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theasstour · 4 years ago

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𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

A/N: Now that we’re at the end of year 1, there will be a lil pause in updates for the time being, just fyi! Next update will be on Sunday 23rd May and then every Sunday until the end of the second year again, which is a tag bit longer and MUCH more eventful than the first year aiajfiegj ✨ Anyway !!! Enjoy chapter 11, it’s a Lot 🏛️🦅

December 2013

Though Y/N was used to her sister doing things when she wanted to and not really having a care in the world for what anyone else would think, it still took her a little by surprise when she walked in the direction of the woods. The sisters had helped their parents carry all the luggage indoors, not doing so would result in Lottie scolding them for being lazy. Neither wanted the Christmas cabin trip to start on a bad note.

“You coming?!” Marcela called to her sister, stopping by a tree and resting her hand against it.

“Coming…” Y/N said to herself, looking over at the cabin door that still stood open before glancing in Marcela’s direction again. “Coming where?!”

“Let’s take a walk!”

It was just about to get dark, the sky above them white like a cotton blanket was draped lazily over the south of Wales, but greying with an oncoming storm. The last time Y/N had been to Newport was a weekend in October, but it had been raining constantly, so she had not taken the time to walk around the forest or stroll down to the ocean a mere 10-minute walk from the cabin. She had just been indoors, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and not feeling any sort of need to leave the cabin’s four warm walls. Marcela had been in Manchester then, busy with uni work, and planning on spending the weekend studying in the library. She had an article that needed to be written for the UoM’s monthly academic journal, she said she wanted to finish it as quickly as possible, so Y/N had not asked her sister to drop it and come regardless. Though she had very much wanted to do just that.

“Y/N!”

Y/N walked over to her sister instantly, jogging a little to reach her before Marcela just turned around and started walking on before they were side by side. Though the trees around them weren’t many, they were big. Huge beech trunks rose up from the ground around them sporadically, their massive branches stretching out around them like the long, slithering limbs of many insects. Different coloured leaves covered most of the forest floor, though some brown and yellow still lingered in the dark, old trees. In summertime, most of the forest was left in shade, covered up by the thick layer of leaves that rose high above them, preventing actual sunbeams from touching the ground.

“Any idea what you’re gonna be wearing for New Year’s Eve?” Marcela asked once the two of them had walked a minute in silence.

New Year’s Eve was just a few days away, and the family planned on spending it alone in Newport. Marcela usually spent it with Kit and friends in Manchester, but it had been a while since she had celebrated a proper Brazilian New Year’s Eve. Though the Montes family usually spent it in Nottingham with the rest of their big family, Davi and Lottie wanted to try and spend this one with just the four of them. Neither one of the sisters were opposed to the idea, it just meant they wouldn’t have to watch their primos, Edgar at 7, Valentim at 5, and Raimundo at 2, while tia Gilma and tio Jaren ate their Véspera de Ano Novo dinner undisturbed. They loved their primos dearly, but it often left both of them massaging their temples to get rid of a throbbing headache afterwards.

“I brought a white tee shirt and some white joggers,” Y/N said, wrinkling her nose. “I hate wearing white.”

“Why, it doesn’t go with your gothic-black-clothing type of lifestyle?” Marcela laughed, reaching up and picking a yellow leaf off a branch.

Y/N did not feel like telling Marcela why she hated wearing white. And in turn therefore hated part of New Year’s Eve. Only that one part.

Davi always started off every Réveillon, or every new year, by knocking on his daughters’ doors and exclaiming, “Ano novo, vida nova!” New Year, new life. Brazilians are extremely superstitious when it comes to New Year’s Eve. What you do, eat, and wear on New Year’s Eve, will draw certain energies and wishes for the upcoming year. New Year’s Eve in Rio de Janeiro is a massive beach party from Copacabana Beach to Ipanema and beyond. Millions upon millions of people gather at their nearest beach to celebrate, starting early in the evening and going all night, Y/N had always dreamed of one day experiencing that herself. She had been to Brazil, but never on New Year’s Eve.

One of the Brazilian traditions for New Year’s is to wear all-white. Y/N was told by Davi years ago that the tradition came from African religions as an homage to the God Oxalá. It was then adopted by Roman Catholics and Evangelists alike, and though their family wasn’t religious, they practiced this regardless. Another tradition that you did alongside the all-white, was that you have to wear coloured underwear on New Year’s, and it all depended on what you want you want the new year to bring.

“I brought a white dress,” Marcela explained. “What colour?”

“Hmm, I brought a few colours. Think I might go with laranja.”

“Orange,” Marcela smiled. “Professional success. Good choice.”

“And you?”

“Amarelo.”

Y/N blinked. “Yellow.”

“Luck,” Marcela said. “What do you think everyone that sees us at the beach on New Year’s Eve are gonna think? They’ll see us jumping into the water and into seven ondas.” Marcela laughed. “Unless they know of Brazilian culture, they won’t understand what’s going on.”

Y/N smiled.

“Let’s confuse them.”

“Going into the ocean at midnight and jumping into seven waves for good luck, is nice.” Y/N wrinkled her nose. “If the water just hadn’t been so cold.”

“And we need to jump into the ice-cold waves head-on.”

“But you can make one wish for each wave.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s been a while since we got to do that, not a lot of ocean in Notts.”

Marcela smiled. “If only we were in Copacabana.”

“I want to watch the fireworks there so baaad!”

“Instead we’re stuck in Newport.”

“Well,” Y/N said, cocking her head to the side as she caressed a tree when they walked past it. “You decided to come here yourself, I was forced. I’m stuck, you can leave.”

Marcela only bumped Y/N’s shoulder with her own, shaking her head at her before she jogged a bit away. Y/N just continued on walking, thinking that her sister had just found a rock or something else that she wanted to pick up, but after a few metres, she was still not back. Turning around, she saw her sister hunched over something further away than she had seen her last, wiping at something on the ground as if to reveal something hidden beneath the layer of leaves and dirt there. Y/N walked over, feeling as if the forest around them had just gone deadly quiet. Marcela stood as Y/N approached, pointing at something on the ground.

A small cellar hatch. Made out of old wood and painted a ghastly brown colour to blend in with the nature around it. In the 10 or so years the Montes family had owned the Newport cabin, never had Y/N stumbled upon this hatch. It looked aged, as if it had been there for way longer than the cabin had. Or maybe it had been made in a hurry and left just like this, with no one to care for it. Y/N looked over at Marcela who was studying the hatch, bending down again to check it out more closely.

“Do you think anyone lives here?” she asked. The question made Y/N feel oddly cold.

“Would hope not. It’s right next to our cabin.”

“Why would it be here otherwise?”

“Dunno.” Y/N looked around them, the forest looked darker now. “Mari, let’s go back.”

“Y/N, we can’t just leave. We need to check this out,” Marcela said, reaching for the metal handle. “I thought you liked exploring.”

“I do, but… this is creepy.”

“No, it’s not.”

Without warning, Marcela opened the hatch, flipping it over so it rested on the other side, leaving the contents of the cellar visible to them both. Y/N took a small step back, but then took one forward again, wanting to be quick to her sister’s aid in case someone or something jumped out at her. But nothing did.

Instead of seeing a cellar exposed to them right under the hatch, a rather narrow and long tunnel straight downwards showed itself to them instead. A metal ladder ran along one of the walls, reaching a long way down, but the destination was left completely in darkness, making it hard to make out anything but the rotting wooden panels around the ladder and the rusting metal of said ladder. Marcela got her phone out, turning on the flashlight and shining it down the tunnel.

“There’s a room down there,” she said, moving closer, squinting down at the cellar.

“Mari, let’s go.”

“Must be here from the second World War or something.”

Y/N looked around, anticipating someone running up on them.

“I’m going down.”

“What-“ Y/N’s head whipped in her sister’s direction, but before she could even try and stop her, Marcela’s feet were on the rusting ladder. “Marcela, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I just want to see what’s down here.”

“Which is a terrible idea. Get up.”

However, Marcela had never been one to listen to anyone but herself. She merely rolled her eyes at Y/N before she started her descent, keeping her phone in her mouth so it would shine downward and onto whatever she was about to see. Y/N felt herself both worried stupid and curious. She too wanted to know what was down there as well, but her concern for her sister and what she was doing championed over any curiosity she might have felt.

“Mari, I don’t like this,” Y/N called down, sitting on her knees by the cellar opening, not caring that her trousers would get dirty.

Marcela said something, though Y/N could not hear properly through the phone in her sister’s mouth.

“What?!”

Marcela struggled to get her phone out of her mouth, gaze turned downward as she examined the room underneath her. “I’m down!”

“What is it?”

“A shelter room of sorts.” Marcela let go of the ladder, jumping down into the dirt floor. “There’s a bed, some cabinets.”

“Great, you’ve had a peek,” Y/N called down. “Now get up.”

Marcela stood still for a second, turning around 360 degrees to take in the whole room. She suddenly stopped, eyes landing on something at the other end of the room. She walked toward it, disappearing from Y/N’s view.

“Marcela!” Y/N shouted, but Marcela did not reply, not even when she shouted a second time. “Mari, where are you-“

“-Y/N, oh my days,” Marcela groaned. “Chill out.”

“What was I supposed to do?! You disappeared!”

“I was okay,” Marcela said, grinning up at her sister. Y/N could almost just make out her sister’s teeth. “This is the best hiding place by our cabin, I think.”

“Can you get up here now? I think it’s starting to rain.”

“Fine,” Marcela said, putting her phone back in her mouth as she reached for the lowest rung of the ladder. Wrapping her fingers around the rusting metal, she was ready to pull herself up when she yelped. Next thing Y/N knew, metal clanged against the soil of the cellar and Marcela gasped for air, the flashlight of her phone cast at the ground, drenching the cellar in an unremitting darkness.

“Mari?!”

The only thing Y/N heard was Marcela heaving for dry breaths and shuffling, as if she was trying to find her phone on the floor of the cellar. With shaking hands, Y/N reached for her own phone, and though she was unsure of how much her phone would help, she shone her own flashlight down in the cellar. It gave Marcela just enough light to finally find her phone and shine a light around her. The rusty rung had fallen completely off the ladder, now laying somewhere Y/N could not see.

Marcela stood back up, dusting the dirt off her black tights.

“You okay?!” Y/N shouted.

“Fine.”

But she did not sound fine, and she looked worse as she walked up the ladder, finally making it to the surface. Y/N took a grip of her sister’s jacket, helping her out the last metre.

“You’re fucking mad,” Y/N hissed. “Never do that again.”

“Calm down.” Marcela stood up, Y/N joining her not even a second later. “I’m fine.”

“That cellar is old, Marcela, what were you thinking?! It could’ve collapsed, it-“

“-But I’m fine. It didn’t collapse.” Marcela took a grip of Y/N’s shoulders. “I’ve seen that hatch before, but only when I was on walks alone, I didn’t dare open it up and check what was down there without someone here. Now you were, and I didn’t feel so afraid anymore.”

Y/N clenched her teeth, her heart still hammering awfully fast.

“You make me brave, meu docinho de côco.”

My coconut sweet. The pet name made Y/N halt a bit. It had been years since Marcela had called her that. It’s an old-fashioned Brazilian pet name, one Marcela had started calling Y/N when she was just a baby because she had overheard their avó calling someone that, and so she had adopted it herself. They had countless of home movies filmed on rubbish cameras where five-year-old Marcela sat with baby Y/N in her lap, giving her a kiss to the forehead and repeating “meu docinho de côco” over and over again.

“Let’s go back to the cabin,” Marcela said. “Mum is probably angry we haven’t made our beds yet,” Marcela laughed, but Y/N only managed to smile a tine bit. “Aw, Y/N, I’m fine, really,” she assured her. “If I had died down there, I would’ve let you kill me.”

“Good.”

Marcela only laughed before she turned around and closed the hatch.

Friday, 27 April 2018

Y/N didn’t like being in central London. Though there were people everywhere in the capital, there was something about the never-ending crowds of the City of London that made Y/N detest being there. Tourists would walk in and out of shops, clogging up the streets to look at Google Maps on their phones, and not have a single care in the world for those who lived there and just wanted to get to their final destination.

April was definitely not the worst month, there had been and probably would be far worse months with tourists everywhere, but London was a natural and easy weekend trip for anyone living in Europe, and a nice place to visit for anyone else in the world as well, which resulted in it being a busy city at all times. It was not enough that over 12 million lived in or close to the capital, it sometimes felt like there were just as many tourists visiting the city as there were inhabitants. Today, Y/N ended up walking behind a particularly slow group of Dutch people, she recognised it immediately as they spoke, having heard Annalise speak just like them before. Regardless of that, Y/N just wanted to enter a shop without mowing her way through them. It took her a few minutes until she was able to navigate her way around them, by sprinting past them on the street beside them, making it back onto the pavement in time for a double decker to zoom by.

Finally reaching New Look on Gracechurch Street, Y/N walked on inside, feeling in the humid air outside that it was just about to start raining. With Communion playing in her ears and the voice of Olly Alexander singing about being confused about whether to want love or desire from someone, Y/N took a right as she entered the massive New Look, excited to treat herself to some new clothes.

She had been sitting in the Mile End Library on campus all day. The three essays she needed to finish along with revision for her exam in May was all catching up to her, almost making it impossible to fall asleep at night. She would lay awake, thinking about what she had to do the next day, what she should’ve done today, and the five-hundred things that needed to be done at one time or another. It had been a while since she had spent her time overthinking as much as she was right now. Now that almost none of her mates were in London yet, she spent most of her time by herself, either sitting in the library or a café, always doing uni work and always zoning out when she remembered something else she needed to research or another argument to bring up in another one of her essays. She didn’t like studying all by herself in her room. It felt too quiet. She needed people around her, some kind of sounds, even if that was just a student coughing a few tables down from hers. Even though she was by herself in the flat, at least she wasn’t completely by herself all the time.

Her thinking about uni hadn’t been the only reason it had been hard for her to sleep at night. Even though part of her detested herself for it, she still felt relieved at the thought of Harry arriving later that day. Finally she wouldn’t be alone in the flat, someone else was there with her. Even though she had heard their neighbours talking and moving around in their own flats before, she always woke up or stopped whatever she was doing at the smallest sound, even though part of her knew it was just one of their neighbours. She had never slept in a house completely by herself before. Whenever her parents were away, Marcela would come stay with her, and if she couldn’t, then Nathan would sleep over. Y/N had never been so alone like she was now ever before. It scared her.

Even though she knew nothing would actually happen to her, she knew how to throw a punch and knee someone in the groin so it hurt a little extra, it still felt good knowing Harry would be there now.

Suddenly, she stumbled upon something that had her stopping rather abruptly. A white tee shirt with a black X on it, a pink dragon slithering its way in and around the letter. Y/N absolutely loved it. She could see it going super well with her black pleated skirt, some fishnets, and her Docs. She took it off the rack, studying it a bit closer, she turned the head and hung it over the rack again, pulling it out to check the size of it. It was rather small. She checked the sizing, seeing that it was a medium. Putting it back properly on the rack, Y/N started filtering through the different tee shirts, trying to find one large or X large. After all, she could not deal with it being a slim fit. But she found nothing, they only had it in 2X small, X small, or medium.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking up to someone who looked like they worked in New Look. The employee smiled at Y/N as she approached. “Do you by any chance have this one in extra-large?”

“I’ll go check,” the employee said, walking off rather quickly so she could check and get back as quickly as possible. A few minutes later, Y/N still stood where the employee had left her, but she came back, a little out of breath, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, we only have it in large or anything under, not extra-large.”

Y/N felt her heart sink, she smiled at the employee anyway. “Thank you for checking.”

“No problem,” she smiled back. “Also… uhm-“ She pointed over her shoulder at the escalator. “-If you’re looking for plus sized items, they’ll be upstairs. We don’t have many extra-large alternatives downstairs.”

Not only had Y/N’s heart sunk to the very bottom of her stomach, now it had just fallen out of her arse and down to the bottom of the universe. Telling herself that the employee only meant well, Y/N nodded, thanking her, and put the tee shirt back on the rack. She walked to the escalator, taking it up and looking at the board for the overview of the different sections of the store. Downstairs was woman’s clothing, first storey was more women’s clothing, men’s clothing, and plus size, while the second storey was shoes, accessories, and changing rooms. That put Y/N off. How come there were more shoes and accessories being offered than plus sized clothing?

She started walking around the first storey, looking for the plus size section. It took a while for her to find it, but when she finally located it, she understood why and didn’t understand at the same time. The section was just as big, if not smaller, than the men’s clothing section, and how could she have not seen it when all the clothes looked the same? Everything looked at something her 50-year-old mother would wear, and though some of the items would look cute on her mother, nothing stood out to Y/N. None of the items were cute. In fact, they rather looked like bin bags with a bit of cleavage and zero tailoring to accentuate a woman’s figure. It just looked like clothes for the sake of wearing clothes, nothing that would stand out in a crowd or make the wearer look cute.

Y/N found a blouse that she was sure her mother would have loved, burgundy with blue flowers on it. However, she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw what was written at the very top of the blouse. Maternity. Quickly, Y/N put it back, looking around her to see if the maternity section was anywhere close to the plus size one. However, upon closer inspection, she realised that the maternity section was just combined with the plus size section. There was no difference. After all, it was all just bigger clothes. Plus size, maternity; did it matter.

Balling her hands into fists, Y/N left the store. She willed herself not to cry, not to lose it, until she reached a less crowded area. As she walked, it was hard for her to formulate how she was feeling. It was hard to put words to what she was going through. Even though she could’ve taken the tube or the bus, Y/N walked home. And in the 40 minutes it took her to reach the flat, she had not come to a conclusion to understand why she was so sad. The words were there, she could read them and see them, but as soon as she reached for them, to admit them to herself and to fully grasp them, they evaporated into grey vapour. She could not say it.

Sunday, 29 April 2018

“You’ve been quiet.”

Y/N tore her eyes away from the raindrops racing down one another on the window beside her. She glanced at Harry behind the steering wheel, his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he must have looked at her to understand that something was wrong. Or… well, he didn’t really have to. Y/N liked to talk, if she was quiet, then something was most likely wrong.

“Have I?” she asked, looking at her hands resting in her lap.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“No, I…” Y/N bit her lips together, feeling something in her throat clog up, as if the words refused to leave her mouth. She didn’t know what those words would even be if she were to speak them. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong?”

She leaned her head back against the headrest. “Still working on it.”

“Alright,” Harry said, shifting his grip on the wheel. “Wanna talk? To get your mind off whatever’s bothering you?”

Y/N could feel herself smiling a tad at that. “Yeah.”

“I got the dagger tattoo.”

She looked at Harry. “You did?”

“Yeah, did some of it myself, but some angles were hard to do properly, so Wes helped me out.”

If Harry had only told Y/N earlier, he could have shown her the tattoo while they were still at the flat. Now, instead, they were in Harry’s car, driving down a tiny road that led to the cabin on the outskirts of Newport, Wales. They had been quiet most of the way, Y/N suspected Harry had given her silence so she could think. After all, they were going back to the cabin where her sister had been murdered, if she wanted to stay silent and reflect upon that then she should be allowed to. So, Harry let her be, only occasionally asking questions and making conversation, but for the most part, he just kept quiet, thinking and knowing that was what she really needed.

