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alolowrites · 4 years ago

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Everyone’s Got a Sweet Tooth!

Summary: Bakugou hates sweets. You don’t think this is true and begin a mission to discover his favorite candy. After all, you are the brilliant Candy Master who won’t stop until Bakugou’s sweet tooth is satisfied.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’m so glad I was finally able to write a full fic for Bakugou; it’s been so long. Originally, this was supposed to be for the bingo event, but had trouble fleshing out the story’s direction. I really wanted to write this story since the plot was hilarious to me, idk why.

Please enjoy!

10.30.21 UPDATE: HI!!!!! I went back and edited the heck out of this baby since it’s my favorite Bakugou story I’ve written. I hope it is now decent lmao. Happy Halloween!!

Word Count: 2.4K+

“Katsuki, what is the meaning of all this?!”

“The hell are you talkin’ bout?”

“This!”

You marched with purpose and plopped down on the couch where he sat. Bakugou remained unfazed, clicking on the remote control. He mindlessly surfed through the channels with an attention span of an HR recruiter combing through a mountain pile of resumes. Stupid sitcoms, fake ass “reality” tv shows, QVC advertising their products like it's Black Friday all day, every day. Bakugou frowned—why does he pay so much for these useless channels?

His eyes teared away from the screen as the phone waved frantically on his left.

You huffed. “According to Maximus Heroes, you—and I quote—‘bleeping hate sweets!’”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Damn idiots censored my words.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?”

“That you hate sweets!”

You viciously smacked a pillow at him, ignoring his yells. Bakugou snatched the weapon with a growl. For a soft pillow, it felt like a firm foam roller. You stood up and paced around, arms flailing in the air.

“How can my boyfriend say such a thing?!” You pointed at your signature black top hat. “Do you know who I am? I’m the lovable Candy Master, CEO of the Candy Basket Factory!”

Bakugou shrugged. “So?”

“So, you can’t say you hate sweets!” You gripped your chest, sniffling a bit. “I feel as though I’ve been betrayed.”

“Would you sit your ass down?”

Bakugou tossed the pillow at you and crossed his arm; he was too tired to deal with this nonsense. Somehow the QVC channel looked more appealing now. You begrudgingly plopped on the couch, a small pout growing on your face. Bakugou snuck a glance and sighed, tossing the remote aside.

“Are you seriously so upset about this?” Instant regret flooded through his mind as he remembered that ridiculous day. “It was a freakin’ answer to a stupid question in a stupid celebrity article.”

“…maybe…”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. You took off your signature hat and examined it; the hat was firm yet soft and had three peppermint candies artistically attached like a beautiful brooch. You moped silently for an eternity until an exciting idea rushed into your mind. Bakugou jumped as you squealed, his mouth ready for snarl, but you beat him to the punch.

“I got it!” Two hands eagerly cupped his sharp cheeks, your whimsical eyes meeting his feral ones. They did nothing to damper your beaming smile. “You don’t hate sweets; you just haven’t found your favorite candy!”

Bakugou grabbed your wrist yet didn’t pull them away. Another giggle rang throughout the living room as you shot up from the sofa. A specific look crossed your face—one that both irked and frightened Bakugou to no end; he was through dealing with your shenanigans.

“Whatever you’re thinkin’ about, the answer is no!”

“Too late! The mind is churning,” you piped, taking a cheerful step toward the doorway. Spinning on your heel, you gave a hat tip to Bakugou and declared, “I won’t rest until that sweet tooth of yours is satisfied!”

Yup, it was too late. Bakugou had no choice but to go along with this dumb idea. Closing his eyes, he slammed a pillow over his face and screamed.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Ground Zero’s hero agency was buzzing with life. Phones rang off the hook, yet all were answered to avoid the voicemail machine. Interns carried endless stacks of papers, their dying arms begging for relief and fingers stinging from brutal paper cuts. The afternoon shift sidekicks clocked in their arrival while the morning ones yawned out the door.

Everything ran like a well-oiled machine, just how Bakugou liked it. He took great pride in this, hiring only the best and brightest. However, none of them held a candle against him—the number two pro hero. Unfortunately, being a prominent hero brought lots of reports he needed to sign.

And he was not excited about this.

“Um, sir?”

“Damnit, Small Head,” Bakugou growled, halting his pen’s movement. Fiery eyes glared at the man peeking around the ajar door. “If you bring me another paper to sign, I will stab this pen in your damn eye!”

“I-I assure you that I bring no reports, sir!” Kioshi, Bakugou’s personal assistant, waddled inside the office, fixing the tie that was strangling his neck. He slid a peculiar package toward his boss and bowed his head. “You have a special delivery from the Candy Master.”

Bakugou scrunched his eyebrows. On his desk was a white box with an orange ribbon wrapped neatly in the upper left corner. A tiny card sat underneath it, and with closer inspection, had his first name written across in gold letters. Bakugou shooed Kioshi away, waiting to hear the door close to ensure absolute privacy.

At first, Bakugou had a mini stare-down with the gift. When it didn’t burst into flames, he sucked his breath and snatched the card. Bakugou turned it around to read the following message:

Everyone knows you got a sour attitude, but only I get to see that sweet side of yours. Figured these treats might do the trick. I made them just for you!

Enjoy,

C.M

P.S. These are an ~exclusive~ batch from my top-secret collection! So hush-hush!

Bakugou snorted at your writing, tossing the card aside and opening the box. His eyes narrowed at the vibrant gumdrops nestled above the black tissue paper. White sugar lightly coated the green and orange candies, each twinkling under the natural light that shined through his large window. A smirk curled on his lips; the whole package reflected his hero costume.

“Let’s see how good these are.”

Bakugou ate the green gumdrop. It was chewy and sour, the lime flavor making him twitch a bit. The sweetness kicked in ten seconds later. Bakugou tried the orange gumdrop next, and the acid was strong too but enjoyable. He soon devoured the entire box in one sitting.

Once that was done, he marched out of the office to start his daily patrol. It didn’t take long for a stupid thug to cross his path. Bakugou slammed him against the concrete wall, hauling him up with just one hand. The man trembled in fear but stopped squirming and cocked his head to the side, dumbfounded.

Bakugou growled. “What the hell are you looking at?”

“Your tongue...it got weird colors, man.”

“Eh? The fuck are you talking ‘bout?”

Bakugou peeked at his reflection on the store’s window. He recoiled when he saw the horrible swirls of green and orange covering his tongue. A vicious scowl crossed Bakugou’s face, his iron grip tightening around the thug’s collar. The guy’s high-pitched yelps fell on deaf ears.

“Fuckin’ gumdrops!”

They were crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“I don’t want it.”

“But, sir, the gift—”

“I know who it’s from, and I’m telling you no.”

“Sir,” Kioshi gripped the massive, cherry red treat in his hand. A black ribbon with long strings almost reached the floor. The assistant sighed. “It’s just a lollipop.”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ baby to ya?” Bakugou crossed his arms, refusing to budge on his childish decision. The irony made Kioshi roll his eyes mentally. “Give it away or something. Now get out.”

“Yes, sir…”

Lollipops were crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Another day, another gift Bakugou received from you.

They came sporadically and kept the hero on his toes. He never understood why you sent the gifts directly to his office; you both lived in the same apartment for crying out loud! Worst of all, he could never get a single hint on what candy he would receive next. Every time he asked—or more accurately, demanded—you shot him a coy smile and purred, “Ah, ah, ah! It’s a surprise!”

Bakugou wanted to rip his eyeballs out.

However, he reluctantly played along with your stupid game. Whenever Kioshi entered his office, Bakugou masked his slight interest with the usual scowl. If the assistant didn’t bring candy, then Bakugou blamed him for interrupting his private time. The anger was worse if Kioshi brought more reports for him to sign.

Kioshi was thankful for the days when a new candy gift arrived.

Unfortunately, the last three gifts were complete failures. The first was the strawberry licorice, which dangled in Bakugou’s hand. He took a few bites and complained that he was eating a rubber wheel. Next was a bag of colorful gummy worms. Bakugou shoved a couple in his mouth and swore he felt one of them move on its own. Finally, there was the lemon green jawbreaker; it was the size of a baseball. One look and Bakugou shouted over the phone: “You tryna give me dentures?!”

All three candies were crossed off the list. Still, you didn’t give up and sent another gift to Bakugou. He read the simple message on the card:

Chew and blow to your heart’s content, babe!

Love,

C.M

P.S. I promise this won’t change the color on your tongue, haha!

Bakugou opened the sleek, rectangular box and found a bubble gum packet inside; there were three thin pieces. He slipped one in his mouth, surprisingly pleased with the bold raspberry flavor hitting his taste buds. Bakugou skimmed the card again and did as instructed—he chewed.

Typically, an ordinary bubble gum would lose its flavor after five minutes. But the flavor in your gum only got juicier; it encouraged Bakugou to continue chewing. He then blew a tiny bubble before popping it in his mouth. Not bad, he thought as another bubble expanded in front of him. His chews became more aggressive, and the bubbles more prominent than the previous ones. Stupidly, he puffed out a massive bubble, and it grew…

…and grew…and grew until there was a loud pop.

Bakugou’s roars shook the entire building, spilling cold tea all over Kioshi’s shirt.

Bubble gum was crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Everything was going well down at the Candy Basket Factory. People lined up outside for the magical tours that ran every hour. Kids bounced off the walls as if they were on a sugar rush while their parents felt a migraine pounding on their heads. Inside the factory, the ceilings were high, and the walls were vibrant like the sun. Laughter rang from every corner as employees chit-chatted about their daily lives; they were relaxed yet efficiently worked to the same drumbeat.

A soft smile crept on your face. You were glad everyone was happy; it was the driving force behind your factory’s joyful spirit. Eventually, that spirit would leave these doors and touch billions of people’s hearts with your precious candies.

Just as you closed your eyes, someone barged into your office and barked your name. You chuckled, spinning the leather chair around to meet a furious Bakugou. His nostrils flared like a bull, and his menacing eyes looked ready to kill. However, the gum’s blobs stuck on his porcupine blonde hair squashed the pro hero’s intimidating aura.

“You—”

“—I’m so sorry, boss!” Nozomi panted into the room, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s quite alright, Zomi!” You chirped without breaking Bakugou’s intense eye contact. “I can handle him. Please let everyone know I’ll be busy with an important meeting.”

Nozomi bowed and closed the door behind her. Bakugou wasted no time complaining, his hands slamming on your desk.

“Quit sending me your cavity-infested garbage! I’ve had it with this fuckin’ game.”

“Oh, come on, babe!” You rolled forward and rested your chin on your gloved hand palm. “Can’t I just send my dashing boyfriend some sweet gifts? Get it!” You jokingly slapped his forearm. “Because candies are sweet? Man, I crack myself up at times…”

“You’re insufferable.”

You winked at him. “But that’s what you love about me!”

Bakugou gritted his teeth and looked away. A light blush tainted his cheeks; he hated how right you were. You walked around the desk and stood beside him, wiping off the fairy sugar dust on his shirt. He probably barged through the sample stand near the entrance, scaring off the poor intern.

“Alright, alright.” You gave a gentle pat. “Sorry for going a little overboard with the gifts. I was just excited about finding your favorite candy! I don’t want you hating them.”

Bakugou’s anger subsided. “Why is this so damn important to you?”

“Because I love spreading endless joy through sweets.”

The answer was simple and innocent. Bakugou blinked and was taken aback by the gentleness in your eyes.

“Candy makes everyone happy,” you chirped. “Knowing someone’s favorite candy helps me bring their smile back whenever they’re upset or lost. Can’t have the world be all mopey now, can we?”

Your fingers hovered above Bakugou’s head. The gum moved under your command and floated in the air. You flicked it into the trash bin with ease, and Bakugou murmured a quick ‘thanks’ under his breath. After ruffling his hair, you suddenly remembered something sitting on your shelf. Bakugou stared at the small pyramid of chocolate truffles coming toward him.

“I made these babies a few minutes ago,” you said, eying the plate with a proud grin. “Normally, I do a taste test and then send the gift if it satisfies my expectations. But, I got a feeling you’ll love them.”

Bakugou’s face was unreadable. You gave him a gentle nudge and encouraged him to take one. He sighed before picking a chocolate truffle; it was warm and soft, the cocoa powder dusting his fingertips. After suspiciously staring at the truffle, he ate the entire thing in one go. His eyes widened as all the flavors exploded at once. The crushed red pepper flakes, the hints of rich cinnamon and orange zest, and the bittersweet dark chocolate made from the finest quality found on Earth all danced perfectly together with every bite.

“So…” You placed the plate on the desk, watching Bakugou swallow the truffle down. “What do you think? Give me your honest opinion! Don’t sugarcoat it, haha! I’m on fire today!”

Bakugou turned away. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” You hugged his bicep with a pout. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Just tell me if you liked the chocolate truffles.”

“They’re good.”

Your smile grew. “Good enough to be your favorite?”

“Sure,” he smirked, shoving another truffle into his mouth. You cheered on the spot after weeks of constant failures. Of course, some of the complaints were nonsense which didn’t surprise you. Bakugou was a picky bastard; the lollipop fiasco served as a great example. You were glad he thoroughly enjoyed the chocolate truffles.

Before you walked away, Bakugou pulled you close to him and crushed his lips on yours. He caught you off guard, but the surprise was certainly welcomed. You soon melted into the kiss after tasting the rich dark chocolate and spices on his lips. Bakugou’s arms snaked around your waist as your hands gripped his broad shoulders.

“You know,” Bakugou’s hot breath tickled your right ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I think I got a new favorite candy.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, a coy smile plastered on your face.

“Let’s hope it satisfies your sweet tooth then, Ground Zero.”

“Oh, it will.”

After all, you were the one and only Candy Master.

As always, thanks for reading!

10.18.20 UPDATE: Story’s sequel, Gold Coins and a Gold Heart now uploaded.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha imagines

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darkmulti · 5 years ago

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Detention!

Stray Kids

Parings: teacher, incubus! Chan x female reader

Genre: smut, duh

Word Count: 1.9k

HEAVY SMUT

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

———

Synopsis: Y/N lies to Mr. Bang and well.... he has to punish her.

~Hope you enjoy~

———

A/N: 🤷‍♀️ warnings are after undercut~ not edited, please don’t kill me😔

⚠️Warnings: degradation, compelling, mentions of watersport, rough sex, spanking, slapping, spitting, marking, readers first time, hair pulling, choking, blood, overstimulation, dacryphilia

—————————————————————————

Y/N lays her tongue on a flat piece of paper, making it wet. She rips the wet part and rolls it into a ball, then loads it into her straw. One eye closed and the other eye aimed right at her teacher. She blows into the straw and the spitball launches out, landing on her teachers face. “Y/N! I’m trying to teach a class here!” The troublemaker makes a baffled face and says, “it wasn’t me!”

“I saw you spit it at me.” He turns around and puts the marker on his desk. Her teacher walks over and inspects her desk. “Ah ha!” He pulls out the piece of paper and sets it on her desk. “What’s this?” He questions, moving his glasses down.

“It’s a random piece of paper. It’s not mine!” She scoffs and kicks the chair in front of her. “Nice try, detention after school. I need to discipline you for lying.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out to him, “you’re not my mom! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Chan rolls his eyes and goes back to the front to finish off his lesson before school ends. Y/N chewed on her gum, while twirling her hair with her finger. She was half asleep when school finally ended. She quickly puts on her bag and mixes in with the students trying to leave.

“Not so fast, Y/N!” The man pulls her back by her backpack and tells the rest of the students to scurry off. “You have detention.” The brat makes a shocked face. “Oh, I forgot.”

“I’m sure you did…” he goes over to the door and locks it. “Little slut.”

“Excuse me? You don’t say that to a student, sir.”

“I can say whatever I want to say. I can make you do whatever I want you to do. I can stop you from breathing… If I wanted to, I could even piss in your mouth.”

“S-sir, I can report you for this!”

“With what proof?”

The girl's heart raced in her chest and her breath hitched. “It’s still wrong and you know it!” Chan slowly walks closer to her, tracing his fingers along the desk. “It’s wrong, but it feels right.” Y/N starts backing away not knowing what to do. “P-please sir. We can work something out. I-I won’t lie, or misbehave in class. I’ll be a good student!” She keeps backing up until her back hits the wall. She looks to her right for one second, and the next Chan has her arms pinned, above her head. His eyes slowly turn red, and Y/N notices. She rapidly blinks, to check if she was hallucinating or not.

Chan chuckles and cups the compelled girls cheek. “From now on you’ll do whatever I say. You will enjoy everything that I give you, and will take it without a problem. You will call me daddy or master, and be my little housewife. Understood?”

“Understood daddy.” Her cold eyes turned into soft ones and she slightly smiled. “P-please u-use me.” Her eyes sparkle upon saying this. “Gladly.” Chan lets go of her hand and starts kissing her jawline down to her neck. He rips off her clothes and throws them behind in a blink of an eye. “Wow daddy! That was fast!” The demon hums and attacks her tits; sucking on her right one while roughly massaging the left.

“Master! It feels so good.” She throws her head back and arches her back. Her sensitive nipples stung from all the saliva it absorbed, causing her to hiss. Chan left purple marks all over the girl's chest and neck. He picked her up and laid her on the desk. She put her legs high up waiting for her masters order.

Her master takes his belt off and spanks the girls ass. He grabbed her legs and flipped her over, onto her stomach. “Are you ever going to lie to daddy?” He spanks her ass, and pushes her face down. “Tell me babygirl, I’m giving you permission to talk.” The demon spanks her again, this time leaving a little blood. “I-I w-will never l-lie a-again.”

“Good.” Chan gets on his knees and licks the blood away. “I wonder if your cum will taste as sweet as your blood… Let's find out.”

“Uh.. daddy, can you please be gentle? I-it’s my first-” Before she could finish her sentence, the man starts to laugh. “Master, what’s so funny?!” She frowns and looks behind at him. “The school’s slut is a virgin?” Daddyy!” She cries out. “It hu-urts!” She sobs in Chan’s arms and he ruthlessly goes faster. The tiny girl lets out a quiet scream while cumming.

Her legs go numb and she almost collapses to the floor but the man behind her catches her. He bends her over the table and picks up his pace. “WHO TOLD YOU THAT YOU CAN CUM?!” He angrily growls at her. “N-n one, master.” She silently sobs, and looks away not wanting to get in more trouble. “Next time tell me!” He gives her another full thrust and his tip reaches deep in hitting her gspot. “AhHHHH IM GONNA CUM!” She lets out her sobs and cums again. “I-I’m so s-sorry daddy! Please forgive me I-I couldn’t control it!” She shakes in fear under the man.

“You could’ve held it in, but you just like being a disobedient brat. Just you wait. Once I’m done with you, you’ll be afraid to make eye contact with me. I’ll fuck that little brat right out of you body, and fuck her too.”

“N-no! Please don’t hurt me master! I-I love you.”

Chan smirks, knowing that he has her tightly wrapped around his finger. “You love me? Already? Even though I’m fucking your guts out?”

“Y-you don’t l-love me?”

“No”

Y/N gasps and starts screaming and crying under him. “GET OFF ME IF YOU DON’T LOVE ME!” The little kicks her feet trying to get him off of her, clearly hurt that he doesn’t love her. “Listen here you fucking cunt. I won’t EVER love you. I don't love. I’ll fuck you everyday, you take it, no questions asked.”

“NO! I WANT SOMEONE TO LOVE ME!”

“NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE SUCH A NASTY WHORE!”

Chan throws her across the room in anger and his eyes start turning black. “You want to love a demon? Demons can’t love! And even if they could, why would I ever love you?!”

He picks her up off the floor and pins her against the whiteboard, getting closer to her face. “Am I unlovable?” She asked. The man picked her up and held onto her thighs. His tip rubbed her wet lips and Chan titled his head. “Do you think that you’re unlovable?” She nods. “Well you’re wrong. No one will ever love you.” His hand immediately covers her mouth as he thrust his hips up, shoving all of his cock in. She squeezes her eyes shut, but the tears keep coming anyways. At this point his words hurt more than his actions.

Her core began to sting from overstimulation. Each time he would thrust in, her breath would be knocked out of her, as well as some tears. She no longer wanted to talk to him, even though her pussy was saying something else. Her cunt was throbbing around his cock, suffocating it. This drove the demon insane. His black horns started to rise up in his head, indicating that he was sensitive but angry.

He held her still while fucking the attiude out of her. She sobs and tries to get him to loosen his grip, but he only holds tighter. “Daddy I’m going to cum!” Her hair sticks onto her forehead and she rolls her eyes back feeling him destroying her gspot. “Don’t cum yet, hold it in” her eyes widen and she quickly sucks everything in. She clenches her jaw and starts crying again, but this time, a lot louder. “I-I can’t hold it!”

“HOLD IT!” The demon bites on her neck, sucking some blood out. She screams and kicks her feet, wanting out. “Too much- daddy please!”

“Cum for me whore! Cum all over my cock!”

Y/N moans and throws her head back, banging it on the whiteboard. She spills her white juices on his cock, while he releases in her. They stay like that for thirty seconds, trying to catch their breath. Chan drops her onto the floor and she lands on her buttocks. “Get on your fucking knees” the little is quick to obey and gets in knees infront of her master.

“When I cum, I cum a lot.” He strokes his cock super fast until his cum shoots at her face and tits. “Open your mouth.” She opens her mouth and his thick, sweet cum lands on her tongue. Chan looks down and spits in her mouth too. “Swallow.”

Y/N gulps it all down while making eye contact with his black eyes. He picks her up off the ground and praises her for taking it. The man was about to lick his cum off her face until someone walks in,

“Chan, what’s taking-” Felix’s eyes widen and jaw drops.

“Perfect timing brother. I was just about to call you.”

To be continued~

——————————————————————————

Y’all already know an aussie threesome bout to happen.

Not edited… too tired 😓

Edit: I STILL HAVENT EDITED IT SOMEONE HELP ME! SCHOOLS SLAPPING MY ASS HARDER THEN BANG CHAN!

Don’t make fun of me for dumb mistakes:(

It 1:34am 🥺

#bang chan #chan #christopher bang #stray kids smut #chan smut #chris smut #bang chan smut #kpop smut #kpop #dark kpop

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catharrington · 4 years ago

Note

13 from that prompt list is so cute🥺💖

13/ This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home…

I’ve already done this one but I’m doing it again anon because I love you just that much!!!

***

Trick or treat! (Give me something good to eat)

Billy thinks he was in love with Steve before walked up to stand next to him in the middle of the street dressed as Michal Myers, but now he knows. The rest of the kids all piled out next to him, in their own nerdy costumes, the boys giddy as fuck joining where El and Max stood waiting. Billy’s breath caught in his throat as Steve casually got close enough to touch.

“Hey,” he greeted easy, trying not to give away the affect the pretty boy has, “ready for a- wait a second, Harrington?”

Steve was wearing his light blue zip up windbreaker, some stone wash true blue jeans, hands on his cocked hips, a preppy attempt at the blue jumpsuit Myers wears in ‘Halloween’.

Billy’s got his eyes focused on that goofy rubber mask, the mess of plastic hair on top. “Please tell me you didn’t take the time out of your life to style that fucking mask’s hair?”

And Steve turns to him, the mask moving, his big browns showing through the cut eye openings. “Maybe I did, Hargrove.” He casually mumbles. “Did you glue leaves on that ugly net to make it look like Jason Voorhees coming up from the bottom of the lake?”

So Billy’s smiling behind his own mask. A cheep hockey mask hand painted with red slashes and some brown paint to make it appear worn, dirty. To look like Jason as close as Billy could get inside his small budget inside his small bedroom. He shrugs and the dark green net laying over his shoulders with Melvald’s general store olive green leaves and moss dollar floral picks glued to it jostles with the movement. He spent too long on this dumb costume.

But it’s totally worth it when he’s standing next to Steve. Michael Myers with gel and hairspray locking his hair into a handsome swoop. At least he’s not the only teenager taking this too seriously.

“I told you guys before, we so don’t need babysitters for trick or treating,” Mike opened his mouth from behind Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, no,” Steve sighed, his voice still muffled from the mask but still sharp with authority. “Dustin told me all about the kids who stole your candy last time. Sent Will into a full panic attack. That’s not happening this year, not with us here.”

“Very heroic,” Mike drawls back, he rolls his eyes. Such a fucking headache. “But we’ve got El for that! She’s stronger than anyone-,”

Steve shakes his head, cutting mike off with a wave of his hand. “We are also here to make sure nothing happens to El because she’s still not supposed to be in the open like this. Hopper’s orders, Mike. Why don’t you go argue with him, hum?”

