ Or....do you need more convincing?~ Trust me, as you know, I can be, hehehe, quite persuasive~"

#oc #my oc #scp #scp 13 #scp: containment breach #scp 013 #SCP-013 #13 #oneshot #fic #writing #my writing #ns//ft #ns//fw #ALSO YES #13'S REAL NAME IS REMY #ITS USED A LOT IN THIS XDDDDD

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haro-ra · 4 years ago

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Always happy to see another Caldia shipper. I like Rayllum but Caldia is SUPER underrated in my opinion. Like come on, after their interactions in early season 2, how don't more people likethe pairing?

Eyyyyyy, we’re actually already friends in the caldia server/on my main XD It’s good to see you here PC! They’re GOOD KIDS. He’s got the most ADORABLE baby crush on her! She feels flattered and returns his feelings! They almost kissed! They’re CUTE

#caldia #tdp #the dragon prince #callum #claudia #pc-the-unicorn

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mobius-prime · 5 years ago

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80. Sonic the Hedgehog #52

Ooh, so dapper! I don't know why, but I feel like everyone and their mother can agree that Sonic's handsomeness shoots through the roof whenever he wears formal or old-timey clothing.

The Discovery Zone

Writer: Tom Rolston Pencils: Manny Galan Colors: Karl Bollers

It's the day after Robotnik's defeat, the first day of true peace that anyone has had in over a decade. Sonic has decided to take Tails out into the countryside to "instruct young Tails in the way of speed." Apparently, according to the intro page, this is something that's "within his reach," which like… are they trying to imply that Tails is on the verge of being just as fast as Sonic is? I think that's probably inaccurate…

Well anyway, the adventures begin in perhaps the most hilarious way imaginable. Sonic and Tails are stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of a flying, empty leisure suit.

Sonic follows it into a cave while Tails runs for the others, and suddenly, the setting - and color palette - change drastically. We find ourselves looking upon a dance club in a city with 20s flair - women in flapper dresses, men in suits, spotlights shining into the night sky above. Sonic, now dressed in the suit and appearing to be some kind of freelance detective, waits within the club at a table to meet up with someone, and is not disappointed when Sally, dressed in fancy clothing and causing many heads to turn with her beauty, enters and sits next to him.

Guess we're fighting Robotnik again, then! Have you noticed that in the past two issues, even though Robotnik is dead they really don't seem to know how to formulate a story without Robotnik as the antagonist? Guess it took them a little while to get used to the idea that for now, the comic had no main overarching villain.

Anyway, Sonic rushes out to the factory that Sally points him to to look for this mysterious "Nicole," getting directions and information from Uncle Chuck along the way through a steampunk-looking watch on his wrist. When he gets there, he finds oil from robots there… and then his uncle contacts him with some new information!

Oh c'mon Sonic, we all know already that your middle name is Maurice, you can't hide it.

Sonic rushes out to confront the flying robots, destroying them one by one and retrieving their cargo, which turns out to be…

…the computer Nicole! Wow, we definitely didn't see it coming that she was a machine! Sonic returns to the dance club with Nicole in tow, hoping to get some answers from Sally, as apparently despite her mentioning that she wanted to take down Robotnik, he is simply shocked that he had to face down some of Robotnik's robots. However, as soon as he sits down to confront her, who shows up but… Robotnik himself! Despite everyone else having more of an old-timey design Robotnik looks exactly the same as always for whatever reason. When he threatens Sally, who he reveals as the leader of the rebellion against him, she explains to Sonic why she needed Nicole.

When Robotnik acts triumphant that he's caught the both of them, Sonic merely pulls a ring out of his pocket and proceeds to go to town, smashing all his backup 'bots and making it appear like he whooshed Sally and himself out the door while they hide under a table. With Robotnik's attention diverted, they escape, calling in a ride from Tails and Rotor.

Well would you look at that! We got to see Sonic recruited into the Freedom Fighters "in another time, in another place," all over again. The color palette reverts once again and Sonic, now looking normal, stumbles back out of the cave just as Tails brings back Sally and the others to check on him. None of them believe his story, reminding him that Robotnik died literally yesterday, but he just winks at the reader, cause eyyyyyy, we know the truth! (About his adventure, not about Robotnik. Robotnik's suuuuper dead.)