“You’ll have to show me later,” she said, smiling over at him.

Harry kept his eyes on the road as it went from gravel to dirt, making the drive bumpier than it already had been. Those same big trees rose above them that Y/N remembered from her childhood, keeping the best hiding places and all the world’s secrets. Leaves occupied the trees now working like an impenetrable roof for the forest floor beneath, which explained why the grounds were so brown and not a lush green colour.

“Down here,” Y/N said, her voice sounding faraway. Distant, even.

Harry must have noticed too, but he did not say anything, instead keeping his eyes on the road as it grew narrower. It did not even take a minute for the wooden cabin to show itself. An old Swedish couple had built it in the late 1980s, making it look very Scandinavian and half finished with its brown colour and small square windows. Y/N had not brought a key, knowing that she did not have the guts to enter the cabin just yet. She just needed a look, just needed to check something.

Harry cut the engine as they reached the parking spot Y/N’s papai always used. It was less of a marked-up parking spot and more of a convenient place to park your car. The ground showed of where a car had once stood many times over, and so Harry did the same as Y/N’s papai did. The window into the living room was just to Y/N’s left, and though you could barely make anything out without coming up close to look through it, she kept her eyes trained on the forest in front of her, not daring to even look in the direction of the cabin.

She closed her eyes, finding something that could resemble courage, and let it take over her. As long as she just did this without thinking too much, then she could get through it. She could reflect on what had just happened at a later time. Now, she just needed to get out of the car, and do what she came here to do.

She opened the car door and stepped outside, walking away from the cabin right away to create as much distance between her and the darkest place on planet Earth. Y/N heard her panicked breathing, and realised that if she looked at the cabin one more time, then that courage she had found bottled up inside her would not be enough to keep her on her feet when a panic attack came over her. She heard footsteps behind her and felt Harry’s presence at her side seconds later, his hands in his coat pocket as he looked up at the grey sky above them. It had been hot enough for them to wear tee shirts only yesterday, but now they had to wear jackets in order not to freeze. That was the weather in the United Kingdom for you in a nutshell.

“You alright?” Harry asked, his voice reassuring, but the hand he put at her back eased her more.

She nodded her head.

Harry looked around them at the dark forest that stretched out in all different kinds of directions, then scanning the sky above again. “This looks just as creepy as I would’ve imagined.”

Y/N swallowed, closing her eyes as she tried to calm her racing heart. The mere fact that the cabin was behind her made her want to throw up right then and there. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You loved it here when you were little?”

“I did. It was a safe haven,” Y/N explained, opening her eyes again, facing the exact part of the forest that she wanted to walk down. “It wasn’t this dark before.”

Harry only looked at her, but the next second, Y/N walked away from the cabin, continuing down the path her sister had taken her all those years ago. Harry followed suit, studying the woods around them the trees they walked by, the thick layer of green leaves above them. A crease appeared between his brows, indicating that he was incredibly uncomfortable being here. Somehow, that comforted Y/N.

The two of them walked for a few minutes, Harry not once asking where they were headed or what Y/N wanted to do out here in the forest, only following and trusting that she knew what she was doing. These woods had been her playground when she was little, she knew parts of them as well as she knew the inside of her room home in Nottingham.

Finally, they reached what Y/N had wanted to come to Newport for. When she stopped and bent down, Harry almost fell over his own feet, for some reason not having seen this one coming. He only watched as she dusted dried and dead leaves off the forest floor, revealing the old and wooden hatch. Touching the handle felt strange, as if she were touching part of history. She slowly opened the hatch, revealing the ladder beyond and the darkness of the cellar. Seeing it again brought back the memory of her and Marcela being her together all those years ago, of seeing her sister lose grip of the last rung. Hearing her meet the floor of the cellar with a thud.

Y/N reached for the phone in her pocket, bringing it out and getting her flashlight out, pointing it down at the pitch-black hole. It was just as she remembered.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, taking a careful step towards the hole to get a closer look.

“A cellar of sorts,” Y/N said. “My sister once told me this was the best hiding place near our cabin.”

Harry glanced at Y/N then, knowing what was happening next. Y/N put her phone in her mouth like her sister had done, and then let her feet dangle off the edge of the hole. She gripped the topmost step and planted her feet on one further down.

“Y/N, that’s pure fucking madness,” Harry said. “Get up.”

She took her phone out of her mouth. “Harry, I need to check to see what’s down there. It might be nothing, but this has eaten me alive recently. I need to check.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, but let me go down there first.”

Y/N blinked. However, she did not protest, merely removed her feet from where they were already firmly placed on a step, and let Harry get his own phone out.

“Fuck, it’s dark,” Harry mumbled as he shone a light down in the cellar. “Have you been down there before?”

“No,” Y/N said. “But Marcela has. I suspect she’s been there multiple times.”

“Did the police ever find this place?”

Y/N thought for a second before she raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Dunno. I’ll have to ask mum and pai.”

Harry nodded, putting his phone in his mouth like she had just done. He sat down by the hole and took a grip of the ladder, a curl falling into his forehead as he started on his descent. Y/N watched him as he climbed all the way down, jumping off the ladder and onto the cellar floor with ease. He looked around, scanning the room slowly with his flashlight while Y/N sat by the top, watching like she had watched Marcela.

“The last steps are gone,” Harry called up.

“I know,” Y/N called back before putting her phone in her mouth, telling herself to just fucking do this. She had to do this. For Marcela. Y/N gripped the ladder and started climbing down like she had just watched Harry do, like she had watched Marcela do four years ago. The ladder felt old and rusty under her fingers, making her entire body tense up. She was ready to fall to her death any second, to be the sole reason why her and Harry starved to death in a cellar no one but them knew existed.

Finally, with sweat dotting her forehead and cupid’s bow, she reached the last whole step. But as she was about to put her foot there, she met nothing put air. She squealed a little, holding a little tighter onto the ladder with her hands and other foot.

“Oi,” Harry said, moving closer and putting a hand up. “Easy. I told you the last few steps had fallen off.”

Y/N furrowed her brows.

“Just jump, I’m here,” he said, voice so reassuring and warm that everything felt okay for a single second.

She did as he said, jumping from where she stood. Her feet hit the ground a little to hard, making her wince, but Harry was right there, one hand gripping her arm while the other arm snaked around her waist, holding her upright.

“There we go,” he mumbled, only just then realising that his phone’s flashlight was shining into Y/N’s jacket, making it harder to see the cellar. He took a small step away, letting her regain her footing as she glanced around. It was emptier than she thought it was. A simple wooden bed stood there, but no mattress occupied it, and some cupboards were on the other side of the tiny cellar, though some of the doors hung off their hinges, others looked fine, and some were removed. The walls and floor consisted of compact dirt, and the whole place smelled of rusted iron. Y/N hated it.

“Cosy place, innit,” Harry said, sounding like he meant the quite opposite. “Throw in a disco ball and you could host a rave.”

Y/N almost chuckled, but then her eyes landed on something on the floor beside some of the cupboards. A blue dog bowl. Whether it had been used for water or food, Y/N did not know, but it looked very out of place in such an old and dirty cellar. It had some dirt on it, probably having fallen from the ceiling and down into it over time, but the rather modern, blue dog bowl looked completely out of place. Y/N was certain this had not been here when Marcela was down there, or she would have told Y/N about it right away, even picked it up to show her.

What kind of sick human being had left a dog down in this cellar to die? Though it was dirty, the bowl did not seem to have been used. Maybe the dog had been given a last bowl of water before the owner just left it there to rot.

“What’s that doing here?” Harry asked, looking at the bowl over Y/N’s shoulder. He took it from her hands to examine it further, turning it over in his hand. “Strathy.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Strathy.” He turned the bowl, showing Y/N the name that was written on it in neat handwriting. “The dog’s name.”

“Strathy,” she mumbled under her breath, feeling an immense sort of sadness take over her. She might not like animals much, but even she saw how wrong this was.

Harry grimaced, clearly feeling absolutely disgusted with this as well. After all, his dad took care of dogs at a dog hotel in Buckinghamshire. He had a rather special bond with the animal, Y/N supposed.

“Who just leaves a dog bowl down here?” she asked aloud, not expecting Harry to answer.

He frowned at it, giving it back to her so she could look at it. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Y/N turned around, looking at the ladder. And it was as Harry had said, the last two steps were gone, laying in pieces on the floor beneath the hole. “No, it doesn’t.”

Harry glanced over at where Y/N was looking, furrowing his brows. “Your sister said this was the best hiding place by your cabin?”

“Yeah, in December before the year she was killed,” Y/N said. “No one would find you if you hid here.”

Harry looked at Y/N as she looked at him. “Then why did someone else, someone who clearly came here after you and your sister did in December, know about this cellar?”

Y/N felt sick. “They must have known the grounds pretty well to know this was here.”

Harry only nodded, eyes falling to the dog bowl in Y/N’s hand. She glanced at the ladder again, feeling confused and furious at the same time. Who had been here after her and her sister had?

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Even though Y/N’s door was open, Harry still knocked on the doorframe, looking in through the small slit in the door to check if it was alright with her if he entered.

“Disturbing my peace and quiet,” she said jokingly, putting a few folded tops in her suitcase to bring with her home for the summer.

“Thought you would appreciate the sight of the biggest hunk on the British Isles,” Harry grinned, opening the door and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Give you some inspiration. Some motivation, even.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, Harry chuckling at the sigh as she put some more clothes in her suitcase. The room fell back into silence as Harry gave her some breathing space, obviously thinking that she did not appreciate him blocking her in any way when she was packing. She was not packing her entire room, after all she was coming back in September, but most of her clothes were in London and she wanted to take them home with her so she could wear them there. They were of no use just laying in her dresser in Hackney.

“How’d the exam go?” Harry asked.

She looked up at him, taking in his simple outfit. A loose buttoned-up shirt in a nice cream colour was tucked into dark brown trousers, his feet bare and his skin already glowing with an oncoming tan. So, he had spent most of the day outside. The tan would look nice against his tattoos. Y/N’s eyes fell to Harry’s tattoos, the ones on his knuckles in Greek that she still did not know the meaning behind, and then the barbed wire, making him look more badass than Y/N knew him to be. He now had a fern just below the dagger he had taken in April and a leaf on his pinky finger just below the barbed wire. At this rate, Harry would be covered in tattoos by the end of the year.

“New ink,” Y/N noted.

The right side of his lips tipped upward as he looked down at his arms and hands. “Yes.”

“You’re just taking advantage of the fact that you know how to use a tattoo gun.”

Harry chuckled. “Someone should take it away from me.”

“Truly.”

“I’m scared that I’ll, like, come up with cooler tattoo ideas later on, but then I’ve already filled up the spot where it’d look best.”

Y/N tilted her head at him. “Then you should slow down the tattooing.”

“Nah, can’t do that, love.”

She only rolled her eyes again, sitting down on top of the suitcase so she could close it and pull the zipper shut properly.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Harry asked, walking inside and sitting down on Y/N’s bed. “How’d your exam go?”

Y/N sighed, resting her chin in her hand as she glanced over at him. “Alright. We had an hour to, like, answer the two questions, one short answer and then a short essay. I was about halfway through my essay when I realised I only had ten minutes left.”

Harry grimaced.

“So, I just had to write until my wrist and hand ached, and was about to start writing the conclusion when we had to hand the papers over. I think Isla wrote way more than I did, dunno how she managed that.”

“How many pages did you get in?”

“About 12.”

Harry just stared at her. “And Isla got more down?”

“I think closer to 20.”

“20 handwritten pages in an hour?!” Harry said, sounding absolutely bewildered.

“She’s a machine that one.”

“Obviously.”

Y/N nodded, getting up from her suitcase and walking across her bed to get to the windows. She closed them both firmly, pulling the white heart pointelle cami top further down her torso, though it was supposed to just reach her belly button. Thankfully, her black tights reached just a little bit further up, keeping any more of Y/N’s skin to be exposed than what she wanted.

“Okay,” she said, sitting down beside him in bed again. “I want to be sure you’ve actually gotten better.”

“Understandable,” Harry retorted, nodding slightly.

“So, I don’t want to do too much just yet.”

He stopped for a second. “What does that mean?”

“That I want to just make out and get a feel of where you’re at. I think sex comes when we’re both turning each other on to the point where it’s actually going to be enjoyable. When I’m wet enough and you’re hard enough.”

Harry tried not to smile, but Y/N could tell he wanted to flash her a smirk. “I can assure you, you can make me do anything, and I’d be hard on the fucking spot.”

Y/N’s chest felt warm, and within seconds, her cheeks were approximately around the same temperature as the sun’s surface. There was something so very sweet about that, yet incredibly hot. She looked away from him, trying to act unbothered as she tried to find her words again, but by the slight chuckle emanating from Harry’s lips, Y/N knew he saw right through her act.

“What I’m trying to say is that I just want us to get familiar with the other’s body. Foreplay isn’t just about touching someone; it’s about touching someone. Feel their crotch, slide your hand under their clothes, grinding against them to the point of torture sometimes. That’s when the best sex happens.”

Harry nodded. “Take it you’re a big fan of foreplay.”

“The biggest.”

“Feel like I’m in good hands, then.”

“Figuratively and literally.”

He smiled.

“If you matched me on Tinder, and we were about to shag-“

“-I actually don’t think I’ve ever been on Tinder.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s not a flex.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve got the app on my phone.”

“Wicked, you’ve got to show me then.”

She smiled, inhaling slowly. “I will. But first, let’s-“

However, fantastically, Harry took Y/N’s face in his hands and brought her to him. Before Y/N managed to finish her statement, they were kissing. The familiar feeling of Harry’s lips on hers made her previously tense shoulders relax considerably, making her involuntarily moan onto his lips. Harry kissed her more fiercely at the sound, moving closer so it would be easier for him to wrap his arms around her. She fell back onto the bed, crawling backward, and Harry crawled after her, settling himself so easily between her legs that it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The ease at which they were doing this felt reassuring, like a good hug after a stressful day. She trusted that Harry knew what he was supposed to do, that he remembered from last time. And oh, did he remember.

She felt his hand slide down her front, laying the smallest amount of pressure on her breast, and Y/N realised with a suddenness that almost made her gasp; Harry was trying to tease her. His fingers slid over her, never laying his entire palm down against besides that grip of her boob, but besides that, he was touching her as lightly as possible, leaving Y/N’s body aching in its waking.

“Where’d you learn that?” she asked between kisses.

“What?”

“The teasing.”

She felt him grin against her. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Surprisingly enough.”

He chuckled. “Well,” he trailed off, looking down at the duvet beside her face. “The internet.”

Y/N felt herself halt a bit, looking at Harry as he refused to still meet her eyes. “You’ve been searching around?”

“About sex, yes.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Really?”

“How many times do you want me to admit it?”

She giggled. “Harry, it’s not something to be embarrassed about.”

“I think it is.”

“No, it just shows how dedicated you are to this. Which is anything but embarrassing.” She tried to catch his eyes. “It’s actually rather sweet.”

He met her gaze then, staring at her for a long while as if he could not quite believe what she had just told him. “You think?”

“You think I would’ve said it if I thought otherwise?”

Harry chuckled. “True.”

She smiled, arching her back a little so her tits were pressed against his chest. Harry bit his bottom lip, looking down at her front as she lowered herself down onto the mattress again. Raising her eyebrows, she watched as Harry took in her tits again, looking over at her with anticipation etched into his irises.

“I’m trying to silently tell you to kiss me again,” she said.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, bending down over her again. “Right.”

“Other’s might not do that, they might tell you, or maybe even expect you to do so. So, try and decipher what that person needs, what they want.” She settled herself into her duvet cover, Harry sinking further in between her legs as she wriggled her hips ever so slightly. His lips parted, both plump and swollen from kissing.

“What do I do if they don’t say anything?” Harry asked, lips hovering above hers. God, how she just wanted him to kiss her.

“Communicate. You can’t expect someone to know you and your needs right off the bat, people are different.”

“Right,” Harry said, sliding his nose against hers.

“And now I would really like it if you kissed me,” Y/N whispered against Harry’s lips, making Harry grip onto the duvet cover above Y/N’s head. Fiercely, he pressed his lips against her, slowly sliding his tongue into her mouth, making all kinds of shivers run up and down her body. Even after just one time, Harry knew certain buttons of hers that he had to push in order to get a reaction out of her. She wondered how long Harry had gone out with his previous partners for them to give up on him so quickly. If they had just shown him what they liked, if they had just explored, then Harry would have been a decent lover. He was so incredibly willing to learn new things that it was almost ridiculous. How had they just broken things off like that? If they had just been a little more patient, then Harry would have genuinely surprised them.

On the other hand, he had not actually showed her how bad he was in bed, like he was making it out to be, which could truly be the game changer.

Regardless, in that second, Y/N did not care about Harry’s skills in bed, instead she focused on how they worked outside the context of sex. They were just making out now, just checking each other out, trying to think about various ways to touch the other in order to turn them on.

One of Harry’s hands rested at Y/N’s knee, bringing it further up her chest so he could get a bit better access. She moaned as she felt his already hardening erection against her, instant wetness pooling between her legs. Her grip on his shirt tightened and she felt her nails dig into his skin under his shirt, urging him to continue doing what he was doing. Just like she had shown him last time, Harry grinded against her, doing it slowly and rubbing himself very deliberately against her for his own pleasure, but also trying to make sure she enjoyed it. The desire that ran up her spine was undeniable, making all hair on her body stand on end. His hardness grinded against her wetness again, the both of them moaning at the same time, losing themselves completely in one another.

Harry’s hand ran down Y/N’s thigh, coming to rest at her belly, slowly making its way to her very centre. She felt a yearning so intense it had to radiate off of her, engulfing her and Harry. Halting a bit, Harry’s fingers seemed to retract a bit, unsure if this was somewhere Y/N did not want him to venture or it if was encouraged. Instead of asking her, like she emboldened him to do multiple times, he traced the same path back up her belly, going to grab her breast again.

Y/N made a noise of protest, taking Harry’s wrist in her hand. She could feel Harry’s eyelashes flutter open against her own, and she opened her own eyes, detaching their lips. Slowly, she slid his hand down the way it had just come, making him lay as little pressure on her as he slid his hand down in order to tease as much as possible. Personally, she hated when someone would tease her because it only made her want sex even more than she already did, making her hungrier and more desperate than she would like, but it also made for the best shags. Teasing and dragging out, being needy for one another, was what created the best action when you finally had sex.

As they were just above her centre, she led his hand to her inner thigh, urging his fingers to trace along the skin of one of her most delicate places. Harry looked down between them, eager to follow along with what she did in any way he could. With care and maybe a little too much roughness, she made him grab her, at once showing how he would cherish her but at the same time make her squirm for more when the time came. Though Y/N was doing it herself, it was Harry’s hand that touched her, that made her entire body vibrate with expectancy. She bit her bottom lip, eyes not wavering from his face.