“How ‘bout this,” Billy interrupts Mike as he opens his mouth to say something else bratty, “I want some punk kids to pick on you so I can bash their fucking teeth in. Genuinely looking forward to it. I’m here trying to have a fun night- and you are my nerdy bait!”

Max rolls her eyes, kicks some dirt across the road. But Billy’s words shut Mike right up. And the rest of them look warry, but on board to say the least. Billy side glances Steve, wishes he wasn’t wearing that mask so he could see if that made him laugh.

The kids all look exasperated in their own ways. Billy doesn’t miss the way Will gives a shy smile turned only for Mike to see.

Steve traces one hand down Billy’s arm, cups over his shoulder with all the scratchy net and thick hot glue. Runs comfortingly and steady down the back of his arm, curls around his elbow soft, then brushes off the end of his jacket. Like smoke evaporing off graveyard soil on Halloween night.

Billy snaps his head to watch as Steve leaves. Following the kids as they start walking. Billy jogs to keep up.

That’s how they find themselves in the Wheeler’s upper middle class basement huddled in the corner while the kids sort through their plastic pumpkins. Making confusing piles of candy bars and taffy, some pixie sticks and gum, one huge mountain of jaw breakers Billy wouldn’t mind snatching a couple off the top of. Or a whole handful.

Mrs. Wheeler had opened the front door in a full saloon girl get up, dark mole drawn on her upper lip, smiling in a tight frisky coil as her eyes trail over the tightness of Billy’s jacket across his shoulders. Steve’s already ripped his mask off as they came up to the porch, whimpering in his pretty voice how much he messed up his pretty hair.

“I’m all sweaty,” he whines, pushing both his hands through his hair so his zipped up jacket raises off his hips. His skin pale blue in the cold porch light.

Billy gives Karen one glance, a smile as he lifts his own mask to rest on top of his head, before he offers to hold Michael Myers’ rubber head. Holds his hands out all gentlemanly. It’s worth it for the surprised perk in Steve’s glossy brown eyes. And the annoyed start in Karen’s perfect smile. Billy holds Steve’s mask so he doesn’t mess up the hair as they follow inside.

That’s how they find themselves sitting so close their shoulders are touching. Arms flush and warm feeling, the muscle of Billy’s flexing and taught. Steve’s softer, relaxed, letting his body’s weight tilt ever so to rest against Billy.

The shitty costume net bunching up to make room for Steve. Billy sucking in a breath as he lets Steve get comfortable.

He feels so damn warm on the cold October night. His hair is messy, smells like roasted pumpkin seeds. Billy can’t help it, must be how tired he is from walking around until midnight with a bunch of kids. He must be deliriously high from spending all night trailing behind Steve’s perky ass in those tight jeans. Must be all the sugar going to his head and making him damn near drunk on it. Because Billy knows better.

Knows he shouldn’t. But he wants, he so wants. And Steve’s made it so easy. Made it smell like roasted pumpkin seeds his mother used to make, one of the few smell of home.

Billy leans over and nuzzles his nose into Steve’s hair. Uses one hand to cradle the back of his neck gently, if not possessively, as he does it. Steve jostles alert, his eyes drowsy from dozing off. But he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t startle or even stiffen in Billy’s hands.

The hands that could beat him, have beat him. The hands that know blood more than chocolate. Abuse more than love.

Billy’s breath catches in his throat as that word ghosted around his head, love.

Steve turns from where he’s leaned. Shifts so he’s pushing himself off Billy’s shoulder to look into his eyes. Bracing himself up on one of Billy’s thighs.

“Hey,” he says dumbly, like they haven’t been shackled together on babysitter duty all night long. Brown eyes move over his face, across his dark circles and ratty mustache to his lips. Billy slightly parts them.

“You made that mask look really good,” Billy compliments him like an idiot. A full on skeeze brain. “You can make anything work, Harrington. Like a super power.”

“Think I could work a mullet?” Steve snarks back, and it serves Billy right for how embarrassing he’s being. His hand tightens in Steve’s long hair slightly grown out in the back, a baby mullet, strands gossamer across his fingers that don’t deserve it.

“Yeah,” he nods.

Steve smiles as he leans forward, nuzzles that sharp nose right up next to Billy’s chubby one and seals their lips together in a kiss. Eyes flutter closed. Billy wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, pulls him in close. Gasps into the kiss while Steve’s still smiling.

He tastes like chocolate and peanut butter, kisses deep and sucks on his tongue like he means it. Because he does. Steve’s hands come up to cradle his cheeks as if Billy’s something precious to be held.

They part for beath and Billy can still taste him. Never wants to stop. Laughs because he’s so far gone. So in love he’s making Halloween costumes in his room and babysitting brats when there’s perfectly good high school parties to hit up. Got him complementing a stupid Michael Myers mask with stupid pretty boy hair.

Steve swipes his thumbs over Billy’s cheekbones before leaning down to kiss him again. He’s sure it’s been the best Halloween of his whole life.

#im in a spooky mood sorry babies #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #my fic #harringrove fanfic #steve/billy #prompt fill

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parjiljehavey · 4 years ago

Text

Lost Shadows Left Behind ii

Summary: Dante meddles, once again. Hopefully, the results are what Nero is after.

Read on AO3 for details notes at the end!

3rd of May, 1:43pm

One year, ten months and eighteen days after the events of Redgrave City

—————————————————————-

It had been some months since Vergil had divulged the name of the woman who had clearly ensnared his heart. Things had improved between Nero and Vergil; they were actually starting to bond, sometimes at Dante’s expense, but hey, Dante was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dante’s brother had gone off on his own for a hunt, heading over to Siberia after they'd gotten word that locals were claiming vampires were running around several villages.

Vergil went because Dante didn't speak Russian; he only knew Spanish, Latin, and Italian with a smattering of German; mostly because Dante had liked how foul language sounded in German. Vergil, on the other hand, was a damn polyglot.

Nero had called off and on, busy with the mobile branch and the kids he and Kyrie were raising. Last time Dante had talked to Vergil, the elder twin had actually gotten a letter from Nero with a post script calling him an asshole for forcing Nero to write an actual letter like it was the 19th century because Vergil didn’t have a cellphone.

Vergil, of course, went out and bought the cheapest cell phone he could find after receiving it. Dante had been wheezing for air over Vergil’s grumbling over technology and uncooperative locals. The phone number scribbled on a piece that Dante handed to Nero was met with a nose wrinkled with disgust after the kid had racked the balls for a game of pool. Nothing like a game of pool after pizza, in Dante's opinion.

"Dante, a three year old can write better than this."

"Hey! That's not anyway to thank your amazing uncle for writing down your old man's new phone number. Especially when said uncle is letting you drink his beer." Dante was grinning despite the reprimand. Nero took a drink from one of said beers, raising an eyebrow. "Don't text him by the way. Stick with phone calls; he's still figuring out how to play Tetris on the piece of crap he got. Wait until he gets a smart phone for texting." He broke the rack. A stripe went in. "Solids are yours."

"You mean like the one you broke by falling into a river?" The kid was leaning on his cue, watching as Dante lined up another shot.

"I was thrown into that river, you little punk. I didn't go out that day looking for a swim. If I wanted to go swimming, I would have packed my broad shorts." Dante could have cleared the table if he had wanted to; but this was bonding time with his nephew, so he intentionally messed up his shot.

Nero gave him a look that conveyed that he knew what Dante was doing as the kid set down his beer next to Dante's own to circle the table for a good shot. After pocketing one, Nero did the same thing Dante had and missed on purpose. They fell into a good silence; the crack of the cues hitting the balls as they took turns making their shoots.

“How’s the search for momma doin’?”

Nero grunted, clearing not happy. Oh, he knew that look. It struck Dante for not the first time that this was Vergil’s son and they made similar facial expressions. Dante sighed. “Alright kid, spill it. Tell Uncle Dante what’s buggin’ ya.”

Nero snorted, as he always did when Dante called himself ‘Uncle Dante’ in a conversation. Dante waited, taking his time with his next shot to give the kid some time to get his thoughts into order.

“There’s only two women that it could be. One died in ‘94 and the other disappeared a month or so after I was born. The problem is that the woman who died was a nun; the Spardan nuns took their vows of chastity seriously and very rarely left the convent’s tower. When they did, it was documented for what reason and when, right down to the time. None of the nuns left the tower around the time Vergil would have been in Fortuna.”

Dante leaned against the table, twirling the cue stick in his hand. The kid was pacing, not even paying attention that it was his turn now. “So that leaves the one who disappeared, right? Where’s the problem there?”

“The problem is that she didn’t disappear in Fortuna. There was a group that helped those who became disillusioned with Sanctus get to the mainland; to start over. The majority of that group was... eliminated. A surviving member recalls taking a woman to the mainland shortly after I was born.” Nero trailed off, scowling as his grip tightened around the cue. Dante could hear the wood beginning to creak.

“Nero.”

“What?”

“Wanna put the stick down before ya break it?” Nero looked at the stick and set it down on the table after a moment. When his nephew remained silent, Dante sighed. This kid was too much like his old man sometimes. “I take it the trail went cold after she hit the mainland?”

Nero sighed, moving to sit down heavily on the new couch Vergil had gotten for the office. The old one had kicked the bucket finally while Dante was taking a nap, making Vergil actually laugh. Nero eventually nodded, head in his hands. “The trail went cold when she arrived in Genoa. There’s literally nothing left to go on.”

The earlier anger that the kid had was gone and now he was just deflated. Dante really didn't know what to do or say; so he did what he did best. He created a distraction by knocking the beers from their perch on the table. Nero snorted despite himself; kid probably knew what Dante was trying to do but if the kid was laughing, Dante'd take it. Dante looked at the mess on the floor, sighing. He shrugged, “Wanna get us some new ones while I clean this up?”

“Actually wipe it up, Dante. Putting the rug over it doesn't count.”

“What if I roll Vergil's chair through it? The wheels getting gummed up will annoy him.”

“Dante!”

—————————————————————-

3rd of May, 3:32pm

—————————————————————-

Dante stared up at the ceiling above his desk, processing everything from the past few hours. Nero had volunteered to go pick up pizza, and Dante was sure that it was both for the kid to clear his head and to talk to Kyrie without Dante teasing him too much for it. Dante really didn’t want to make a habit of meddling in affairs that weren’t his (First giving Vergil a kick in the ass about Nero's mom and now this?), but this was for family right?

Family helped family when said family needed help. Dante picked up the phone and dialed one of the numbers that he pretty much knew by heart now.

“Hey Morrison! I want to know if you can dig up some information on somebody for me. You can have whatever you want.”

Got a name?

“Yeah, Lucrecia.”

Lucrecia? Dante heard the information broker repeat it several times under his breath and then heard a rustle of paper.

“From what I understand, she arrived on the mainland sometime in the nineties from Fortuna, ended up in Genoa. Trail went cold on our end of things there.”

Lucrecia Capello?

“Dunno. Never got her last name, if she had one. Why?”

I’m thinking that the Lucrecia you’re looking for is the same one I’ve got in mind. Remember that coalition that formed about ten years ago?

“Yeah? What about it?” Dante remembered it; some hunters pulled together to train up new hunters in a manner that meant less of them dying on their first couple of hunts as greenhorns and a more accessible list of jobs. Readily available backup and access to an arsenal of weapons were big enough bonuses that had a lot of human hunters signing up.

They had extended an offer for him to join when the coalition had first formed, one that still stood because he never responded one way or the other. Lady had actually considered joining up, but Dante couldn’t remember if anything came of that or not.

She’s part of it. One of their top ranged hunters, as it turns out.

“Ranged as in what? Bazooka?” Explosives were a popular choice amongst human hunters.

No, son. Sniper on the rooftops. She can shoot doublets .

Dante let out a low whistle. Doublets, as it was called amongst sharpshooters, was two shots hitting two targets in quick succession. Very impressive. “Where is she right now?”

Got that right here, son. ‘Bout a hundred miles up north of you last I heard; been there for a while actually. I believe she’s training a new hunter; took on a couple C rank jobs off my hands. Want her number?

“You mind?”

Nah. It’s for your nephew ain’t it?

“There’s nothing that gets past you is there Morrison?”

Afraid not.

—————————————————————-

4th of May, 7:38am

—————————————————————-

One year, ten months and nineteen days after the events of Redgrave City

For the second time in just as many days, Dante had given him a phone number. His uncle had handed him a piece of paper with a grin after Nero had come back with the pizza, stole a couple slices and went off on a hunt. All the hunter had said was, “Think this might be the woman you’re looking for, champ.” and out the door he went for a job. Nero looked at the number again, scrawled in Dante’s horrendous handwriting.

It had taken Nero hitting a This number has been disconnected message twice before he realized that Dante’s nines were written like fours. Seriously, the five year old Nero and Kyrie were raising could write better than this. Nero grumbled, leg twitching as he listened to the phone finally dial.

Password?

“Are you Lucrecia Capello?” Jeez, it was hard to talk. It felt like he was swallowing his tongue.

Depends on who’s asking. Do you have the password? The voice was melodic, with a dry wit.

“No. Listen, this isn’t about a hunt.” There was a snort on the other line. “Don’t hang up! My name is Nero. I-” He cleared his throat, “There’s no easy way to say this. I think I’m your son.”

...When were you born?

“September 19th, 1992.” The sound of a sharp inhale.

And where were you born?

“I’m sorry?”

Where were you born?

“Fortuna.”

The other line was silent for several long moments, and Nero would’ve thought the call had been disconnected if he wasn’t able to pick up the sound of choppy breathing and someone in the background asking if something was wrong. Nero jumped when he heard a door slam shut. He thought he could hear a racing heartbeat; he didn’t know if it was from the other line or his own. It was just now hitting him that he was more than likely speaking to his mother.

“Hello?”

What would be a good time and place to meet, Nero?

—————————————————————-

tagging: @queenmuzz and @starrymindgurl

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #vergil x nero's mom #vergil #Vergil Sparda #even though vergil is only mentioned #dante #Dante Sparda #nero #nero sparda #nero's mom #nero's mother #uncle dante #dante's trying to be a good if meddling uncle #we met momma next time~

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wheelersdealer · 5 years ago

Text

Her Majesty

Request: “please more steve smut!!!” + “king steve x reader hate sex? like…Hardcore Smut.” + “a lil bit of choking!!” + “GIVE US STEVE EATING OUT THE READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE,” - Horny anons. Summary: You (Queen Y/n) and (King) Steve hate nothing more than each other. Despite being at the top of Hawkin’s High’s social hierarchy, and despite working well enough on the social scene, you can’t stand each other. Steve makes a comment about “Her Majesty, the Prude,” and beckons you to prove him otherwise. Pairing: “King” Steve Harrington x “Queen” Reader A/n: Everybody in my ask-box is thirsty my gosh…y’all gonna get dehydrated.

“Hey Y/l/n!” You lurch hearing Tommy’s voice. Nonetheless, you turn to him, flashing a small smile and crossing your arms. He stumbles in the hallway where he’s walking ahead of an eagerly skipping Carol and plain uninterested Steve.

Just when he thinks to reel back and smile at the blink of attention, your smile turns a bit more mischievous, and he’s back to scowling the moment your lips purse ready to spit out something.

Even then his sickening ass is somewhat encouraged, coming up to you and sticking his hand to the locker by your head.

“Heard Zurich couldn’t secure you. How’d you feel taking a ride on the Tommy Train? Might show you a thing or two.” He’s chewing his cheek and smirking. It’s disgusting, frankly.

However, you hum pleasantly and smile at the ceiling. “You know, Tommy K. is kind of cute.”

He deflates. When he does it he doesn’t portray sadness as much as a mix of anger and embarrassment. Then his fingers are clenching beside your head and while his body doesn’t change, his neck stretched forward. You wonder if refusing to be intimidated burns that ego of his. Well, actually it’s obvious it does. And speaking of the devil, Carol and King Steve Harrington round-up right beside you.

“Y’know,” Tommy nods back at Steve “Maybe you wouldn’t be such a prude if Harrington aught to show it to you.”

Steve seems intrigued to hear your answer. You look him in the eye and say, “Sorry. I’m just not attracted to whining trust-fund babies.”

“C’mon Tommy,” Steve steps away, rolling his eyes. “Wasting your time trying to get that stick out of Her Majesty’s ass.”

And you scoff. It’s like music to King Steve’s ears hearing you react. You let it slip, it had no intention. In fact, you wince finding you’ve shown disgust. It only means they’ll come back harder starting now or the next time around. You lean back against your locker and cross your arms, looking angered and ashamed off to the side.

“Oh my!” Steve chirps. “Was that a scoff?”

Steve’s in front of you now, arms crossed to mimic you and feet planted a fairly dominant distance apart. It doesn’t help much but you roll your eyes and show just how much they’ve managed to piss you off. No point in trying to mask it with confidence and charm now. Tommy’s the type to hold onto the most insignificant of details.

“Queen Y/n, showing some capacity to care? Gotta be honest, didn’t think you had anything other than ‘sticking it to the man’ in you.”

“Sorry. It can get hard sometimes keeping a straight face for someone so appalling. You know, that just might be the reason I’m such a ‘prude.’”

Steve leans back, offended.

“Awe…” you scrunch up your face, “how’s that ego holding up for ya?” You reach and cup his cheek, then hold your palm to his forehead. “My my, burning up? What, did Tommy H. pass it on or somethin’?”

You ‘pout’ but Steve can’t bring himself to slap your hand away. He glares.

So Carol does it for him. It stings for you but she’s the one hissing, stepping closer and stomping with her heel before Steve rolls his eyes and holds her away from you.

“Not a prude, are ya?” Steve chuckles and pulls out a stick of gum. He slowly lowers it onto his tongue, brows quirked at you seeing what he likes to believe is intrigue. Then he’s chewing it obnoxiously, letting his mouth open and make a horrible smacking sound with every chew of it.

He lowers himself, nose just barely against yours. “Prove it.”

First, he jumps at the pure rage on your face. But then he laughs. He’s shuffled off by Carol and Tommy, both trying to pry his eyes from you. But he just won’t turn around. Only when you look to the side to clench your jaw does he bother.

Prove it.

It rings in your ears for a minute. His slick voice, deep and natural, for once not clouded by his higher-pitched ‘chill and calm’ King Steve persona.

You huff, still leaning against your locker. “I will…”

And likewise, you lean in the front doorway of Steve Harrington’s home. First, you ring the bell, knock on the door, wait while chewing your cheek and checking your watch every once in a while. You’re about ready to either A. Kick his door down or B. Climb through his window, when he opens it looking less ‘King Steve-ly’ than you’re sure you could have ever imagined.

“Y/n?”

You wave, smiling cheekily. Then you step inside, slipping off your jacket and ignoring Steve’s slur of confused huffs to say “Go on then.” You throw your jacket over your shoulder. “Take them off.”

He squirms a bit (of causes he can’t quite distinguish) when you deliberately look him up and down.

“Excuse me?” With a single push of his hand, he closes the door, then crosses his arms and looks you up and down.

You shrug, waltzing over. “You said prove it.”

His jaw drops. He’s getting it, slowly but surely. He chuckles and clicking his tongue. “No - no no no, that’s not how it works sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, and he starts stepping closer, unraveling his arm and bringing his hands to our face. One grips your chin to bring your eyes to his, the other cups your cheek. “You don’t just come in here begging, so you can go back out there preaching how you tried but I said no and how you ‘trying’ prove you’re not a prude.”

You giggle. “King Steve’s gonna say no? To me?”

“Eh…I got my eyes on Nancy Wheeler…”

“And I’ve got mine on Byers. Get this over with and we can put this childish little campaign of yours and Tommy’s to rest. I’m willing to give you the final, biggest ‘fuck you’ before I even try getting serious.”

“Oh really? What’s so ‘fuck you’ about this?”

“It’s to show I only fucked you out of pity that you’re so emotionally deprived you call every girl that won’t sleep with you a prude. Harrington, sweetie…” You coo. “What, didn’t get enough love from mommy?” You wrap your arms around his neck and ‘nip’ at the bud of his nose. Steve slides his hands down to your hips. “Let me be obligated to give you some.”

He rolls his jaw. He leans in and breathes against your lips, “Fuck…you.”

He leans, but just when your lips are about to touch you grab his hand and skip past him, twirling him and dragging his stumbling body down the hallway. Before you get much of a chance to realize you’re not too familiar with the layout of his house (only familiar through a handful of crowded parties), you yelp as he grabs around your waist and lifts you in the air, walking backward and pushing open the door of his room.

You flail a bit before pulling your legs in and just letting him. But then he throws you onto the bed and you get on your hands and knees to look back at him.

“What was that for, Asshole!” You scoff, coming to sit as normal and taking your shirt off while he takes off his.

“What?” He tilts his head. “We’re supposed to be civil now?”

You scoff, chucking your tops, slipping off your bottoms, and kicking your shoes off the edge of his bed.

He’s just finished kicking his pants from his ankles when you get on your knees and reach ahead, grabbing him and pulling him onto the bed from over the foot-board. You give him what he wanted initially, kissing him passionately while getting him over you.

“Slow—“ he says between a kiss, and then there’s another “—down, Jesus.” He scoffs, having to reach back and take his socks off. You grimace at the image of him wearing them despite how brief it is. He scoffs back at you, “Seriously?” And then he’s on you again, hooking his arm under your thigh and pulling your calves onto his back.

He’s lifting himself a bit to adjust down there when you snap your fingers in his face. “Hey!”

“What?!” He’s genuinely offended.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Harrington.” You smirk.

He rolls his eyes, but nods, his hair bouncing. “You’re gonna regret that.” He forces a smile.

He sits up and crawls back a bit, giving you the space to sit on your elbows while he gets between your legs. He runs his hands up your calves and eases himself between your legs. He spreads them carefully, settling with your thighs on his shoulders and his hands comfortable on your hips.

He looks up at you with an open smirk, and upon seeing your eagerness he stops himself, chuckling.

“Oh come on,” you hit your foot on his back. “Don’t tease, Harrington.”

“Oh hush-hush.”

“I want, your tongue.” You playfully nip at the air, scrunching your nose. “I want you to kiss it and lick it and suck it, Harrington.” Your voice becomes whiny, and you roll your hips to hold yourself closer to Steve for just a second before he secures your thighs on his shoulders before finally pressing his lips against you.

You moan, feeling his tongue slide over your folds. You tilt your head at Harrington, looking curious but impressed. He looks up softly then closes his eyes, sucking on your clit and rolling his head while he does. You reach one hand and tangle it into his head of hair nuzzled between your legs.

He looks again…and smirks right before sliding his tongue into you without warning.

You gasp, chuckling a bit before whimpering and moaning as usual.

You get your other hand in his hair and the way you grip his locks has him pressing his nose deeper into your wetness as he licks painfully slow strokes. Your thighs close tight around his head, arch your back, and let out soft wispy moans. The sounds make him moan against you, and the vibration sends another bout past your lips.

You buck your hips but that doesn’t put-off his determination. He still moans, working his tongue harder. Then he brings his hands into the equation, spreading you so he can taste more.

He stops for a moment. And you whine at him, tugging his hair a bit before relaxing some.

You feel him smirk against you.

Then he’s licking as feverishly though steadily as he can, lapping up everything.

And then you reach it, coming and moaning just a bit louder than you already have. Don’t want to give him too much. It’s hard not to shriek, your body going stiff and your back arching. You shake, hips jutting without your control and a fried chuckle slipping past your lips.

“Harrington!” You grip his hair, and despite you having reached, he keeps lapping, moaning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You come down completely, your thighs relaxing. And you take them off his shoulders, much to his disappointment for just when you begin to do it, he thinks to try and hold them there.

He frowns at you, almost as though he’s judging pre-lecture.

He climbs back up over you, sitting between your legs again. But he puts his hand between you two and rubs at your folds again. You jerk with each movement of his finger, the aftermath still sensitive and tingling still present.

He runs a hand through your hair and gets close, mumbling just above your lips. “What’d you say about, ‘putting your money where your mouth is?’” He hums. When you understand his bargain (with a smirk slowly growing), you sit up and get out from under him.

“Fine then, Harrington. I will.” You crawl on all fours, turning on the bed and laying between his legs once he gets comfortable. You lower yourself to your stomach, lifting your legs behind you and crossing them. You wink at Steve when you catch his eyes lingering on your shape. He’s caught on it, not seeming to notice your grip around him until you start pumping him.

You bite your lip for a moment, keeping eye contact with him.

Then he gulps and nods, hoping to spur you on.

It works.

You give his length a painfully slow lick, then close your mouth over the head and sucking sweetly. You work him up and down, only going so far before coming back up (to Steve’s pained moaned) and licking at his tip again. You’re calm with it, body relaxed along with your grip. After a bit, you throw your hair back over your shoulder and seeing you hold the bundle of hair tight in your hand to assure its position behind your shoulder makes Steve shudder.

