#it is very easy to just not be a freak maybe learn to not indulge in this material | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punk-in-docs · 2 years ago

Text

🕷Wolf Men & Secret Heists🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

9.2k words.

Behind closed doors and locked in shadows. Woven in between all these things, it seems a great burning crush is being harboured in the pair of your huge hearts.

“Hey.” You breathe. You almost sound nervous. You hate that you do.

In the half dark you can see Eddie’s eyes look stunning black. Big pretty tar pits that tug. His grin flicks into white.

“Hey.” He answers back.

Trying not to trip over where he stood. He’s certain you’d be able to hear the way his heart is pounding his ribs so hard, like it’s rattling against the barred window of his bones.

Or;

You and Eddie enjoy a rendezvous in a storage closet at school. Some inevitably dirty stuff happens-

Warning: There is smut in this! Fingering /sex references and all manner of dirty talk. follow the rest of the Super Freak series here-

Heels that click and clack on lino. That’s how you know your friend has arrived. She’s stomping up to your locker and to no one’s surprise- first thing she does?

She whines.

All scary padded shoulders in her bleached denim jacket glittering with rhinestones. Neon blonde hair piled up and bouncing. Plastic pink hoops rattle in her ears.

“My life stinks. I woke up with a zit on my chin. And I think I’m getting a fat ass.” Linda slumps against your locker with a scowl like her world simply must be ending.

“Good morning is the more traditional greeting.” You comment.

Side eyeing her, as you move her aside with your binder, to wrench open your locker. Actually getting some books out to do some learning.

She didn’t even bother to look pleased at the fact you were back and feeling much better- by the way. So nothing much had changed there.

Linda was still her vacuous-poison slinging self. School was the ever steady same. A crush of gossip, hormones, pooling levels of geekdom, and elitist social strata.

Your world was back to rights, so it seemed.

You rummaged in your locker for your weighty English textbooks. Linda shoved a stick of pink gum in her mouth. Shrewdly eyed you up and down as she slowly chewed. Judging you from under those periwinkle eye-shadowed lids. Long flick of mascara on her lashes. Neon pink heavily dusted on her cheekbones.

“Why do you look different?” She asks you with one raised brow. Trying to put her manicured finger on it.

“Do I?” You comment. Knowing full well you do. Maybe you allow yourself a small mercy of a half smile at that.

You’d left your hair down. Sprayed perfume on your wrists and neck again. Prettied up more than you would for school usually. Dare you say it, you’d even put on mascara this morning. Just a little indulgence.

You’d wanted to rectify the situation; the last time he saw you, would leave him the lingering memory of unshaved legs, untamed bed hair, and snoopy shorts. And you probably looked green from being sick.

You felt this outfit was a must, to clear the air. So to speak.

You’d dived submariner level deep into the back of your closet to find this dress. A simple cream button up with red flowers swirled all over. Little cute climbing roses. You wore it with just your white socks and your old sneakers.

Right day for a dress outside. It was that soupy kinda Indiana day that lingered, pressing sunshine down with stuffy mugginess.

You keep the real reason you’d prettied up very close to your chest. She’s already checking her hair in her compact. Despite the fact she probably checked it five seconds ago before climbing out Jonny’s wagon of a car.

“Laundry day?” Linda asked with a staining tone of judgement at the end of her question. Eyes on her own reflection. Not turned to you.

“Yeah.” You beam. Because it was easy to sway her. And that padded lie was far more preferable to the truth. Not that she’d bother at all.

You didn’t, couldn’t, pique her interest unless gossip or bitching was involved. You mainly leave that acidic, razor-studded ball in her court.

You missed the old Linda sometimes. That Linda.

The goof she’d been before High School and it’s noxious halls grabbed a hold of her. She used to love books. Nerdishly so. Always with the books. Wore a bright yellow camp fun time t-shirt and used to adore thrashing around your room to your Romeo Void cassettes. The way she used to chug a coke and burp afterwards cause she didn’t give a shit if it wasn’t ladylike.

Then it was like someone flipped a switch halfway through your freshman year.

Suddenly she was all about what was the right table to sit at. Worried about being visible. Started ranting about cute purses and funky tight pucci tops. The right clothes she went broke trying to buy, to stay current. Cause ew vintage clothes. What the fuck. This isn’t the 70’s anymore grandma.