Slowly, his pinky came into contact with her centre, then his ring finger, middle, index, and lastly, his thumb. Each felt like a firework, reverberating through Y/N’s body and lighting her core on fire. It had been a while since someone had touched her with so much consideration, so patiently. Harry’s eagerness to please her, even though she was the one that showed him how to touch her, made her even hotter for him, if that was possible. With ease, she put her hand over his, putting extra pressure on his hand now and a little extra on his middle finger, she dragged his hand over her covered up cunt. A small gasp left her lips, eyelashes fluttering slightly. Harry looked up at her instantly, lips parting as his eyes scanned her face, ready to take in each one of her features when she laid under him like this. She did it again, this time putting a little more pressure at the very top of her centre, making a spark flood from her clit and out to the very tips of her fingers. This made her moan, involuntarily arching her back just a little at the sudden flash.

“Now you go,” she whispered, their eyes not wavering from one another.

Harry nodded, looking down between them at where his hand rested in her like that and then her removing his hand, letting him either mimic her moves or do something different. He watched his hand at first as it slid over her, putting that extra amount of pressure at her bud, making her gasp for breath. His eyes landed on her face again, eyes intent on her as he did it again, this time inhaling sharply as she moaned under him, of his doing.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, voice half moan and half mumble.

Harry did it again, earning the same reaction from her, his breath coming out all shaky, as if he could not quite believe he had this effect on her.

“You look bewildered,” Y/N said, trying not to laugh.

“I always thought that touching someone like that would be a little much too soon. Would you not rather I touched your cunt when we’re naked and about to have sex?”

“Yes, of course,” Y/N said, regaining her breath. “But you’re showing me what you’ll do to me when we actually get naked. Teasing can be pure torture, but it’s what makes the reward so much better when we actually fuck.”

Harry nodded, his already red cheeks reddening considerably. “Alright.”

Y/N smiled. “What?”

“I guess I… I’m not used to being…” Harry sighed, looking away from her and at his hand fisted in the sheets. “It’s vulgar.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Touching me?”

“No, touching like that. Grabbing someone through their clothes, touching your cunt like that.”

Y/N smiled again. “I can tell by the way you’re whispering the word that you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, it’s just a new way of having sex, I guess.” Harry blinked. “Also, what word do I whisper?”

“Cunt.”

“Oh.” Harry met her eyes again. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s… vulgar.”

“It’s dirty,” Y/N said. “Not my cunt,-“ Harry laughed at that. “-but the word. Saying it, especially in this setting, is hot.”

“You like dirty talk?”

“When it’s done right. When it’s not, it can really ruin whatever’s going on.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “There’s a balance.”

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled. “Annalise told me about this time she had sex with an American, like proper southern American.”

Harry chuckled a little at just that.

“And they were in doggy, so she asked him to grab her hair, and-“

“-Do you like that?” Harry asked rather quickly, as if the question had occurred to him on the spot and he had been unable to stop himself from asking.

“What, having my hair pulled?”

Harry nodded.

“Dunno, haven’t really tried it.”

Harry smirked, and Y/N could already see what he was thinking. She only rolled her eyes and continued on with the story, the bulge of Harry’s trousers pressing against Y/N’s centre.

“Anyway, she asked him to pull her hair, and if you, like, grab it with one hand, that’s hot and feels good, but if you grab it with two, if feels more like you’re trying to ride a horse.”

Harry chuckled.

“And while this man was holding Annalise’s hair with both hands, he just said ‘Easy, girl’ and this southern accent, and it sounded fully like he was trying to calm a horse down.” Y/N suspected that Harry was laughing more at Y/N’s attempt at a southern American accent than the actual story, but seeing him howling on top of her, burying his face in her neck to laugh some more there, made it impossible for her to even finish the story. They laid like that for a little while, just laughing and bathing in each other’s presence. It took a while for them to look at one another again, smiling when they remembered how ridiculous Y/N had sounded and how this all happened in the middle of a rather heated moment.

“Okay, let’s move on,” she said, making Harry chuckle some more.

“Right, what’s next?”

Y/N pushed him off her and down onto the bed beside her, quickly straddling him. She leaned down, kissing him hard, having missed the feel of his lips in the few seconds they hadn’t been touching hers. Harry’s hands fell to her bum, pushing her down onto his hard cock, Y/N instantly reacting by letting go of a small groan. He knew what to do now, how to handle her with care, but also make sure to let her know who was in control. Well, kind of, anyway. She was certainly the one with the most control out of the two of them.

She started grinding against him, sliding her hot core over his erection, a shock of pleasure running up to her chest, heating up her entire body. Harry must have felt something similar because he moaned into her mouth, his grip on her arse hardening along with his cock. She did just that again and again, feeling him become more desperate under her, grabbing onto her thighs and arse, one hand holding onto her neck to keep her lips on him. She felt herself get more needy as well, suddenly wanting to feel that release she had told the both of them that they would not be chasing today. However, when she was this wet and he was this hard, both of them clawing, gripping, and moaning at each other, it was very hard to remember what they had agreed upon earlier.

“Do you want to be in control?” she mumbled against his lips, a shaky breath leaving Harry’s lips.

“Show me how,” he said, panting just like she was.

She took his hands, putting them above Harry’s head. “Keep them there,” she said. “Don’t move.”

“What happens if I do?”

“I’ll have to punish you.”

A breath left Harry’s lips; his eyes filled with lust as he looked up at her. He only nodded, looking absolutely entranced by her. Y/N pressed a kiss to Harry’s jaw, then another one to his neck, then the front of his collarbone, feeling him squirm beneath her as she did. The need to have his hands on her, to make her grind against him to feel something, was clearly an instinct that was hard for him to fight.

“Lay still,” she urged him as her hands found the collar of his shirt, fingers sliding over his exposed skin until they came into contact with the button that kept his beautiful chest from being bare.

Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt. She kissed down his now exposed chest, making her way down his torso until she was by his navel. Untucking the shirt, she undid the last button before pushing the fabric to each side, baring his chest to her. The red dragon on his right back and the black on his left were finally right there. The tattoos she had been thinking about for so long now, finally right in front of her. She made her way up to them, tracing her finger from the head of the red dragon that almost reached Harry’s collarbone and down in a circle and some waves before reaching the tail that ended up right beside his nipple. The black one did only slither to create one wave along its long and slim figure, but its wings were bigger, almost reaching Harry’s left shoulder, while the pointy tail came to rest just beside his nipple. Y/N could not explain how attractive she found his tattoos, especially these ones. Harry must have the exact same taste in tattoos as her, something that made her very happy about their little deal.

When she settled over his crotch again, his erection was even more prominent than before, the hardness feeling absolutely fantastic against her warm cunt. She put her hands on his knees behind her, slowly beginning to grind against Harry again. He craned his neck, lips parting as some slight release washed over the both of them. Dutifully, his hands still laid above his head where she had left them, where she hard ordered him to keep them. The sight of him displayed like that, all hers and trembling underneath her while she teased him, was maybe one of the hottest sights she had ever laid her eyes upon.

He looked up at her, eyes wild and bottom lip all dark pink from him having bitten it so hard while she had kissed her way down his chest. Their eyes locked, and Y/N could tell Harry wanted to grab her, to hold her to some extent. She recognised now that Harry liked holding her when they were like this. If they were getting things going, it seemed out of the question if he was not touching her to some extent.

Which must have been why he finally snapped, sitting up and taking a grip of her waist. Y/N exhaled sharply when Harry turned them around, making her back come into contact with the mattress again. Harry held onto her knee again before letting his hand trail up her side, the other one taking her hand in his, resting their intwined fingers above Y/N’s head as they started kissing again. Finally between her legs again, Harry started sliding over her again, this time his movements had a little more force behind them. She felt it in her toes, the heat in her core growing with each stroke. Bloody hell, she just wanted to fuck him right then. Harry had truly proven to her that he knew how foreplay worked, how incredibly important it was. Though he was the most impatient person she knew, he truly seemed to be enjoying himself when they teased each other like this.

Maybe, like her, he enjoyed the power it brought. You truly felt so powerful, so potent, so paramount, when you could make someone tremble at your touch.

Harry’s movements grew more frantic, his hands grabbing at her harder, and she felt her own nails dig into his flesh, begging him for more. Suddenly, without much warning, Harry got up from between her legs, and then made her turn over so she was on her stomach. This took Y/N completely off guard, but she welcomed the change, welcomed him trying something new and taking control. After all, that was what he wanted to learn how to do, how to become confident enough to order someone around in bed without thinking he was disrespecting them and their bodies.

Harry came to rest on top of her, his hand sliding from the rolls at her sides and up to her shoulder where he slowly traced his way to her neck. There, he took a light grip of her, bending down so that they could both feel his erection between her arse cheeks. Y/N closed her eyes at the sensation, feeling a very welcome chill run up her spine out of pure excitement. He stayed there, kissing her shoulder, her neck, breathing against her skin and making Y/N hyper aware of each one of his movements.

Because he remained immobile, she arched her back and lifted her bum ever so slightly off the bed. She pushed herself against him, then move her arse against him, wanting to feel some kind of friction even though it was barely existent on her part. Harry drew in a sharp breath and moaned instantly, holding onto Y/N’s neck with one hand while the other held him upright on the mattress. She continued to move over him and Harry grinded against her. Harry’s breaths came out quicker, slight whimpers leaving his swollen lips, vibrating against Y/N’s skin. It had certainly not been the point, but as Y/N understood what was going to happen, she just continued to rub herself against him, and Harry did the same.

His grip on her loosened and he put his hands on either side of her hips, moaning and panting and whimpering as he grinded against her. Suddenly, he jerked, and he gripped Y/N’s hips tight, trying to move against her, but he only managed to move in jagged motions. He came as Y/N slid her bum over him, feeling his cock move with each squirt inside his boxer, pulsating against the fabric; against her. Harry stayed like that over Y/N, and when she looked over her shoulder, it looked like he did not know what has just happened. After all, they weren’t supposed to do anything, really. They were just supposed to make out. And yet…

“In an ideal situation,” Y/N said. “You start having sex before that happens.”

Harry met her eyes, laughing loudly along with her. He fell down onto the bed beside her and she turned to lay on her back as well, both just looking up at the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Note to self,” Harry said, still coming down from what had just happened, panting slightly. “Don’t come during foreplay.”

Y/N laughed, and Harry looked at her with the biggest grin on his face. “Add that to the list of everything else I’ve taught you, and you’ll be good for when we have sex.”

Harry chuckled, looking up at the ceiling again. “Tattoo appointment when we get back in September, then?”

She nodded, sitting up in bed. “Yeah, it’ll give me enough time to think about what I want tattooed.”

Harry sat up as well. “Imagine I’ll have a few more tattoos as well.”

“You’ll be working at Asgard this summer?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’ll just either live here or at my mum’s, visit my dad a bit.” He shrugged. “But I have a tattoo gun so I’ll just do it at home, don’t need to be there unless I want some ink a place I can’t reach properly myself.”

Y/N’s heart stopped a little. “You have a tattoo machine here?”

Harry studied her face, a small grin appearing over his face. “Yeah. Your fanny fluttering at the thought?”

She slapped him across his still exposed chest; Harry laughed. “You know what, just leave. I need to finish packing.”

Harry grinned, getting up from the bed as he started buttoning up his shirt again, looking around Y/N’s room as he made his way for the door. “Will you miss London while you’re away?”

Y/N glanced around at her room, taking in the four walls she had spent so much time within during her first year of University. It did not seem real that she would be in Nottingham over the next four months, that she would go back to living with her parents for the time being until uni started back up again in September. Her first year had gone by so quickly, it did not seem real that it was coming to a close. She could not believe that it had almost been a year since she moved to London, since she med Chloe, Thian, Hayden, and Annalise, since she started working at Domino’s. It at once felt like ages ago, yet it also felt like it all happened last month. She remembered everything in vivid detail, and knew she would probably remember her uni years that clearly for eternity. So far, it had been the best time of her life.

She nodded her head, looking back over at Harry again. “I’ll miss it. But I’ll be back in September to pester you another year.”

Harry grinned. “Good, almost thought you would stop bullying me by the time we get back.”

“No, don’t you worry,” she said, smiling. “The bullying won’t stop for the world.”

Harry tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, whipping a curl out of his face as he said, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Friday, 17 May 2018

“Happy birthday!” Hayden screamed when Y/N answered their FaceTime call, their hands over their head and their short hair an absolute mess. They dropped their phone onto their bed, only to appear a second later with a red party hat on their head, waving it in front of the camera.

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, mate.”

“What’re you up to today?” Hayden asked, leaning back against their headrest.

“Well, since I’ve already been awake three hours, I have been up to quite a lot, actually.”

It was Hayden’s turn to laugh now. “What’s that then?”

“Pai and I made some pão na chapa, which is essentially skillet toasted French bread rolls, for breakfast, nothing extravagant. Then we went to pick up a cake that mum’s had made for the occasion, and then mum took me shopping for some new clothes. Just got home,” Y/N explained. “But we’re having a big lunch later with our entire family and we’ll serve a big dinner then.”

“Sounds like a very you birthday.”

“Good thing it’s my birthday, then.”

Hayden laughed, leaning their head back against the wall and forgetting about their birthday hat, making the string snap off their chin and the hat fall off their head. Y/N chuckled as she sat down in her bed as well, looking over at her window to see if it was closed or not. Her papai must have opened it while her and her mum were out shopping. Y/N quickly walked over to close it, but then a breeze came in through the small slit, cooling her down in what had already been the starts to a very hot mid-May day. She left it open.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Hayden said, throwing the party hat away somewhere in their room.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want for your birthday? Like, is there a specific birthday present you’d want from say…” They shrugged. “Me, Thian, Annalise, and Chloe.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re getting me a birthday present, are you?”

“Of course!” Hayden said, sounding shocked. “You’re our mate! Now, what do you want? It can be anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Y/N thought for a second, sitting back down on her bed. “Maybe like concert tickets, but not expensive ones for like a popular band. Maybe for a more lowkey one, one where tickets aren’t super expensive, and we can all go.”

Hayden nodded. “That sounds like so much fun, though. Just the gang, and your flat, of course.”

Y/N smiled. Someone shouted something in the back of Hayden’s end of the call, making them groan loudly before rolling their eyes.

“Right, my mum needs me to come downstairs. But,” Hayden said, getting out of bed, stepping on the party hat and crushing it under their weight. A stream of curse words left their lips before they bent down to retrieve it, showing it to Y/N before throwing it away in the bin. “We’ll bake a cake when we see each other this summer, okay?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I’d love that.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re baking a cake when we see each other this summer.”

Y/N giggled. “Your mum gonna kill you or something?”

“Think she’s just realised I’ve raided the cupboard of Digestives.”

Y/N laughed.

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” Hayden smiled, waving at the screen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said. “Hope you survive your mum’s wrath.”

“Doubt it.”

Y/N smiled, waving at the screen before they both hung up. A knock sounded at Y/N’s door a second later and then her mother walked into her room, smiling at her. She held a white envelope in her hand, holding it out for Y/N to take.

“You’ve got post, my dove.”

Y/N halted a little, unsure of who could possibly want to contact her through post. Lottie walked back out the door, leaving it open as she walked back downstairs, Davi’s singing sounding from the kitchen as he prepared everything for lunch. Y/N sat back down in her bed, studying the envelope in her hands closely. She thought she recognised the handwriting at the front of the envelope that spelled out her full name and her Nottingham address under it rather perfectly. As she turned the letter around to see the return address on the flap of the envelope, she realised why.

13 Dovecote Close, Princes Risborough, Buckinghamshire, HP27 9JU. Harry E. Styles.

She bit her lips together, already feeling the oncoming grin tugging at the edges of her lips. She should not have put it past Harry to do something for her birthday, this was just like him, to go out of his way and send her something in the post rather than just give it to her while they were both still under the same roof the week previous. Y/N opened it, peeking inside to see two different notes, reminding her an awful lot of the ones she slid under his door to set up a time for their little sessions. She reached in, pulling one of the two out.

Happy birthday, Y/N. Turn this around to see what I think your next tattoo should be.

She did, only to find herself laughing instantly. A heart was drawn on the other side, ‘Harry’ written in magnificent handwriting inside it. She let her finger trace the letters, imagining how smug Harry would have looked drawing this, knowing exactly the kind of reaction he would conjure up out of her. Chuckling still, she reached into the envelope and pulled out the second and last note.

And here’s something I actually think you would like.

Turning this one around, she found a drawing that took her breath away instantly. With black wings spread wide, almost glittering in the light that was supposed to shine on them, a crow was drawn in vivid detail on the other side. It looked strong, terrifying, even, staring straight back at her with an intensity and intellect only crows managed, as if they knew all your secrets and weren’t afraid to tell them to the wind, letting them carry through the world. Y/N ran a finger over the crow, feeling very overwhelmed all of a sudden. She had not expected him to draw something for her that he thought she would like tattooed on her body forever, yet here he was. It was the most beautiful thing Y/N had ever seen, and she wondered what had made him draw it.

Y/N awoke gradually, suddenly realising with slow efficiency that she was awake. Her room was draped in complete darkness, the streetlamp outside her window having been turned off for the night. Her eyes focused on her door for no particular reason, zoning in and out of what was going on, part of her thinking it was a dream while the other told her she was awake. Once she realised this was indeed reality, she tried closing her eyes again, readjusting the placement of her head against her pillow, tucking the duvet up to her skin.

A car drove by. Y/N’s eyes shot open. The car sounded closer, as if she had just stood outside, and she quickly realised why that was. Y/N had not slept with her window open since before Marcela disappeared, not in this house. Preferring to keep it closed, it felt safer that way. No spirits, no people, nothing, could sneak in through a closed window.

But as she heard footsteps outside, as if someone was walking hurriedly by her house, Y/N knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her window was open. Wide open. It had not been that open since the night before Marcela was declared murdered. Grabbing onto her duvet, Y/N looked in the direction of the window only to confirm what she had been thinking. There her window was, the blinds open, open to let all the air, everything, inside. She wanted to get out of bed and close it, but her legs were locked to her bed, her limbs felt too heavy, too unsteady, for her to walk on right now. She had to calm down, blame it on her not closing her window earlier that day after talking to Hayden. That was it. It was the draught.

If she could just reach for her phone, she could call her mother and ask her to come into her room and close the door. Maybe she could check under her bed as well to make sure no one had gotten into her room in the time the window had been wide open. Y/N’s room was on the first storey, so it would be difficult to get in through her window, but she was also paranoid beyond belief.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw movement. A stupid sense of relief washed over Y/N, thinking that maybe Lottie had come to check up on her. But no, it was not her mum. Averting her eyes from the window, Y/N looked to the end of her bed, feeling her heart stop beating. Her body lay still for a few seconds until she suddenly started shaking. It was not violently, but uncontrollable. She gripped into her duvet even harder, telling herself over and over again that this was not real.

Not real. Not real. Not real. This is just a dream; you are just having a nightmare. Close your eyes. Go back to sleep.

And Y/N tried. She closed her eyes, telling herself that this was just a figment of her idiotic imagination. Whatever she had just seen was not real, it couldn’t be. However, falling asleep when you had just seen your dead sister standing at the foot of your bed was hard.