First Contact

Writer/Colors: Karl Bollers Pencils: Art Mawhinney

Later that same day, Sally takes Nicole into a comms room, hoping to use Robotnik's old network of satellites to contact other Freedom Fighter groups around the world, who still haven't heard of Robotnik's death. Interestingly, one of the faces that responds (bottom right) looks a lot like Mina Mongoose, a character who doesn't appear till the next era but who was a major figure for a while. Apparently they used this random woman's appearance as inspiration for Mina's design much later on.

Sally mostly just spends the next few pages recounting the events of Endgame, as well as warning them about the strange alternate reality zones (like the one from the previous story) that have started popping up all over the world as a result of the Ultimate Annihilator firing. She also mentions how Knothole now exists three hours into the future as well with the only effective entrance being their old great oak slide, but before she can properly warn them to stay away from the zones the connection fizzles out, leaving her to simply hope that they use their heads and stay away from them for the time being until they're better understood.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 52 #writer: tom rolston #writer: karl bollers #pencils: manny galan #pencils: art mawhinney #colors: karl bollers

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fanficshiddles · 6 years ago

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I’m still breathing, Chapter 46

Sophie flew through the air in a high kick towards Loki, reaching his chest this time. He let out a grunt as she knocked him down to the ground.

He groaned while Sophie stumbled on her feet, she walked back over to him and grabbed his hand to help him up.

‘Maybe you should start using Thor as a practice dummy. You’re getting stronger.’ He chuckled, getting up.

‘But it’s more fun to practice on you.’ She grinned.

Loki gave her a mischievous smirk.

‘Oi, you two! Come on, it’s dinner time.’ Steve shouted from the door of the training hall.

Sophie took Loki’s arm and the two went over towards him.

‘You’ve been training an awful lot lately.’ Steve commented.

‘Yep. We’re making sure we are prepared.’ Sophie said slightly cold.

‘For what?’

‘Doesn’t matter to you. Since you lot don’t believe Loki.’ She shrugged, feeling Loki tighten his grip slightly on her as a silent thank you.

Steve ran his hand down his face. ‘It’s not that we don’t believe you, Loki. We just… Have no proof. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.’

Loki growled low. ‘Come on, darling. I’d rather go out tonight.’ He re-directed Sophie and they went the other way, away from Steve.

They ended up getting Natasha, Clint and Wanda too. The five of them went out for dinner to a local pub that Clint recommended. Loki wasn’t entirely sure about it to start with, wanting to treat Sophie to something more upper class. But Sophie persuaded him to give it a try without being too much of a grump.

He ended up rather enjoying it, as did they all.

They had proper pub grub and plenty of beer to go along with it. Clint and Loki ended up discussing the difference between Asgardian beer and Midgardian beer.

Sophie, Wanda and Natasha rolled their eyes at the two.

‘I think I need something stronger.’ Natasha got up and motioned for the other two to go with her.

They went up to the bar and ordered a bunch of shots, along with some vodka mixers. The three all downed their shots as quickly as they could, pulling faces at the strength of some of them. They ended up staying at the bar for a while, chatting to the woman behind the bar for a while and earning more free shots.

Three guys walked into the bar and spotted the three women having a good time at the bar, so they approached them and instantly tried flirting. Loki was over there in a flash, even though it seemed previously that he wasn’t watching Sophie.

Loki walked straight up behind Sophie, she knew he was there because of the look on one of the guys faces, looking over the top of her head. Then large hands on her shoulders, was a confirmation.

‘Are these guys bothering you, darling?’ He said through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the men.

The men put their hands up and backed off, especially when Clint joined Loki.

‘Ah, our knights in shining armour saving us from the creepy guys!’ Wanda laughed, grabbing her drink from the bar.

‘Come on, back to the table.’ Clint put his hands to Natasha and Wanda’s back and guided them back over to sit down.

Sophie turned around to look up at Loki. ‘Well, I’ve never seen someone look so terrified before.’ She giggled.

‘So they should be.’ He growled, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her in close to him. ‘You’re mine!’ He leaned down and kissed her firmly on the lips.