Then you’re back down and taking Steve deeper in your mouth. He bumps against your cheek a few times before you pull him out with a slurp only to take him back in your mouth, keeping him much straighter this time. You hold yourself up a bit, wiggling your bottom and keeping yourself hovered some more on your knees instead of your elbows so you can take more of him.

You look at him softly, eyes wide and fluttering.

Then you devour him, taking him as deep as you can and keeping him in your throat just long enough to make him choke at the feel and sight of it. You pull up and continue, going as deep as you can and treating Steve to some sounds he very much enjoys.

When a bit of precum hits your throat, you squeal a bit, gripping him tighter. He winces at it but comes down from the spark of pain with a jumpy chest and unsure chuckle.

And so…you grip him tight again, running your hand up and down him while sucking and licking around the underside of his shaft. He moans, “Fuck,” and bumps his head back into the headboard.

The faster you go, the harder it is for him to keep his hands to himself.

Eventually, he says fuck it, sitting forward and grabbing your hair. He brings you down on him, groaning “Fuck,” again through tightly shut teeth. “That’s right…” He bites his lip and cums into your mouth. “That’s right Y/n…eeeverryy last drop.” You oblige, swallowing around him but with a clear look of vengeance in your eyes. He can only chuckle, letting go of his grip (though it wasn’t that harsh to begin with) and making you free to pull him out of your mouth.

But you don’t, not yet. You clean him up a bit first, waiting till he’s completely done and completely laid back against his pillows.

You pull him out of your mouth with a pop…then giggle with a closed mouth.

He chuckles, rather delirious. Then he’s reminded of the vengeance in your eyes, and he jumps to sit up, curious but fearful. You crawl out from between his legs and sit on his lap. You lean forward, chest against his and one arm wrapped under his neck with your hand in his hair. You tug it while you kiss him, Steve moaning into your mouth and bringing his hands to your hips.

His hips jut up feeling you reach for him and pump him a bit, just enough before you lift yourself up…then lower yourself onto him.

You moan at the feeling, breaking your lips from him and sitting up. You put your hands to his chest and roll your hips, lowering your chin to your chest and almost growling when you see his eyes close and head throw itself back into the headboard again.

“C’mon, keep up Harrington,” you tease as you rock in his lap.

He sits up some more and you squeeze his shoulders while he holds your hips. You lift yourself up and down in a monotonous cycle, though one that has his breath quite labored not before too long. He puts his chin to his chest and closes his eyes, almost whimpering at it.

When you chuckle, he pops one eye open and can’t help but smile, somewhat embarrassed. You push on his chest again and decide to in fact let him lay down and relax while you take this one. You thrust him into you at a regular pace, keeping your chin held high.

The pit in your stomach is hot, and the fire is growing.

You lean back, holding yourself up with your hands back on his legs. You continue to lift and lower yourself, picking up faster and faster.

Steve’s head is deep into the pillow as he whispers hushed, quick, curses.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuck—“

Leaning forward suddenly, you pull him into another kiss. He goes with it, sitting up and making his arms tight around your waist. You’re stuck right against him with little room for your chest to expand. It leaves you putting your chin over his shoulder, and you pass the baton to him doing the work.

He’s cautious at first, then his hips snap up into you and you’re clutching his back and whimpering into his skin. You cling to him, whispering your own curses with as little energy as you have to do it.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

He’s grunting into your ear, taking short breaks between each thrust but hitting hard inside you each time.

You lift your chin from his shoulder and he takes his chance, planting his lips on yours and daring to make you lean back. You feel him even deeper, and for your own sake, you break the kiss to again nuzzle into his shoulder where you moan and whimper and grunt into his skin.

Then, he flips you two around.

You huff at the loss of breath when your back hits the mattress, and you scramble as fast as you can to wrap your legs around his back. With his back rising and collapsing with how viciously he’s thrusting, your calves slip down every time he moves. So you keep your feet flat on the mattress and your knees pointing toward the ceiling.

You sit up with the help of the headboard and pillows, but Steve keeps at it, his head dipping to rest against your breasts. He refuses to take his eyes from where you two meet time and time again.

He lifts his head to say through clenched teeth, “Guess you’re not such a fucking prude after all,” then puts his lips on your neck and sucks.

You moan, rolling your eyes at the comment but forcing through a series of grunts, “Told you, Harrington.”

You hold onto his head, fingering digging through his hair and into his scalp.

“I swear you won’t like what I’d do if you stop now,” you seethe, that overwhelming warmth in your core like a time-bomb coming closer and closer to your orgasm. And thank goodness for him, he doesn’t. He slams over and over into your g-spot, a sweet, unbelievable tingle sparking through your body every time he hits it.

You squeak, and the way his body shakes with his laughter makes the feeling in your gut even worse…or perhaps, better.

He fucks you senseless and you close your eyes. There’s no use trying to focus on anything with him rocking you.

And finally, with your back arched and your chin and nails digging into Harrington’s back, you come, the warmth leaving you in something that’s so satisfying but something that steals all energy from you. You whine and continue to ride it out, moving your hips involuntarily along with his.

He can feel you pulse and squeeze around him as wave after wave of pleasure hits you. He grits his teeth and grunts into your ear, a similar warmth and tension becoming overwhelming for him. His thrusts become jittery and uneven, and when he’s still for just a second, you feel him twitching in you, but he goes back to thrusting. And then he comes, his thrusts still coming as hard as they can, but sloppy now.

You feel him pulse inside you, and you feel the warmth of his cum fill you.

No need to worry, you enjoy it. You roll your hips as he does it, chuckling in his ear as he too finds his strength lost from him and his weight on your chest becomes more significant.

He manages just enough to lift himself for a second.

“You uh, you on the pill?”

“Mmmm,” you grab his head and kiss him. “Well,” you say between a kiss, “should’ve thought about that before you came in me. But lucky for you I just so happen to be. Because what did we learn today, Steve?”

He chuckles, exasperated. He too kisses you between words. “Might not be a prude but you still can be a hell of a bitch, Y/n.”

You chuckle. “Mm, I know.” You lean back and nip at the air between you two, scrunching up your nose. “I know.”

You kiss him again, tenderly.

You lean back and whisper, “Now get the hell off of me.”

(Message me if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a Steve imagine!)

@stevieharrrr @songforhema @broadwayandnetflix @billyhargrovescigarette @bckysloki @christinawxxx @timeladygallifrey @gwenebear @chloe742 @wtf-multifandom @theyoutubedork

#Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington imagines #Stranger Things imagine #Stranger Things imagines #smut #normal #3.5k #steve #imagine #monarchy

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magniloquent-raven · 4 years ago

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finished your buckleway prompt!! hope u like it 💕💕

modern AU + werewolf AU, enjoy

posted on ao3

Heather’s been dancing around asking Robin out for the past three weeks. Billy has probably had enough of her flip-flopping between waxing poetic and bemoaning how complicated dating humans gets.

Especially since he had ended up in a storage closet with Steve on his knees a whole thirty minutes after they met, and they’d been fucking anywhere and everywhere ever since. She’s getting sick of smelling salt and sex and Steve all over their apartment, but they’ve showed no signs of slowing down. Billy’s smug as hell about it too. He loves having Steve’s scent all over their living space, the disgusting sap.

Of course, he’s still being Billy about the situation, but at least he was getting some action in between bouts of what if he leaves me when he finds out angst.

Whereas Heather is burning through more AAA batteries than she can afford to. Constantly plagued with thoughts of leaving lipstick mark up Robin’s neck, teeth on her collarbone, what that husky voice would sound like wrecked and breathy in her ear.

It’s becoming a problem.

And the closer they get to the full moon the harder it is to be around Robin. The more she wants to just throw caution to the wind, bury her face in Robin’s cleavage and ride her thigh into oblivion.

But she can’t just do that, because they like the same shitty indie bands, and Robin’s rants about the film industry are the highlight of her day, and her laugh makes Heather’s heart do backflips, and…

She’s human.

Heather can’t just jump her and run, because she’s head over fucking heels for this girl, but she has no idea how Robin would react to the werewolf revelation, so… She’s stuck.

As much as Billy pokes fun at her, and lords his relationship with Steve over her, they both know he’s being just as much of an idiot as she is. The wolf isn’t something you can hide from a partner, not for long. Billy’s playing a dangerous game.

Then again, that’s kind of his thing.

Point is, by the time the full moon comes around they’re both miserable. Billy’s been moping around their apartment all day because he had to make a lame-ass excuse to Steve about why they couldn't see each other today. He’s been looking like a lost pup for hours because Steve pouted a little over Facetime.

Meanwhile Heather’s been binging shitty rom-coms on Netflix all day, wrapped around a sweater she stole from Robin last week. It barely smells like her anymore, but it’s all she’s got.

They’re not at their best.

The itch that comes in late afternoon, when the sun starts to make its way down the horizon, is almost a relief. It might not be pleasant but at least it’s a respite from being bored and lonely.

Around dusk they head out.

Putting on a pair of running shoes and shorts pretty much covers for the fact that two grown adults sprinting into the woods at night is suspicious as hell. Hopefully. No one’s questioned them yet, anyways.

Probably helps that they run on regular days too.

Heather stops at the tree-line and sniffs the air. Everything’s sharper than it usually would be. The earth, the clean, dewy scent of wet leaves, Billy next to her, a solid, warm presence, smelling like home, pack, friend, musky and comforting under the chemical scent of all the products he slathers on.

The wind picks up.

She sniffs again.

Kali and her pack are already here. Figures. They’re always eager to let loose, full moon or not. They get especially rowdy this time of the month.

Billy whoops, taking off into the woods with a grin. He must smell them too.

She runs after him, the wind in her hair, cool air needling some colour into her cheeks. It’s exactly what she needed after the day she had. Hell, the week she’s had.

Robin is, for the first time in weeks, not at the forefront of her mind. There’s nothing but the pull of the moon, the rush of adrenaline that comes with it. The thrill of the hunt-to-be.

She won’t be chasing anything but rabbits and her friends, but the buzz is the same. Without the crushing guilt afterwards.

“Always late to the party,” Kali chides when Heather and Billy crash through the underbrush into view. She’s standing in the middle of a clearing, hands on her hips and chin tilted like she owns the place. But her smile is warm, tone teasing.

Her pack surrounds her, grinning, as always, toeing the line between feral and friendly. If Billy wasn’t so relaxed around them Heather would be on edge. They’ve always made her a little uncomfortable.

Billy blames her upper-middle-class suburban upbringing, and...well, he’s not wrong.

They embrace their wolves a little too fully, every day of the year, always just a little lupine. All of them except Kali, who stays too human, even when shifted.

Dottie breaks from the group first, leaping forward and crashing into Billy. She’s tiny, werewolf strength be damned, and he barely moves when she hits, just wraps his arms around her to swing her around while she giggles.

“You stink, Spots,” Billy says when he puts her down. “When’re you gonna stop puttin’ that shit in your hair?”

“When it stops bugging you,” she snickers.

Funshine is next, slower about moving forward, more deliberate about his hug. Dottie re-attaches herself to Billy, trying to wrap her arms around both of them. It devolves into a cluster of the six of them, all scenting each other, hands in each other's hair, arms wrapped around waists, contentment rolling off them in waves.

Heather basks in it for a second, the feeling of pack. It’s soothing, like sunshine warming her face, like a tight hug from someone you love.

It makes the change easier when it hits, moments later. It’s not the agony it was when she was alone.

It still hurts. When there’s hair sprouting like needles pushing through her skin, gums bruising as her canines turn to fangs, of course there’s pain, but the ache is dulled.

She used to hate this part. The slipping away. Changing places with the wolf inside her and feeling it happen. It felt like being torn away and locked up in her own head. She fought against it every time.

It wasn’t until she met Kali that she realized— was taught— that fighting her wolf only makes it worse. She learned to relinquish control instead of having it taken from her. To sink into her own subconscious like a warm bath, relax into it and float away. Become the wolf.

She hits the ground panting.

Claws dig into the dirt. Running shoes get kicked off. They land somewhere in the underbrush. She can sniff them out later, they aren’t a priority right now.

A whine escapes her, pressure building at the base of her skull as the moon rises.

And then it bursts. Relief in technicolour.

She’s free.

Billy is beside her, breathing hard, a guttural growl ripping from his throat. Pungent, sour distress rolls off him in waves, hits Heather’s nose like a physical blow.

He’s always had trouble relinquishing control.

She nudges his arm. Rubs their shoulders together. Kali joins them, lays a hand on his back.

He relaxes eventually, agonizing minutes later, his scent softening back to friend. Pack. Good.

Around them Kali’s pack howls, pleased. Two of them take off, chasing each other through the trees, another follows, Heather listens to their footsteps grow fainter.

Then the wind shifts and brings with it a new scent.

Familiar. Sweet, smoky. Hints of spice. Unmistakably human.

It’s faint. Far enough away that she can’t hear the heartbeat that should accompany it.

But she’d recognize that scent anywhere.

Mate.

Her wolf howls, louder than it's ever been, drowning out what’s left of Heather and her awareness slips away.

The sun wakes her.

She blinks, eyes gummy, vision blurry from sleep, spotty as she adjusts to the light.

Something beneath her shifts.

Heather stiffens.

The sound of the woods around her she expected, the scent of dried sweat on her skin, dirt under her nails. But she also expected to hear her pack’s heartbeats, smell Billy nearby, the pack blending into an overwhelming but comforting blanket of warmth around her.

There’s only one heartbeat, pounding loud and fast against her ear. One scent. Earthy. Spiced.

And afraid.

Heather pushes back, scrambling away from the warm body under her, anxiety tying her stomach in knots.

“Robin!?” she squeaks, croaky from sleep, from the change.

“What the fuck,” is all Robin manages to say. She’s shaking, wide-eyed. “Heather, what— what the fuck!”

This is...bad. Very bad.

Heather can’t do much more than gape at Robin, her brain still trying to catch up to what she’s seeing.

She tries to remember what even happened last night but all she gets are flashes. The turn. Kali’s pack howling around her. The scent of smoke and spice on the wind, of—

Oh. Oh.

She’s always been a little overwhelmed by how Robin makes her feel. Felt it immediately. That connection. A desire to know her, get close to her, keep her.

It terrified her. That Robin is human, that she felt so strongly about someone she barely knew.

That she didn’t quite know why.

Well, she knows now. And somehow the truth is more intimidating.

Of course, her wolf doesn’t care about the risks. Didn’t care, when she sprinted through the woods to find Robin. To be near her.

She remembers bits and pieces. Robin’s quiet gasp when Heather leapt into view. The fierce protectiveness she felt when she smelled Robin’s fear.

Of course, Robin was afraid of her, so getting up close and personal trying to comfort her really didn’t help. Not that she realized that at the time.

She really should be worried about bigger things right now, but embarrassment colours her cheeks anyways.

Dumbass wolf.

Robin’s breathing is starting to sound labored, panic gripping her tighter the longer Heather is silent.

“Heather?” Robin says quietly, tentatively, eyeing her cautiously.

“Um…good morning?” she responds, grimacing as she does. It’s getting hard to look Robin in the eye.

“Really?” Robin laughs, breathlessly and without humor. “Really? Because I was supposed to be waking up in my bed right about now, and instead I spent the night here, not sleeping because I blind fucking terror isn’t a great sedative.”

“Robin, I—” Heather opens and closes her mouth a few times, still at a loss for words. “I’m—I’m sorry. Just— what were you even doing out here?” she groans, burying her face in her hands.

“Full moon ritual,” Robin snaps, “You know, meditating on— no, you know what,” she shakes her head vigorously, bringing up a hand to gesture at Heather, “I’m not the one who has some fucking explaining to do. What the hell, Heather?”

“I thought the whole,” Heather waves a hand, “Hairy and growling on a full moon...thing, was pretty self-explanatory,” she says sheepishly.

“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb, you’re no good at it.”

Heather blinks. Looks up at Robin, her flushed cheeks and the indignant downturn of her mouth. Despite the circumstances, Heather’s heart flutters.

She sighs. “Alright.” Robin raises an expectant eyebrow when Heather pauses to collect her thoughts. “We spend full moons out here to be away from people. Running on basic instinct around humans generally doesn’t end well.”

“Yeah, no shit. So why am I still alive?”

“I…”

There’s no way of explaining this and keeping her and Robin’s friendship intact. Even if the werewolf thing doesn’t put her off, you never drop the mate revelation on someone you’re not even dating.

Hell, Heather’s still trying to wrap her head around it. She can only imagine how it would sound to Robin.

“Just tell me,” Robin’s pulse is skyrocketing again, and she’s worrying her shirt sleeve between her fingers. The impassive look on her face is obviously fake, she can’t quite keep herself from chewing the inside of her cheek.

Heather watches Robin’s jaw work until she smells blood. “Stop that.” She lifts a finger to poke the side of Robin’s face, but Robin tenses. Minutely. Only for a second.

But long enough.

Heather drops her hand.

“I would never hurt you,” she says softly. “I couldn’t.” Robin blinks at her, and opens her mouth like she’s going to speak but no words come out, so Heather continues.

“When I turned last night, I— I know how this sounds but— I could smell you. You smelled like home. Like… well, the point is, I just… had to find you. The details are a little sketchy, I don’t remember much besides needing to be near you. But that was all it was, Robin. Even shifted I knew you. Knew not to hurt you.”

Robin’s heartbeat hasn’t slowed. Her expression is still shell-shocked, almost more than before. Heather’s heart sinks.

Her eyes fall, unbidden, to Robin’s chest. The visible pulse under her skin. “You’re still afraid.”

“I—” Robin clutches the front of her shirt reflexively, hand over her pounding heart, and then frowns. “You can hear it,” she says, accusing, and Heather recoils.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it.”

“Heather….” Robin groans “This whole time you could hear my heartbeat?! And smell my— my pheromones, or whatever?” She buries her face in her hands. The tips of her ears are pink.

“It’s a werewolf thing! I—” Heather stops, face burning. There’s nothing she can say to make it better. No one likes knowing that someone can smell how long it’s been since you washed your hair, or how well you washed your hands, or exactly what you’ve been binge eating at 3am. It’s invasive. Took Heather ages to get used to it after she was bitten.

In fact, it still makes her uncomfortable. Enough that she tries to ignore what she’s smelling and hearing as much as possible, for the sake of people’s privacy. And her sanity. The walls of her and Billy’s apartment are very thin.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s weird,” Heather says quietly.

“Yeah. It is,” Robin mutters, muffled by her palms. She peeks through her fingers before dropping her hands into her lap. “Look, just… give me some time, okay? I need a nap. And a shower. And…” She sighs. Tugs on a lock of her hair. “Just give me a couple days. Please.”

Heather blinks back tears. She knows what Robin is asking for is reasonable. It’s better than how she could have reacted. But it still hurts, and a part of her that wonders if a couple days are going to turn into weeks. Months. If she’s just being polite and, in fact, plans on ghosting Heather the second she’s out of sight.

“Okay.”

Robin opens the door to her apartment with shaking fingers. There’s so much on her mind, though her thoughts are muddled by sleep-deprivation, foggy and unfocused.

Heather, hair loose and wild, eyes shining in the moonlight and fixed on Robin. She stopped Robin’s heart even before the revelation that there was something different about her. In the gloom it was hard to tell at first, but details started to stick out. Her eyes were glassy. Fingernails too sharp, jagged and curled into claws. She was barefoot, her posture was all wrong. Her hair brushed aside as she moved and revealed pointed ears, covered in thick fur.

And once Robin started to panic…

Heather’s reaction made no sense.

She has a lot to think about.

Like how devastated Heather looked when Robin told her she needed some space.

“Fuck,” Robin mutters, shutting the door behind her. Maybe a little too forcefully.

“Robin?!” Steve shouts from the next room. Before she can respond he comes skidding down the hallway and barrels into her. “Where have you been?” he demands, too loud and right in her ear.

He pulls back, hands on her shoulders and gives her an appraising look.

“And why are there leaves in your hair?” He pauses, and his eyes widen, full of concern. “Robin, are you alright?”

She struggles to come up with an answer that won’t sound like a blatant lie. And besides the fact that he probably wouldn’t believe her anyways, the whole werewolf thing isn’t her secret to tell.

“I. Um. I’m fine. Ran into Heather.”

You’d think growing up queer in a small town would’ve made her a better liar.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Then why do you look miserable.”

“It’s…” she sighs, “Ask me tomorrow. Right now I need sleep.”

He frowns. Hard. Frowns with his whole body. But he nods anyway, albeit reluctantly. “I’m late for work,” he says, glancing at the clock on the wall like it’s personally responsible for his constant tardiness. “But I’ll call in sick if you want me to stay. No questions asked.”

That coaxes a smile out of her. His kindness still catches her off guard sometimes. Even after he moved to California with her when she got into uni out here. After she came out to him and he made her laugh, despite how terrified she was. After he got her through the horror of working at Scoops Ahoy.

She steps away from the door, clearing the way for him. “You don’t have any sick days left, dingus. I’ll be okay. Pretty sure I know how to take a nap without supervision.”

“Alright.” he eyes her carefully, “But text me if you need anything. I mean it.”

She nods, and tries to school her expression into something encouraging. He’s going to worry no matter what she does but she can at least try.

It doesn’t work, predictably. He leaves their apartment with a crease between his eyebrows and a lingering look at Robin before he closes the door.

“Fuck,” she mutters again.

Getting herself showered and into PJs takes longer than she’d like. There are so many leaves tangled in her hair she considers just shaving her head so she can go to sleep, and she keeps drifting off, lulled into a stupor by the hot water.

But once she’s comfortably buried under a mound of blankets, clean, warm, and so, so tired, she just lays there, awake.

She keeps replaying her and Heather’s conversation in her head, telling herself she should have reacted better, been better, not run off because...

See, the werewolf thing she probably could have handled. It’s ridiculous, and so fucking out there, but Heather’s still Heather. When she isn’t all wolfy anyway. And even that was weird but not a dealbreaker. She didn’t hurt Robin, just scared the piss out of her.

All Robin needed was to calm down a little to wrap her brain around it.

What she can’t handle is the fact that Heather, because of her fucking werewolf senses, most definitely knows exactly how attractive Robin finds her. Which is fucking mortifying.

Heather never struck Robin as the type to dance around a mutual attraction, so, clearly, it isn’t mutual, and Robin’s just been drooling over a girl who doesn’t want her. Again.

She needs a few days to lick her wounds.

Preferably starting with a goddamn nap, but sleep still eludes her.

She tosses and turns and tries not to think about sad, dark eyes. About Heather’s reassurances. I would never hurt you and You smelled like home, because what the fuck does that mean.

About Heather’s body curled around hers.

Needless to say, the countless times Robin imagined spending a night under Heather the context was very different, and the aftermath…

Robin groans into her pillow.

It takes her hours to fall asleep.

Two days later Steve has been reassured, Robin has gotten plenty of sleep, and she decides it’s time to stop moping.

Her decision to finally put pants on and leave her apartment is made only partially because she has to go to work. Really, she got to this point mostly on her own, promise.

She even sort of plans to talk to Heather today.

What she didn’t plan on was Billy Hargrove ambushing her before her shift.

She’s just barely tied her apron on when he comes storming in. The cafe isn’t even open yet.

“What. The fuck. Did you do,” he snarls, slamming his hands on the counter when he gets close enough, leaning forward to glare at her.

“Hargrove, it’s too damn early for this, what are you—”

“Heather, dumbass. Tell me what you did to her.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand. There’s a coldness in his expression she’s never seen before.

Granted, she’s only ever hung out with him when Steve is around.

The way his shoulders tense, like he’s ready for a fight, almost scares her, but she’s too busy getting angry at his belligerence.

“Fuck you. I didn’t do anything—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Something clicks into place.

“Oh,” Robin narrows her eyes, “You’re one too, aren’t you.”

Billy growls, a little more wolf than human. “Yeah, you got a problem with that? That what this is about?”

“No, oh my god.”

“Then tell me why Heather’s been a fucking wreck since the full moon. She said you found out about her, and that’s all I can get out of her.”

“I… don’t know?” Robin’s stomach flips, and clenches painfully. She tugs on a lock of her hair. “I asked her for a bit of space, that’s it. I was going to text her today.”

“You better.”

“Alright, calm down, Mr. Macho,” Robin says flatly. God, he’s just the fucking most. She’d almost be able to appreciate how much he cares about Heather, if his wrath wasn’t currently focused on her.

He glowers a bit longer before retreating. Not even a goodbye, he just storms off.

Asshole.

He’s right though, she needs to text Heather. Who’s been just as miserable as Robin, apparently.