Y/N opened her eyes, feeling a small whimper leave her lips out of pure fear. Even though she could barely see without her glasses, she still saw that. Marcela looked at Y/N with an eerie sort of passiveness, eyes resting emotionlessly on her younger sister as she shook with fear in her bed. The only way Y/N could tell it was her sister was by the slight light that came naturally from the night beyond, only illuminating half of her dead sister’s form. She did not look dead. In fact, her sister had to be a hallucination. She looked like Marcela, yet she did not. It was strange, almost devilish. She wore the exact same outfit as the last time Y/N had seen her, a floral dress and her denim jacket. A tiny smile rested on her lips, but not one Y/N had ever seen before. There was absolutely zero joy behind it. It rather looked like she was smiling for the sake of smiling. As if to ease the nerves of a terrified deer before she attacked to devour every last bit of her prey.

“M-Mari?” Y/N croaked, still unable to move.

Marcela only cocked her head to the side, still smiling that bizarre smile, making her face appear uncanny. Slowly, she raised her left hand. Y/N felt herself shrink behind her duvet. Marcela’s eyes fell onto her wrist, and when Y/N looked, she felt herself draw in a shaky breath. Marcela looked up at Y/N again, that uncanny smile still lingering on her lips as her hand fall to her side again. Slowly, Marcela walked backward towards Y/N’s door, opening it just barely. Moving out of the light of the open window, Marcela looked like a ghost. Black like complete darkness, moving unseen and transparent towards the door. Keeping her eyes on Y/N the entire way, she stepped outside. The door closed just as gradually as Marcela had walked, barely audible as it clicked into place.

Though she was trembling, Y/N removed her duvet, put her glasses on, and shakily made her way towards her door. She walked around the spot the hallucination of Marcela had just been standing, refusing to be near it. Carefully, she laid a hand on her door handle, it felt cool to the touch. As if no one had touched it a mere minute ago. Or that person had been very cold. Slowly, she opened the door, looking out into the hallway beyond. No one was there. Not a trace, not a sound.

Y/N had a hard time falling asleep, and when she woke up at 6 the next morning, it barely felt like she had gotten any rest at all. However, she wasted no time. She got dressed as quickly as she could, put some contacts in, and sent a text to her parents that she was out and about. With some breakfast in hand, Y/N drove as fast as she could. There weren’t too many out driving now, but she knew that she would be spending a lot of times in queues the closer she got to the capital. She zoomed down the motorway, not paying any attention to anything but the road ahead. Whenever she went on drives like this, she would need to have some of her own music playing in the background so she could jam out. Music could wait right now, because there was something she needed to check. Something that could simply not wait.

Once she reached the outskirts of London, the traffic was horrendous, making Y/N bite her nails as anxiety and stress started eating at every single one of her limbs. Though it took a decent amount of time to get into London by normal standards, Y/N still felt like that hour and some was the longest of her life. When she finally reached Hackney, Y/N felt her anxiety ebb just slight away. Driving in London was ridiculous, but at least she knew the streets near her well and could take some small and less busy shortcuts.

On Orsman Road, Y/N jumped out of her car and ran for the flat building’s front door. Then, after unlocking it, ran for her flat, and unlocked that front door too before sprinting for her room. The entire flat was empty, no one but her were there, which almost made it wrong for her to be there, it felt like. This was supposed to be a place she shared with Harry, Nathan, and Mason. Not someplace to run through, anxiety high, pulse higher, to get to her room as fast as possible.

She burst through her door and looked at her desk, trying to calm her breathing down as the sight in front of her dawned on her. With clammy hands, she rubbed at her eyes, maybe that would help her see more clearly. But it made no difference. She walked over to her desk then, throwing the books on her bed and putting the mug filled with pens on her dresser as she searched everywhere. But it was of no use. None at all. The watch was gone.

This is what I imagine Harry’s crow painting to look like btw!

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 23rd May, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

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#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

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forzalando · 4 years ago

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The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 1

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, mentions of alcohol

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: hi friends! this will be a multipart (probably 3-4 parts) George fic inspired by Bridgerton. i’m so excited for it and i hope you all are too :) thank you for reading!

The start of the social season had been, as you had expected, the topic of conversation around the ton for the past few weeks. It was impossible to go anywhere without hearing whispers of who would snag an engagement in the next few months.

Particularly, people had been interested in who the Queen would declare the “diamond of the season”. Your mother was positively convinced it would be you, but you had other plans in mind for your life other than parties and dresses and loveless marriage. However, when the Queen took one look upon your face, she quickly declared you incomparable, as she had done the same for Daphne Bridgerton, now the Duchess, a few years prior, and your fate was sealed.

As a member of the distinguished and esteemed Y/L/N family, and as the eldest daughter, you had a trivial, yet necessary and important role to play, even if you longed to free yourself from it. Your mother and father, as wonderful as they might be, had high expectations for you, and you would not and could not let them down.

Your mother fluffed your hair and primped your dress in preparation of the Danbury Ball, admiring you fondly and gushing about how beautiful you looked.

“Maybe your luck will be as wonderful as the Duchess, her love match was indeed unprecedented but oh so joyous. Do you think your fortune might align with hers, dear?”

“Mama,” you sighed. “I have no interest in a life like the Duchess’s. All the parties, teas, and properness. Besides, there isn’t another Duke for me to marry.”

“I did not mean that you would have to marry a Duke to share her fate; only that you may marry for love.”

You huffed as you turned away from the mirror. In truth, you had no interest in marrying for love, or marrying at all for that matter, but the duty of an eldest daughter was set in stone.

All too soon, you arrived at the Lady Danbury’s spectacular first ball of the season; the sea of gowns and tailored coats causing a queasy feeling to settle in your stomach, and you wished with all your might that anything at all would ruin the festivities.

A glass of champagne was placed in your grasp and you let your eyes wander around the room; Lady Eloise Bridgerton, a close friend of yours, donned a similar look on her face though her mother enthusiastically tried to get her to waltz across the dance floor.

Glancing to your left, you noticed Lord Farley, a rather grotesque older man, eyeing you up and down; his beady eyes causing the queasy feeling to return and for your feet to take off in what could almost be considered a sprint.

When he was no longer in your line of sight, you began to slow down your gait, but a shoulder roughly bumped into yours and an unattractive yelp escaped your lips.

The unmistakable chuckle that followed your outburst made you groan due to your detestation of the man you knew you had bumped into.

Lord George Weasley; a man, nay, a boy, with hair of fire and a wit to match. You had known him for years as you were the same age and his sister Ginevra was the best of friends with your younger sister.

“I want to believe, Miss Y/L/N, that you would not take such drastic measures to capture my attention, but I must say I am flattered nonetheless,” George teased, his hand reaching out to steady you as you recovered from the collision.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe you to know me better than that,” you spoke with gritted teeth as you swatted his hand away. “Besides, there are plenty of young women here that would kiss the ground you walk on. Might you bother them instead?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? I’ve noticed that you still have room on your dance card?”

“I always have room left on my dance card.”

You tried to step around George and escape his company, but his impossible height made it so easy for him to evade your attempts.

“Is that by choice or because you’re just so pleasant to spend time with?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Suppose a bit of both. Now, if you would be so kind, I’m quite parched and would love another glass of champagne.”

“Perfect, I shall accompany you.”

George Weasley, you surmised very early on, was nothing but a flirt. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him a rake, because as far as you knew he was an honorable man, but he was also most intolerable with his boyish charm, sense of humor, beautiful eyes…

Yes, you were quite sure that he was entirely intolerable.

“Have you told your mother you have no interest in procuring a husband, yet?” he mused, breaking you out of your trance as he carefully handed you a glass of champagne.

“Don’t call it procuring as if it’s a transaction. And no, I haven’t. Do you think I’d be standing here alive if I had?”

“Good point,” George hummed as his eyes surveyed the room, no doubt searching for the next woman so unlucky enough to be graced with his presence.

“How is your family?” you asked as you sipped on your flute of bubbling liquid.

“They’re doing well, thank you for asking. Work has been a bit hard on Dad but – ”

Before George could finish, a man approached you and bowed; taking the hand not holding the champagne flute and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?”

You noticed George looking on angrily at the sight before him, probably because his ego couldn’t take the interruption.

“I’m flattered, Lord Rainier? I believe?” When you received no objections, you continued. “As I was saying, I’m flattered by your offer but I simply must decline. I am feeling a bit ill and all that spinning might make me sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps another time?”

You gave him a small, soft smile and let out a sigh of relief when he walked away. Turning back to George, you urged him to continue. While you held him in contempt, or so you told yourself, you did enjoy his family as they were all simply lovely.

“You were saying, George?”

“Right, work has been a bit hard on Dad, after his accident a few months ago. He’s been doing better but Charlie had to take a break from his travels to come home and help out since he’s the eldest. Fred and Angelina are expecting again, if you haven’t heard. They’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“Maybe if you were more like your brother you’d be married and having children by now,” you teased.

He gasped and clutched his hand over his heart, drawing the attention of anyone near.

“You wound me, Y/N.”

Much to your dismay, you laughed at his actions, devastated that you gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was entertaining you. However, the moment was short lived as another man interrupted your conversation.

“Miss Y/N, I must say you are looking exquisite this evening. It would be a shame for your dress not to take a twirl on the dance floor. Might I accompany you?”

You tried not to groan when you noticed a line forming behind the man currently asking for a dance.

“Actually, Lord Beverly, I’m feeling a bit warm. I was just about to go outside for some fresh air.”

“I shall accompany you, then.”

“Without a chaperone? Goodness, no, please find another young lady to dance with. There are certainly many that would be delighted at the chance.”

You looked around Lord Beverly to see at least four other men waiting for their chance to ask you for a dance, and the thought of making up more excuses made your head spin. You graciously bid Lord Beverly a good evening, and turned on your heel towards the nearest exit.

In your haste, you did not notice George following you into the gardens.

“Well, you sure like to let them down easy,” he joked.

“George!” you cried. “We can’t be seen alone, are you daft? Trying to ruin me and my family?”

“Calm yourself, my Mother is just right there.”

You looked a bit to George’s left and saw his wonderful mother keeping a careful eye on the two of you, graciously leaving the attention of her husband to ensure that none would suspect foolery between you and George.

“As I was saying, it’s awfully obvious that you do not want any man to court you. Your mother will realize well and soon enough of your…aversion to marriage.”

“The only reason you know that is because you eavesdropped on a conversation I had with Eloise. But yes, I have no desire to marry, and I’m quite certain I never will. I’ll have to fight off suitors and think of a million excuses until I’m considered a spinster and men no longer want me.”

Silence enveloped you both as a tear slid down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away, hoping that George hadn’t seen, but of course, you were not so lucky.

“Is the idea of marriage really that upsetting to you, Y/N?”

“All those men, all they want is a woman to wear on their arm and to give them children. That’s what a woman’s life is in marriage. A husband doesn’t care about his wife’s passions, desires, intellect, among other things, and I can’t bring myself to entertain the idea of a life that has no room for my happiness.”

George was quiet; pondering your response and your feelings, when he was suddenly struck with the most brilliant of ideas.

You see, Mr. George Weasley was in love with Miss Y/N Y/L/N, has been for several years in fact. He couldn’t tell you exactly when or why, but he knew that the fluttering in his chest and the way his whole world became brighter when she entered a room meant that Y/N was more than just someone to engage in friendly banter with.

“I’ve thought of an idea,” George muttered, piquing your interest.

“Whatever might it be, Mr. Weasley?”

“Your…situation, can only go away if men were to believe you were taken, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose, only I can’t fool them into thinking that. It would become quite suspicious when I’m seen alone everywhere. And, there’s no way I could ever fool my parents.”

“Except you wouldn’t be alone, you’d have me!”

“I don’t believe I’m following your idea, George.”

“Marry me.”

You choked and sputtered on your own spit, unable to take a breath through your coughs and gasps. George’s hands flew to your shoulders to steady you, helping you to breathe easier and calm yourself down.

“George, you must be joking,” you said quietly.

“I am as deadly serious as I could ever be. Not a real marriage, of course. Real in every sense of the word in terms of legality, but not real as in, well, us together. I’ll spend this social season courting you, and at the end of the season I’ll propose. We’ll get married in a few months’ time, and then we can travel the world, doing whatever our hearts desire.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

“It’s quite simple. You need to get the eligible bachelors of the ton to leave you alone and you never want to marry because your husband would restrict your freedoms. I, as your husband, wouldn’t dare. You’re not entirely awful, I suppose there are far worse people to spend my life with, even if you utterly despise me, and marriage, real marriage, isn’t something I want either.”

You looked at him quizzically, searching for signs that he’d had far too much champagne or had gone completely mad in the head, but he looked right as rain, and your mind was spinning.

“I find it hard to believe you do not want to marry, after all the times you’ve said you cannot wait to marry the woman you love.”

“Honestly, the woman I love is….unattainable, I’ll put it that way. I won’t ever love anyone but her. I’m also waiting for an answer, it’s not every day you have to have a discussion after a proposal.”

“You’re sure this will work, Mr. Weasley?”

“How hard can it be to pretend to be in love with a woman as beautiful as you?”

“I always knew you were a flirt, but God, do you lay it on thick.”

George looked at you expectantly, almost a glimmer of hope is his eye, but as quickly as you thought you’d noticed it, he looked away.

“My answer is yes, George. Let’s fool the ton, our families, court, get married, and then travel the world platonically.”

“That sounds like the perfect arrangement, darling.”

@theweasleyslut @vivacesole @weasleyclaw @nuttytani-reblogs @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @woakiees @wildfire-whizbangs @gcdric

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#george weasley x reader #george weasley au #george weasley #bridgerton x hp #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton #hp #tw: alcohol

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serasvictoria · 3 years ago

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Stupid Games - Chapter 2

Pairing: Ubbe Lothbrok x Reader, Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Rating: Explicit at the end

Word count: 7487 (look, I obviously have issues)

Summary: You used to live next to the Lothbroks when you were younger, but you moved away and haven't seen them since. A wedding brings you back to town after many years and during a bachelorette party you run into the brothers again.

Notes: After Hvitserk had a go in the first part, Ubbe and Ivar take over. I thought that this chapter would end up being more centered around Ubbe (he will get more attention in the next instalment), but Ivar had something to say about that apparently. He is a bit of a pushy shit in this chapter, but I was oddly into it.

Took me a while to post this, because I couldn't get the first part of this to work. I'm finally pleased with it now so hopefully it'll work for you guys as well *fingers crossed*

Part 1 (link to my AO3)

All images from Pinterest

Tagging @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @ritual-unions-gotme @vikingstrash @pomegranates-and-blood @quantumlocked310 @adrille88 @actual-queen-of-hell @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @zuxiezendler

“A game?”

After Ivar had alluded to some kind of game that seemed to be going on between Hvitserk and Ubbe, something that neither of them wanted to comment on, their youngest brother had been the one to tell you what he had been talking about. It didn’t exactly help that Ivar looked a little bit too gleeful that he was the one that got to tell you all about this.

They had been playing a game. And it was all centered around you. That was why whenever one of them tried something when you were still a teenager, the other one was always keen to take it one step further. Everything from the kissing to the heavy petting to the dry humping, quite possibly all the way down to what had taken place in the restrooms earlier, had all been part of some stupid game.

“So the two of you were just playing with me this entire time?” Hvitserk had gone completely silent and seemed to be more interested in the contents of his glass. You somehow guessed that he was waiting for Ubbe to say something, since he was usually the one that diffused situations when they threatened to get out of hand, but his older brother never interjected. “Why would you even do that?”

“I would never do that to you,” Ivar suddenly said. “They are children.”

“Now hang on…”

“Shut up, Hvitserk.” Whatever it was that he was going to say, you didn’t exactly want to hear it. “Yeah, Ivar, you’re a real saint.”

“Better than them anyway.”

“I need some fresh air.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, Ivar. Stay here.” You leaned over to him and briefly pressed your lips on his cheek. “But thanks for offering.”

Before turning away, your eyes swept over Ubbe and Hvitserk for a few seconds and it looked like Ubbe had been about to say something, finally finding some words, but he closed his mouth when you turned away from them. Obviously sensing that it might not be the best idea to say something right at this very moment. You pushed yourself through the throng of people, the air too stifling now. When you were relieved that you could finally breathe in some cool air instead of the almost humid atmosphere in the bar. The night air was pleasant, on the cusp of summer and autumn, where the temperatures were still nice until relatively late in the evening.

Despite the fact that you had given it up years ago, it was times like these where you wished you hadn’t quit smoking. Since your hands needed to do something, you grabbed your mobile instead and scrolled through your instagram feed, if only to make sure that you weren’t opening yourself up to a potential conversation with anyone.

If you were honest with yourself, you had always expected that Ubbe and Hvitserk had been up to something all those years ago, but that a game had been at the source of it was quite unexpected. You had somehow convinced yourself that you’d just been having fun, that you were simply exploring new things with the boys next door, that you were using them just as much as they were using you. But it was never that simple, was it? Because at one point your feelings had very much entered into it, long before Ubbe had even kissed you.

But would they really be so cruel as to turn it all into a game? You knew and trusted these guys. You had a hard time thinking of them as callous. They wouldn’t do that. Not to you.

“Want some company?” You turned your head to the side and saw Ubbe approach you. He leaned against the wall next to you, but kept his distance. “I know that what Ivar said just now sounds really bad, but he was the only one that ever called what we were doing a game. Neither me or Serk ever looked at it that way.”

“Then what was it?”

“Interest in my case and Hvitserk was obsessed. Plain and simple.”

“Obsessed? With me?”

“What did you think it was?” He turned so that his shoulder was now pressed up against the wall and he could look you in the eye. “You remember that stupid card game?” You nodded. “Serk knew that you had never kissed anyone and he wanted to be your first. He figured that he had it in the bag as well, but he didn’t have a clue that I had a winning hand.”

“I had sort of figured out that it was the reason why he had suggested that dumb prize in the first place.” Why else would he have even come up with it to begin with if he hadn’t been convinced that he would win? “But why didn’t he just kiss me then? I wouldn’t think that he needed much incentive to do that. Especially when you take into consideration how many other girls he had already kissed at that point.”

“I don’t know,” Ubbe said with a shrug. “I probably know him best of all, but I don’t get his reasoning all the time. Maybe he thought that his best option was to turn it into a game.”

“That would explain it.” You looked up at Ubbe with a slight smile when your mind flitted back to that particular day. “And then he lost.”

“He was furious.” Ubbe started laughing. “Even accused me of rigging the game in my favour later.”

“It wasn’t like the kiss was any good.”

“Say what now?” He playfully poked a finger against your ribs. “I was prepared to put my heart and soul in that kiss. You were the one that pulled away.”

“Don’t remind me.” The only thing that you remembered was that you were absolutely horrified that Ubbe had essentially been forced to kiss you because of some dumb game. You’d wanted it to be a natural thing, not something that he had felt obligated to do. “He didn’t have any problems later on.”

“He wanted to outdo me.”

“Then what was everything that happened earlier all about?

“You want to know what he told me?”

“Well yeah.” You thought about it for a few seconds after answering him and added a quick, “It’s not going to be bad, is it?”

“Nope.” Sensing your apprehension, he reached out and took one of your hands in his as a comforting gesture. “He said that it had been worth the wait. As soon as he said that, I knew what the two of you had gotten up to while you were away.”

“Worth the wait?”

“He was obsessed with finding out what you tasted like. He even lost sleep over it at the time.” Ubbe barked out a laugh when he saw the surprised, yet also intrigued, look on your face. “It was pretty bad.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “He is such an idiot.”