‘Mmm. I rather like it when you’re jealous.’ She grinned over his lips.

Loki chuckled. ‘Not jealous, love. Protective, perhaps.’

‘Possessive more like.’ Sophie corrected him.

‘Maybe.’ Loki shrugged.

He ordered more drinks then returned to the table with Sophie.

‘No more wandering off, girls.’ Clint said, sitting back with his pint.

‘Well you two were yapping on about the best beer. I mean, come on!’ Natasha folded her arms over her chest.

‘Yeah, because you three were yapping on about that Hugh bloody Jackman fellow!’

Loki nodded in agreement with Clint while the girls just laughed.

When the five returned to base in the early hours of the morning, all pretty drunk after having drank most of the pub dry, they were surprised to find when they stumbled inside that everyone else was still awake.

‘Eyyyyyy. What’re you all doing up?’ Clint asked, moving to lean against the wall but missing and stumbling over.

‘Jesus. Are you lot pissed?’ Tony stood up, clearly annoyed.

‘Soo wht we are?’ Sophie slurred, arms over her chest as she glared at him.

‘You all know we have a mission first thing!’ Said Steve.

‘Why are you all not in bed then?’ Loki snarled, his arm was around Sophie to keep her steady because she was always very unsteady on her feet when drunk.

‘Because we’ve been waiting for you guys to get back! This has got to stop, guys.’ Bruce went over to Natasha and took her arm, dragging her to the sofa to sit down because she had tried to wander towards the bar to get more drink.

‘What has? We just went for food and drinks!’ Wanda said in defence, though she did go over to join Vision by the window.

‘You know full well what has.’ Steve glared at them all in turn. ‘The last month or so you’ve all been distancing yourselves from us. Training harder every day, having secret meetings. We’re supposed to be a team.’

‘Supposed to be a team? Are you having a laugh?’ Loki shouted, stepping closer towards Tony and Steve. ‘YOU, are the ones who don’t believe me. YOU are the ones who aren’t supporting me. YOU are the ones putting the rest of us at risk because you can’t put your damn pride down for once to realise that the monster of the group might be right for a change!’ Loki was raging now, his nose scrunched up in anger.

Tony and Steve moved towards him. Clint then backed up Loki, at his side. The rest of the Avengers watched on, unsure on what to do.

‘No, YOU are the one putting the team at risk because of your stupid hallucinations and fears!’ Tony yelled.

Loki’s dagger materialised in his hand and he moved closer.

‘Woah. Calm down everyone!’ Peter moved between them and put his hands out towards Loki and Tony mainly. ‘It’s great, really great that you’ve been training harder. Truly. But we just think you’re pushing yourselves too hard, we don’t want you to exhaust yourselves.’ He said to Loki.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Keep out of this, kid. Unless you want your ass kicked as well.’ He snarled.

Sophie shook her head and grabbed Loki’s arm. ‘Come on, Loki.’ She hiccupped. ‘They’re not worth it. Let’s go.’ She tugged on his arm and he reluctantly backed down, his dagger disappearing again. She was able to lead him away from the heated situation and out of the room.

Wanda looked at Vision and shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. But I am on their side, if we are taking sides. I believe Loki, there was someone there in the footage.’ She gave his arm a squeeze and he nodded sadly. But he wasn’t really wanting to take sides as such.

Clint looked at everyone and shook his head before backing away. ‘You all need to take a look at yourselves and actually trust Loki, who is supposed to be a valuable part of this team. Just like everyone else.’ He then zoned in on Tony and Steve. ‘You two act all high and mighty, like you’re the leaders. But you’re not. You’re just as equal as the rest of us.’ He then walked out before waiting for a response.

The team all turned their heads towards Natasha, expecting her to say her piece and storm out too. But all they received was a loud snore, her head had fell backwards on the sofa and she was drooling.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #I'm still breathing #mutant ofc

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imagine-loki · 6 years ago

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I'm still breathing, Chapter 46

TITLE: I’m still breathing CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 46 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine a mutant has been living on the streets for years, until she is picked up by the Avengers. She’s taken to live with them so they can help her to discover what her powers are. Loki especially, takes an interest in her. The two become very fond of one another as they discover what her power is. RATING: M