And hasn’t told her best friend why.

That bit of information niggles at her. All through her shift it lingers in the back of her brain, hanging back but always there, like the buzzing of an insect she can’t find.

By lunchtime it’s gotten so distracting that she’s fucked up five orders and dumped two drinks on her coworker.

Thankfully she’s done at noon, and her now very annoyed coworker tells her to piss off the second her shift is over.

She hasn’t texted Heather yet.

Every time she pulls her phone out she draws a blank. Has no idea what to say. “Hey, I’m done moping, sorry I hurt your feelings” doesn't seem to cut it.

She stares at her phone for fifteen minutes, motionless and completely at a loss, then sighs and tosses it on the passenger seat of her car.

Before she has time to question whether it’s a good idea or not, she pulls out of the parking lot and heads to Heather’s apartment.

It’s only a ten minute drive, but it’s plenty of time to second guess herself. And third guess. And fourth.

But she’s here, she’s doing this. She’s sweating bullets, but it’s happening.

Two flights of stairs later she’s staring at Heather’s front door, fist poised to knock, and not moving a muscle.

She takes a step back in surprise when the door swings open suddenly.

Robin blinks.

Heather’s standing in the doorway, hair loose and frizzy, deep purple shadows under her eyes. It looks like she hasn’t slept in days.

Her mouth is hanging open a little, and she’s staring.

“Uh. Hi,” Robin says. “I… can I come in?”

“Yes. Yeah, of course,” Heather fumbles, and runs a hand through her hair as she steps aside to let Robin in.

They stand in the front hall awkwardly after the door shuts behind them, shooting each other nervous glances but unsure what to say.

“I—” Robin pauses. Looks down. “Is that my sweater?”

Heather’s eyes widen, and she grasps the hem of it nervously. “Um. Yeah. Sorry, I can—” She starts to pull it off but Robin reaches out to stop her.

“Don’t.” She wraps her fingers around Heather’s wrist. “It looks good on you.”

“...Oh.” Heather’s lips curl in a pleased smile that sparks something in Robin’s chest.

“I was being an idiot,” Robin says quickly. Her heart is starting to pound, and she catches Heather glancing down curiously. “I—I just assumed that—” She closes her eyes briefly, frustrated. It’s no less difficult to put into words in person. “Look, you know I’m into you, right?”

Heather startles, eyes going wide. “What?!”

“You…” Robin gapes at her, “You didn’t know? I thought— I mean, all those things you said about… needing to find me. During the full moon. I— you got my hopes up but then…Look, you can hear heartbeats and shit! How did you not know?!”

“I...” Heather grimaces briefly, “It’s not an exact science, okay? I mean, I hoped you were, but you’re human, Robin,” she folds her arms across her chest, hugging herself, “I was more focused on that.”

Robin furrows her brow. “What? Why?”

“Seriously? Because all I did was cuddle a little too aggressively and I scared the shit out of you,” her voice cracks and her eyes start to look watery, “You’re my mate, Robin, I’m bound to you for life! And I had no idea if you’d ever want to see me again!” She stops suddenly, bites her lip as tears slip down her cheeks.

“Oh.”

Robin’s feeling a little like she’s been conked on the head. Dazed. Her brain trying to catch up with what’s going on.

She’s known Heather less than a month and apparently they’re already werewolf married, or whatever the hell mate means.

It’s slightly terrifying, but…

“Heather, look at me.”

She does. Looks up at Robin with red-rimmed eyes, and Robin’s whole chest contracts.

Without really thinking she leans down, and presses her mouth to Heather’s. It’s brief, chaste, but still makes her stomach flip and warms her from head to toe.

When she pulls back Heather sways forward, unbalanced for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering.

“I want to give this a shot, Heather. I… I’m sorry I freaked out, but I swear, I want this. You. All of you.”

Heather grins in response, bright and dazzling. It lights up her whole face, and her eyes start to well up again. Seemingly at a loss for words she instead chooses to launch herself forward, colliding with Robin as she wraps her arms around her and crashes their lips together again.

Robin staggers back a few paces but regains her balance enough to respond in kind, smiling against Heather’s mouth.

She feels right, wrapped around Robin, feels safe. Like home.

#robin buckley #heather holloway #bucklway #bucklway fic #robin x heather #robin buckley x heather holloway #a raven's writing desk

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 5 years ago

Text

Born Into the Wilds - Chapter 10

*rises from the deep ocean of too much written on paper* I’m finnished!! Have the Link to AO3. *goes off to finally eat dinner*

In which Nyx levels up his sneaking skills and Libertus is badass.

Featuring: Taelpar Crag's creepy vibe, sneaking, Libertus saving Nyx' ass for a change, Ladone being cool and the author's pitiful attempt at Early Modern English. (She is very bad at it.)

Warnings: blood, injury, death of an animal and mention of reanimated corpses

Words in Hadnissa:

kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit ahtri = Spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors thuir = father; more along the lines of papa zehstir = foreigner, enemy; very strong insult makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter credahtri = term for someone who abandoned the Galahdian way of life; lit.: ghost heart akastral = demon; more specifically a dead soul clinging to (or trapped withtin) its own body instead of moving on gekkan = bear like creature with antlers native to Galahd

Other stuff: Enías and Kyriákos are two of the five Fathers of the Hunt, a group of spirits/Gods, a large part of their culture centres around. Enías is the tracker that finds a prey's tracks and hides your own, and Kyriákos makes your blade unerring, your feet fast and silent, and your arm strong. Dala is the name of a Clan that consists largely of animal farmers and butchers.

Nyx!

The cry, high and desperate, washed over him like a wave crushing against a cliff side during a spring storm, as the sky fell away from him. Had that been Crowe? He couldn't be sure and had no time to contemplate it. He gritted his teeth so tight the muscles in his jaw twitched, to keep his voice from joining the wind howling around him.

It tugged insistently at his hair, his clothes, his skin like it was trying to keep him from falling. Falling deeper and deeper into the shadows of the Crag. It wasn't trying hard enough.

Nyx was so tired. His muscles were nothing but old rubber and each thought had to be grasped tightly or it would vanish in the murky molasses of his exhausted mind. Instinctively he tried to control his fall, years of flinging himself off cliff sides and warp training kicked in and made him spread his limbs out in a bit to stabilize his flailing body and slow him down.

Sharp rock and crystal rushed by him, often times nearly close enough to clip his body and make him tumbling down. It was so tempting to try and dig one of his kukris into it to try and break his fall. He knew it wouldn't work. Sooner his blade would be damaged irreparably and he would die.

He had only one chance and he intended to make it count. Nyx dug as deep as he could into the place where his magicks rested. The animal-deep jungle-instinct and the feeling of sharp glass-intruder-foreign. Both were nearly depleted, the King's magic less so but it still wasn't enough to scrounge together a warp-jump. In a near panic he also reached for his own magic, only a few precious sparks were left. Together they were enough, they had to be. Time was getting short.

Falling by a stone arch that nearly beheaded him, Nyx could see what he assumed to be the ground now. It was dangerously close. This had to work or he was dead. With all his remaining strength he threw the kukri in his right hand and followed.

It didn't feel like any other warp-jump he had ever done. This didn't feel like hurling himself head first through a door at full tilt with shadows grappling at him, a presence pressing down and stealing the breath from his lungs. No. This time it was like a leap over a vast chasm. It stretched him thin and for but a moment it was like every receptor in his brain was firing at once. There was a loud crackling bang, as if lightning struck the earth, and then he was rolling over the rocky ground.

Blue eyes blinked open blearily and stared at the sky above them, uncomprehending of what they were seeing. Sky wasn't exactly the right word for it. It was dark, too dark for the sun to still be shining and that should make Nyx very nervous, but right now he was too exhausted to care.

Instead he lay on the hard rocky ground, limbs arranged awkwardly around him and just... breathed. Far, far up, a thin band of tiny pinpricks of light were scattered in the dark, their light reflecting on large arches of crystal the likes of which he had never seen before. It all carried an otherworldly beauty that was easier to concentrate on than the situation he was in.

He remembered the attack on the Niff base that had been a strangely ramshackle construction and entirely untypical.

Glauca. Nyx remembered him. His fight, Ladone, the fall.

The fall.

He had fallen down Taelpar Crag.

The thought was enough to make him move. Or try to, at last. The moment he tried to roll onto his side the whole world lurched and despite the darkness around him restricting his ability to see, he felt like everything was spinning. If he hadn't been lying down already, he would be now. Maybe the darkness made it even worse. He didn't know.

Nyx groaned. His mouth was as dry as a summer's day in Galahd and his tongue lay heavy and fuzzy against his gums. He needed something to drink. Badly.

It took a while for the world to stop feeling like it was hanging on only one hinge and spinning and spinning and spinning out of control. Nyx swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and took several steadying breaths. Slowly, oh so slowly he pulled his arms closer towards him and proceeded to push himself up.

A breath hissed through gritted teeth when he was finally sitting up. His muscled quaked in exhaustion and everything was sore. Especially his back and left side.

A cry echoed through the Crag, starving and aggressive and animalistic. It didn't sound like it was very close, but still it made dread crawl up Nyx' spine with cold fingers. He couldn't stay here, he needed to move, he needed to get out of here and find his people. He needed... Another cry sounded. Had it gotten closer? Nyx wasn't sure, his brain still too busy with sorting through what the fuck had actually happened. He needed a safe place to spend the rest of the night.

Easier said than done.

The first time he tried to get his feet underneath him, it ended with him nearly face planting from the sudden bout of vertigo. Magical exhaustion was a bitch. It turned your brain to mush, slowed your reaction time to basically nothing and made you simultaneously feel like you had the worst hangover ever combined with not having slept for a week.

His hands brushed something cool and the sound of metal scraping against stone made him perk up. His fingers couldn't get a firm grip on the kukris, but they still made him feel so much safer, even if he probably wouldn't be able to hit a garula standing still in his condition.

The second try was better. Nyx stood there, swaying like a strong wind could blow him over, but he was standing. Finally he squinted into the night, trying to ascertain is surroundings without accessing the enhanced senses his magic could grant him. It was startling how instinctual it had become for him over the last week, which was both good and bad. Right now it was bad, since trying to use magic while in stasis or a hairbreadth away from it was something even he wasn't stupid enough to try.

It wasn't as dark as he had first thought it was. The strange crystals weren't exactly luminescent but they reflected the starlight far better than they should have been able to. Not two metres away from him was the wall rising straight up like a shadowy giant. In his condition he would never be able to climb it. He seemed to be on a small plateau surrounded by natural stone pillars that rose up to it like stairs. The air was cold despite it being summer and smelled indescribably of history, age and magic. It made his skin itch and the fine hairs on his arms rise.

Which direction should he go? It might be a very stupid idea to move in the dark but he couldn't stay where he was either, unprotected and unable to defend himself. The answer provided itself as he turned around, careful to not trigger another bout of vertigo, and saw the telltale smoky band of a haven rise up not too far from him.

Nyx blinked and stared at it dumbly. What was a haven doing here? Why was there a haven here? Despite the questions wading through his mind, he started to climb down from his spot. Since he didn't carry the materials of erecting a barrier against daemons in the way of his people, the haven was his best bet. There had never been an Oracle to Galahd to bless the earth with their brand of protection spells, so they had had to come up with their own methods. He would never take a step out of Insomnia without the means to erect a safe place again, he swore it by his ancestors.

Sending a silent prayer towards Enías and Kyriákos he climbed over the descending pillars. Sometimes on all fours, if he had to. There was no one to see it anyway.

The haven was situated along the bend of something that looked like a pathway further down into the Crag among a patch of grass stubbornly clinging the the thin layer of earth that had accumulated over time. A tiny stream whispered over age old stone and Nyx nearly fell onto the ground again as he went to his knees and drank in tiny sips. The water was so cold it made his stomach cramp but it was a balm for his dry throat.

When he laid down in the surprisingly soft patch of grass the magical fire of the haven ignited itself, sending a warm glow out into the night. Nyx didn't care if it ruined his night vision. Here he was safe from any daemons that might be down here and that was enough for now.

He closed his eyes. Again the scene shortly before he had fallen flashed across his mind. Glauca, his sword raised to strike the stone arch Nyx was standing on, and Ladone hurling towards him. She had been too slow. He nearly snorted, one of the few times the woman was too slow and it was in this fucked up situation.

Hopefully she wasn't blaming herself. She had been a friend of his father's, always there on the periphery as he grew up. A soft look had always replaced her usual scowl as she had taught him what few hunting tricks Ilias Ulric had shown her. Nyx had been so stupidly grateful. Still was.

He hoped they had made it back to Insomnia by now, he hoped the ambush hadn't killed anybody else, he hoped Ladone had been able to finish Glauca off, he hoped... He hoped they were looking for him, a tiny part of himself whispered into the dark of the night.

As if to not only shield himself from the cold and the darkness lurking around him, but also from his own thoughts, Nyx curled up on the grass by the fire and allowed his exhaustion to pull him down into the realm of sleep again.

When he awoke again, it wasn't night anymore. Daylight spilt down the steep walls of Taelpar Crag, making the huge crystals almost seem see-through at certain angles. The green of the plants that were stubborn enough to grow here and the white of the stone nearly seemed to glow. It was a truly beautiful place. One Nyx could easily do without.

He just lay there, letting the light warm him and feeling even worse than last night – had it been last night? The stasis had eased some, a faint whisper of animal-deep jungle-instinct thrummed at the back of his mind and his connection towards the Lucian magic didn't feel as frayed and cutting-glass-sharp anymore. He could barely move a finger without it hurting. Sleeping on the rocky ground, grass or no grass, hadn't helped the situation at all.

But he needed to move and so he forced himself to uncurl and drink again from the tiny stream. Splashing his face with the cold water helped a bit and chased the last vestiges of exhaustion a way for now. Next, he bent down next to the haven's fire pit and touched one of the stones forming the ring with his dominant hand. Nyx' voice was rough and gravelly as he whispered the traditional words of thanks towards the Fathers of the Hunt for having protected him during the night, and also for the haven. It might be foreign and strangely passive like all havens were, but it had protected him and it was never wrong to be polite to magical beings and places. They all had the tendency to remember bad behaviour.

Picking up his kukris, only now did he see in how bad a condition they were. The blade of Galahdian make – or rather what the Lucian weapon manufacturer had thought to be Galahdian make, which it most certainly wasn't – was warped beyond repair. The metal bent from too much magic and lighting channelled through it and the grip looked close to crumbling. The other one looked a bit better. Not by much, but it seemed to still be useable in a pinch.

With a heavy sigh, he left the broken blade behind. If nothing else it would make a good token of gratitude in exchange for the protection he'd had for the night.

Something instinctual within him balked at the idea of following the way up and Nyx and long since learned to listen to his instincts. So further down it was.

It didn't take him long to determine that there was something very wrong with this place.

It wasn't only the strange feeling in the air, like there was something ancient and rotten watching him, but also the dead bodies strewn around the way and pinned to the wall by rusted weapons. Most likely their own.

A great number of them wore armour the likes of which, if he remembered Lucian history correctly, had been worn six hundred to one hundred and fifty years ago. There were no few pieces that looked older, but were rusted so badly he couldn't be sure if they actually were armour or weapons or something else.

Nyx knew the stories about Tealpar Crag. Of how people that wandered inside, never came out again. Lucians had avoided the Crag so obsessively that they had forgotten their own stories about it, which was honestly just another way to show how idiotic the mainlanders were most of the time. But he hadn't expected this. Some of the skeletons were old enough they should have been turned into dust a long time ago with how exposed they were to the elements even down here.

There was magic at play, ancient and powerful and probably entirely natural, and Nyx had to stamp down on the urge to tap into his own to get a feel for it.

He continued on. There was nothing in this age old carnage for him to find.

The path dipped left into a hollowed out section of the Crag's wall and grew so steep Nyx had difficulties to continue on. If he hadn't been moving so slowly, he probably would have missed the glint at the mouth of the tunnel, wedged between two rocks. Since bending down was a bad idea right now, Nyx kneeled to get a better look.

It was a glass vial which contained a sparkling blue liquid. Carefully, he rolled it between his hands. On one side there was a hairline fracture, but nothing leaked out. Someone must have dropped it there. It was sealed with a glass stopper to which clung the remnants of black wax. An old potion by the looks of it. Nyx weighted it in his hand for a few seconds before he pocketed it. If for nothing else, than to show Crowe and the other magic crazy Glaives when he finally got out of here.

Struggling back to his feet, he groaned as his left side twinged in protest at the unappreciated motion. He stumbled into the dark tunnel, one hand braced against the wall for support. He hadn't made it very far inside when he heard them.

Animals, or daemons. Or both.

“Kohna,” he whispered under his breath.

He was in no condition to fight daemons. He was in no condition to fight much of anything, period. His only hope was that he could somehow sneak past them.

With the next step he took, Nyx practically melted into the shadows of the tunnel, his steps didn't make a sound. The daemons – and it was daemons he noted with equal parts apprehension and relief – came into view after the next bend. Light filtered through cracks in the wall like sharp edged spears the creatures avoided at all costs. He could use that to his advantage.

There wasn't exactly much officially known about daemons, but Nyx had learned through experience that their sense of hearing wasn't that great, so he didn't need to pay too much attention on the sounds he made, and with the beams of light in the room their eyesight mustn't be that good either. Libertus was convinced they could smell fear, which no one could prove or disprove.

The cave was surprisingly large with a series of pillars that showed that humans had been invested in this place once. Which was creepy, since, to Nyx, this place felt like it would be the perfect home for a murder of crows. The pillars didn't reach the ceiling and so were very useful to him.

Long fingers made sure that his one remaining kukri was still securely sheathed at the small of his back, before he carefully started to inch his way towards a ledge that couldn't have formed naturally and started maybe a metre above the ground. It was carved into the stone, rough and uneven, but large enough for a grown man to fit, if he wasn't claustrophobic.

Hoisting himself up made his muscles quiver, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed to stop himself from groaning in fatigue and pain.

A daemon ambled by and Nyx froze, pressing himself into the rough stone that surrounded him on three sides. It stopped where he had stood no two minutes ago and sniffed the air. Sweat pooled in Nyx' palms as he forced himself to take even breaths and not to panic. If the daemons detected him now, he wouldn't be able to react. He would be as good as dead.

The thing – it kind of looked like a goblin, just with more sharp edges and seemingly double the amount of joints – sniffed again. The sound grated against his ears. It made a sound that was like a high pitched scream and a mad cackle rolled into one, before it jumped once, twice and bounded down the tunnel Nyx had come from. So it had been able to smell him to some extend. Good to know but also bad news. He needed to get out of this cave and back into the sun before the goblin-thing noticed it had run into the wrong direction.

As careful and silent as he could, he started to crawl forward. Each time a daemon came too close he froze and prayed to his ancestors and to the Fathers of the Hunt, that they wouldn't find him. They didn't.

He was maybe halfway across the cave, the ledge had risen until it was just below the ceiling and now tilted sharply upwards. End of the road. Very carefully, he did not curse out loud. A cursory glance into the room showed him that he was in an area shielded by two beams of light with no daemons within and one of those small pillars at the edge of it. Very convenient. Almost as if someone had designed it that way.

Trying not to jostle his injured side, he slid partly off the ledge and swung himself on top of the pillar. He froze, sitting on his haunches, and tried to determine if the daemons had seen, heard or otherwise sensed him. None moved intentionally closer and he doubted they could plan that kind of ambush. Nyx remained where he was for a few minutes longer, just to make sure.

From his elevated position further into the room he could make out the exit. It was behind some kind of small shrine, the ropes around it held some kind of barrier spell, if he read it right. For now the barrier was inactive. Nyx had no idea what would activate it and he honestly had no desire to find out. He just wanted to get out of here without dying.

The daemon that had followed his smell down the tunnel came back, chittering its displeasure for all to hear, but did nothing else. Maybe it thought he had escaped back into the sunlight.

Jumping from pillar to pillar like a cat made the path so much easier. It was a bit like jumping from tree to tree in Galahd's jungles to ambush the MT trampling through. Just without the actual ambush. Or other people as backup. Why had he taken the feather out of his braids again?

When he finally slipped past the little shrine, careful not to touch any of the ropes or the coloured cloths hanging off them, he escaped the tunnel as fast as he dared, only sighing in relief when he felt the sunlight caress his skin. It was already late afternoon. Had he really spent that long inside that cave? That couldn't be true, could it?

Nyx stretched his sore muscles cautiously, wincing at the painful twinge in his side. He slipped off his armour, his coat and pulled up the stiff shirt and vest beneath it to reveal a series of large, nearly black bruises. They covered most of his left side. He poked at one, swearing under his breath at the pain, and got fully dressed again. This wasn't good, but at least none of his ribs seemed to be broken. He should have checked that before he had spent hours lying on his stomach. Stupid.

With a derisive snort he continued his way further down into the Crag.

It was getting very close to dusk when he found the haven. His second one since he had gotten stuck here. He had certainly hoped to have found a way out of this ahtrii forsaken place by now. No such luck.

The haven was hidden away underneath an overhanging rock just off the path. There was a thin stream of water trickling down the wall and collecting in a clear, small pool that nearly seemed to glow. It was eerie but Nyx was thirsty and couldn't exactly afford to be picky. The taste was fresh and cool with just a bit of something that zinged along his tongue. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but disturbing nonetheless.

Close to the small pool, the stones were positively covered in lichen and moss. Both looked close enough to the variants growing in Galahd that he decided to take the risk and eat them. They... tasted horrible, but since he wasn't dead by the time night fell he figured they hadn't been poisonous.

He sat down, still hungry, leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and closed his eyes. He was so tired. The gurgling whisper of water lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

Nyx jolted awake, head jerking up and neck cracking as he rose from his uncomfortable position. It was still dark, even if a few hours must have passed. A quick glance up towards the sky with bleary eyes showed him a nearly full moon . The crystals glittered around him.

Something had woken him up, but there was nothing as far as his tired senses could pick up. After a few minutes of silent tension he was ready to go back to sleep, blaming his overtaxed senses for waking him up. The last few days had been a Pitioss damned disaster, after all.

He had just decided to sit down again when he heard it. The echoing cry of a daemon that was abruptly cut off and shortly thereafter the sound of footsteps.

More than one pair.

Probably two.

There were people here? Other than him, that was. Or were those some kind of daemon the had never seen before? Nyx wouldn't put it past this place. But until now he hadn't seen them anywhere outside the caves.

Near soundlessly he unsheathed his one remaining kukri and crept towards the edge of the haven. The steps came from further up the path and grew steadily louder until another sound was added to the cold air.

Voices.

Voices he knew, he realized with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

“... so far down?”

“Let's just find a place for us to hole up in for tonight and continue searching in the morning. We won't get much of anything done, if we're too tired to see straight. Especially fighting.”

“I know, I know. Let's just hope there's another haven somewhere around here.”

And then they stepped around the corner, dark silhouettes in the night. Two people he was very glad to see, indeed, even if he hadn't expected it at all.

“Libertus, Ladone?” he called.

Both silhouettes froze.

“Nyx! I knew that tumble wouldn't be able to kill you!”

Libertus surged forward and pulled Nyx into a hug so tight, it pressed the air right out of his lungs and made lances of pain shoot through his beaten up side. Not that Nyx let that stop him from returning the hug just as tightly. When he was finally let go, Ladone was there, her stern flintstone gaze softened by worry and relief as she eyed him from head to toe.

“You've got even more rotten lucky than your thuir, boy,” she noted, her voice rough, as she pressed another home-brewed ether into his hand.

He gave her a grateful smile and fingered the vial before downing the yellow liquid in one go. The sudden surge of energy made him shudder.

“Not just a tumble,” he grinned as they sat down around the firepit.

Nyx was positively giddy, and not just because of the ether. He hadn't truly realized under how much stress he had been until a large part of it fell away in one big swoop. Now he had two extra pairs of eyes and hands, people he could rely on and who watched his back as unflinchingly as he watched theirs. It didn't hurt either that most of the after effects of the stasis had vanished.

“How did you survive?” asked Ladone. “Most of the people who saw you fall are convinced you died.”

“I broke my fall with a warp. Scrounged up what was left of my magic for it and passed out because of the resulting stasis afterwards. It was strange though. I didn't have enough left of my own or the King's magic individually to manage it, so I combined them – don't ask me how, I have no idea. The warp turned out all kinds of weird because of it.”

“Weird how?” she asked, her thin brows furrowed in concentration.

“Weird like...” Nyx had to stop and actually think about it. He couldn't remember that much of what had happened shortly before and during his fall down into Taelpar Crag. When he continued, the words were slow and halting. “It didn't feel like it usually does. More like I was really jumping between places. You know all these slow motion scenes in those overly dramatic movies the Lucians are so fond of? Like that, but fast.”