You covered your face with your free hand and wished that you could just disappear right this very moment. This was definitely not what you thought was going to happen when you decided to come back to Kattegat after all these years. You always knew that there was a chance that you’d run into the Lothbroks at one point during your visit, but you hadn’t accounted for anything like this.

Ubbe’s hand slowly peeled your hand away from your eyes and his big blue eyes peered into yours quite insistently. “We’re cool, right?”

“Come on. As if I could stay mad at you.”

“Good.” He kept up his intense stare and kept holding your hands. Whenever you tried to pull your hands away, he squeezed until you stopped resisting. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what you want to know.”

“Why did you never call?”

“Call?” You frowned, not sure what he was talking about. “When?”

“When you moved away. You promised to stay in touch, but you never did.”

“Oh. That. Why do you want to talk about that now?”

“Just always wondered about it. That’s all.”

“I don’t think I…” He tilted his head to the side in a similar way that Ivar always did to show that he wasn’t going to drop the subject. You sighed deeply and wished that he’d just let go of your hands already so you could cover your face again. “Stupid really.” You tried to figure out how best to say this since it had been based on nothing but teenage insecurities at the time and they seemed so trivial now that you were a grown up. Ubbe didn’t push you, he simply waited until you found the words, his thumbs drawing comforting circles on the palms of your hands. “I erm… I wanted to. Just figured you guys would be busy.”

“With what?”

“More important… stuff.”

“Cut the crap.”

“Okay. Jesus.” You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that he couldn’t exactly pry your eyelids open. “I needed some time to adjust at first so I didn’t want to bother you guys with that dumb shit. Who wants to hear about that crap right? To hear me bitch and moan about how much I hated it there.”

Your mother had moved to be closer to her family and staying in Kattegat had hurt too much. Much later she had told you that everything there had reminded her of your father. Where they had their first date, where he had proposed, everything there had been tied to him and she wanted to get away from it. Her entire life before she had met your father had been in Silkeborg which seemed a million miles away from the only place that you’d ever known. You transferred into school in the middle of a school year and the only kids you knew there were two cousins, one of which you hated. You were absolutely miserable and basically kept your head down until you were old enough to go to college so you could get the hell out of there.

“I stayed in touch with Svana, Olga and Gunna and I eventually asked about you guys, since I was thinking of calling and I wanted to know if it’d be weird if I did that after going all silent for a while.” You swallowed. God, this was hard. “But they’d always go all quiet when I brought you guys up and I didn’t know why. They kept saying that you were doing fine and wouldn’t elaborate. So I asked Kára instead since she’s the only one that wouldn’t sugarcoat anything...”

That was where you stopped suddenly, not really wanting to continue. The reason was so incredibly stupid. It didn’t matter. The urge to go back inside and get paralytically drunk was overwhelming. Before you knew what happened, your face suddenly connected with Ubbe’s chest and he gave you a massive hug. He was still good at giving those. You still remembered that time after he had given you your first orgasm and the two of you had lain in his bed, hugging each other until it got dark outside. He never even said anything that time either, he just held you which was the exact same thing that he was doing right now.

“What did she say?” Nothing in how he held you gave away that he was angry, but you could hear it quite clearly in his voice.

“This is so stupid.” You pressed your head against his chest so that you could muffle your answer. “They told me that you and Serk were seeing Margrethe.”

At the time it had felt like the deepest betrayal to your young mind. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been in a relationship with either one of them, but the only thought that had been on your mind at the time was that they’d moved on and found someone else. With your mortal enemy no less. It wasn’t like they didn’t know that the relationship that you had with her was strained, if you could even call it that at all.

You thought that the two of you had been friends at one time, but Margrethe had merely befriended you as a means to get closer to the Lothbroks. When that hadn’t worked, she had started spreading vicious rumours around school and the word about you being a whore that slept with all four of the boys spread around the school like wildfire.

It hadn’t mattered how much anyone had denied it, a lot of people had been a bit too eager to accept the gossip as gospel. Mainly girls had eaten it up like cake. Apparently a lot of girls were incredibly jealous of the fact that you were around the most popular guys in school almost constantly. The only girls that had stood by you through all of it were the seven girls that you were with tonight. Kára had even attempted to break Margrethe’s nose when she’d found out who had been behind the rumours and had been expelled for a week because of it.

In the end Margrethe had gotten exactly what she wanted.

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?” You pulled away and slapped his chest suddenly. “You knew I had a history with that bitch.”

“Maybe you should have called and asked me about it.” He sighed and pulled you back in for another hug. “Or were you worried about what the answer might have been?”

“I was a dumb kid.” You pressed your head against his chest again and breathed in his comforting scent. He always smelled so musky and earthy. There was no other scent quite like it. “Course I was worried.”

“It was never that serious. Not for her anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She had… issues.” Ubbe was picking his words very carefully. It wasn’t that big of a surprise to you to be honest. The fact that Margrethe was seriously troubled hadn’t completely escaped you back then, but you had never concerned yourself too much with trying to figure out what her deal was. “I tried to help her, but whenever I tried to broach the subject she’d run to Serk to badmouth me.”

Even if you haven’t thought of Margrethe for years, hearing him say that made you want to hunt her down. You would have told him that too, but that wasn’t what he needed right now. You were a bit at a loss how to make it better however. It didn’t seem like he was still hurting or anything so telling him that everything was okay was probably a million miles off.

“She always had her problems,” was all you said in the end.

“I know,” he replied. “All in the past.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shut down on me.” He released you, cupped your chin and gently tilted your head up so you could look at him. “You used to do that when we were kids as well.”

“I swear that I wasn’t! But you started this. Not me.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“Basically,” you said with a grin as another idea formed in the back of your head. “So make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” His eyes started sparkling with obvious delight. “I’m not going to do what Serk did earlier. I never wanted to outdo him at anything. I know I can do better.”

“That’s not what I was thinking of!” You smacked your hand against his arm first before letting it rest on his bicep. You could not help but give him a light squeeze, briefly imagining how easy it must be for him to lift you up and pin you between himself and the wall. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re thinking about it now though.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to do it,” you replied. “Not out here anyway.”

“Hmmm.” He leaned forward, his beard tickling against your ear as he kept talking. “What do you want me to do then?” His large hands settled on your hips and he pushed you back against the wall. “You’re gonna have to tell me, princess.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe.”

Ubbe settled his lips on your neck. All he did was kiss and nip at your skin, but you could feel your heart rate increase already. He briefly reached up to pull the collar of your shirt open, placed his mouth right on the spot where your neck met your shoulder and started sucking on your skin. Despite the fact that the two of you were standing only a short distance away from the red neon light that hung above the entrance to the bar, he covered you in such a way that it would simply look like the two of you were just making out. Besides, crazier stuff must have happened out here anyway.

“This what you had in mind?” he murmured huskily against your neck. Before you could reply, he moved his hands from your hips to your ass. “Or do you want me to take you home?”

“What is it with the two of you and this urge to get me back to your place?” You blurted out with a giggle. “I just wanted you to kiss me.”

“That it?” He peeled his lips away from your neck and pressed his forehead against yours. “Just a kiss?”

“Just a kiss.”

“You sure are easy to please.”

“As you know.” Ubbe never really had to try very hard with you and he knew this. In the past he would always joke about how blissed out you would look even after something as simple as a kiss. You tilted your chin up so that your lips brushed together. “You gonna kiss me or not?”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Pushing forward, he closed the small distance and captured your lips. The kiss that he had given you inside earlier had been intense as well, but it had been short and tasted of more. He didn’t have to stop now. He growled against your lips, kissing you so hungrily that it felt like he was trying to devour you. Even when younger Ubbe had often joked that he was like a wolf, something that his parents had recognised at birth and had named him for it. It had always made you laugh, but you could practically feel the resemblance now. If he could have his way, he’d no doubt be tearing your clothes off right now so he could eat you alive.

If he kept this up, you would be tempted to just turn around and let him fuck you right here up against the wall. Your entire head felt fuzzy and it was pretty hard to concentrate on anything other than Ubbe’s tongue which he kept slipping into your mouth. Hvitserk had worked you up to a frenzy not that long ago, but Ubbe was beginning to push you in a similar direction very quickly. One of his hands started sliding down and you knew that you should tell him to stop before you lost your mind completely, but you didn’t. His hot palm was on your bare thigh seconds later and then he slid it up, dipping his fingers into your panties so he could touch your bare skin.

“You’re burning up,” he groaned against your lips.

“Sure feels like it.”

“Want me to do something about it?”

It sure would be tempting to simply say “yes”. And oh so easy. Just one word. Just that little affirmative answer and he’d do something about this heat that he was gradually stoking inside of you. Your body was practically screaming at you to just say “yes”, to get it over with and stop putting it off. You could have what you wanted. Right here and right now. All you had to do was…

“Oh hell no!” You pulled your lips away from him, because you recognized that voice. “You little slut!”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, you are!” Svana was making rude gestures at the pair of you from the entrance with a big smile on her face. “Get back in here. We just bought another round. As for you,” she was pointing straight at Ubbe now. “We bought your ass a beer, so you’d better finish it before we let your brother have it.” She cackled loudly and then disappeared without waiting to see what the two of you were going to do.

“What do you want to do?” Now that his lips weren’t on yours anymore, it was a lot easier to think. When you didn’t answer straight away, he pinched your ass once before removing his hand from your underwear. “Go back in?”

“Be a shame to waste those drinks.”

“I guess.” He held his hand out to you and you took it without hesitation. “One thing though, you’re having dinner at our place tomorrow. Just to avoid any more interruptions.” You could feel all the hairs on your arm stand on end the second the words were out of his mouth. Just the thought of an evening with the two of them with no one around to stop them… your brain already went into overdrive. “Deal?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Right before the two of you passed through the entrance, Ubbe pushed you up against the wall right next to it very quickly and gave you one final hungry kiss that took your breath away.

It very much felt like a little taster to what could happen the following evening if you’d let him keep going.

*****

After the night you’d had, you were glad to be back in your hotel room.

When you and Ubbe had gone back inside to join your friends, you found that Hvitserk and Ivar had already joined them and the rest of the evening was filled with even more alcohol and witnessing some incredibly bad dancing from Hvitserk’s end.

Switching the light on in the small bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror and came to the conclusion that you looked like absolute shit. You stripped out of your clothes, dropped them on the floor and left them there. It wasn’t of the utmost importance that you fold them up right this minute anyway. You had already hung a slinky, spaghetti strapped nightshirt on a peg on the door. It had been packed in case you managed to get lucky sometime during this short trip and the way things were looking after tonight, there was a definite chance that you would.

Make-up removed and teeth brushed, you headed back into the room and promptly dropped face first into the bed. You spread yourself out over the mattress and pressed your face into the sheets. It was a good thing that you didn’t have anything planned until tomorrow evening (technically this evening), because you probably wouldn’t wake up until midday.

You’d been about to doze off when you heard your mobile. You swore and reached for it and stared at the screen. Unknown caller. You groaned and shoved it underneath the pillow. Probably a wrong number or some bad joke from one of your drunk friends. It kept ringing until it switched over to voicemail and you sighed deeply when it stopped, completely ready to let sleep overtake you…

It started ringing again. By now you were determined to ignore it, but as soon as it stopped, you kept hearing your ringtone kick back to life. Whoever it was, they would not allow you to fall asleep until you’d picked up. After the fourth time, you dug it out from under the pillow and answered.

“What!” The annoyance in your voice was unmistakable and you’d been about to start swearing about how this had better be really fucking important when you heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“That’s no way to greet an old friend.”

“Ivar?” You rolled over until you were laying on your back. “What the hell? Do you know what time it is?”

“4:48.”

“Jesus Christ. Why are you calling me? And how did you get my number anyway?”

“Ubbe gave it to me.” You’d exchanged numbers with Ubbe after he’d invited you round to have dinner with him and Hvitserk since he had promised to pick you up. “You didn’t want me to have it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You didn’t mind. Ivar would probably end up getting your number sooner or later anyway, but he still hadn’t mentioned why he had decided that now was a good time to call you. “I don’t know why you’re calling me, but can’t it wait until later?”

“No. I need to talk to you now.”

“Okay, fine,” you said with a sigh. You had known Ivar for long enough to know that he was the type of person that would end up getting his way no matter what and if Ivar wanted to talk to you, that would be exactly what would happen. It didn’t matter if you were too tired, you just had to get over it and accept it. “What is it?”

“What are you wearing anyway?”

“Ivar! What the fuck! I’m not telling you that.” You started laughing and was waiting for him to join in to let you know that he had asked you that question to be funny, but he never did. “Get to the point. Why are you calling me?”

“I was just thinking of you in that ridiculous outfit.”

“Oh. And you figured you’d call me to tell me about it?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after seeing that and I don’t think you should either.”

“Okaaaay…” You stretched out the word and found yourself wondering what else was going to be coming out of his mouth. “So what should I be doing instead?”

“Touch yourself.” For a few seconds you weren’t entirely sure that you’d heard him correctly, somehow convinced that you were imagining this entire conversation because you were so sleep deprived. But then he said your name in a low voice and asked, “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes.” You didn’t know why he was asking you to do this, but it had to be a joke to see if you’d actually do it. That was the only logical explanation. “D-did you just ask me to…”

“Touch yourself, yes.” He paused for a few seconds while you were still waiting for him to tell you that this was all a joke, that he had just been having some fun, but then he continued. “But you were wrong.”

“Oh? About what?”

“I wasn’t asking you, I was telling you.”

“Ivar, you can’t just call me at five in the morning and tell me t-”

“Yes, I can.” He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “Touch yourself. I am not telling you again.”

“Ivar, fuck.” Hearing the command in his voice was working for you in ways that you had never thought possible. You pressed the index finger of your free hand against your neck, just below your ear, and started trailing it down. “This is insane.”

“Are you touching yourself, kitten?”

“Y-yes.” This really was a dream. You were having some kind of vivid sexual dream involving the kid that used to sit in the little red trailer behind your bike as he screamed at you to go faster. And now that same kid, all grown up by now, was initiating phone sex with you. “I am.”

“Where?”

“My collarbone.” Your finger had pressed into the dip above your sternum and had started trailing outward.

“Child’s play.” Ivar sounded less than impressed with you. “Are your nipples hard?”

“Ivar!”

“What?” You heard him chuckle on the other end. “Well? Are they?”

You looked down at your chest and could see your nipples pressing up against the silky fabric of your nightshirt. “Yes.”

“So touch them instead.” Despite the fact that he couldn’t see whether you were doing it or not, you thought that he would probably be able to tell if you were ignoring what he was telling you to do. “Your collarbone. Honestly.” You whimpered when your finger brushed up against the hardened nub. “Feel good?” You made an affirmative noise. “Squeeze.” You did as he asked again and stifled a moan. “Don’t do that.”

“W-what?”

“I want to hear you.” You repeated the movement and this time you didn’t try to silence yourself. “Good.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “Now move your hand down lower.”

Your hand skimmed down your stomach, moving down ever lower until your fingers brushed over your mound and you sighed deeply when your hand dipped down in between your legs. When you pressed against your covered core, you could feel that your underwear was already damp and you set to lazily rubbing your fingers up and down. Little gasps and moans kept tumbling from your lips and you gripped your mobile tighter in your hand.

“Did I tell you that you could do that?” Your hand stopped moving instantly and you made sure that Ivar heard how displeased you were. “No. I didn’t say that you could move your hand down that low.” Since you could somehow tell that it was coming, you pulled your hand away and moved it next to you to grip the sheets instead. “Start again.”

“From where?”

“Your collarbone.”

“I thought that was child’s play?”

“Just do it,” he replied mercilessly. “And don’t talk back. Good girls do whatever they’re told.”

“And who told you that I was a good girl?” He wasn’t in the room with you so you could be a little bit defiant. “Good girls don’t necessarily give guys blowjobs in restrooms.”

“Probably not.”

Without any warning, the call suddenly disconnected. You stared at your screen in confusion. Why would Ivar get you all hot and bothered like that only to hang up on you? So now you had to finish it yourself and then you could finally fall asleep. You’d been about to do just that when your phone started ringing again. When you looked at the screen, you saw that someone wanted to video call you. You swiped your thumb over the screen and the next thing you knew Ivar’s face came into view.

“You thought that I was going to leave you hanging, weren’t you?”

“I kinda did yeah.”

“I just wanted to see with my own eyes that you were going to do what I told you.” Ivar bit his lower lip. It was a move that was almost a little bit too calculated to come across as natural, but you didn’t really mind. It only made you wish that he was in the room with you so you could feel those lips on yours. “Now show me what you are wearing.”

You moved the phone up a little bit higher and slowly tilted it downward. There was a lace trim at the top of your nightshirt and the rest was made of a pink silky material. It didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. You had your legs pulled up so he couldn’t see your underwear properly and you could see a slight frown crease his brow.

“Open your thighs.” You parted your legs slowly and made sure that he could see your panties. They didn’t match your nightshirt, but when you heard him whistle through his teeth it was made clear that he didn’t particularly care that you weren’t wearing a matching set. “Nice.”

“You like it?”

“A lot. Let me see your face again.” You moved the screen back up and smiled at him. “I want you to take it off now.”

“My nightshirt?”

“Everything.” He could probably see the hesitation on your face and you saw his eyes soften. “Would you do that for me, kitten?”

“Just my top.” You saw his other hand move into view for a few seconds, gesturing at you to continue. You put the phone down next to you, pushed yourself up into a sitting position and removed your top. Moving back into view of your phone, you sat in such a way that Ivar could see that you were half naked now without letting him see your bare chest. “See?”

“But not enough.” One corner of his mouth curled up in an almost wicked grin. “Just a peek.” You knew where this was heading, that much was obvious, but you had never done anything like this before and it made you apprehensive. “Do you want me to say please?”

“I’m not so sure you can say please.” You lay back down, moved one of your arms so it covered your breasts and grabbed the phone again. You held it high above you so he could see your face and the top of your chest. “Like this?”

“You’re not giving me a lot to work with here.” He sounded unimpressed so you moved your hand, aiming it down lower so he could see the arm that you were covering yourself with. “Move your arm.” You briefly closed your eyes and took in a deep breath to steady yourself, but didn’t pull your arm away. He said your name and you looked up at his face again. “Please?”

Very slowly, you spread your fingers so a single nipple appeared between them. His tongue peeked out from between his lips to swipe over his bottom lip. You saw his lips move, but before he could say anything you started circling the pebbled nub with one of your fingers. Ivar’s pupils were so big by now that you could barely make out the blue in his eyes anymore. You couldn’t help but wonder if he would come over if you were to ask him to.

“Move your arm.” You took a deep breath and very slowly started moving your arm down until it was resting right underneath your breasts. Ivar tried to hide it, but you saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and then he uttered a low, “Fuck.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you wearing?” He didn’t respond immediately, he merely looked amused that you even asked him this, so you tried to make your next words sound as commanding as possible. “Show me.”