“That,” started Libertus with a peculiar look on his face, “makes no sense at all.”

Nyx just shrugged. He had no other way to describe it, only having done it once. And he wasn't going to do it again until he could talk it through with somebody who had more knowledge in all things magic than him.

“How are the others? Did everybody make it out of that trap alright? What about Glauca? The last thing I remember of him is his damned sword coming down towards the arch I was standing on.”

“For the most part. Your idea to use that field spell was absolute genius. Less than half of the drop-ships made it through and none of those who did were undamaged. No one else died. Crowe and the other mages were all very close to stasis afterwards, but otherwise fine. Which, by the way, is the only reason she didn't come, too. Luche is holding down the fort, so to speak. He said he can give us three days before he has to start heading back to Insomnia,” answered Libertus.

That was stupidly risky. Why was Luche doing that? Not even a month ago he would have been halfway back to Insomnia with the rest of the Glaive by now.

“Glauca isn't dead,” Ladone butted in.

A long beat of tense silence followed.

“What?” exclaimed Nyx, utterly astonished. He had been so sure they had finally taken that son of a bitch down. That man had practically been on his last leg. “How?”

“I tried to stop him from crumbling the arch, but I was too late. People always say I'm the fastest they know, but the one time it really counts I'm too slow. Figures. That zehstir released some kind of energy wave, knocking everybody too close back. It gave him enough time to get away.”

“Damn,” whispered Nyx, not sure what else to say.

Two days, he thought.

Two days until they had to be back at the Niff base, and if he judged this new Luche right, who was all about not following Lucian orders too closely all of the sudden, he would probably move as slowly as possible during the way back to give them even more time.

“You two should get some sleep,” he said after a long pause.

“What about you?” Libertus wanted to know.

“After that ether I doubt I'll be able to sleep, and I don't think either of you got any chance to rest while chasing after me.”

“Heh, you're damn right. Chasing after your ass is exhausting,” snorted Libertus.

“Oh my, big guy. I didn't know you felt that way about me. Why didn't you say anything sooner?” Nyx batted his eyelashes at his hunting-brother in a faux coy expression.

Libertus playfully shoved at his shoulder, grumbling fondly under his breath while Ladone rolled her eyes.

“Just don't do anything where I can hear you,” she deadpanned and laid down, her back turned towards them and the fire.

If she felt their incredulous stares, she didn't give any indication thereof. The hunting-brothers looked at each other, their expressions moving in a silent conversation until Libertus huffed and laid down as well.

Nyx spent the rest of the night in contemplative silence.

They left their meagre camp as soon as there was enough light to move safely. Time was short and none of them knew how far they still had to go.

“Why don't we just go back the way you came?” Nyx asked as they continued to walk further down, now along wooden walkways that had been attached along the Crag's walls.

They weren't in the best of conditions, but steady and wound their way down and down, and for the first time Nyx could see how deep the Crag really was. It made his mind dizzy and his heart race. As far as he could tell, they were more than halfway down. To thirds maybe. Massive stone arches spanned the distance between the walls like bridges. The farther they went, the more Nyx felt like they were being watched. It made him more than a bit antsy.

“Damn Nyx, would you stop that already!” complained Libertus as lightning fizzled in the air yet again.

Nyx didn't bother with an answer. He couldn't really help it. He just felt himself bristle at the invisible eyes even more, his vision fluctuating between human-normal and what he assumed coeurl-normal to be. It was distracting and nausea inducing and he wanted it to stop.

“And to answer your question: we came here the same way you did.”

“... You fell down?” He couldn't quite believe Ladone would just fall down the Crag.

“What... of course we didn't fall, we're not you. We warped,” grumbled Libertus, utterly exasperated.

“We touched down at some kind of lake with too many corpses, that all started to fight us and talked,” added Ladone and prevented the argument from forming in the first place.

Nyx was too distracted to really notice. Still, he blinked at that comment. Reanimated corpses were strange. Like, properly strange. On the other hand the whole feel of this cursed place was setting his teeth on edge by now, so it wasn't really surprising.

“It was creepy as fuck,” grumbled Libertus, who seemed all too happy for an opportunity to complain about the whole situation. “Those things were going on and on about how we weren't worthy and, how we should turn back and how only the strong will survive. Too bad for them, I'm an Ostium. Strength is kind of what we do.”

They made it through three more daemon infested caves before they arrived at one of the big stone arches bridging the Crag.

“Something's here,” whispered Nyx towards the other two.

Without a word they readied their weapons.

A loud screech split the air and a creature unlike anything they had ever seen landed in front of them. It looked like a mix between a wyvern and a sahagin with bird legs ans a pair of clawed wings. The ground shook when the heavy body landed, long tail whipping aggressively through the air. Nyx answered the uttered challenge with a bone rattling roar of his own. The creature reared back, pausing for but a second before it lunged straight at him.

Libertus stepped in its way, a scavenged shield brandished in front of him to brace for the impact of the attack while Nyx and Ladone leaped out of the way.

Nyx jumped onto the creatures back while it was distracted by Libertus and slammed his kukri between two plates guarding its long neck. The blade bit deep into its flesh and the smell of burnt skin crept into his nose as lightning crackled. The creature shook itself with a pained cry and threw Nyx clean off as the blade of his kukri broke. He landed on all fours, his lips pulled back into a snarl.

The thing, animal, whatever, took into the air on strong wings. Ladone hung from its side by her own blades and took to riding a daring rodeo as she swung herself onto its back. No matter how it rolled through the air, it couldn't shake the huntress off. No wonder she'd been friends with his father, Nyx couldn't help but marvel.

Nyx stretched a hand out and sent a powerful bolt of lightning into one of its wings. He had been aiming for an eye, but whatever. It tumbled towards the ground, trying to keep itself from falling with one wing. But it was no use as Ladone attacked it with a series of fire spells.

“The throat! Slit the throat!” yelled Nyx and hoped Libertus had heard him over the painfully loud screeching.

He must have. The moment the creature hit the ground Libertus was there, brandishing his heavy kukri that was more a small axe than anything else, and cut its throat as he slid along the ground and beneath thrashing limbs. A wing clipped him by the shoulder and sent him flying. It died with a last garbled screech, blood rapidly pooling around it.

“What by Pitioss was that thing?” Nyx could hear Libertus ask as he picked himself up with a groan.

The sleeve of his coat was ruined and his shoulder would bruise like nothing else, but he seemed otherwise fine.

“I have no idea,” he answered after his ears had stopped ringing and poked the carcass with a foot.

He sighed as he saw the remnants of his kukri sticking out of its neck, and wondered if he could take one of its talons in exchange. But taking a trophy was Libertus' privilege, if he so chose, since he had struck the killing blow.

His hunting-brother stepped up towards the carcass, stared at it with keen eyes and with three quick strikes cut off the talons of one leg. One for each of them. Grinning, Nyx plucked his out of the air as Libertus threw it in his direction, and rolled it between his hands. It was nearly as long as his whole hand and wickedly sharp. A fine trophy.

“Thanks, big guy,” he called.

Ladone jumped from its back down next to him and accepted her own claw with a grave nod of gratitude. “If no one is too injured we should continue post haste.”

“I'll survive,” declared Libertus after he had rotated his shoulder a few times.

“If you're sure,” she said and started to walk towards the other side of the Crag, a customary fireleaf back in her mouth.

Nyx and Libertus exchanged a meaningful glance before they followed her.

They walked through a series of empty caves that reminded him of the oldest holy sites on Galahd. Grand and with a heavy air of power and age, those places had come by through generations of continued faith and care. Whatever was the point of this place – and it was too deliberate for there not to be a point – Nyx knew they would find out very soon.

The last cave they went through had an open wall that offered a good view on a stone arch bridge that was positively covered in weapons. Swords, axes, javelins, halberds and many, many more, all in numerous sizes and forms.

“What by ahtrii is this place?” whispered Libertus beside him, as all three of them stood there and stared.

“You're only asking that now? From the first moment I came here this place wanted to make me claw my own brain out,” Nyx murmured back, his eyes never leaving that bridge.

Something was there, old and powerful and lonely, full of rage and edging on corruption. It was disconcerting. He wanted to bare his teeth and hiss in warning for whatever was down there to keep away from his pack.

“Whatever it is that's down there, it's in our way,” stated Ladone, chewing thoughtfully.

“It's been watching us closely for some time now,” Nyx added.

Libertus just grunted. He had most likely picked up on Nyx' behaviour and had come to a similar conclusion. Maybe he himself could feel it, too. Libertus rarely talked about anything that could cross into the territory of Clan secrets.

Ladone looked at them, her eyes hard as flintstone. “We need to get going, if we want to make it out before nightfall,” she stated brusquely. “If it comes to a fight – and I think it will – make every hit count.”

Both men nodded. It should probably be Nyx saying all this, but Ladone had seniority. Not only that, but she was also a trap specialist, and while this didn't exactly seem like a trap, it came very close to one.

“Libs, front-line attack, keep its attention on you as much as you can – whatever it is. Your shoulder up for it? You'll need to do most of the fighting,” Nyx wanted to make sure.

His hunting-brother rotated his injured shoulder again and nodded decisively. Nyx nodded back and turned his attention towards the older woman.

“Can you do the same as you did with Glauca?”

Thoughtfully, she looked back out towards the bridge. “If that's what you need of me, I'll do it, makti-oir.”

Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but he nodded anyway.

“I'll act as backup and battle mage,” he decided.

From up here the weapons on the bridge nearly looked like shrubbery. Very deadly and sharp shrubbery, but still. The thought amused him.

Plan mostly decided, it didn't take them long to climb down the rest of the path onto the bridge. As soon as he stepped foot on it, the weight of the invisible eyes slammed into him like an actual punch in the gut and made him stumble half a step backwards. His companions tensed and Ladone seemed to fade from his senses nearly entirely. Just the faint hum of her magic tangled in his made him aware of where she was.

It was a strange feeling, that. He hadn't even known that he could do that with his magic. Libertus he could feel even stronger. Was it because he had known his hunting-brother for longer, or that he was closer to him than he was to her? As interesting as that train of thought was however, it would have to wait.

“Ye of no fayth should not be here,” echoed a deep, metallic voice through the air.

“Who are you? Show yourself!” Libertus demanded as he took a step forward.

A shimmer of angry-old-sharp-as-a-blade magic gleamed in the air, and then there he was. A man in ancient armour, taller than both Libertus and Nyx by at least three heads. His face was covered by a mask in the style of an Solheimr honour guard and where his eyes should be, there was a sickly, yellowish glow. His left arm was missing, having seemingly been cut off.

“So you're the one we have to beat to get out of here,” determined Libertus, trying and succeeding to hide the intimidation he must feel.

Nyx smiled and the man tilted his head as his burning gaze landed on their braids.

“Thou art not of my lyne. Ye, who cometh from the lynes of no fayth, answer. Why art ye here?”

A warning growl rumbled deep within Nyx' chest. He couldn't see Libertus' face, but he could hear the sneer in his voice.

“For a man of the Astral faith you wear those beads very proudly, credahtri. Tell me, what is this place? Your little hidey hole, so you won't have to face those you betrayed?”

The man reared back as if he had been slapped across the face and the double edged and heavily ornamented sword in his one hand twitched. But he did not attack. For now.

“These art the Tempering Grounds,” the man drawled. His voice had gained an edge and a weight only an akastral could have. “For those who longe to be a Shielde to their King, to see their strengthe be worthy of this task. 'Tis a place to teste the fayth and strengthe of men who dare to trod this pathe. Those of no worth shalt be doomed to lyne the Pathe of the Shielde. Ye art not worthy.”

“What makes you think I need your blessing to be able to protect anyone, credahtri? I know who you are. I know what name you once bore, and how you abandoned it to kneel at the feet of those who nearly destroyed all of Eos in their reckless abandon.”

A furious roar made the air between them shudder as the armoured giant leapt forward and crashed with his shoulder into the banged up shield Libertus held in front of him. The sound of the impact made Nyx' teeth clatter. Libertus roared his determination, as he pushed back against the akastral's power.

Nyx didn't let that deter him as he slunk soundlessly between the weapons buried in the stone, as if they were indeed nothing more than shrubbery of the Galahdian jungle, until he was nearly behind his prey. His claws may have been blunted for now, but he still had his lightning. With a near deafening crack a powerful bolt connected with the man's side and threw him onto the ground.

Not wasting a single second, Libertus stood over him and swung his kukri down. The man rolled out of the way, still clearly dazed, so it only clipped the small of his back. The heavy blade shook with the tremors running through ancient fingers. The lightning had been powerful. Nyx couldn't do something like that too many more times before he started to court with a magical stasis yet again.

Armoured fingers clenched and unclenched around the hilt of the sword before it vanished in a yellowish mist. At once it was replaced with a sleeker blade. It was long with only one cutting edge, not at all unlike General Leonis'.

The air wailed as the new blade cut through it with a speed Libertus could barely keep up with. His hunting-brother was made for strength. Speed had never been his strongest suite. He did his best as he ducked more and more behind the shield. The dented metal wouldn't last forever.

Across from Nyx a shadow moved. It wasn't a warp, there was neither the taste of Lucian magic in the air, nor the sound of breaking glass or its accompanying flash of blue light, but from one moment to the next Ladone was there and plunged her thin blade right above the calf, where a thick strand of nerves was located.

The man toppled forward with a pained cry as his knee gave out, right into the waiting blade of Libertus. He managed to hit him in the neck and cut off the long strands of pale hair held together by a heavy and old fashioned bead. If the man had been anything else but an akastral, he would have bled out and died within seconds. But he was, and so he swung his own blade as he fell to his knees and cut Libertus right across his face.

Letting the shield fall, but not his kukri, Libertus stumbled back and covered the bleeding cut across his face with his now free hand. With a roar Nyx slammed into the armoured giant who was breathing heavily as he tried to stand back up again. Not that Nyx really took notice of it. He was too busy curling his fingers around the akastral's throat as lightning crackled aggressively around them.

Somebody screamed. Nyx couldn't have said who it was, Libertus, himself, the man in the ancient armour. This man had dared to injure his pack-brother and no one would get away with it. Not even dead souls that hadn't found their way beyond the gate.

A ghostly, see though arm gripped him by the coat and violently tossed him away. Nyx skidded along the ground on all fours, even as the rock bit and cut through the leather of his fingerless gloves. He stayed like that, tense and growling like a coeurl ready to attack. His prey was still in range of a possible attack, but so was his pack-brother. So he held back.

Libertus himself had used the opportunity to wipe away as much of the blood as he could and pick the shield back up in anticipation of another attack.

The man had a second arm now. An arm that also held another blade. This was bad. Very, very bad. For a moment none of the fighters moved.

“Who dost thou think thou art to say thou knowest me?” the akastral growled in his metallic voice full of pent up anger and pain.

“Have you truly forgotten everything of the culture you come from?” Libertus scoffed, not relaxing from his battle stance.

The tension in the air grew even heavier.

“'Tis not my culture,” he said, something like wistfulness tinting his voice.

“No,” agreed Libertus, “it isn't. Not anymore.”

Then, without warning, the man lunged towards Nyx, both blades raised to strike, fast and precise like a venomous snake. Nyx leaped backwards, seeking cover in the forest of weapon surrounding them. Libertus however, hadn't seen that. His pack-brother had his eyes firmly on his enemy and only knew that he was about to attack Nyx. So he ran straight into the line of the attack, his whole body braced behind the shield.

It didn't help much. The impact of the strike cleaved the shield clean in half and flung Libertus backwards, close to the edge of the bridge.

Nyx had no clear view of what was happening as he picked himself up, careful not to injure himself, as his hand found the metallic shaft of a javelin. He could feel Ladone's tension through their tangled magic. She was somewhere close to his right, tense and worried, but ready to strike at any moment.

She moved fast enough to practically appear out of thin air beneath the armoured right arm raised to attack, and slammed her kukri into the lesser protected armpit. Her body twisted and ducked around the man's back, pulling the blade with her as she cut the archilles tendon of his right foot with the other kukri. He fell towards the ground like an ancient tree.

Ladone backed off until she was out of reach of another potential attack, but didn't cloak her presence again. Instead she came to a stop next to Libertus who rolled onto his side with a pained groan. She helped him up with a steady arm, all the while she never took her eyes of the fallen giant who was watching them silently.

All the while Nyx had pulled the javelin from the ground and weighted it carefully in his hand. It was a simple weapon, the blade at the tip broken and bent horribly out of shape. The other end still looked sharp enough to injure, if the thrust was strong enough. It might just work.

With a cry he threw the javelin and reached for the Lucian King's magic within him. He warped in a shower of blue light and crystalline shards as he burst through the barriers of space. His hand gripped the slim shaft of the flying weapon and he twisted in mid-air until its sharp end pointed downward. Gravity did the rest. Aided by his weight the pointy end slammed down into the armoured man's shoulder and pinned him to the unforgiving stone beneath him. Nyx landed gracefully just out of arm's reach.

Then Libertus was there, resting his kukri right against the unprotected throat as the man threw his head back against the stone and gave a hoarse scream of pain. It echoed between the walls of the Crag for a long time.

It was over. The man had lost. All of them knew it, but none of them dared to relax even as the magically constructed arm vanished together with the blade it had held. The mask tilted just enough for yellow glowing eyes to wander from Nyx to Libertus and Ladone, who looked ready to plunge her kukris into the man's crotch if she needed to.

“Tell me, warrior, what be the name of the man that wouldst protect his King with such determynacyon?”

Libertus blinked. It visibly took him a few seconds until he realized that the akastral had addressed him. He exchanged a glance with Nyx, who just shrugged helplessly. Between the two of them Libertus had definitely the better chance to guess what went on in the minds of people that had died a long, long time ago.

“Libertus of Clan Ostium,” he said at last.

There was another long beat of silence.

“Ostium. Oh, how ye fates turn. I wouldst have been honoured moste highly to counte thee amongst mine bloode. The name I was gifted by those whomst took me in is Gilgamesh Amicitia.”

Libertus did not give Gilgamesh the satisfaction of an answer. He just scoffed.

Nyx felt something cold that vaguely felt like shock and surprise trickle down his spine. The Amicitias had been of their people once? Dimly he noticed that Ladone didn't seem surprised at all.

With great difficulty Gilgamesh lifted his hand off the ground and pointed it towards the far off wall. Magic shimmered in the air, heady and ancient and powerful, and a stairway appeared. It wound its way up towards the surface of Taelpar Crag.

Another twist of the hand and three weapons appeared not too far from them. All three Glaives tensed.

“During mine life I have travelled far and wide in mine desire to learne everything there was to learne of bladed weapons. Take these as sign of mine defeat moste cruel, as it ought to be done in the way of your people,” Gilgamesh spoke, not noticing or simply not caring of the reactions around him. “The way is free for you and yours, oh King. Libertus of Clan Ostium, take thine King and thine companyon and go. Ye have been found moste worthy. And remember: A Shielde dost not move no matter the danger, no matter the adversary.”

“As if I care about being worthy,” his hunting-brother scoffed as he pulled back his blade.

The fallen man just barked an eerily metallic laugh before he went still.

The three Glaives exchanged a look across his motionless body before they started to walk away from the battleground. For a moment Nyx contemplated leaving the offered trophy behind, but he was makti-oir now and that would be a slight against his traditions, his culture and his ancestors.

It was a Solheimr khopesh he found himself with. An asymmetrical one bladed sword made out of mithril. Ornate carvings and runes lined the milky metal and shimmered like bronze in the light of the sun. It was utterly beautiful and enchanting. Nyx knew for a fact that none of the known exemplars had survived as anything more than rusted remnants in museums. Safe for this one, apparently.

Libertus whistled lowly in appreciation as he hefted the heavy double bladed battle axe onto his uninjured shoulder, its design distinctively Solheimr as well. Each blade was at least as big as his head and wickedly sharp, the edges lined in a black coloured metal Nyx did not know. As a whole the weapon was as tall as his hunting-brother himself. Libertus took the bead he had cut off Gilgamesh and tied it to his new weapon with long strands of pale hair. He nodded, satisfied with his work.

“We need to hurry, if we want to make it,” said Ladone while she eyed the trident in her hands sceptically.

It was weapon just as deadly as it was beautiful, adorned with symbols of a long bygone civilization none of them recognized.

“You sure you can manage, big guy?” Nyx asked, worried.

“I feel like I've been flung around by a gekkan and a Dala got too close to my face, but I'll live.”

Luckily the cut wasn't as bad as it had seemed at first. It travelled from just above his left eyebrow, over the bridge of his nose, along the right corner of his mouth and ended at the edge of his jaw. It was shallow enough to have mostly stopped bleeding already.

“It'll scar,” Ladone stated after she had eyed the wound for a long moment. “I don't have anything left on me able to heal this.”

“Then I'll have something to impress the ladies with,” Libertus shrugged with a grin.

Nyx laughed.

#ffxv #born into the wilds #nyx ulric #libertus ostium #ladone najad #luche continues to have his change of heart in the background #gilgamesh #they fight #did I make libertus a shield?#who knows #*grins*#poor enkidu #you will be missed #crowe will be back next chapter #I missed her dearly in this #my fics #geist writes

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tommyquackson · 5 years ago

Text

Extraction | P. Parker |

Not My Gif

summary: you and peter go on a mission on together cause you’re the best and yoire the most adorable badass team.

warnings: fighting, fluff

note: this was requested, i didn’t really specify if reader and peter were dating but they’re close. Let me know if you like it :)

“Alright, mission drop off in 4 minutes? You kids ready?” Tony speaks from the pilot seat of the quinjet.

You and Peter both nod yes and move back to finish getting ready. You put all your weapons in holster and make sure your boots are tightened and ready to go.

“Ready to kick ass Spidey?” You smile at your best friend through your mask.

“Absolutely” He winks back while securing his mask on his head.

“You guys remember the plan?” Nat says walking back with you guys.

“Enter the building undetected” You begin.

“Make our way to the control room” Peter lists off next.

“Enter the USB and extract all data”

“Shut down controls”

“Only take out necessary guards”

“And get the hell out by the West Wing where you and tony will be waiting.” Peter finishes.

Nat nods and hands the USB to Peter.

“Good now when you get to the Control Room, there will no doubt be extra people on there way to you so be careful and be smart.” She says smiling at you too, walking back to her seat.

“Coms working?” Stark asks testing your earpieces.

You both nod and move back to the ramp where you’ll jump onto the roof.

“Let’s do this shit” Peter speaks happily.

You and Peter do your handshake and jump out, landing on the roof.

“Didn’t have to show off by doing a backflip” You say as you kick a gun out of a guards hand and bash him in the head with your baton.

“Eh, but it was hella cool right?” Peter laughs back as he webs his guards arm and flips him to the ground and knocks him out.

“Yea it was pretty cool” You laugh as you both move down the stairs to the 4th floor where the control room is. You both squat outside the door that leads to the fourth floor.

“Karen, how many guards are right there?” Peter whisper.

“2 men with 2 guns each” She replies.

“I bet i can disarm my guy before you do” You smirk over at Peter.

“Oh you’re on.” He shakes your hand then quietly opens the door. You both jump out and on your guards.

You immediately kick his gum out of his hand and then punch him a few times before he pulls out his second gun. You do the Nat Move and pull him down to the ground taking his gun and sliding it down the hall. He flips you over and tries to punch you so you use your high voltage taser and get him in the back. You stand and look over at Peter and see him fighting with the guy to get his second gun. He uses his spider legs to grab the guy while he webs his neck and slams his head on his knee, knocking him out.

“About time, I win” You flip him off and walk towards the door labeled Control Room.

“Entering control room” You speak into the coms.

“Copy, 6 men are coming from the East wing so make it quick” Nat speaks back.

“Copy” You and Peter speak in unison.

He uses one of his explosion webs to bust open the door.

You both immediately move into combat with multiple people.

“Spidey, I’ve gotta gun with 5 bullets and my baton, toss me the USB and you hold them off while i extract” You say as you shoot a guy trying to grab your leg as you kicked him. Peter tosses you the USB, you catch it and plug it in, quickly extracting everything.

“Extraction has begun, 14 seconds left” You speak in to the coms.

“Copy” Stark speaks through the coms. While its extracting you help take out some men by shooting them. When your guns empty, you toss it in the air and Peter webs it and swings it around to hit a guard in his face.

“Extraction complete, shutting down-“

A guard moves towards you and jump on him and choke him with the baton while you slam his head into the wall.

“Sorry bout that, extraction complete. Shutting down operations” you say annoyed. You type in what you need to disable everything and shout at spidey. You put the USB in your hip pocket and zip it closed.

“One second” He says as he finishes with the guy he has, he webs him up and pushes towards you, you take his body and slam him into the control desk, destroying the computer.

“More men from the East Wing” Nat says

You grab Peter by the back of his collar and throw him out of the window with a small yelp from him as he goes. You roll your eyes and jump out of the window after him. His web catches you out of the air and pulls you towards his body that’s hanging from a steel beam.

“You threw me out of a window” He nearly screams at you as you both get down and run towards the West Wing where the quinjet is waiting.

“I trusted you enough to catch me after I jumped so I think you can trust me when I throw you” You laugh as your both see the quinjet up ahead. Peter laughs too and grabs your body as he webs the open ramp of the jet and swings you both up into it.”

“Mission Complete” You smirk taking off your mask and tossing the USB to Nat.

“Nice work kids!” Stark speaks flying back home to the compound.

You both do your handshake again as you plop down in your seats, tired from the day.

“we make a pretty great team spidey” You lazily turn your head to him.

“We sure do” Peter smiles at you.

#imagine #marvel #spiderman #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spider man: homecoming #spiderman: ffh #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine

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thelastspeecher · 5 years ago

Text

A. Quinn “Badass” McGucket

Hehehe I think I’m being clever with the title.

Here’s some more from that “Angie is a greaser and Stan is a nerd” AU that I’m going to tag as “West Coast Trio”, bc Angie, Stan, and Ford all end up at West Coast Tech in this AU.

Specifically, in this collection of scenes, we see the first meeting of Angie (who goes by her middle name, Quinn, in this AU) and Stan, the first meeting of Angie and Ford, and also the first hints of the good ship Stangie. Enjoy.

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“Whattaya gonna do about it, Pines?” sneered Tom. Stan could feel the bricks of the building digging into his back as he pressed up against it. Every inch of him was shaking in fear.

“Look, Tom, I don’t think that we need to get physical about this-” Stan started. Tom leaned in, close enough for Stan to feel his breath.

“I think we do, charity case. You and that freak brother of yours don’t belong here. You know that.” Stan clenched his hands into fists. Before he could respond to Tom’s insult about Ford, a female voice spoke.

“Tommy boy, what are ya doin’?” Stan and Tom looked over. A girl Stan had seen around campus a few times was idly leaning against the wall, chewing gum. She blew a large bubble and popped it. Tom took a step away from Stan.

“N-nothing,” Tom stammered. Stan glanced at Tom in surprise, then turned his attention back to the girl. Her hair was roughly chopped short and dyed a bright magenta, popping against her dark leather jacket. She cocked her head curiously.

“Sure ‘bout that?” she asked. “‘Cause it looks to me like you were messin’ with this poor feller. Intimidatin’ him, perhaps?” Her voice was breezy, but an undertone of threat wove in with her southern accent. Tom swallowed.

“Nope. Not- not at all, Quinn.”

“See, I don’t think I believe that,” the girl – Quinn – drawled. She stood straight. The arm she was holding behind her back fell to her side, revealing that she was holding a large, wooden baseball bat. Tom blanched and stepped further away from Stan. “You know I don’t tolerate folks beratin’ other folks.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Kid,” Quinn barked. Stan stood up straight.

“Y-yes?”

“Was he botherin’ ya?”

“…yes,” Stan said. Quinn glared at Tom.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna leave,” Tom stammered. Quinn’s eyes narrowed.

“I think that’s fer the best. You can get a head start that way,” she said in a low voice. Tom sprinted away. Quinn strode over to Stan. She looked him up and down. “He didn’t hurt ya, did he?” she asked.

“N-no,” Stan mumbled. Quinn frowned.

“Ya sure? You seem a bit…quiet.”

“I’m- um-” Stan rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Quinn stuck out her hand.

“Quinn. Quinn McGucket.” Stan shook the offered hand.

“Uh, Stan. Stan Pines.”

“Stan…” Quinn’s eyes widened. “Oh! You and yer brother work on that comic strip in the school paper, don’t ya?”

“Y-yeah.”

“I like it. It’s funny.” Quinn cocked her head, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth. “Think you’ll show me how ya make it sometime?”

“M-maybe.”

“I’d like that.” Quinn sighed and looked over in the direction Tom had run off. “But right now, I’ve got other fish to fry. See ya ‘round campus!” She marched away, whistling a tune that sounded vaguely familiar to Stan, but he couldn’t quite put a name to it. Stan felt a slight flush spread across his features.

That was…the most badass girl I’ve ever met.

-----

Ford didn’t turn when the door to his and Stan’s dorm room opened. He was too engrossed in his biology assignment. He scowled at the worksheet.

Why is this so difficult? It’s a simple pairing question.

“This is where the magic happens,” Stan’s voice said proudly. There was a soft chuckle.

“The magic, huh? Ya have a mighty big opinion of yer lil comic strip, don’t ya?” a southern voice asked. Ford’s head shot up.

A female southern voice. He spun his chair around to face the door. Immediately, dread dropped into his gut. Oh, no. Standing in the doorway with Stan was a young woman Ford had seen around campus. From her brightly colored hair to her thick combat boots, every inch of her stuck out like a sore thumb among the other students, who tended to come from upper-class backgrounds. Most likely, she does that on purpose.

“Oh! Quinn, this is my twin brother, Ford,” Stan said, gesturing towards Ford. Ford inclined his head slightly in a small nod. “He co-creates the comic strip with me. Ford, this is Quinn McGucket.”

“I know who she is,” Ford said. Quinn raised a blonde eyebrow.

“My reputation precedes me, I see.” She grinned viciously. “Good.”

“So, Stan, how did you meet Quinn?” Ford asked. Stan shoved his hands in his pants pockets and grinned.

“She saved me from getting my ass kicked and realized that I work on the comic strip. Turns out she’s a big fan.”

“Yes, I am,” Quinn said. She shrugged. “It’s funny.”

“Yeah, that part’s all me,” Stan said proudly. Ford quirked a small smile.

“He’s right. Stan’s the comedic genius of the two of us,” Ford said. Quinn chuckled softly. “What are you majoring in, Quinn?”

“Biology.”

“Ah. A noble field. Not as noble as some fields of science, but-”

“Let me guess,” Quinn said. “Yer a physics major?”

“How did you-”

“All the physics majors I’ve met act that way ‘bout biology.” Quinn turned to Stan. “So, where do ya get yer ideas?” she asked in a low tone. Satisfied that his role in the conversation was finished, Ford turned back to his homework. He didn’t realize Quinn had crossed over to his desk until she spoke behind him.

“You’ve got that wrong,” she said lightly. Ford’s arm jerked in surprise, leaving a streak across his worksheet. Quinn pointed at the matching problem Ford had been having such a difficult time with. “That’s not the coccyx. It should be the pharyngeal arches.”

“How did you know that?” Ford asked, erasing the streak as well as the incorrect answer.

“Uh, did ya not hear me say I’m a biology major?”

“No, I did, I just assumed that you weren’t-” Ford started.

“Oh.” Quinn’s voice was completely flat. Ford looked over at her. She had stepped away from his desk and was watching him with a disgusted expression. “I see.”

“I- I just mean- you come from an upper-class background-”

“No, I don’t,” Quinn snapped. She crossed her arms. “My parents run a farm.”

“Then how did you get into West Coast Tech?” Ford asked. Quinn’s eyes flashed with fury.

“On my merit,” she snarled. “Just like you and yer brother. What, ‘cause I’m a girl, I can’t get in on my brains?”

“No, not-”

“Or is it ‘cause I’m southern?” Quinn’s voice became harsher as she continued to speak, viciously biting off the end of each syllable. “Maybe ‘cause I grew up in the country? ‘Cause of course, no southern hick chick could ever be smart?”

“No!” Ford said desperately, holding his hands up. Quinn did a double-take at the sight of his splayed fingers, but returned her fierce gaze to his eyes. “No, none of those things! You’re just- with the-” It was one of the few times in his life Ford found himself at a loss for words. His explanation died on his tongue as Quinn’s raw anger magnified. “The hair and the jacket and the boots-”

“Oh! It’s ‘cause I’m tough!” Quinn said. “I get it.” She looked around, caught sight of a stack of books on Ford’s bed, and shoved them onto the floor. “You should learn how to judge people by gettin’ to know ‘em, not by rumors or appearances,” she spat. “You seem like the kind of person who has a lot of experience with folks judgin’ ya exactly fer those things.” With that, she spun around and stormed out of the dorm room, slamming the door shut behind her. Stan crossed his arms, glaring at Ford.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, Sixer, that’s pretty obvious.” Stan rolled his eyes. “C’mon, man! My first shot at a friend here, and that’s how you treat her?” Stan shook his head, then exited the room. Ford pursed his lips.

Should I follow? At least to apologize? I don’t want Stan to socialize with a delinquent like her, but he could use a friend other than me. He has higher social needs than I do, after all. With a sigh, Ford got up and walked to the door. Before he could open it, he picked up on muffled voices. He pressed his ear to the door.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn’s voice said. “That was- that was rude of me, to push someone’s things ‘round when I’m a guest in their livin’ space. I do apologize fer that.”

“It’s fine. Ford was being a dick,” Stan’s voice said. “He deserved it.”

“Maybe. I just- I have to go study fer class.”

“…Oh.” Stan sounded disappointed. “I guess I’ll-”

“-have to give me the grand tour when Ford’s not home,” Quinn finished for Stan. Ford couldn’t see his twin, but could easily picture the broad grin stretched across Stan’s face.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

-----

Ford turned his head to the side. Being pressed up against the side of the chemistry building and threatened was rote at this point. His primary concern was to avoid Bennett’s disgusting breath. It was futile.

Did he eat onions marinated in garlic? It reeks.

“I told you before, freak,” Bennett breathed. “I don’t like it when people show me up. I warned you last time not to open your damn dirty mouth in class, and you didn’t listen. So.” Bennett grabbed Ford’s shirt, snagging Ford’s skin in his roughness. Ford’s eyes began to water, both from the pain and the smell of Bennett’s breath. “You’re gonna pay, freak.” Ford resisted the urge to point out that Bennett had used the insult mere moment ago. Abruptly, Bennett was pulled off Ford, startled enough to let go of Ford’s shirt. Bennett hit the ground, landing on his back with a heavy thump. Ford looked over at his rescuer.

“Bennett Thompson,” Quinn snarled, standing over Bennett. “Prep school bully extraordinaire.” She tossed her bright purple locks. “Remember how you asked me out last week?” Quinn smirked at him. “Yer insistence on harassin’ folks was just one of the reasons I said no. The other one is yer nasty-ass breath.” Quinn cocked her head. “Have ya ever even heard of a toothbrush before?”

“Quinn, I-” Bennett started. Quinn’s face hardened.

“No,” she said flatly. She slammed a boot-clad foot onto one of Bennett’s hands. There was a sickening crunch. Bennett let out a yelp. Quinn leaned over and whispered something in Bennett’s ear. Bennett nodded, his face pale as a sheet. Quinn straightened again. “Good.” She slowly lifted her foot off Bennett’s hand. “Skedaddle.” Bennett jumped to his feet and rushed away, cradling his hand. Quinn turned to Ford. “You all right?” she asked gently.

“I- you-” Ford stared at Bennett, quickly disappearing into the distance. “Quinn, that was vicious.”

“I don’t pussyfoot around. But you knew that.”

“Yes, I suppose I did, I just-” Ford swallowed. “You used such force to assist with someone who isn’t even a friend of yours, I-” He stopped at the sight of Quinn’s heartbroken expression.

“…We’re not friends?” Quinn whispered. Ford’s heard plummeted.

Oh no, I’ve offended her. Quinn looked away, blinking rapidly, as though she was fighting back tears. No. I’ve hurt her feelings. That’s worse.

“I didn’t mean-” Ford started. Quinn let out a harsh laugh.

“Is that yer catchphrase or somethin’? I hear it come out of ya all the flippin’ time,” she said. She was attempting to portray a light tone, but her voice was thick with emotion. Ford thought back to his first impression of Quinn.

That she’s insisting on being a lone wolf because she knows she’ll be mostly on her own as is. Quinn kicked a pebble. It bounced a short distance away. She’s decided to lean into it, embrace it. It’s the same principle behind Stan’s motto when he was hospitalized but still cracking jokes. You either laugh or you cry. You find a way to spin it in a positive way, even if it feels like you can’t or shouldn’t.

“Whatever,” Quinn muttered. She began to walk away.

“Wait!” Ford blurted out. Quinn stopped by the stairs leading into the building. She turned.

“Yes?”

“I- I do apologize. Sincerely,” Ford said. Quinn rolled her eyes.

“Sure.” She crossed her arms. “Look, I get it. You think I’m a delinquent. I’ve heard ya say as much to Stan.”

“Yes, well…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck. Quinn scoffed. She began to turn away. “No, Quinn, I- thank you.” Quinn stopped. She stared at him. “Not just for saving me, but also for saving Stan. It’s- I- to be frank, we could use the protection.”

“I ain’t yer personal bodyguard.”

“No, I know, I just-” Ford swallowed.

Let’s try a different tactic.

“I get the feeling that you have roughly the same amount of experience with friendships that I do.” Quinn’s expression changed from frustrated to bemused. “That is, minimal outside of family members.” Quinn leaned against the stair handrail.

“Is this yer way of sayin’ that ya suck at communication?” she asked.

“I- yes.”

“Hmm.” Quinn looked away. “That explains why ya keep puttin’ yer foot in yer mouth.” She sighed. “Didn’t know ya were observant enough to catch onto my own…social deficits.”

“Wh- I’m very observant!” Ford protested. Quinn shrugged.

“Sure, with science ‘n data. But with people? I’d say yer more oblivious than observant. Or did ya forget ya managed to insult me within ten minutes of meetin’ me? Or what just happened a few seconds ago, where ya upset me after I saved yer ass from bein’ turned to creamed corn?”

“Creamed corn?” Ford asked. Quinn scowled at him. “Never mind.” Ford looked down at his feet. “You’re still upset that I had made an impression of you even before we met.”

“Yup.”

“You can’t honestly blame me for thinking you might be dangerous after hearing about the numerous occasions in which you beat someone up with a baseball bat.”

“Sure, I can,” Quinn drawled. She looked off into the distance. “All those folks deserved a good kneecapping.”

“I-” Ford let out a wry laugh. “Fair point.” He chewed on his lip, thinking. “Why do you do it?”

“Kneecap folks? ‘Cause they deserve it.”

“No, not that. Well, not that alone. Your entire…thing.” Ford walked over to Quinn and leaned against the handrail as well. “I know how it feels to stick out. Why would you choose to do it, when you could easily fit in?”

“You have far too much faith in our classmates,” Quinn said dryly. “I doubt I could ever fit in with them boys in letterman jackets and boat shoes.” She was silent for a moment. “I don’t need to prove myself to others,” she said softly. “I don’t need to bend to the whims of what society says a lady should be. I can succeed without doin’ either of those things.”

“That’s…not an answer.”

“Yup.” Quinn grinned crookedly. “It’s only part of one.”

“What’s the full answer?”

“Oh, I ain’t tellin’ ya.” Quinn met Ford’s eyes. “It’s somethin’ I’d only tell a friend.” A challenge sparked in her gaze, daring Ford to say they were friends just to get a full answer.

“Cruel, but fair,” Ford said, backing down from the unspoken challenge. Quinn raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

“Hmm.” She looked away.

“I suppose I could always get Stan to ask, and then he would tell me,” Ford remarked. “Since the two of you are friends.” Quinn rolled her eyes, but a small smile played around her lips. “By the way, Stan wants to be more than friends with you.”

“Oh, I know,” Quinn said. A faint pink blush began to spread across her cheeks. She ducked her head, hiding her smile, which was getting stronger.

“You do?”

“Yes. I might not have a lot of experience with friends, but I know my way ‘round body language and social cues. Unlike some folks.”

“Ouch.” Ford watched Quinn’s face continue to flush. “I take it you feel the same way about him?”

“It don’t matter if I do or not.” Quinn stood straight and stepped away from the handrail. “He can’t handle me. Not yet.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Biochem starts soon. We should head inside. I’ll walk with ya. Someone’s got to protect ya from bullies.”

“Maybe I should hire you as my personal bodyguard,” Ford mumbled. Quinn laughed.

“Nah. You couldn’t afford me.”

#if you're wondering what song Angie was whistling at the beginning #it was her favorite song. ''Take Me Home Country Roads''#even being a punk greaser badass can't stop Angie from loving some John Denver #the only person who wouldn't love John Denver would be Anti-Angie #Stangie #Angie McGucket #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #West Coast Trio AU #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years ago

Text

Ladies Night

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Language

Light chatter harmonized with the sounds of glasses and silverware clinking in the quaint West Hollywood restaurant chosen as the month’s “girl’s night” location. Around the round table situated in the back of the establishment, you laughed a full belly laugh with your girls at Tanisha’s long-winded explanation of how she planned to get her black porn streaming service off the ground.

“Girl, don’t nobody wanna see no flip phone backshots,” Yvonne laughed before taking a bite from her salad. “All you see is Toy Story sheets and a bonnet.”

“Speak for yourself, sis. Me and Aaron enjoy the occasional amateur ebony flick.”

“Hearing about my brother-in-law’s sexual escapades with my sister will never not be gross. Pass me the wine.”

The table fell into a fit of laughter as Tiana filled her wine glass to the brim with sweet red wine, taking a long sip before dramatically repeating the motion.

“You know how Tasha can get,” Devin smile over her wine glass. “She’s right past tipsy and willing to share just about anything. Tell us, Miss CoCo, when is the last time you put those jaws to work?”

“I am not tipsy.” A small hiccup interrupted your sentence, earning four accusatory looks from the women around the table. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Maybe a little means Terrible T is on the way. You know you can’t drink!”

“Shut up, Tanisha! Tasha, answer the question. When’s the last time you gave Chadwick the ole two hand twist?”

“I can’t hear you. Lalalalalala,” Tiana sang over the conversation.

“You’re so childish, TiTi,” Taking another sip of your wine, you attempted to focus your blurred vision on Devin. “To answer your question, it was one, two, four weeks ago. Actually, Micah knocked on the bathroom door and we had to stop. Does that count?”

Assorted “oh hell no’s” rang out around the table, leaving you wide-eyed and a bit embarrassed. None of them understood the impossible nature of remaining sexually active in a house teeming with toys, annoying children’s songs about sharks, and two children that knew not, nor cared about the meaning of privacy.

There was no such thing as “mommy and daddy time” when an inquisitive six-year-old and busy 11-month-old roamed the hallways looking for trouble. After having the door nearly kicked down in the middle of the night while Chadwick positioned you over his knee to test out the new flog ended with an earlier than expected lesson on the birds and bees, you and your husband had been forced into a sexual hiatus. Chadwick had no problem waiting it out. You couldn’t say the same.

“So you tellin’ me that you and Big Dic-”

“Tanisha!”

“You and Chad ain’t done the horizontal tango in a month?!”

“Thirty-one days?”

“Four consecutive weeks?”

“Giiiiirl!”

The genuine shock etched across the faces staring back at you penetrated the wine induced haze to convey the gravity of the situation.

“Oh my God. I haven’t had sex with my husband in a month. He’s - he’s gonna leave me!”

“Aaaaand here we go,” Tiana groaned as she took the opportunity to finish off the last of the Colomé, "Estate" Malbec on the table. Catching the waiters eye, she simply lifted the bottle to gesture for another round on your tab.

Assuming her usual role as comforter, Devin rubbed circles against your back to soothe the mix of tears and uncontrolled hiccups rising from your sudden distress.

“Oh, honey, he’s not going to leave you. Christine and I don’t get to have sex for at least two weeks out of the month and we’re fine.”

“It’s not the same,” you croaked before taking a sip from your glass. “You guys are women. Women are smart and have feelings and shit. I know he wants his dick sucked. I know it!”

Your fist hit the table in a drunken rage, getting the attention of a few parties in the area.

“Oh-kay, let’s get you into a more private space,” Yvonne suggested, grabbing her purse. “C’mon, to the bathroom you go.”

“He’s probably packing his things right now. He better leave that sweater I got him for Christmas. I paid for that with his money!”

Yvonne did her best to quiet your hysterics on the way to the bathroom in an effort to save your public image. The firestorm that resulted from the Black Panther’s wife drunk and crying in Nobu would not be pretty once sobriety returned.

Once the smoke had cleared and you were reassured that Chadwick was not planning on divorcing you, you were left to rest against the bathroom sink and purse watch while Yvonne relieved herself in the stall nearby. A loud yawn left you mortified at the stale alcohol taste in your mouth. Deciding to travel light with only your wallet and phone meant no gum, and you preferred not to ask others face to face with offensive breath.

“‘Vonne, do you have some gum in your bag. My mouth tastes like despair.”

“What does that even taste like, fool?”

“Like that time you let weird Bernard from work take you to that rib shack for a date.”

An audible shudder sounded from the other side of the stall before Yvonne could respond, “Please, never bring that up again. The gum is in the left zip compartment. In the tin foil package.”

“What are you? 65?”

“How about you shut your drunk ass up and chew the gum!”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed as you rummaged through her purse. The search for gum turned into a pulling out various lipstick and gloss components to hold against your lips and decide what you would ask for later.

When the toilet flushed to remind you of your original purpose for taking a deep dive into her bag, you hastily grabbed the first package you saw and popped the bitter blue tablet into your mouth. Your quiet gag went undetected before Yvonne could round the corner to wash her hands and follow you back into the main dining area.

With the sex crisis handled, you were able to enjoy your creamy spicy snow crab with your girls and discuss more pressing issues.

“You’re telling me you didn’t cry during the last scene in Dreamgirls? I don’t believe you,” Tiana accused Tanisha across the table.

“What was so sad about it?! They were just singing, then Effie came out in that horrible ensemble. You know what, that was sad. Why they ain’t get my sis a better dress?”

“Tanisha, why are you like this,” you jokingly questioned.

“Y’all need rappers like me,” she answered, imitating Nicki Minaj’s declaration in Chun Li. “Hey, anybody have some gum? This garlic has my breath smelling like weird ass Bernard.”

“Can we please leave that in the past!”

The table fell into another fit of laughter at Yvonne’s expense and the memory of her first attempt at dating after relocating from Atlanta to Los Angeles.

“Sure, ‘Vonne, we won’t bring it up again...tonight,” you taunted, earning an exaggerated eye roll. “You don’t want any of her gum anyway, Nish. It’s bitter, chalky, and dissolves before you can even chew!”

“What are you talking about? Dentyne Ice has never given me those problems.” Pulling her hand from the depths of her bag, Yvonne waved the foil gum package to reveal contents far different from what you had ingested 20 minutes earlier.

“But...I...okay, wait.” Curious stares watched you run your hands over the front of your hair to smooth non-existent flyaways in your low bun. “If that’s the gum in your purse, what were the blue tablets?”

“Blue tablets? What are you -” Yvonne stopped herself as realization came crashing down. “T, that was not gum. Tell me you didn’t have more than one.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WASN’T GUM?”

Yvonne rushed to quiet you down before explaining the situation. “Girl, that was,” a beat to lean closer and lower her voice. “Girl, that was Viagra.”

“What!”

“Girl, what are you doing with Viagra,” Tiana asked, raising the question that everyone wanted to ask. “Is there something you need to tell us? This is a safe space, sis.”

“First of all, everything is perfect in my bedroom.”

Tiana threw up her arms in faux surrender at Yvonne’s glare, “Okay! I’ll take your word for it. That still doesn’t explain why you’re walking around like Morpheus.”

“I pick up my Dad’s prescriptions when he and my step-mom are out of town. I swear I was just holding them for him until he came home. I must’ve forgotten to take them out of my purse.”

“Devin. Devin, look at me,” you demanded through labored breaths. “Am I going to be okay? I’m slightly intoxicated and I can feel the flames of hell all over my skin. Oh my God, there’s an itch on my back. Devin, there is an itch on my back! Help me, Devin, please!”

“Okay, calm down, Tasha. Calm down.” Devin took your face in her hands to get a better understanding of the symptoms you described. Just as she thought, you were suffering from a mild panic attack, and only marginally warmer than your normal temperature. As for the itch, she surmised that it was most likely an exaggeration. Still, she raked her fingernails across the center of your back to calm you. “You will be just fine, Tasha. Viagra comes with usually mild side effects so you may feel a headache or nausea aside from the expected arousal.”

“So, I’ll just be horny?”

“Just horny,” she assured you. “And, who knows, this could be what you need to get things moving at home. Or, you may not feel a thing. Either way, you’ll be fine.”