Ivar kept his eyes on yours for a few seconds longer and just when you thought that he wasn’t going to show you anything at all, he slowly tilted the phone down to show you that his chest was already bare. You’d already felt it back at the bar when he pulled you closer to him a couple of times after he and his brothers had joined your group of friends, but my god, he was ripped. You’d been paying such attention to his chest and the tattoos that covered part of it, that you hadn’t noticed that his other arm wasn’t visible. In fact you might even have noticed that there was slight movement coming from that side of his chest, but sadly you hadn’t.

The camera moved down over his stomach and you found yourself wanting to know how his skin would feel against the palm of your hands as you skimmed them down his chest. It wasn’t until you caught sight of trimmed hairs that led down that you noticed that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either. And then, without any prior warning, his cock suddenly came into view. You saw it for a few seconds, your mind only barely registering how hard he was and how slowly he was stroking himself before he disappeared from view and you started swearing.

“Fuck! Dammit!” You rubbed your forehead and heard him doing his utmost not to burst out in laughter on the other end. “Not funny, Ivar.”

“I am sorry, kitten.” He cleared his throat, chuckled one more time and then asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Dropped my goddamn phone.”

“Look at me.” You rolled on your side to grab your mobile and propped it up against a pillow so he could still have a clear view of your face. It also meant that you would not be able to drop the damn thing on yourself again. You definitely didn’t want to explain a possible black eye to Ubbe and Hvitserk tomorrow. “Were you that shocked?”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be naked,” you replied, feeling mighty stupid about yourself right now. “That’s all.”

“So… now that you know that I’m naked…”

“I’m not going to be showing you my pussy.”

“I am shocked that you even thought that.” He even gasped, but you didn’t believe him. That fucker always kept a very tight lid on his emotions. No way that something like that would shock him. “You could still take your underwear off though.”

“I could.” When you didn’t move, Ivar started pouting. Very much like before, it was such a practiced move. How many times had he done something like that before to get what he wanted? “You sly fucker.”

“What did I do?”

“Shut up. As if you don’t know.” His mouth broke out into a wide grin and you shook your head. “You are such a dick, Ivar.” When you saw him open his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“If you were going to say anything about how nice your dick looks, I swear that I’ll hang up.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but thanks.” You groaned for even voicing that opinion out loud. You really had to learn to think before you speak, especially around someone like Ivar. “What kind of guy would say that?”

“Have you met Serk?”

“Good point,” he said with a chuckle. “I was just going to ask you to take your panties off again.”

“You always were a persistent little shit.” Why not give him what he wanted? You weren’t going to shove the phone in between your legs to show him that you were entirely naked, you’d made that clear already. “Tell me. Don’t ask me.”

“Hmmm. So you like that, do you?” His grin turned practically feral now that you’d given him a piece of information that he would likely use against you at some other point in the future. “Take your panties off. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” The word was out of your mouth before you even realised it and when you did, your cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh my god… I-I am so s-sorry… that was…”

“Hot?” Your horrified expression only amused him more and he started laughing. “You can call me that anytime, kitten.”

“I wasn’t…”

“But I did tell you to do something, didn’t I?”

And then the command was back. When an involuntary moan escaped your lips, he drew attention to his own lips again by running his tongue over his plump bottom lip. You mouthed the word “fuck” before reaching down and sliding your underwear down your legs. When they were off, you moved them into view of your phone to show him that you were now entirely naked and hearing him groan softly on the other end felt strangely good.

“Ivar?”

“What is it, kitten?”

“If you’re going to tell me to touch my collarbone again, I’ll kill you.”

“Impatient.” Before he could tell you to do anything, you’d already slid your hand between your legs and you made sure that he heard the sound that you made when your fingers finally came into contact with your soaking wet pussy. “Fine. I’ve been touching myself for a while so I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it? Gee, thank you, Ivar.”

“I can be merciful,” he replied without a hint of embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

“Touching myself.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Lord. This is kinda…” You squeezed your eyes shut and bucked your hips up against your hand. “Fuck.” His laboured breathing was starting to propel you closer to reaching a climax and when you opened your eyes to look at the screen again, you could tell that he probably didn’t need much more either. “I’m so wet,” you half moaned. “Wish you were here so you could… replace my fingers… with your tongue…”

“Oh y-yeah?”

“Mmmm.” You moved your hand away from yourself, quickly replacing it with your other hand and then held your arousal soaked fingers up to the screen. “See that?” His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. You kept eye contact with him when you sucked your digits into your mouth, moaning as you did so. You moved your fingers in and out of your mouth, determined to give him some kind of show.

“I need to feel those pretty lips of yours…” He was finally able to talk now. “...wrapped around my cock.” You released your fingers with a loud pop and then presented your tongue to him, to mimic that you were doing something else entirely. “Just like that,” he said with a grin. “Bet you’d look good on your knees.”

“In my… skirt…”

“Yeah…” It was getting more and more difficult for him to talk now, you could tell, but he was still trying. “I’m so…”

Ivar never finished his sentence. All that came out was a low guttural growl and then he was done. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy as he came down from his high. You kept your eyes focused on his lips and his tongue that kept darting out to moisten them. When he finally opened his eyes, within seconds he knew what you’d been looking at.

“Kitten.” He practically purred the word at you and you could feel your muscles twitch involuntarily. Your movements increased, rubbing harder as the pressure continued to build. “I should just come over so I can make you come with my mouth and my fingers.” Your face started to feel hot and you gasped loudly. You were close. So close. “And then, if you’ve been a good girl, I might even fuck you.” He paused for a few seconds, his blue eyes locked on yours. “But only if you’ve been really good.”

“Oh my god…” One last circular movement around your clit, that was all you needed. You squeezed your eyes shut and all but wailed the words as your legs started shaking, your muscles spasming, your toes curling against the blanket. “Shit, shit, shit…”

You were aware of Ivar’s soft chuckle somewhere in the background, but it was hard to focus on anything after orgasming that hard. If it was already this good, what the hell was it going to be like if he was actually in the room with you? If he actually pressed that thick cock of his into you and growled into your ear what a good girl you were? The sheer thought of it was almost enough to make you come again.

Finally cracking an eye open, you looked at the screen to find Ivar’s blue eyes focused on you. One corner of your mouth curled up and then you wiped the sweat off your brow that had accumulated there. “Fuck. That was amazing,” you said with a breathy laugh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I can tell,” he said quietly. “Will you be able to sleep or do you need me for something else?”

Wait. Was he angling for an invitation here? You looked at the alarm clock that was on the bedside table. The red glowing numbers had the time at 5:16 in the morning.

“Nope.” You decided to play dumb. “Why? Did you want to talk?”

“Talk? No.” He chuckled softly in reply and ran his hand down his face. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

“Yep.” You rolled over on your side and blew a kiss at the camera. “Good night, Ivar.”

Before he could say anything in reply, you had already disconnected the call and then pressed your face into the pillow as you laughed. Your phone started beeping almost immediately. You saw a message illuminate the screen and you unlocked it to reply.

The message read: That was rude.

Since you hadn’t had a chance to add his number to your contact list, you were seeing nothing but his phone number so you added him so you could at least see his name.

Good night, Ivar.

You saw that he was typing back and it didn’t take him long to send a reply. Good night, kitten. You were going to reply, but saw dots appear again. I’ll have to teach you some manners the next time we see each other.

A shiver ran down your spine when you read his message. You wondered what he was planning, but knowing him it would probably be good.

Good night, Ivar. And I’m looking forward to it.

He didn’t send you any more messages and you fell into a deep sleep shortly after while clutching your mobile tightly.

#vikings #vikings au #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ubbe x reader #ivar x reader #mar writes #mar moodboards

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ramen-rambles · 4 years ago

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Bottom Bitch

Kinktober Day 1: Sex Toys

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Warnings: 18+, tw: drugs, weed/marijuana, sex toys (double edged dildo, vibrator), scissoring, anal, rimming, spit play

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Quarantine fucking sucks. And unfortunately, your boyfriend’s birthday just so happened to be in right in the middle of this pandemic. With the end of the world seemingly drawing near, you suggest to do something you two have never done before. Who knew that Oikawa would turn into such a needy bitch when he was high?

A/N: Ahahahaha I’m sorry I haven’t written anything since February LOL. And also, I’m sorry for randomly disappearing for literal months. Uh, please accept this as an apology… I feel like I’ve been a little rusty but I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Kinktober!

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

Today was July 20th! Which means that it was Oikawa’s birthday.

Every year, you and your boyfriend usually did what every couple did to celebrate. A cute date, a nice dinner, a rough fucking — you know, the works. But this year you two ran into a bit of a problem. Unfortunately, due to the mandated self quarantine orders, you couldn’t really do that. But you still wanted to make the most of the situation.

Just before all the non-essential shops temporarily closed, you were able to make a stop at your local dispensary. You figured that since it seemed like the end of the world was drawing ever near, why not indulge yourselves in some of mother nature’s best gifts?

The hardest part of this whole thing wasn’t even the fact that you were stuck inside for Oikawa’s special day, no, the hard part was going to be convincing him to get high with you. He knew that you smoked. For fuck’s sake, all of his friends did too. During your high school days, the Seijoh third years were notorious for blazing it up (Matsukawa and Hanamaki, especially). Even as adults, there were times when you would all find some free time just to have a relaxing smoke sesh and catch up on each other’s lives. As they say, old habits die hard.

So, you wanting to get stoned was no surprise to him. He, on the other hand, was not an avid participant.

Currently, the two of you were laying down in bed, watching whatever was on television, not that you two were really paying attention. Your mind was more occupied on how exactly you were supposed to bring up this little idea of yours. Getting Oikawa to agree to anything was hard enough as it is, let alone something that seemed so out of his comfort zone.

“Hey, happy birthday again, Shittykawa. I love you so much, you know that?” You said, looking at him lovingly and nudging him on his side, placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Who are you, Iwa-chan?” He scoffed. “But I love you too, baby. And you know you’ve greeted me almost a million times today, right?”, eagerly returning your gesture.

“I can’t help it! I’m sorry that our usual birthday plans got ruined because of this stupid quarantine. I wish I could make it up to you.” You pouted, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I have a couple of ideas that would more than make up for it,” he teased, grabbing your ass before giving it a loud smack, “but have you got anything in mind, princess?”

“I actually have something in mind that I really wanted to do with you…”

“Oh? And what could that be? You going to let me eat that cake of yours?” He said, sitting up on his elbow, with a shit-eating smirk plastered all over that pretty face of his.

“Well… I was actually hoping that we could get high today… You know, since it seems like the world is ending and all.” You said, nervously scratching the back of your head. “I thought it would be fun to celebrate your birthday in a way we’ve never done before!”

You sounded doubtful. You had a feeling that he was going to refuse, but his answer came as a surprise.

“Okay, deal.”

Did you hear that right? Did he just agree with you? Did your stubborn boyfriend say yes, with absolutely no hesitation?

“R-really!? Wow, I didn’t expect you to be so on board with it! I thought I was going to have to convince you way more.” You cheered, hands wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Whatever, it’s not like we can go anywhere anyways. Might as well go wild!” He said with a smug smirk on his face.

You excitedly hopped off the bed and ran towards your closet, grabbing the goodies you bought. You had bought quite a few products — some edibles, a couple prerolls, and a brand new wax pen.

“Jesus christ, how much shit did you buy? You must have spent a fortune.”

“Money is no object when it comes to you, Tooru. Also, you don’t really do this kind of thing, so I just wanted us to have some options. In all honesty, I didn’t even think you’d say yes to doing this.”

“Well, let’s get this party started, princess.”

You smiled eagerly and laid out all the products in front of him, “So, what do you want to try first? Birthday boy gets to choose.”

He immediately went for the wax pen, taking a long drag and inhaling the smoke, making sure to keep it in his lungs for a bit before grabbing the back of your head, and forcing your lips to part open before he exhales the smoke into your mouth, as if he was an expert at it. For someone who didn’t do this often, he sure as hell didn’t look like it.

“Someone seems a bit excited, huh?” You teased, before crashing your lips together in a heated spit swapping session.

You made your way on top of him, mouth never leaving his, running out of breath as he starts sucking on your tongue, drool spilling out the side of your mouth as it dribbles down onto his face.

“Fuck. You nasty bitch, you just spit all over my fucking face.”

“Oh, shut up,” you breathed, “you act like you practically weren’t drinking out of my mouth just a second ago.”

The both of you consistently took turns taking hits off the pen. Inhaling and exhaling the delicious smoke as if your lives depended on it.

The two of you started feeling the effects of the drugs get to your head. Lightheaded. Spinning. Intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel more. No, you needed to feel more.

You went for the edible and shoved the cookie into your mouth, leaving half of it hanging out. You fed Oikawa the rest of it. He took it willingly, watching a shiver go down his spine as he shuddered from the bitter taste go down his throat when he swallowed. “That tastes like shit. How the fuck do you eat this crap so often?” You let out a small giggle, admiring how cute his inexperience was. “Oh calm down, it shouldn’t take long for you to start feeling it kick in.”

“So, c’mon birthday boy, let me take care of you.”

You started kissing over his jawline, licking and letting your teeth bite down on the soft skin of his neck. You nuzzled your face closer, leaving marks and bruises painted all over him.

You continued straddling his waist, your clothed cunt rubbing ever so slowly against his growing erection. Teasing, dragging out the sensation of his cock throbbing over your slit, feeling yourself get more and more drenched with desire. “Are you doing okay, Tooru?”

“I feel so fucking good. You make me feel so fucking good.” Hearing him sound so desperate and needy caused your cunt to clench. “F-fuck, can you suck my cock, princess? Can you do that for me, please?” You had never really seen this side of him before, but the tables were turning and you were more than willing to give him what he wanted.

You pulled his shirt up, making your way down his torso, licking and kissing all over his toned abs, sucking on his sensitive little nipples. You slipped your hands under the waistband of his underwear, stroking his hardened cock. You quickly rid him of all his remaining clothes. You followed suit. Now, with the both of you completely naked, the fun was just about to start.

Gently, you licked a stripe along his head paying close attention to the prominent veins that adorned his massive length. His cock was already dripping, the head beading with his precum. Spitting on your palm, you languidly stroked him, watching his toes curl and a small moan slip out of his mouth. You looked up at him and his eyes were screwed shut, he used his free hand to find purchase on the back of your head. Fisiting your hair, he moved it to the side to make sure he got a good look at how well you sucked his cock. He pushed you further down his length, causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat.

You could tell he was close, but just before he could finish, you pulled away. “Shit. Fuck. W-why’d you stop?”

Aw. He sounded so disheartened.

“Get on your hands and knees, baby. I want to try something new.” You said with a devilish grin on your face. He looked hesitant at first but his head was spinning so much that he just did it with no resistance.

You roughly pulled his ass up in the air, your small hands spreading his cheeks apart, exposing his tight, puckered asshole. You let your spit pool in your mouth, teasingly letting it string in between your lips before allowing it to drip over his ass. You circled the pad of your tongue around his rim, prodding it slowly in and out of his tightness. Continuing your assault, you sneaked your hand in between his thighs, stroking his cock every time you pressed inside of him. Oikawa’s hands were fisted into the sheets and his face looked hot to the touch, a red tint glazing all over his body.

You bit down on your bottom lip, and rubbed your thighs together at the ideas that were brewing in your mind. You reached underneath your bed and grabbed your box full of sex toys, pulling out lube, two vibrators and a thick, purple, double edged dildo. The look of Oikawa getting off to having his ass ate made your cunt pulsate with lust, and so the mere thought of him having him stuffed with a toy had your head fucking spinning. You wanted nothing more than to make a wreck out of his pretty little ass.

Oikawa was still face down on the bed. His mouth was hanging open, panting heavily as he tried to control his breathing. He was so blissed out, his head seemed to be somewhere in the clouds.

“Tooru, hey, are you okay? Lie down for me.” You squished his face in between your fingers to get his attention. When he finally turned to you, you could tell he was high beyond belief. “Mhm. Just feeling weird. It feels like the room is both spinning and still at the same time.” He huffed, moving onto his back, resting against the soft satin sheets. You giggled at how he turned into such a needy little boy, practically begging to be fucked into absolute senselessness.

“Look at me, baby.” You brought one end of the dildo up to your mouth, slowly sucking it off as if it was Oikawa’s cock fucking your mouth instead. He could feel his dick twitch at the sight in front of him, his asshole involuntary clenching thinking about how it might feel to have it inside him. Inching closer to him, you held the dildo in between the two of you and guided the other end of the toy up to his lips. Parting them slowly, he began copying the same movements that you were doing on the other side. Pulling away momentarily, “Shit. You look so fucking hot when you suck cock, baby” you say, letting your free hand roam down to his hardened nipples, pinching and tweaking them, illiciting small moans to escape his lips while he choked on the toy in his mouth.

“As much as I love seeing you suck on that pretty toy, I know a place to put it that’ll make you feel real fucking good.” Taking the dildo out of his mouth, you slide yourself down towards his lower half, spreading his thighs apart to see his hole that glistened with your spit, and his cock that oozed precum. You pressed wet kisses along his length, tongue stroking his balls, allowing yourself to slither over his perineum, causing him to writhe underneath your touch. You brought your fingers up to his mouth, collecting saliva around your digits before gently pressing them against his tight hole, slowly inching them deeper and deeper inside of him.

He winced at the intrusion, making his face contort in pain. But surely, that burning sensation of you prodding your slim fingers inside his tight hole began morphing into a euphoric pleasure. He let out a small moan, bringing his fingers up to his lips and biting down on them to suppress the noises that were coming out of his mouth. You paused what you were doing to him to look up and whispered “Aw, c’mon baby, don’t be like that. I want to hear all those pretty noises you’re making while you act like such a little whore.”

“So be louder for me, sweetheart” you snickered sinisterly as you continued your ministrations on his overly sensitive hole.

If you weren’t high earlier, then you definitely were now. The effects of the marijuana elevating your sense of reality as the two of you drift into a state of pure fucking bliss.

You started feeling more impatient, more needy. You needed to get off and you need it now. And Oikawa felt just the same. The look on his face was confirmation of that. Panting heavily, drool escaping the side of his mouth, and wet tears decorating his red cheeks — he looked like he was about to cum without even trying.

With no delay, you grabbed the dildo and the lube from the side of the bed and began to slather the cold fluid over both ends of the toy. You positioned yourself in front of him, placing one end up to his tight rim while you lined the other side against your dripping wet pussy. You hadn’t even realized how wet you had become because you were so focused on Oikawa — you didn’t notice that your cunt was practically leaking all over you.

“Haaah. Look at you, baby. Your pussy is begging to be stuffed. So wet for me. So fucking b-beautiful.” Oikawa shuddered, his speech slurred as he was still utterly fucked out because of your incessant teasing from earlier. His words caused your cunt to clench, your eyes closed as you shakingly breathed out, “Please, T-tooru…”

You started to ease the toy inside of Oikawa — slowly but steadily sliding the thick purple dildo into his stretched out hole. He flinched as you finally got half of the toy into his ass, letting out a sinful moan as the head involuntarily hit against his prostate. “Ah, f-fuck! That felt so fucking good. Baby, please…”

His eagerness sparked a flame within you, and so you hurried to shove the rest of the toy inside of your own hole. You let out a sigh of relief as your pussy was finally getting some much needed attention, after being neglected for so long as you focused on pleasing your boyfriend.