As you took in the information and murmurs of agreement from the group, most of your worry dissipated. The worst that could happen was a bout of nausea that you could explain away with the amount of wine you consumed during dinner. Sure, Chadwick would be upset, but it beat explaining you accidentally took a Viagra any day. The more time continued to tick away and the lights of Downtown Los Angeles faded into the tranquility of suburbia with no signs of abnormal arousal, the more you were sure that you had overrated.

A rare pothole in the neighborhood proved you wrong. The slight bump sent shockwaves through your lower half, pulling an unexpected and embarrassing moan from your throat. You were throbbing, confused, and begging for more at the same time.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Um, how much longer until we reach the destination?”

“Say about...four minutes.”

“Is there a way I can pay you extra to get me there in one?”

The driver chuckled as he turned onto your street, “No can do. This is my only stream of income right now. I just got laid off and…”

The middle-aged man’s life story faded into the background, leaving you to face the dull thump between your thighs and your nipples straining against the lace of your bra. By the time the heels of your Manolo pumps were clicking against the hardwood of your home’s foyer, you could feel the honey from your center coating inside of your thighs.

For a moment, all you could hear was your heart thumping wildly in your chest as you looked for any sign of your man. You were met with near silence and darkness in the kitchen and living room, leading you to believe that Chadwick was asleep and you would be left high and the complete opposite of dry for the night. The sound of the television in the home office down the lower level hallway gave you renewed hope that God had heard your prayers, seen your pain, and decided to end your suffering.

Removing your shoes, you tipped toed down the hallway to peek in the room, finding Chadwick sipping a beer with his feet propped on the ottoman while the Clippers game played on the projector against the wall. You let go of a relieved sigh and slowly crept into his line of vision. The blue light on his mahogany skin gave him a celestial glow to match the award-winning smile on his face.

“Look who’s home. D’you have a good time, baby? C’mere.” Chadwick opened his arms for you to join him on the couch, leaving your breath to hitch at the thought of being in such close proximity. His shirtless frame revealed a toned abdomen and sculpted chest. Cautiously, you placed your belongings on the ottoman before occupying the space on his lap. “Mmmm, I missed you. You would think I’d be able to handle a couple of hours without you in the house.”

Your nervous laughter pulled in the scent of his body wash and cologne, forcing you to stifle a needy whimper. “Well, I’m home now. How were the kids?”

“They were actually little angels. Micah helped me make tacos, Noah didn’t take off his diaper like last time, and both of them were asleep by nine. I think I’m getting the hang of this Dad thing. How were the girls?”

“You know, everyone is great. S-same ol -” Chadwick’s fingertips dragging up and down your exposed thigh put in a brief daze that you fought to snap out of.

“Co, are you okay?” Pulling away to get a look at your face, he caught a glimpse your eyes full of lust and partially covered with hooded lids. “Are you drunk?”

“Me? Drunk? Nooooooo. No, no, no, no. I’m not drunk at all.”

Your attempt at convincing your husband of your sobriety was unsuccessful, causing him to continue to press you for answers. “Yeah? If you ain’t drunk, then why you giving me the look?”

A staring contest commenced, the twinkle in his eye meeting the blank look in yours, as you cycled through various response options in your mind. You could admit to the four glasses of wine and pill or conveniently omit the latter altogether. Your therapist’s warning about half-truths still being lies picked the most inconvenient time to play on a loop in your mind, forcing you to come clean.

“Okay, so I did get drunk, but honestly what is drunk for me? You know my tolerance is low. I got a headache from all the wine and crying about you leaving me because we don’t have sex anymore so Vonne took me to the bathroom and told me to take an aspirin out of her purse except I took viagra by accident. What even is Viagra? Long story short, I’m so wet right now I might slip and fall if I stand up and I need you so bad right now! Please...help me.” Your admission came out in one breath and ended with a feeble plea for relief.

Chadwick stared back at you for a moment, confusion turning into a Cheshire smile and a light chuckle.

“You said all of that to tell me you want to make love?”

“No, you aren’t hearing me.” Pushing your body from his arms, you swung a leg over his waist to straddle his lap. His speed was no match for yours as you made quick work of cupping his face and pressing your lips onto his for a fiery kiss. His hands roamed your bottom half until he reached the hem of your dress to lift it to your waist.

Letting his bottom lip go with a whisper quiet pop, you focused your attention on his dazed expression.

“I need to fuck tonight. I want to be pounded, baby. Ruin me. Fuck. Me.”

“I think I can do that for you,” he purred, voice buzzing against your cheek as he leaned forward to nip and suck at a spot on your throat.

The feeling of his lips commanding goosebumps to prickle the skin on your arms and chest sent your mind into a fog. It was a battle between mind and body that forced you to press your palms flat against Chadwick’s chest to push your body off his lap.

“Take it off. All of it,” you commanded as you pulled the zipper down the front of your dress to reveal your lace bra and panty set. It was the first time you could remember wearing a pair of panties that didn’t cover every square inch of your ass, much less match your bra. None of that mattered as you discarded the damp item somewhere across the room.

Chadwick stood to his full height in front of you, displaying his body in all its beauty and glory. A split second of thick sexual energy turned into an all-out race to touch and taste whatever skin was available on each other’s bodies. Chadwick settled on your lips while took a firm hold on one of your ass cheeks, kneading the supple area and groaning at the feeling. As much as you loved his sensuality, now was not the time.

Breaking the kiss, you pushed your husband back onto the couch before dropping to your knees in front of him. You were too focused on running your hands down his stomach and thighs to notice Chadwick's head fall against the back of the couch at the simple sensation of your skin on his. For weeks he’d tried his best to hide his frustration at the lack of contact, often returning to the activities of his teenage years to stay sane. When your tongue licked a long stripe from base to tip, he could’ve sworn he saw his soul pack up and walk out of the room.

You were a woman on a mission. At some point, as you used both hands to twist around his shaft in alternating directions while you sucked as much as you could fit into your mouth, you forgot he was even in the room.

Sensing he was growing weak from the intensity of your oral demonstration, you took pause to show him some attention elsewhere. Your full lips pressed against his balls to hum a made-up tune, earning hushed curses and a near painful grip on your hair.

“Look at you,” he half spoke, half moaned. “You look so pretty with Daddy’s balls in your mouth. You gon’ make me cum?”

Flickering your eyes up to meet his, you moaned a sultry “mhmm” with your lips still wrapped around him.

“Good girl. Fuck, baby, just like that.”

You stuck around for a few moments longer to lightly suck and grip until the desire to return to his dick was too overwhelming. Moments later, with his hands on either side of your head, Chadwick held you in place while he released inside your mouth.

While always game for sex, Chadwick wasn’t prepared for you to move on so quickly. He was expecting a few minutes of touching, maybe even some reciprocity on his end, but you had other plans. Taking a swipe from your slick entrance, you used your essence as lubrication to jerk his member and speed up the arousal process. It didn’t take long for Chadwick to return to his full erect length. Both of you let out loud sighs of relief and bliss as you sunk down onto his dick, taking each inch bit by bit.

Chadwick watched you in awe as you took control, switching between positions with a dancer’s grace. Your control turned him on to no end while you rode him in whatever way you saw fit, and drank in all of your facial expressions and slurred praises when he plundered you across the arm of the couch.

By the time he found himself fucking into you against the wall with distorted images from the projector danced across your bodies, he was finding it hard to give you the intensity you desired while holding your legs around his waist. Your weight mixed with his aching muscles were becoming a recipe for disaster. Still, he allowed you to bounce in his lap well past his own orgasm in hopes that round four would be the knockout round.

Your body stiffened in his arms as your cried out his name, clawing at his back and tucking your nose into the crook of his neck while hot shoots of white light clouded your vision.

“That’s it, girl, let it go,” He murmured against your skin once he felt you begin to relax. His fingertips drew soothing circles at the small of your back as you began to pepper kisses along his collarbone.

“Oh my God.” The sparks of euphoria were beginning to wane, leaving you wanting more. “I feel like I just ran a mile.”

“You should! It’s been a while since you reached that far in your bag of tricks,” A long yawn left his lips as he reached around you to steady himself on the wall so that you could have room to dismount his waist and stand on your own. When you didn’t let go, he began to worry. “Is something w-”

“More.”

Your abrupt interruption made Chadwick raise his eyebrow in confusion. “What did you say?”

“I need more. You promised, Daddy.”

Chadwick’s jaw slackened in shock as you peered up at him with pleading eyes. He’d just poured his entire being into pleasing you for as long as he could muster, and you still were asking for more. What would’ve turned him on to no end was confusing and a bit demoralizing.

“You are...a monster,” he whispered more to himself than to you.

“Oh, please don’t start the dramatics, Aaron. Just say no if you don’t want to.”

“I just gave you my best performance in months and you want more? Am I only a sex object to you?” Chadwick watched you push away from his body to gather the clothes you could find before making your way to the doorway. “Where are you going? You can’t just walk out on me after this. I deserve to be big spooned after the work I just put in!”

His childish request for cuddling was equally amusing and irritating, forcing you to choke back a smile as you turned to answer his question. “I am going to finish in the bedroom. You can either sit down here and pout or come watch me put the Rabbit to use. Either way, I’m not done. Good night.”

Initially, Chadwick felt proud of himself for making his feelings known without receiving significant pushback. It wasn’t often that he told you no, and even when he did, he would always end up relenting in one way or another. The thought of you accepting a blatant refusal to continue without so much of a pout and one-sided argument became more perplexing the longer he sat (naked) on the couch. The thought of you upstairs, sprawled across the bed while you brought yourself to climax made Chadwick’s mind race and hands roam aimlessly around his body until he was feeling a familiar stiffening below.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he slouched against the couch, fighting the urge to accept defeat and race upstairs to join you. A small moan, one he was sure he wasn’t meant to hear, sent a chill down his spine while sending his resolve out of the room. Looking down, he addressed his member. “You think you got one more in you, bro? Good. Let’s go.”

_________

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#Chadwick Boseman #chad x coco #coco x chad #chadwick boseman imagine #chadwick boseman fan fiction

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makeste · 6 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 144: Kirishima Flashback Part 1

Previously on BnHA: Chance the Rappa and Fat the Gum prepared to have a punching match while Tengai and Kirishima stood there and watched. Rappa punched Fat Gum like 600 times as Kirishima looked on, feeling increasingly powerless. Finally his shounen instincts couldn’t take it anymore and he leapt in there to take some of the blows for FG. Rappa was impressed by his durability, but things weren’t looking too good, as Kirishima’s hardening kept reaching its limit and breaking only for him to turn it back on again. Having been all but turned into a bloody pulp, he finally tried to counterattack, only to have Tengai step in with his stupid barrier. Fortunately, Kirishima’s intervention gave Fat Gum time to charge up his attack power, and as Kiri fell, FG stepped in ready to kick some ass. Oh, and he’s hot now. All of a sudden, just out of fucking nowhere. Shit’s wild.

Today on BnHA: Hot Gum gets ready to punch some bad guys as reality abruptly gives way to a sudden Kirishima flashback. Middle school Eijirou tries to defend a hapless kouhai from some thugs, but is shown up by middle school Ashido Mina, who effortlessly befriends the thugs and teaches them the error of their thuggish ways. Everyone is all “oh shit Mina is awesome”, and Kiri thinks that he himself is pretty lame in comparison. He knows his quirk is nothing special, and he’s trying to compensate by having a manly spirit just like his hero Crimson Riot. Later on while walking home, he stumbles across an intimidating villain confronting two girls from his school. No heroes are around, and he knows he should step in and try to help, but he finds himself frozen in fear. Luckily, Mina arrives to save the day again and sends the villain on his way. Later that night, Kiri sits in his room thinking about how his manly heart failed when it really counted, and miserably crosses off U.A. from his school aspiration report.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 175 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

two chapters in one day?? is it just because Fat Gum is that hot? maybe. maybe it is

“Red Riot” is the chapter title; that’s very promising

anyway so Hot Gum is all rarin’ to go with his punchin’ fist

incredibly, Rappa is actually asking Tengai to lower the barrier. seriously, this type of villain basically does all of your work for you

Tengai is saying that Kirishima’s thrilling heroics in the previous chapter must have been intended to set up this attack

but Kiri’s thinking that’s not it at all, and that he was just scared

“again...”

oh my god. this is a flashback. we ‘bout to get that good angst, aren’t we

I guess this is Kiri’s middle school

some thugs are picking on a child who has a quirk that lets him transform leaves into sweet, sweet cash. omg. are you serious

oh wait, he says it’s only a temporary transformation. dang

is he supposed to be a tanuki or something. he doesn’t really look like one, but he’s kinda got similar ears, and there’s that shapeshifting leaves connection too so idk

lol actually I just read the translation notes and they’re confirming that he is indeed a tanuki

the thugs are all “we’ll just spend it before it turns back” but obviously that’s. not nice

and here comes our boy!

this motherfucker really does dye his hair. I can’t fucking believe it. that’s such a nice character touch because it’s totally unnecessary but it’s just a nice little additional character detail

anyway, he’s charging at these guys in hardened mode but one of them is chucking a rock at his face. which fucking hurts

wow, he was this weak as recently as his third year of middle school? if that’s the case, he’s gone through almost as rapid of a transformation as Deku

oh my god the thugs just picked up the weird little tanuki kid and are scampering off with him while Kiri is all “HEY WAIT”

what the fuck

were they watching the whole time?!

...

damn, Kiri’s friends need more spine

it’s so weird how he’s now best friends with a guy who not too long ago was not all that different from those thugs. and yet, maybe not that weird after all, because even at his worst, Bakugou was still a hell of a lot more honorable than these guys seem to be

now Kiri is dashing off heroically

I really want to meet Crimson Riot. although the way they talk about him makes me wonder if he’s an older generation hero and maybe retired now or something. but then, Gran Torino is getting on in years too and he still kicks ass, so

OH MY GOD WHAT

MINA!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE CRASHING KIRISHIMA’S FLASHBACK

ALSO, YOU TELL THOSE THUGS OFF GIRL. FUCK YEAH

OH MY GOD

oh my god

what in the name of

lol are they best friends now

just. fucking Mina. we don’t deserve her

now the bullies and the leaf kid are walking off sparkling and waving back at Mina

my god. send this girl off to Tomura and let her just befriend him and all of his stupid hands. problem solved. I fixed your manga for you

Kirishima are you appropriately impressed by Mina’s outrageous big dick energy

he and his buddies are watching as Mina’s friends come up and ask her if she wants to come with them to that shop and she’s like “yeah!”

they’re saying she’s gonna be one for sure. a hero, that is. presumably

yep

Kiri’s mildly annoying friends are talking about how heroes these days are different from the ones in the past. “it’s all about entertainment and approval ratings”

and they’re saying that Mina is a perfect fit for the job

and while I can’t argue that Mina is going to make a phenomenal hero, Kiri is feeling a little down on himself now, thinking that he’s just “kinda dull and boring”

damn, who would have thought Eijirou of all people would have self-esteem issues. I mean, we’d gotten some hints previously, especially a few chapters ago when we flashed back to their special moves training and he was thinking how plain his quirk was compared to the rest. but this is more than I thought

by the way I really don’t have room for all of these adopted kids

also, are they trying to imply some sort of Kirishima/Ashido thing here now? I feel like they’re slowly but surely pairing off all of the 1-A girls one by one. Ochako with Deku, Momo with Todoroki, Jirou with Kaminari, and now this. this leaves us with just Tsuyu left, basically. (and Hagakure, but I still think she might be the traitor, so)

(ETA: and how could I forget that she’s paired up with Ojiro? so that really is all of them accounted for except Tsuyu. I swear to god, if Horikoshi so much as sneezes in a way that implies he’s considering pairing her off with Mineta, I will fucking learn Japanese and move to Japan and become a Japanese citizen and go to Japanese law school and become a Japanese lawyer and sue the fucking shit out of him for everything he’s worth until I fucking own the series and can pair her off with the mongoose snake girl. don’t test me, sensei. this is a little frog girl’s life on the line here and I will fuck you up.)

but anyways, try as they might, I doubt most of these vaguely “official” het pairings stand even the ghostest of chances against all of the glorious gayness that this fandom has embraced

so now we’re cutting to a one-panel training montage of Kirishima doing pushups and hitting himself with a stick and doing sprints and shit

and all the while he’s thinking of his hero Crimson Riot, who apparently said that as long as you have a manly spirit, it doesn’t matter what your quirk is. aww

so now Kiri’s friends are discussing what they’re gonna put on their career sheets, and which high schools they want to apply to

Kirishima’s acting like he hasn’t decided and doesn’t already have his heart set on U.A.

aww, he’s patting the sheet in his pocket which has U.A. written on it as his preferred school

now he’s walking down the street wishing that he had more confidence

you know, the more I see of flashback!Kirishima, the more I understand why he was so quickly drawn to Bakugou. he naturally exudes the self-assurance that this Kiri wishes he had more of. it’s similar to the reasons why Deku was drawn to him too

also, here’s a big dude in a lumpy cloak who just appeared out of nowhere and what the hell

holy shit

for a second I thought he was transforming into something because the outline of his cloak was so weird, but nope, looks like he just has some sort of massive troll body

anyway, Kiri’s looking over and realizing that those girls that this dude is terrorizing are from his middle school

and once again there are no pros in sight. there never are

now the villain dude is touching the wall and it’s cracking

Kiri’s thinking the exact same thing as me about the pro heroes. I kid you not

because pro heroes are the worst, Kiri. well most of them anyway

(ETA: and it’s fitting that later on in this chapter, Kiri mentions that one time that about a half dozen heroes all gathered around to watch a fourteen-year-old boy nearly suffocate to death because they were all afraid to get too close to his quirk. thank fuck for the Minas and the Dekus of the world)

he’s looking around frantically and thinking “somebody...!”

and then realizing there is nobody and he’s gotta do this himself

but he’s frozen in fear omg

HOT DAMN BUT LOOK WHO IT IS THOUGH

NO ONE TOLD ME THIS KIRISHIMA FLASHBACK WOULD RESULT IN ME BEING CONVERTED INTO A HARDCORE MINA STAN

OH MY GOD

SHE’S GIVING HIM DIRECTIONS. TO THE HERO OFFICE. THAT HE WAS ASKING ABOUT EARLIER

sflkahd

I’m fucking speechless

(ETA: ...hold up. holy shit.

that profile. the radio hanging from his neck. that face. those lumpy rock shoulders. holy shit. this is that guy. the guy we saw again in 162. Giganto something. holy shit.

this guy took out half a fucking mountain and nearly killed Gran Torino and Naomasa. Gran referred to him as an it. this fucking guy is one of All for One’s direct subordinates. and fourteen-year-old Ashido Mina just stood her ground against him and didn’t back down.

yet again I’m fucking speechless. damn but this girl is so much more amazing than she’s been getting credit for. also I’m just gonna file away everything that we just saw here, because we all know this guy is going to become a big deal probably in the near future. I can’t believe I didn’t even make the connection the first time around.)

y’all think I’m kidding about siccing her on Tomura. I’m not. this is the way to go guys. this is how we win the day

and now she’s collapsing from fear and crying about how that was so scary

and her friends are embracing her and thanking her for saving their lives, and they’re all crying together

I can’t believe Ashido Mina is my new favorite character. well actually I can. how far out is the next character poll? I think still a good thirty or forty chapters out, but just you wait. this girl is going places

(ETA: I regret to announce that, after ranking Mina at a pitiful #36, behind Mineta and fucking Overhaul, Japanese BnHA fandom is cancelled. or at least the ones who voted for the aforementioned two are. more than a thousand people voted for You’re Damn Right He’s The Best Fucking Jeanist, though, so in the end I still can’t be too mad.)

Kirishima are you in proper awe of Mina’s massive, huge, just totally fucking colossal dick energy yet?! bow down to it!!

he’s still standing frozen across the street, just staring at them

and he’s berating himself for just standing there and not taking action

now it’s later that night, presumably, and he’s sitting at his desk staring at his career sheet or whatever you call it. “aspiration report”

holy shit he’s thinking about Bakugou, somehow, even though he hasn’t even met him yet. and Deku too

Deku out there inspiring people even before becoming the Symbol of Peace Jr. was ever even on the table. what a legend

Kiri is miserably thinking to himself that not even his heart was up to snuff. boring quirk, timid heart

oh no he’s picking the pencil up and I think he’s gonna erase U.A. from his number one choice

except that can’t be right, unless we’re about to cut back to present day!Kiri and shockingly find out that him attending U.A. has actually been a 140-chapter dream sequence this entire time. whaaaaaaaaat

but he really is crossing it out!

I can’t. I don’t. where am I going to put all these sons. too many sad children

also this chapter was only 13 pages long what the fuck

and now there’s an omake corner??

oh my god it seems like the scanlators took it upon themselves to fill up the additional space with translations from the official character book!

this is awesome. but it’s also way too long for me to read right now, so I’ll have to come back to it. maybe do it as a separate post if I get into it

(ETA: so I most definitely am going to do a separate post on the character book, but I’m not sure when that will be. I have the whole thing downloaded, along with as many translations as I can find, so it’s mostly just a matter of finding some time and energy to do it. it will mostly just be me nerdily comparing the characters’ stats and also going “omg you guyyyyyyyys” at that one concept art picture of Shouji without his facemask lol.)

BONUS:

KIRI COSTUME :D I’ve actually done a fair bit of wondering exactly what all this stuff does, so I’m excited to finally see!

so apparently the headgear is supposed to protect the weaker spots on his face. I like how the explanation acknowledges that it rarely works :’)

and here we go, an explanation for the arm covers which were a new addition during the provisional license arc!

so apparently they’re to help protect the people he rescues from getting hurt if he has to carry them. that’s so thoughtful. here I thought he was just getting cold lol

I love his reasoning for wearing a deliberately tattered-looking costume. just embracing it as part of his look. Deku might want to consider a similar strategy at some point

the “manly justice” theme is just perfect. although ngl, I would have also enjoyed if we kept our usual naming conventions and these were referred to as kimipads, kimicovers, etc. but this works too, and it fits him to a T

I hope and assume that the double exclamation points are part of the official name. not just manly justice, but manly justice!! !!!!!!!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #kirishima eijirou #fat gum #ashido mina #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #so we're all in agreement that mina is the actual star of kirishima's flashbacks yes #which isn't to say that I don't love kiri or that I didn't enjoy his character development #because I did #very much #but there's just no denying that ashido fucking mina stepped in here out of nowhere and just seized my heart and was all 'mine now'#and I just let her because *holy shit* though you guys #she's been pretty amazing in the cultural festival arc as well #she's just the best and I fucking adore her

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babyboyoonie · 6 years ago

Note

Do you do requests..? :o Can I ask for a teacher/student forbidden relationship? But like.. Yoon is the student?

Sure anon ❤️❤️❤️

Disclaimer: since I have to remind people so often I’ll leave this here. This is fiction. Don’t take it seriously. Appreciate our works and our way to love the boys and next pls. 🤧

Here we go!

Hoseok tastes butterscotch on the tip of his lips; imagines the aroma of cherries all over his taste buds as he yearns for a forbidden fruit too far away for even a glimpse of their pretty face.

“You do realize it’s like, your last night as a free man right?”

Suho’s dramatic voice cuts Hoseok’s delusions of bleached blond locks on his pillow and petite hips between his hands, for him to grab, to manhandle however he desires. Hoseok’s so fucking pathetic, God.

He huffs out a breath, chuckles low in his throat and kicking his friend in the shin.

“I just love how you make it seem like the dude’s getting married. We all know Seok—he’s gonna party even though he has morning classes to teach.”

Junhong knows him way too well for Hoseok’s liking. Chances are that he also caught the mooning looks Hoseok’s been throwing the petite figure that’s been sitting at the corner of the club. Little flower seemingly protected by a bunch of men that throw dirty looks to anyone getting too close for their liking.

Ugh. He chugs down his drink.

“I would not.” Hoseok totally would, and they know it, if the blank looks they were throwing his way were anything to go by.

He shrugs, a wide smile stretching his lips as he rips his eyes away from the person he can’t even guess the gender from over here. Can’t even see their face for God’s sake. But hey, does it really matter?

His burst of energy is contagious, it seems, because there are a bouquet of amused grins following his. Content, pure enjoyment, if only a tad bit colored by that sweet craziness that comes with tip-toeing on the edges of being drunk.

“To your promotion man,” Junhong cheers, sliding an arm around his shoulders and raising his questionable drink with the others. Hoseok knows better than to ask questions.

“Cheers!” It’s a cacophony of his friends screeching. Hyungwoon sliding into a suspicious high note, Suho staggering on his feet before he jumps on the table, and Hyerin cackling her ass off—Hoseok seriously considers asking the bartender to cut her off. But—but no. They’re here to look over her in case something happens. That’s what best friends do.