You started to move slowly, rocking back and forth against each other as the two of you got used to the sheer size of the toy that connected the both of you. To help ease the pain, you grabbed one of the vibrators, held it up to Oikawa and said, “Here you go, baby. Put it against your cock and show me how you make yourself feel good.”

He took the vibrator from your hand and followed your instructions like a good boy, letting out a loud whimper as the strong vibrations on his cock made his head spin. As he let his sense of control run loose, he started rutting faster against you as you placed your own vibrator on your sensitive clit. This caused the toy to simultaneously hit your g-spot and Oikawa’s prostate, and so the two of you both let out a loud moan together.

“F-FUCK! Tooru — shit. That feels so fucking good! Go faster, I need it so bad. C’mon baby, please, I need you to make me cum!” You panted, circling the vibrator faster against your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the orgasm that you craved so much.

“Oh fuuuuck, princess.” Oikawa moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he ditched the vibrator and tightly wrapped his hand around himself so he could fist-fuck his weeping cock.

A collective string of “shit” and “oh fuck” escaping your mouths as the two of you rutted against each other faster and faster, the dildo pounding in and out of your tight holes — each thrust causing the tip of the toy to slam against both of your sweet spots at the same time.

“Fuuuuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” Oikawa groaned as he stroked his cock one final time before he came hard all over himself, his chest painted white as his cum came out in hot spurts.

Seeing your boyfriend’s blissed out face was the final push you needed to set yourself over the edge. Your cunt clenched down on the toy as you came with a loud whine, your juices squirting out of your glistening pussy — making a slick mess all over your thighs and on Oikawa’s lower half.

You were so spent that the whole world felt still, the both of you trying to catch your breath and recover from one of the most intense orgasms you two had ever had.

As you came down from your highs, you slowly pulled the dildo out of your abused cunt and Oikawa’s gaped asshole, lazily leaving the toys on a mess of sheets.

With what little ounce of strength you had left, you got on your knees and crawled up next to your boyfriend. After grabbing a tissue and gently cleaning up the mess you two had made together, you placed gentle kisses along his shoulders and collarbone, wrapping yourself up in his embrace.

Now, whether it was the drugs or the intensity of his orgasm, Oikawa looked like he was about to pass out. And honestly, you felt like you were about to knock out too. Not that you could really blame him.

“Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.” You whispered quietly, gently poking Oikawa on the cheek to nudge him awake. You might have been used to handling your high, but Oikawa was still inexperienced when it came to these kinds of things.

“Did you have a good birthday this year?” You asked him, as if you didn’t already know what he was going to say.

“Hi, baby~ Of course I did! I feel so goooood right now! Best birthday everrrr!” He said sheepishly, a tiny grin spreading across his face as he let out a breathy chuckle.

You decided not to question him anymore, knowing he was too far gone to answer anything coherently.

“I love you so much, Tooru. Happy birthday.” You whispered to him before the two of you began dozing off into dreamland.

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

#also i write for haikyuu now LOL #haikyuu!!#hq #hq smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa x y/n #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru #oikawa smut #haikyuu x reader #kinktober 2020 #NOT ME POSTING THIS WITH 14 MINUTES LEFT ON OCTOBER 1ST HDBSHJCB #very sorry #tw: drugs #tw: weed

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peterprkrsbtch · 4 years ago

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sapphire - part 1

Peter Parker x reader

A/N: This is some type of wish fulfillment writing for me because I like to imagine becoming a hot and badass superhero when I fall asleep and I thought other people may be entertained as well :) If you enjoy it, like or reblog to share!

REMINDER: in this story, the reader gains superpowers and I do describe the appearance of her body. i hope you know every body is a superhero body and weight does not impact your beauty at all-i just needed to show how drastic the changes were!

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, attempted kidnapping, guns/violence

The sun that came beaming through your window brightly as you opened the blinds in your room immediately brought a small smile to your face. Summer had always been your favorite season. As smart as you were, a three month break from Midtown has never sounded better. Junior year had not been easy for you.

Small goosebumps appear on your arms as you shiver when the memory of that night crosses your mind.

***

You’d been walking home after your first day of school, distracted as images of the day flicker through your mind. The first day was always exciting, new classes and people. Probably why you were too distracted to notice the man creeping up behind you until he wrapped his hands around your backpack and yanked it off of your back, making you let out a yelp of surprise.

Or, he’d tried to. Unfortunately, this dumb ass criminal didn’t know how backpack straps work and when he tugged, the straps caught around your arms and yanked you off your feet, slamming your body into your attacker with a groan.

Panic immediately clouded your mind. You’d never been mugged before. You try desperately to remember anything from the self defense class you’d taken in seventh grade. The attacker seemed surprised that your bag hadn’t slid off your body and this gave you the opportunity to scream. “Help!” You shrieked. “Somebody!” It was the middle of the day in New York and yet, the street you were walking was dead empty.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man growled in your ear and you suddenly became aware of his death grip on your arm. Before you could contemplate punching him in the face or kneeing his dick, a sharp poke on your arm made you whip your head, just in time to see a needle full of glowing blue liquid being injected into your arm by the man. He hadn’t wanted your backpack at all.

The shock you felt as you watched the unfamiliar substance enter your body was amplified at the burning sensation quickly spreading from the injection site to your whole upper arm. The man lets out a harsh laugh, and you finally turn to see his face. He did not look like a homeless man. Or a thief. The sight of his groomed beard and expensive jacket made you feel like you’d been plunged in ice. What the hell was happening?

“What did you do to me?” The sound of your voice is much stronger than you expect it to be, and it helps to ease a couple of the butterflies going mental inside your stomach. At least you didn’t sound terrified. He just lets out a low laugh and begins to drag you by your backpack towards a car parked on the opposite side of the road you hadn’t noticed until now.

“You’re coming with me.”

The burning had spread to your entire left arm and was now taking over your left shoulder. If you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins due to your current situation, you would’ve been doubled over with pain. You struggle against the man’s hold on your backpack as he drags you closer to the large black SUV.

Hell no. I am not getting kidnapped today. You force yourself to calm enough to quickly think of a plan. Any plan. When the man reaches the car despite your struggling, a disgusting sneer on his face, he lets go of his grip on your arm to reach for the handle, and you take your chance to head-butt him as hard as you possibly can-letting your arms slide out of the backpack as you do.

“Ow! Get back here you little bitch!” But it’s too late. In the two seconds when the man doubles over to clutch at his head, you’d snatched your backpack from the ground where he’d let it fall and sprinted down the street. You try to tell yourself that the unbearable burning sensation now settling into your chest is from running, not from whatever the fuck he’d injected you with.

***

A loud beep, beep from the clock on your bedside table snaps you out of reminiscing on your near death experience and a large smile grows on your face. Finally it was 5 p.m, the time when your mom usually went over to her boyfriend’s apartment across town. Every night, like clockwork, since you were 13.

It used to bother you, but now the silence gives you the opportunity to do what you needed to do alone. You get up and move towards your closet as you let your mind slip into your memories again as you reminisce on the events after the attack.

***

You’d run home like hell and had never been so grateful to find that your mom had left early. Within ten minutes, the burning had spread and you were left to writhe around in pain on your bed for hours. There was no let up, no break. You knew you were going to die.

Whatever the man had injected in you was breaking apart every muscle, every atom in your body so slowly that you could feel it. Eventually, your pained screams became quieter as exhaustion began to take over. This is it. I’m really going to die. My mom is going to come home and find me like this-

Before you could finish your thought, a harsh gasp involuntarily left your mouth and you launch forward to sit up. Okay, maybe I’m not going to die. You thought as the pain suddenly ceases. You slowly bring your hands up to stare at them, scared that the pain will return. Just as you’re about to let out a breath of relief, it hits you again.

And it’s so much worse. The burning sensation shoots through your body, and every broken muscle and molecule felt as though it was being bound together again. The minutes bleed together as exhaustion and pain take over your body.

***

Looking back, you still have no idea what was in the injection. All you know is what happened because of it.

***

Beep, beep.

BEEP, BEEP.

The incessant beeping of your stupid alarm wakes you from quite possibly the weirdest dream you’ve ever had. You’ve never had pain in a dream feel so vivid before, and the memory alone draws your body inwards, hugging your arms in for comfort.

Your arms. Hold on.

They didn’t feel like this last night. You glance down at your skin, the shadow of your blanket making it hard to see. You rip the covers off and storm over to your full length mirror-and all you can do is let out a gasp. I’m going crazy.

With shaking hands, you grab your phone and unlock it, scrolling until you find a mirror selfie you had taken at the pool over summer, just two weeks ago. You glance at the photo, then back up at the mirror. Then at the photo, then the mirror. Photo, mirror, photo.

A shocked laugh rips through your lips as you stare at the photo of yourself. Smooth skin and curves. A couple extra pounds of baby fat you had yet to lose, a spot or three of acne on your forehead. You weren’t an extraordinarily insecure person, but you were a teenage girl and a couple of those things had bugged you but-

Your eyes flicker up to the mirror. You run your hands along your arms. You used to describe them as flabby, but you can feel and see the toned, tight skin. You move your eyes to your boobs. Were they bigger? They definitely looked bigger.

Any “baby fat” you carried had seemingly disappeared overnight. You slowly lift your shirt and let your jaw drop, running your hands over your small waist, not missing the muscle you can feel under your skin. Your skin was perfectly clear and your hair and lashes both seemed longer and healthier.

When you were younger and more naive, you’d hoped puberty would involve waking up one morning looking like a Victoria’s Secret model. But that was stupid. Things like that don’t happen, right?

Slowly, the events of yesterday began to register in your mind. The attack, the injection, the pain. A million questions flooded your mind. The most prominent being what the actual fuck??

“Y/n? You almost ready to leave for school?” Your mom’s voice rings out into your silent room as she knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah, Mom! Just a couple minutes.” You call out nervously, waiting until you hear her footsteps walk away from your door. You let out a curse as you race into the bathroom, the harsh lighting illuminating even more changes to your face.

Your lips were bigger, your eyes more open, and your cheekbones and jaw more defined. Fuck. If you weren’t so worried about anyone noticing your overnight transformation, you would’ve taken more time to think about the positives of this situation.

You were always shy and quiet at school, choosing a small group of people to hang around and mostly focusing on your classes. But every teenage girl dreams of being beautiful, and now you finally were. You pull your hair up to brush your teeth and wash your face faster than you ever have before, electing to ignore the fact that you should have a nasty bruise from your head-butt yesterday.

You choose to skip makeup completely, knowing it would draw more attention to your new face. You took one last look at your body in the mirror before pulling on the baggiest sweats you owned and a loose hoodie, hoping they would mask your new curves.

You had no idea how you were supposed to hide this all year.

***

You smiled as you remember how silly you’d acted the next day. You were overly paranoid, covering your face with your hoodie as much as you could and choosing to sit alone in the library rather than at your usual table. No one questioned you, not once.

You had felt a pang of loneliness at first, knowing that no one at your school even cared enough to notice the obvious change had hurt just a bit, but it made dealing with the powers easier.

***

You’d first noticed it on the walk to school. It was barely September and the summer sun was still coming down on the city. This paired with your heavy layers of clothing and the long walk to school would normally leave you slightly breathless. As you arrived at the school feeling more energized and alive than ever, you noticed you’d gotten there in a fourth of your normal time without even trying.

You next noticed it in gym, when the daily pushups the teachers forced you all to do every year were suddenly easy. Effortless. As soon as the final bell rang, you ran home within minutes without feeling winded at all and winced as you threw your door open, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges.

Something else was definitely going on. Your appearance was not the only thing that seemed to go through an upgrade. You said a quick hello to your mom before running up to your room.

For the first time since you woke up that morning, you relaxed once your door was closed and locked. Your shoulders release as you sink to your bed, dropping your head into your hands. You try to recall anything you’ve read about people being totally changed after some sort of injection.

Your heart sinks. Captain America jumps to mind. The Winter Soldier, Wanda Maximoff and her dead brother. They’d all been injected.

You bite your lip and glance at a book sitting on your bedside table. You straighten up and thrust your hands towards the book, trying to make it move. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. You close your eyes and breath out a small breath of relief. Ok so I’m beautiful now and have great endurance, at least I’m not a superhero. You let yourself relax slightly, your eyes still closed. Now you feel dumb for throwing your hands around like some kind of knock off Scarlet Witch.

When you open your eyes, your blood runs cold. The book is floating in front of you, a blue glow surrounding it. Slowly, you raise your, now shaking, hands again towards the book until they flash with the same blue and it launches towards you, the force of it making you rock back as you catch it in your hands.

Well. Fuck.

***

After that, you were thankful that no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. You bite down a smile as you remember the first few months after, thinking about how much you’d changed since then.

***

You spent nearly every night for weeks studying every superhero fight video you could find on youtube and practicing the moves alone in your empty house, over and over.

It didn’t take much for you to perfect them as your new body seemed to be built for this kind of shit. Black Widow was your favorite to watch, and you made sure to spend extra time working through her signature moves, letting the flips, kicks, and punches become muscle memory.

You spent time practicing your real powers as well, though those seemed to come to you naturally. After that first delay with the book, it had almost felt like second nature to lift up the heaviest objects in your house with just a wave of the hand, but still, you practiced. Over and over and over. You quickly learned you could move people as well, namely yourself. Flying over New York in the middle of the night was something that would always leave you breathless.

Once winter settled over New York, you decided you were finally ready to try and use your abilities for good. You had near perfect control over your “magic” and you were pretty sure you’d spent more hours in the past month punching the air than sleeping.

You spent all day Sunday bent over the dusty sewing machine you dug out of a shelf in your kitchen closet. The trip to Joann’s reminded you of your mother teaching a younger you how to sew, though you two never bought yards of spandex to make a skin tight suit.

It had taken a couple minutes for you to remember how to use the machine, but you were extremely proud of the final product. You’d made a simple skin tight black suit with a zipper up the front and a mask to cover most of your face, but you figured no one could recognize you by just your mouth.

Once you finished the last hem on your face mask, you took the suit and the mask and hid them in your closet next to a pair of black combat boots. You put the dusty machine away and finally made your way into your bathroom, glancing nervously at the box on the counter.

Although you had exactly zero friends at Midtown, you had grown up with some of these kids and you couldn’t risk one of them recognizing your hair color if they saw you in your superhero suit and the box advertising temporary spray on hair color seemed to be the perfect solution.

You take the small can out of the box and spray blonde-ish highlights into your hair and brush it through until your long hair is shades lighter than your natural color and you’re happy with the results.

Your hands shook as you pulled on your suit, then your mask, and finally, the black boots. You move to your mirror and nervously give yourself a glance, only to be pleasantly surprised. You really do look like a superhero, even more so when you will your hands to glow blue with your powers.

***

That night, you learned that you had severely underestimated yourself. You thought memories of your own attack would flash before your eyes every time you knocked down a criminal, but it didn’t.

Every time you would wrap your thighs around someone’s neck to drag them to the ground you felt strong and every time the person you just saved would begin to thank you aggressively, you knew you made the right decision to help people.

You kept your guard, and your hood, up during the school days but your months of training and now your late night rescues, had caused a spike in your confidence. After a particularly hard 18 vs. 1 fight in which your zipper had gotten yanked down a bit, you just left it. It looked better like that anyway.

You wished you had someone to show the new you. You used to be so unsure of yourself, and now because of a seemingly random attack, you had the ability to help people. It definitely felt good to be doing something good.

Unfortunately, your endeavors started to become sensationalized. New York was obsessed with superheroes, you knew this. But you never thought people would start paying attention to you.

You should’ve known better. A girl with enhanced curves in a skin tight suit, flying around the city with glowing blue hands and fighting crime with her front zipper pulled down, and you thought you could remain invisible in the media too?

Luckily for you, the spotlight was cast upon another new superhero around the same time-a Spiderman. Once he entered the superhero scene just weeks after yourself, you noticed the articles you’d previously seen sexualizing you and your costume turned into articles about the two of you instead. If only those reporters knew you were 17.

You were thankful for him even though you’d never met him, and your two names “Spiderman and Sapphire” were often used in the same headlines to discuss you two newcomers.

At first you hated the nickname the media gave you simply because of the increased attention, but you learned to love it. It was nice to see people appreciating what you were doing, even though every camera that was ever pointed your way made you anxious to protect your identity.

Ever since your first winter night spent fighting crime, you’d quickly fallen into a pattern. School with your eyes glued to your desk the whole time, sweats and hoodies concealing your body, then homework until your mom leaves, then go out and help your city.

Your fighting has improved to the point that you almost prefer hand to hand combat rather than using your powers. On especially slow nights, you’ve let yourself drag out a fight with some bank robbers or kidnappers just to entertain yourself.

It was your escape. In your suit, with your face covered and your hair thick with the lightening spray, was the only time you felt like yourself. Really yourself.

But you had a plan to change that. As easy as it had been to lay low throughout the last year at school, you’d had enough. You wanted more. So you had a plan. A new body and face overnight is impossible, but over three months? Totally plausible.

You were excited for three months with nothing to do but go out as Sapphire, and you knew these few months were going to be the calm before the storm if you really decided to go back to Midtown as the new you.

God, enough with the reminiscing. You told yourself, but you do allow yourself to feel pride at how much you’d matured from your first day of school this year to your last as you tug on your familiar suit and mask.

***

You glance down at the buildings beneath you, eyes silently scanning every dark alley and corner for trouble. Your hands glow blue as you fly yourself gracefully through the sky. Suddenly, loud sirens and screams sound from beneath you and you look down to see 8 large men climbing into a bank as they smashed the windows.

You quickly fly yourself down and through the hole behind the men as they point guns towards the only two people in the bank, a janitor and a man you assume is the manager. “Give us the fucking money.” One of the men growls and the others laugh menacingly at their friend’s threat.

The manager notices you standing behind the men and his eyes widen, causing the men to start to turn towards you. You grab the gun out of one of their hands using your powers and smirk at the oh, shit look on their faces. Before you can make a move to knock the man nearest you off his feet, a web snaps through the broken window and snatches the gun from his hands before you can blink.

Spiderman comes swinging through the opening, landing gracefully. “What’s going on here, fellas?” He asks, and you can’t help but smirk at the sound of his voice. The two of you seemed to live similar lives, and yet this was your first time meeting him.

The white eyes of his mask flicker from the men, frozen with fear, towards you, and his eyes grow with recognition and maybe shock? Hard to tell with the mask. He opens his mouth to say something else, but one of the men still holding guns raises it and fires towards Spiderman without a second of hesitation.

You raise your hand quickly, stopping the bullet in mid-air and everyone around you stares at the bullet suspended in mid-air, your glowing blue hand outstretched, almost as if you were catching it. Spiderman’s eyes widen even more. “Holy shit.”

You smile to yourself and clench your hand into a fist, letting the bullet crumble to the ground in dust. “Nice try.” You say to the man. “But you’re getting on my nerves.” You turn towards the 8 men in front of you, 5 still holding guns. You move your hand to face the men, and with a sweeping motion, the 5 guns are yanked from their hands to suspend far above their heads, where they couldn’t reach.

You can’t help a small laugh as one of the men tries to jump up and grab it. You turn towards Spiderman who’s standing there with his mouth wide open. “Sorry if I stole your moment.” You say genuinely. You had no doubt that he could’ve taken care of this himself, but you had gotten here first.