Hoseok knocks back the remains of his drink, not quite drunk, but not totally sober either. He stares at his empty glass, licks his lips, the slight burn of alcohol sending another bout of excitement into his blood. And he’s gonna stop there, because everybody and their grandmas knew Jung Hoseok couldn’t handle his liquor to save his life. Lest he do something as stupid as try to talk to that sweet flower when he’s oh so clearly off limits.

Ugh, again.

A light haze settles over him, and his already low inhibitions break slowly the more time passes; the more he laughs, the more his friends speak nonsense and wild around like they were teenagers again. And so what if the late twenties meant getting more serious and have a different outlook on life? Hoseok didn’t think so. Was persuaded there was no such things as suddenly shifting around just because one neared more their thirties and had a job they were going to keep forever. Yeah, he was going to start teaching as a college professor tomorrow. First things in the morning—

—But…he was still himself. Fun-loving, dance-addict Jung Hoseok. Not quite willing to jump into stupid things like in his younger days; but not bitter either…like one would think for someone with such a heavy string of failed relationships. The thought makes him grimace. He jumps on his feet, shrugs off the heat and the veil of drinking that tried to settle over his brain. “‘m gonna dance,” he says out loud, announces more like, determined.

Junhong stops trying to get Suho out of his boots—what the fuck—to grin up at him wide. Mischievous. Here we go—“You gon’ try and get that cutie huh?”

“Shut up!” He laughs, rolling his eyes; unable to stop himself from blushing. Heating up at the thought, images vivid yet sweetly blurry printing themselves on the back of his eyelids. Hoseok’s heart’s so weak. Falling so easily, so strongly. It’s a fire that lights up suddenly and burns whoever had the bad luck of being the target of his ephemeral adoration.

But it tastes different, this time. Cherry eternity. Hoseok’s so weak. Can already imagine himself picking flowers with an angel he only caught the pale skin of and a petite figure looking like it’s been sculpted to be broken good. So good.

He tilts his head on the side, hazy and shameful but not really. Giving up, somewhere, steps leading him to the bar. Just at the edge of sliding in the mass of grinding people that try to make it pass as dance. Successful, no one pays head about anyone’s business in the dim lights of the club. Hoseok’s at the edge. Going to pass the lines of beings sat at the bar stools and knocking back drinks like water. Aims to forget his sudden obsession with fire and heat and touching people that aren’t this pretty wildflower—

It happens in a second; just a flash. He kind of stops breathing for a while.

The angel sitting at the bar looks equally ethereal as he looks uncomfortable. Upset. Curled, little body on the stool; long fingers playing nervously with the hem of his shirt. And goodness, and goodness. He’s shaking. Just slightly, almost imperceptible, but Hoseok’s firing way too fast toward him to not see it.

To realize that, perhaps, the shaking may be of anger. Directed rightly to the large hand itching higher and higher on his thigh; from the sleazy man probably in his forties that’s leering down and dirty at him. Swallowing up his personal space.

Hoseok’s shaking too. Vivid, as if he had seen a ghost. Barely glances at the most certainly pretty face he’s been itching to see all night. His eyes are frigid, he knows, as much as his blood’s boiling. Fake cheery smile and voice way too high for it to be totally natural. “Aw pumpkin…Making friends without me?” The pout that forms on his lip’s well studied. Used again and again and honed perfectly for quick change of masks.

Hoseok’s good at that. Knows the act he puts on’s perfect enough for two; but he wavers. Wavers when delicate fingers intertwine with his, a soft and spring-like smell taking over his senses as a warm body melt into his. Hoseok gets—Hoseok gets distracted. Looks down, slowly, smile still carefully joyous, and he sees. Finally. He sees.

And, Lord, Hoseok could cry. How did they make boys so pretty?

Boys with such pretty lips? This one…has a very, very pretty pair of lips. All pink and soft-looking, glistening with a red tilt that could be cherry chapstick as much as the vivid red drink the boy’s been nursing. It forms a sweet, relieved little grin as he looks up at Hoseok. “Never, honey,” he whispers, and Hoseok hears angel weeps at the angelic music that forms his voice. “He was just leaving, wasn’t he…?”

The creep had since long retreated his wondering hand. Nurses it close to himself, gaze unreadable, sobered up from his previous inebriated state. Finally, he breaks out into a leer as he gets up. “Whatever,” he shrugs. Downs his drink under Hoseok’s half still spell-bound and enamored gaze at the boy beside him, and half chilly at the older man. He throws them a last, knowing gaze, stumbling away with a very loud—“at least someone’s tapping that jail-bait ass.”

Wow. That was just a whole other level of creepiness right there. Hoseok shudders.

And then, it’s just the two of them. Not really. Not with the hundreds of body pressed against each other not so far from them. Not with his own friends probably wondering where he ran to; and the darling boy pressed against him—so little and warm—with his army of friends that would most certainly have hoseok’s head for being so close. It’s not just the two of them. But the boy’s smiling up at Hoseok. A little sheepish, a lot sweet. Cheeks a pretty shade of pink, but perhaps it is just Hoseok’s wishful thinking. At this instant, it’s only them.

“I’m—I’m legal. I swear.”

Hoseok blinks. And then laughs. A stifled, quieter version of his usual laugh, but not less filled with mirth. Kind of fonder, a lot relieved. Thanks fuck. Hoseok was going to fucking cry and go back moping and morose with his friends had the boy not been of age. He’s thirsty and with a huge heart boner for a little man he’s been mooning over all night—but he’s not that much of a creep.

He swallows the rest of his laugh, biting his lip, inching closer down. The boy’s lips part, and Hoseok’s eyes can’t help but follow the movement. “Well, hi, legal. I’m Hoseok.”

“You’re the worst,” the boy bursts out with a laugh, the hand still tightly intertwined with Hoseok’s squeezing tightly. His laugh stretches his cute little mouth to expose lovely gums and oh, oh. He’s so cute, Hoseok’s on the verge of tears again. “I’m Yoongi.”

Yoongi. Little, giggly and starlit-eyes man’s called Yoongi. Doesn’t look away from Hoseok, a little smile still on the corner of his lips. Bright something, illuminating the dark club, sitting pretty on his snow face and turning Hoseok’s legs wobbly jelly. “I,” Hoseok mutters, grip tightening around the little man’s shoulders. “please don’t hesitate to punch me in the face if I do something you dislike.”

“You’d have to do something else other than look at me from the other side of the room first, big boy,” the air turns a little thin with Yoongi’s whisper. Cheeky baby. Low voice tingly, oh so pleasing. Then heavier, as he looks up at Hoseok again. Cat-like eyes turned into bedroom eyes. Head tilted and mouth parting again, inviting. Hoseok could bite those lips and feast upon them until his damn last breath.

Yoongi doesn’t lean away, when Hoseok leans down down. Light body balancing between the hands that seize his hips, blooming flower, night sky in his eyes and millions of promises on his lips; vivid youth colored red delight, he’s so tiny between hoseok’s hands—yet so /powerful/. Aura wrapping in waves all around them, pliant for Hoseok, but a fire-like something in the corners of his grin that assures he could knock him flat if he ever wanted to.

And so, and so—

Later that night, when Hoseok’s towering over Yoongi’s quivering, raw-kissed and bitten body, filling him up to the brim and swallowing his every breath and moans—he silently congratulates himself on not getting punched once.

—

Hoseok has classes to teach like, right now. Right this instant. Has already written his name and raised his head to beam up at this new class. He has a class to teach. But he kind of wants to die, right now.

He spent the whole night and morning wondering how to keep the precious boy that curled in a ball on Hoseok’s chest, like a heat-seeking kitten. Didn’t have to try that hard, to his utter amazement. Yoongi has his number saved in Hoseok’s phone over breakfast. Doesn’t speak much after waking up, but he’s darling, so so darling. Lets himself be maneuvered and manhandled without a sound, seems to actually purr when his hair’s played with and—so easy to get along with. Hoseok feels like he’s known him for years. Grew up with him playing and staring at his cereals for an hour before eating it. It feels like an old memory poking his head in the present, to come in the bathroom and see the sleepy little man brushing his teeth slowly with Hoseok’s spare brush tooth.

Yoongi hadn’t need to do a whole lot for Hoseok to be utterly and completely smitten. And so, and so. The whole night and morning were spent with Yoongi-filled thoughts. Regretting not accompanying him this morning to spend more time with him.

Now—

Hoseok’s not sure it would have been a good idea.

He stares at the blanching, eyes-widening man sat not so far from him, and kind of dies a little.

Yoongi just had to be his student didn’t he?

#yoonseok #prompt #ask answered 💗#teacher/student au

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thehorrcr · 6 years ago

Text

FIRST CHAPTER OF VAMPIRE MCR FIC THAT U SHOULD DEFINITELY READ, BECAUSE IT’S ACTUALLY PRETTY FUCKING FUNNY

Frank’s stomach growled furiously, he clutched his abdomen and used his other hand to steady himself against a wall. The world swung in and out of focus, like carnival lights through squinted lashes. Everything felt as if it were blushing, drunkenly. “Fuck.” Frank gasped, resting his forehead against the cool brick of the alleyway. The rough surface cut into his skin, but he welcomed the pain. Anything was better than the growing hole that was forming in his stomach. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He spat each word out, like it was made of acid. This was the part he always hated, the part where he had to decide. Whether or not he’d rather starve to death, or… or. His mind quieted, not wanting to finish off that last part. It was better not to think about this. Maybe this time he’d have enough control. He’d simply ride out the hunger pains, the shaking in his hands, the splitting headache and icy chill that ran up and down his spine. Until it faded into nothing, like morphine being shot into his veins. He’d lick up every last bit of his own destruction, until it tasted like starlight on his tongue. Until, he’d simply fade into it.

Another bout of hunger pains stabbed through Frank’s stomach and he let out a yelp, turning so that his back was pressed to the wall. He slowly slid down it, until he was crumpled over his knees. His head, tilted back so that he could see the sky dancing above him. The stars winked back at him, like rotting teeth in a monster’s mouth. “Stop laughing at me.” He muttered. The universe had been using Frank as its toy ever since December of last year.

Frank, in his pity party, let the memory come back to him. It had been a frigid night, and Frank had been staying over at Brian’s house until dawn started to shiver its way out of the horizon. The temperature had dipped into the single digits, turning everything the wind touched into a walking popsicle.

“Don’t go out in that shit, Frankie.” Brian had said, as Frank started to collect his things. “You could hit black ice or somethin’, and I can’t have you dying on me.” He pointed a pair of chopsticks at him. They had ordered take out, and there was still some leftovers scattered on the table. For a moment, Frank had hovered by the door. The temptation between the fried rice, and full-feeling of his stomach, placing a haze over everything. Who wanted to go out into the freezing fucking cold, when Brian had a couch and a heater?

But then, reality sunk back in. Frank had work at 8 a.m., and there was no way he was going to make it, if he stayed at Brian’s. And he was already dangerously close to getting his own ass fired. (An incident with the ice cream machine had gone awry, and had caused Triple Nut Blast to get all over the kitchen.) (It was safe to say, Frank’s manager hadn’t been too pleased to have been informed that there was triple nut juice all over everything.)

Frank let out a heavy sigh, throwing his keys up in the air and then catching them before they fell, “I gotta work, Brian. You know that.”

“Call in sick. That’s bullshit! The roads are covered in ice!” Brian exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. “Is your job really worth your life?”

“Without my job, I can’t afford my goddamn life. That’s capitalism, babe.” Frank teased.

Brian groaned, “Shit, fine. Just be safe.” He threw an ice scraper at Frank, which he fumbled with before catching it. “You’ll need that, Iero. Thank me later.”

“Goodbye Brian.” Frank sang as he opened the door, letting the chill morning spill into the living room. Brian cursed, practically hissing at mother nature as she invaded his house.

“Shut the goddamn door!” Brian called after Frank, as he had pulled the door close, and had headed out into the still-night. That waited, like an egg, waiting to be cracked open into dawn.

The memory faded, as the pain intensified. Frank felt sweat beading at his brow, as he tried to focus on the world around him. Any moment now, and he’d lose his last bit of restraint. He’d descend into that dark place, and by this time tomorrow night he’d have more blood on his hands, than a filthy rich politician. Frank swore, banging his head back into the brick wall. He had to get to Ray’s place soon, or else he was going to turn the entire town into an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet.

Frank stumbled to his feet, and started to make his way towards the vague direction, in which he remembered leaving his car. Laughter filled the alley, and for a second, Frank wondered if God was truly mocking his pain. It wouldn’t surprise him, he turned his head over his shoulder to curse up at the sky, but his attention was caught by a blur of movement, down at the other end of the alleyway. Steam was rising up from the grates in the ground, making it hard to make out the silouhettes. But Frank could see a group of guys, huddled around something. Their figures dancing like shadow puppets. Adrenaline kicked into Frank’s chest, he could smell them.

The scent of their blood, rosey, and full of decay, flooded Frank’s system. Saliva pooled into his mouth, his incisors, starting to push their way through his gums. A moan escaped his lips, without his consent as he blindly started to fumble his way towards the group. He couldn’t stop himself, the only thoughts that filled his mind was longing for the crisp, salty taste of blood on his lips. The type that blurred his vision, and filled him with infinity on high. As if he had tipped the stars into a wine glass, and had drunk until he saw visions of heaven itself.

He needed that fucking juice. The same way humans needed oxygen, or beauty sleep. They were shouting, the sound bounced inside of Frank’s skull. Until the noise twisted itself into a lullabye of screams, the types of screams that would bloom from their throats, as Frank tore into them. They didn’t even notice him, he was a panther, a shadow, the fucking grim reaper himself -

And then Frank caught his reflection in a puddle. He could see the veins, spreading out from his eyes in black rivulets. His eyes, a starved crimson started to fade when they met their own gaze. He looked deranged, like a stolen version of himself. Frank started to come to his senses, his own thoughts staining his conscious as he realized… he had wanted blood. He had wanted to kill for it.

In fact… he still almost-wanted it. The sensation of the senseless greed tugged in his stomach, like a riptide that had threatened to drag him out to sea. It took all of Frank’s strength to fight against it. He took another glance at the group of boys, and disgust pinched at his insides. He needed to get to Ray’s house so he could take a bath, and drown himself in beer.

Plus… Ray’s company could solve any problem, and that was one thing that Frank was entirely sure of. So, he turned on his heels and started to make his way back to his car. This time, his head was clear, despite the horror that was ripping its way through his stomach…

And then there that scream… that ripped through the night, like lightning tearing a hole through the great big beyond. It was desperate… and so… so… scared.

Frank recognized that noise… it sounded like how he had… on that night… that night when -

“I don’t want to die! Don’t fucking touch me! I said, don’t fucking-” It was a guy, a young guy, from what Frank could tell. It came from the group that Frank had almost turned into human-capri sun pouches, only a few moments before. It took Frank a second to realize, that they weren’t just having a jack-off session in the middle of an alley way… they were fucking mugging someone. Anger tore a hole through what was left of his restraint, if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was bullies.

He placed his hands on the brick wall beside him, and silently prayed for a moment that his weird powers would kick in, despite the fact that he was weak as all hell. He started to climb, his hand slipping after a few steps, but he regained his footing quickly. Frank crawled his way up the wall, and onto the fire escape, and then the roof.

The thing was, sure Frank had weird demonic capabilities that had been “bestowed upon him” by the dark one, himself. Or at least, that was quote, unquote what Luke claimed. But, he was still 5’6, and low on battery power. Taking on a group of guys that were twice his size, wasn’t the best possible choice he could make at that moment in time.

However, sneaking up on them could give Frank an extra edge, and that was all he needed.

Once Frank was on the roof, he stationed himself so that he was right above where the group was huddled. He could then see, that they were in fact, towering over a smaller kid who looked like he had lost a fight with a straight iron. One of the guys, was holding a gun and had it pointed at the kid, as he emptied out his pockets. From here, Frank could hear him saying, “Listen, I don’t have any fucking money!! This is all I have!” But the guys weren’t having any of it… they wanted more than just money…

They wanted blood.

Frank let out a sigh, standing up and popping his neck. “Ladies and gentleman prepare yourselves… as Frank Iero takes the high dive - “

Down below the click of the gun cocking, echoed off the walls. That were bent over the figures, like nosey old ladies.

Frank bent his knees, preparing himself to jump, “In one spectacular display of -”

The kid began to sob, “Please, you can’t do this to me -”

“Stop crying, or I’ll blow your brains out, fucko.” The guy replied, a cruel smile creeping its way onto his face. “Tell me, how do you look in red?”

“Self destruction.” Frank finished, and then jumped off the edge of the building. The wind rushed past his ears, as he plummeted to the ground below. The world’s colors blended together, until they all sang together, like a symphony of grey and yellow. New Jersey’s shine, couldn’t even cut through the crimson headache that pounded through Frank’s head as he smacked into the pavement. The sound of a gun firing went off, and another pain shot through Frank’s chest. It felt as if a snake had bit him in the goddamn tit. “Mother! Fucker!” Frank exclaimed. Blood was pouring from his mouth, as he sat up.

His neck was turned 180 degrees, and he was looking straight up at a blonde kid. Who couldn’t be older than 18, his mouth dropped open into a wide O. “What? You’ve never seen a double axel performed off of a 20 story building before?”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?” Asked one of the other guys. Frank twisted his neck around with a sickening pop. Half the group shivered, collectively at the noise. “Who the fuck are you? Some sorta goddamn mutant?”

“Do I look like Wolverine to you, jack-ass?” Frank hissed. The kid all but sewed his mouth shut. Frank turned so that he could see the victim, a stick-like kid who wore glasses all the way at the bottom of his nose. One of the lenses was cracked, and blood was pouring from his nose. He was staring at Frank with an awe-struck look on his face. “Were they fucking with you, kid?” Frank asked.

The kid looked from Frank to the group, who seemed to all take a big step away from Frank at once. All except for the one guy with a gun. “Y-Yes.” He stuttered out. He frowned, “Who are you?”

“Your guardian angel, baby.” Frank replied. He pushed himself up to his feet, and took a deep breath before saying loudly, “Listen. For all you shits know, I am a God sent here to fuck your absolute sorry asses up for being a pile of dick bags to this kid right here. Either you take yourselves back home to your moms and have a self-pity jerk off session, or I’ll unleash unholy reckoning onto all of you.”

Half the guys backed out, but the guy with the gun barked back at them, “Don’t listen to him! He’s a crack head! Help me gut him, and I’ll pay you later!”

“Yeah fuckin’ right! He’s a crack head that just survived a 20 story drop onto the pavement!” Said the blonde kid, as he started to turn to make a run for it, “He could be the anti-christ for all we know!”

Frank smirked, he liked the sound of that. The kid with the glasses turned to him, looking dazed and a bit like he forgot to turn the stove off at home. “Are you the anti-christ?”

Before Frank could answer, a sharp pain shot through his skull. His jaw smacked into the rough brick of the wall, as a guy shoved him into it. “You should’ve minded your own goddamn business. Now I am gonna have to kill you, too.”

Frank started to mutter something. The guy growled, “What?!” Frank continued to try to speak, until he finally let up, and pulled Frank away from the wall.

“I said, you can’t kill what’s already dead, asshole.” Frank then, smacked his head into the other guy’s forehead. After that, all hell broke loose. The guys all lunged for Frank, Frank was little and he used that to his advantage as he ducked between them, dodging their punches as if he were a pro-wrestler. One guy had a switch blade in one hand, and tried to take a jab at Frank. Frank jumped onto another guy’s back, just as the guy lunged forward with the blade. It’s sharp edge sunk into the other guy’s arm. He let out a cry, and Frank jumped off of him. There were only three left. Frank was winning, Frank was -

Another gun shot went off, and Frank closed his eyes, preparing himself for the pain. But it didn’t come.

He opened his eyes again, and a sinking feeling dragged into through his gut. “What the fuck did you just do?” Frank asked.

“Don’t take it personally, babe.” The guy with the gun said in a mocking tone. A shadow had fallen over the alley, the moon’s silver light had been cloaked by a cloud. The man looked more menacing now, he was a devil in hiding. Frank just wish he had realized that sooner. “It’s just business.”

“C’mon, lets book it before the cops come!” Said one of the boys. They all started to take off, one by one, down the alley. Frank watched them go, swearing at them as they ran, like a pack of wolves. His attention though, was drawn away by the sound of a low moan. It was hard to believe that it actually came from a human. It sounded like something that could only be made from the low groan of stars, grinding themselves together. Until they were nothing but dust.

Frank turned to see the kid, hunched over on the ground, cradling his stomach. “Do you hear that, too?” He asked, softly.

Frank collapsed onto his knees next to him, placing his hands on his shoulders and tilting his head up so that he was looking at him. Rage, confusion and fear wrapped their cold icy hands around Frank’s heart, until all he could make sense of was the smell of blood that was pouring from the wound. “What do you hear?” Frank asked, calmly. But he was anything but that.

“The ringing… it sounds like -”

“Kid- “ Frank started.

“Angels.” He finished.

“What’s your name?” Frank asked softly. He tried to pick him up, but the kid hissed in pain when Frank tried to move him. Helplessness was clawing its way up Frank’s throat in the form of a sob, as he stared at this other… human being. This human being that he could’ve saved, but he had failed. Failed. Failed.

“Mikey. My name’s Mikey.” Blood was starting to leak from the side of Mikey’s mouth. Frank held him closely, wrapping his arms around him so that he was warm. Mikey’s head rested against Frank’s chest, Frank ran his hands through his hair. His finger slick with sweat that was beading itself on Mikey’s forehead, humming softly, they stayed there like that, in silence until he spoke up again. “My brother is going to kill me.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, bud.” Frank muttered. He cringed, and hoped that he hadn’t caught that sentence.

“This is his favorite Iron Maiden T-shirt.” Mikey laughed. The wind-chime noise faded, and a more serious shadow crossed his face. “I don’t want to die.” His voice trembled as the words escaped his mouth. “Please… don’t let me die. I don’t… I don’t want to go. Not yet. Please.” He was begging Frank for a mercy that he didn’t know how to give unless -

Unless…

Another hunger pain shot itself through Frank’s stomach and he cursed his own weakness. The responsible thing to do would be to hold Mikey’s hand until he drifted off into that blissful sleep. Until his heart finally gave out, like a missed note in a symphony. Until everything drained out of him, like sunlight leeching itself from winter’s harsh landscape. But… the starving part of Frank… no, the hopeful part of Frank. Knew he could do something more.

But at what cost?

Frank bit his lip, and drew blood. His teeth were already starting to peek their way through, betraying his ill intentions. “What if… I told you, I could save you?”

“Does this go along with that whole God thing, you mentioned earlier?” Mikey joked. His eyes were starting to turn a glassy, as he stared up at a point just past Frank’s head. As if trying to seek divine intervention from the stars.

“It.. sorta does.” Frank said. And technically, he wasn’t lying. “I can save you, but promise you won’t kill me afterwards.” He said, quickly.

Mikey made a “mmm” sound. His face paled, his body too weak to make a proper reply. Frank swore, saying a soft “I am sorry” to no one in particular, before sinking his teeth into Mikey’s neck. The soft flesh ripped apart, juicy and raw, like a tangerine. Blood rushed to the surface, flooding Frank’s mouth until he was drowning in a feral type of ecstacy. Adrenaline rushed through Frank’s body, as he drank, and Mikey’s body convulsed below him. He felt as if he truly were a God. Strength returned to his body, and the world bloomed into full color. The smells, the noises, the sounds, all running to greet him. Frank trembled, he was going to fucking drain Mikey dry if he didn’t stop, soon. But it was… so good. Relief was a drug, and it was addicting. Frank wanted to bathe in this type of bliss for the rest of his days, until everything was this painless, this euphoric, this -

There was the banging noise of a car door being slammed. Frank snapped out of his frenzy, and withdrew his fangs from Mikey’s neck. Mikey was unconscious, his eyes still staring up at the sky like a hopeless wanderer, trying to find their way home in the stars. “Mikey?” Called a voice. Frank cursed, again. And gently placed Mikey’s head onto the ground.

“You’ll wake up in 12 hours. Don’t do anything I would do. Also you can’t turn into a bat, so don’t try to fly. I still have scars from jumping out my bedroom window... “ Frank paused, and took a quick breath, “I’ll see you soon, Mikey.” Frank said. Whether or not Mikey could actually hear him, he wasn’t sure. Someone was approaching around the corner, Frank took one last look at Mikey before disappearing into smoke. Leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood, and one of his busted up converse.

#MY WRITING #MCR #POLTERGEIST

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