“Are you kidding?” He nearly squeaked. “That was amazing, oh my god! I can’t believe we haven’t met until now.” Your cheeks blaze slightly under your mask from his praise, you’ve never had a superhero compliment you before. You adjust your focus back to the men quickly, who seem to be thinking of a way to run.

Your eyes meet Spidey’s again. “You wanna web ‘em up?” He nods excitedly, his eyes finally breaking from yours as he jumps into action. As impressed as he was by you, you couldn’t help but watch in awe as he swings around the room and with a thwick, he webs all of the men together in a cocoon, hanging upside down from the chandelier of the bank ceiling.

He swings himself one last time to land next to you again. “Cool.” You say before you can even realize your mouth is open. “I mean, you’re not too bad yourself.” He bows his head a bit, seeming shy even though it was a half-compliment to cover up your embarrassment.

“Sorry to bust in on your fight,” He says, glancing around the room towards the two terrified employees staring at the two of you in shock. “Not a lot happening tonight, and I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ugh, I know.” You agree. “Not to complain about less crime, but our jobs have been a little bit too easy this past week.” His mask crinkles as he smiles.

“We could...work together sometime if you wanted too, of course.” He says nervously, nearly stuttering on his words. “It’s just, you’re really good and you seem really cool and I-”

You interrupt his word vomit. “Of course I want to! I’ve been wondering when we would meet.” His eyes move from staring at the eye holes in your mask down to your lips when you smile. “How’s tomorrow?”

“How’s right now?” You don’t think your smile can get wider. “One sec.” He holds up a finger before quickly running over to the two bank workers, who thank you both over and over and then they both hugged him. You were wrong, your smile grows and remains goofy and big as he runs back over to you. “Let’s go.”

That night you found out that your view of the city is 100 times better when you can also see a red and blue suit swinging from building to building out of the corner of your eye.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #avengers #marvel #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction

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thunderheadfred · 3 years ago

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🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

#Shigaraki #Shigaraki Tomura #Shimura Tenko #Shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x you #Shigaraki x y/n #gender neutral reader #shigaraki headcanons #mha #bnha #fred writes

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terrm9 · 4 years ago

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you give it to me anyway (Tatum X Lina)

Set immediately after the ending of chapter 13.

Update (after the events of chapter 14): in this little series, Tatum does not go back to the army but is relocated to work as a bodyguard for some random politician in Rutherland. That's why this goodbye of theirs is not as heartbreaking as it was canonically. Therefore, shall the two other parts happen, they will not follow canon because I have them planned and I refuse to make new plans

WC: 3 600; rating: M (mature)

Warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of smoking, alcohol consumption, adult situations; hurt/comfort

Author’s note: my first Foreign Affair fic - it was so much fun to write I forgot about my two idiot doctors for a while. This is supposed to be part 1 of three-parts mini series, but 1) I have no idea when those two other parts will happen and 2) if it goes by plan, they will be all completely okay to read as stand-alones so hopefully this will be enjoyable no matter what.

She could feel it. She could swear she could; she could pinpoint the moment her mind stopped working and all the energy normally divided between the gears in her head and the beating of her heart suddenly focused solely on the latter.

Her mind stopped working and her heart drummed against her ribcage twice as hard.

Lina doesn’t remember much after that, after bursting through the door and demanding an answer (“Why the fuck would you take Tatum off the team?”), her memories a messy blur of shouting (hers), a voice trying to calm her down (Demarco’s) and the one that mattered in the end.

“Lina,” Tatum put his hand on her shoulder, his face stoic – but she knew better, she could see his eyes, eyes pained, eyes pleading. “Get inside. I will be with you in a moment.”

“But-“ she opened her mouth to protest, only to be stopped by Tatum’s gentle squeeze and eyes more pleading.

Just get in and wait for me, he whispered and that’s how she has gotten here.

Pacing back and forth in her room, biting her lip so hard she feels blood. Her brain is working again, thinking and analyzing (overthinking, overanalyzing) and she needs a cigarette, a shot of vodka, she needs to punch something (someone), needs to just do something.

The tremor in her hands violent and she clenches them in fists, telling herself that it’s anger, a rage running through her whole body, but there is that traitorous voice that whispers – no, screams – that she knows this is more than that, that it’s fear.

A lump in her throat formed and unmoving and Lina swallows once, twice, keeps swallowing until she cannot catch her breath but the fucking lump is still there and tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and-

No.

Line Monroe does not cry. She has learnt not to cry, hasn’t cried since-

She does not cry.

Tries to take a deep breath but it’s completely useless and Lina knows how she feels. Like a crystal vase in the middle of a big wooden table, beautiful and shiny and protected at all costs – all of it worth nothing when an earthquake comes. This is her personal earthquake, every second pushing her closer to the edge, sobs threatening to cut her open, to leave her mouth and never stop and she wonders if falling over the edge and just break into million pieces would be such a terrible thing.

She could beg. She would beg, if only that would help. She only begged once in her life.

(Lina has never been the picture of a perfect child – well, definitely not after Tatum left. No, she lived for making her mother’s political career an actual hell, she laughed into her face in the middle of a scolding. The First Daughter of Rutherland couldn’t give less fucks about what her mother wants, needs, asks for. Nobody ever asked what she wanted, needed, asked for.)

She only begged once in her life – she was seven and desperately wanted a puppy. (She could do it again at the age of twenty-two and desperately wanting her Tatum.)

Mom, I promise I’ll be good. (Mom, I promise I’ll be good.)

I will take care of him. (He will take care of me.)

I won’t eat sweets. (I won’t smoke. Won’t get drunk.)

I will do all of my homeworks. (I will go on as many fake dates as you want.)

I won’t watch TV. (I won’t cause another scandal.)

I will clean the whole house! (I will attend all the summits, I will, I will.)

Mom, please. (Mom, please.)

She never got the puppy. (She knows that no matter how much she begs, she will not get to keep Tatum, either.)

An earthquake and she is starting to accept her fate, awaiting the final shake, the strongest vibration that will make her fall from the table and shatter.

There is a soft knock on the door and she feels it coming, the magnitude strong enough to stir fear inside of people.

Tatum walks in, closing the door behind him carefully – and the Richter scale does not have enough values to describe how dangerous this earthquake has gotten.

“Lina,” he whispers softly, stretching his arms towards her and that’s it.

The crystal vase falls to the ground (into Tatum’s arms) and the shards cut skin (and the sobs cut Lina open).

It is easy after the first one – like the blood spilling out of the cut, like a plug removed and water pouring, flooding, destroying, the sobs leave her mouth and her shoulders shake and Lina hasn’t done this in four years, hasn’t shed a tear for so long but Tatum’s arms encircle her, strong and firm and safe and no, breaking into million pieces is not such a terrible thing after all.

She thinks she screams in one moment and Tatum only hugs her tighter, slowly dropping to the soft carpet, pulling Lina with him, his arms never (never, never) leaving her shivering body – and she holds onto him tighter than she holds onto her own life (own dignity, own worth, none of it more important that holding onto Tatum), hands still clenched in fists. Lina’s grip on his perfect white shirt must be uncomfortable and she is sure she is ruining the fabric, if not with her nails then definitely with her mascara-tinted tears.

For a long, long moment they stay like that – Tatum kneeling on the floor and Lina curled up against his chest, sobs wrecking her body and his hands drawing soothing circles on her back.

“We will make this work, Lina,” he whispers when the room falls into silence, the only memory of Lina’s ignominious breakdown being Tatum’s soaked shirt and her throbbing temples. “You are strong and the other bodyguards are capable. Demarco is a good agent, they will keep you safe.”

“I don’t care about being safe,” she scoffs. “All my life, everyone has only cared about me being safe. You are… You have always been the only one to care about how I am feeling. If I am happy. And now you are leaving again.”

Tatum pulls back a little – not enough to break the contact of his hands on her shoulders, just enough to look her into eyes – and with a voice that is quiet but firm, leaving no room for doubts, he says: “I am not leaving you, Lina. I won’t be returning to army, okay? I am going back to Rutherland tomorrow and only then I will be informed about this move – maybe I am only being taken off for some time. This is not the same as the last time.”

“I cannot lose you again,” she whispers, not meeting his eyes. As if she was not sure about her decision to share such moment of vulnerability with him.

“You will not. Who is my toughest galyetas here, hm?”

Lina looks up at him at that, the initial shock from hearing the old nickname (the one she hasn’t heard in years, the one she has missed for years) soon replace by her smile, however faint and it’s like the sun peeked into the room all at once.

(Eyes puffy and red, cheeks wet from tears and lips swollen from biting and has she always been this beautiful?, Tatum wonders.)

“I am,” she chuckles before Tatum demands the answer and encouraged by the moment of clarity that has settled over them, she manages to stand up and open the closet.

Impulsive would be a great word to describe Lina. Unpredictable. Fierce. Mostly fierce, Tatum thinks and it should not be a surprise for him when Lina takes off her skinny jeans and light blue blouse, carelessly throwing them over the chair and it should not be a surprise when she follows the motion to take her bra off, no, it should not be a surprise for him and yet-

The heat in his cheeks is inappropriate, for God’s sake, and he should – he must – tear his gaze off her naked back, but he cannot (and how many nights he wished he was granted this? how many days?). He stares and stares as she ruffles through the closet and it’s his time to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out to her.

“I should… I will leave you to change,” he finds his voice and it’s low and husky and inappropriate, but Lina just smirks as she turns slightly to face him better and he needs to avert his gaze, he must not stare at the curve of her breasts, so perfect above her ribcage.

“You have already seen me naked,” the smirk widens. “And besides, you should get out of that wet shirt too.”

Getting out of his clothes does not sound like a good idea to him, not in the slightest, but it gives him a reason to look down and unbutton his shirt – and that motion gives him some time to take a deep breath and respond.

“Yes, I have seen you naked. When we were five and swimming in a lake.”

He can swear he heard Lina mutter ‘time to check how much has changed in those fifteen years’, but Tatum doesn’t trust himself enough to engage in that conversation and so he carefully slips out of his jacket and the stained shirt and switches his radio off before putting everything in a neat stack on the top of a drawer.

Tatum sits down again after that, his back leaned against Lina’s bed and soon she joins him, soft grey cotton shorts and tank top on. She mirrors his position and they share a private smile, because it is their position, the one everyone knows them by – knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, (heart to heart), Tatum’s arm wrapped around Lina’s shoulders and her hand resting on his right knee. It is always this position for them and Lina can’t count how many photos they have together, where they sit exactly like this.

“Are we going to be okay?” she whispers, almost not daring to break the comfort they bring out of each other. But she needs to. She needs to know that they are going to be okay.

“Of course,” he nudges her knee with his own softly and smiles down at her. For a moment, she pretends she does not see the panic swirling in his eyes, giving away that he does not know, that there is no of course for them.

She nods, her fingers drawing mindless patterns on his leg and she is sure they are not that mindless, she knows that in a language only known to them she is writing her confessions, she is writing a love letter.

More mindless patterns and Lina feels Tatum’s eyes on her, caring and loving and worried, definitely worried, but she doesn’t look up at him because the emotions his gaze can stir inside of her are enough to send her into another breakdown.

“Do you remember Scott Diaz’s party?” she asks into the silence.

Tatum chuckles loudly and squeezes the shoulder he is hugging. “Of course.”

“It was the first time I got drunk,” Lina says as if it was an explanation itself, when in reality this conversation was not making any sense so far.

Scott’s party was the one which only Lina attended when she was sixteen – Tatum had to stay home to help his father with something (it was not important to Lina back then) and Lina didn’t mind that much because she liked Scott and she believed there were higher chances of her charming him without Tatum’s alert gaze directed at her.

“Yes, I remember,” Tatum decides to play this game that makes no sense with her. “It was my toilet you threw up into that night.”

“I remember getting drunk with Scott and his stupid friends and realizing that they were a group of idiots, with Scott being the greatest idiot of them all. But I was drunk and he was my first crush and I just wanted him to like me and I was ready to do anything.”

“Yes,” Tatum says again, this time much more quietly, though. “I remember your phone call at 2 AM. You were crying and asked me to come and rescue you because you are drunk and nauseous and Scott is a dick but you might sleep with him if I don’t come.”

There is a long pause and Lina thinks he might not continue. Even worse, she fears he might ask why she is bringing the story up now.

To her utmost surprise, Tatum laughs and continues: “I stole my dad’s car so that I could get you out of there faster. You threw up in the backseat and my dad almost killed me because he was supposed to take your mother to the airport the next morning.”

Lina laughs with him shortly and the room falls into silence once again.

Once again, Lina makes sure to interrupt the comfort it brings.

“And then you left and there was nobody to rescue me anymore.”

She is not sure why she said that. No, Lina does not want to tell Tatum about those years he has been away. She is scared (and she has never been that scared in her whole damn life), scared to share the failures and slips of her past, scared that he would get up and leave-

(Because that’s what he should do)

-scared that he would see what she sees every time she looks in the mirror and Lina does not care about the opinion of the others, she does not care if someone sees her as someone worthy or not, as long as that someone is not Tatum.

Deep down, she knows he would not, he will not leave, she knows Tatum - the same Tatum that strokes her upper arm now, giving her the space to sort her thoughts – will stay with her even in the moments she does not want to stay with herself.

And there is one fear that is bigger, greater, more terrible than the fear of being left – fear of hurting him. The idea of her past being the reason of his hurt, being the thing that puts the haunted look into his eyes, makes her want to throw up.

She will need to tell him eventually because if somebody deserves her honesty, it’s Tatum Mendoza, her best friend, her savior, her Tatum.

Eventually does not mean now.

Tatum wishes Lina could say something, anything, he wants her to share her demons with him and he almost asks her to tell him everything but before he can do so, she turns abruptly and looks at him, her eyes no longer puffy or red – glossy and bright and beautiful now and she doesn’t say a word.

She just looks at him like he is the only thing in the whole world worth looking at.

"It's your eyes," she says quietly, reaching to cup his stubbled cheek with her left hand.

"My eyes?" Tatum asks, surprised by the sudden statement.

Lina nods, tracing his left eyebrow with her finger before moving to stroke the skin under his eyes and finally reaching the bridge of his nose.

"There's no one else's eyes that could see into me," she whispers and her finger traces circles around his right eye now, soothing the wrinkles - reminders of their earlier laugh.

(She doesn't know those wrinkles are hers; nobody makes him laugh like she does)

Her gaze doesn't leave those eyes, not for a second and and the intensity she looks at him with is far more intimate than her naked form, bare torso and soft skin she shared with him moments ago.

Tatum is sure he must be blushing.

It’s the moment her thumb traces his lower lip when they snap.

The atmosphere of fear and uncertainty and mutual understanding so deep it ignites further fear changing into the one of passion and need and fire, fire, fire, burning inside and outside, the moment their lips meet.

He has kissed many girls and he knows Lina has kissed many people too and fuck, they even kissed each other before but this kiss is different, filled with more than just years of friendship (years of love) – filled with years of separation, years of longing, years of pain.

They kiss as if the pressure of their tongues against each other’s could be their private painkiller.

A moment later they are on the bed and Lina is not sure how they got there, she can’t remember they mouths parting but it must be so, because she is laying on her back, her hands firmly against Tatum’s shoulder blades to pull him closer and it still feels like he is not close enough, one of his hands next to her head and the other tangled in her hair, pulling on them and massaging her scalp all at once as he kisses her the way she has never been kissed before.

Lina’s hand moves from his upper back to his shoulder, caressing the old scar there and moves to his chest and his stomach and she feels him growl against the skin of her neck at the touch, the vibrations sending shivers over her whole body; she reaches his waistband and her finger fumble on the button of his trousers as he kisses her collarbone.

His fingers circle her wrist suddenly and he moves her hand away from him, gently (as he always is with her, gentle).

“You don’t want-?” she doesn’t know what to say. Me? This? Us?

“I want everything with you, Lina,” he sighs and it’s almost painful sound. “But I cannot take an advantage of this situation. You are – we both are – worried about your future, exhausted and uncertain and I don’t want our first time to happen under such circumstances. You deserve much better.”

There is a part of her that wants to cry again. Sob again and punch someone, because of course he is right.

(It is every single part of her, actually. Every single part wants to cry and sob and punch)

He is right, as he always is. He knows what she needs even when she doesn't know it herself – he always had known. Five years apart did nothing to change that.

Lina traces the lines of Tatum naked torso with her eyes and perhaps it should scare her how familiar it feels. She knows his body, every (almost every. Almost, she reminds herself) scar and every freckle, his flexed muscles and long fingers, she knows his body, even though she grew up getting to know a body of a boy and now her fingers are caressing a body of a man.

She hates how vulnerable she feels and how much she wants to share everything with him. But that's now what she has taught herself, no.

And so, despite the disgusting feeling of tension in her throat, she smirks and asks: "Why do you care about the first time so much?"

Tatum chuckles and makes a show of rolling his eyes (not leaving his position above her, not even now), biting his lower lip deep in his thoughts.

When he looks down at her again, however, his gaze is tender, too tender and intense and Lina has to avert her eyes because surely he can see into her, he can see all that she has done, all that she has caused while he was gone, not there to save her, to take care of her.

"It's not the first time I care about," he speaks softly and any hints of amusement are gone. "It's the first time with you."

She almost asks him about his first time – she knows it must have happened after he left. There is the part that is Tatum’s childhood best friend and is simply curious. They shared everything with each other – first crush and first kiss and first platonic love, she knew his and he knew hers. Of course she is curious about his first sex or how many firsts there were, how many people that got to know him in the way she has never gotten.

There is another part of her, a bigger one, she realizes with dread, that hopes he would tell her that he has lost count, that his five years in army were filled with infinite excesses and that he would rather not talk about it – maybe then her deeds would be justified.

She cannot ask him because it’s Tatum and he would ask back.

What would she tell him?

She laughs to herself, a sardonic sound lacking any hint of joy it is supposed to carry.

I have no idea. I am not sure about the first nor about the last time. I cannot count them, I will never be able to count them because I do not remember.

I do not remember.

“Lina,” he whispers, still hovering above her. “Don’t do that. Stay here with me.”

“I-“ she opens her mouth – for what, she doesn’t know. To explain or to apologize?

“We do not have to talk, mahal. We can just lay next to each other until the morning comes, alright?”

Tatum lays down next to her and wraps his arms around her without further questions and as she puts her head on his chest and listens to the steady beat of his heart, she feels calm for the first time in weeks.

“Alright,” she whispers back.

They lay next to each other through the night, listening to each other’s hearts and breathing and Lina thinks that even though they don’t talk, there are novels of conversations exchanged between them that night, written in the softest of sounds they make.

*** *** ***

Ever since finding out that Tatum is Filipino, I felt this desire in my heart to throw some (nick)names for Lina in his native language here and for him to use them. I can’t see him calling her darling on daily basis, but I can see him muttering it in the language he grew up with when the moment asks for it

galyetas = cookie, biscuit (Tatum’s nickname for Lina since forever)

mahal = darling, sweetheart

I am not exactly happy with how the ending turned out but it’s not going to get better so you have to suffer through it with me

Thank you for reading!

#foreign affairs #tatum x mc #tatum mendoza #tatum x lina #play choices

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