She compromised instantly on who she would be. She grew up, apparently. You like to think you never did take that full compromise.

You missed the same scruffy kid as you. Joined at the hip like twins. With her mousy brunette and un-permed hair (shocking, unthinkable) the way she wore scuffed muddy kneed jeans and sneakers to school like you, and boys had been a distant and irritating spec on her radar.

The way she got more and more hung up on hot pink nail polish, hormones and chasing after scoring beer and trashy sex. How she’d rather be flipping through glossy fashion magazines and gossip columns than her actual studies.

Your friend, who she was in the before, would have been straight round to you like a shot, once upon a time if you’d been sick. Or not at school for even one class. She’d whine at you, and irritate, until you felt better.

She’d have slung her ass over to yours in an instant, burst through the door to raid your fridge. Sat criss cross applesauce on your bedroom carpet throwing flowery pillows and your teddies at you, because she was bored at school on her own. And how dare you-

Now all she wanted to do was pop pink bubbles of gum on the sidelines of her boyfriends basketball games, and natter away to preppy airhead cheerleaders, rather than put any effort into her own life.

She became the bitchy stooge you’d always sworn to hate when you were little kids. Erecting makeshift tents in your bedrooms and telling ghost stories.

No rectifying it now. She’s in way too over her permed head. Drawn to the dark side.

Her life now is lipsticks, new mini skirts, and blowjobs. And she revolves around her thug boyfriend like one of Jupiter’s moons. Heaven forfend she ever falls out of orbit.

You mourn it for a second. Looking at her inspecting her one very small zit, probing a finger to it, like its satan’s own hell spawn nesting on her face.

“I should be in fucking Notre Dame bell tower.” She grumps.

You dig in your locker some more. Shake your head with a sigh. Strong arming all your books in hand. Hunting for the one for your chemistry class that began in ten minutes. You shift stuff onto your hip.

“Paper bag over your head?” You suggest.

She scoffs at you. “Nice.” Knocks her elbow into your locker door to hit it up against you.

A shadow brushes past you. A disgusting greasy wash of assaulting Paco Rabanne stinks up the air. All spice and wood, overpowering.

You fight to roll your eyes. Her revolting boyfriend lumbered past you. All cologne and seriously no braincells.

“Baby.” She chirps all sweet. Demeanour swirling into sugary sweetness. They’re acting like they didn’t just see each other two minutes ago.

“Hey.” He gives her that lopsided too white grin.

She folds her arms out for him and he kisses her right up against the locker door. Tongue noises and mouthing, sucking making you feel suddenly like vomiting again. That wasn’t kissing. It was like he was trying to swallow her. Suck parts of her face off in slurpy chunks.

“What you doing after school tonight?” He asks close to her ear but loud enough for all to hear.

“You, probably.” She flirts. Eyeing him like he was a full steak dinner. Dragging her sharp nails down his letterman.

“Christ.” You wince in revulsion. They resume tangling and knotting their tongues.

“Can we help you?” Linda asks when they stop sucking face. Having heard your gripes. Her lips were red swollen already.

You glare, boredly. “Yes. Give me a larger sphere of personal space. Couple of hundred miles should do.”

“What’s up your ass, Picasso?” Jonny asks as he splays a hand against the locker near her shoulder. Her spit is gleaming wet on his lips. Charming.

He used that really clever arty nickname he’s assigned to you. You half wonder if it’s because he hasn’t got the mental acuity to learn your name. Or if he even bothered to know it. Probably couldn’t even spell it-

“No one as per usual.” Linda sighs in a cruel little jab.

You bite back the strong urge to kick her in the leg. You really do bite your tongue so hard it stings. You wanna shout:

Eddie Munson. That’s who, Linda. Eddie goddamn freak fucking Munson is currently so far up my ass. Matter of fact, he’s so balls deep I can feel his cock tickling in my throat. Kay?

If only you could say those words aloud. Open up your mouth and let them tumble past your teeth, unfurl from the bed of your tongue.

You could only imagine. Their faces would be pure comedy gold reacting to that news. You’d walk down these halls cackling and blast the finger at them.

Jonny pipes up to you.

“I got a buddy, Derek, whose looking for a date to the game. You’re like, kinda his type.” He offers up to you. Eyeing your chest when he remembered his buddy said something about liking big tits.

Your eyes sharpen with frost creeping in at the corners.

“I’d rather lick a filthy toilet bowl. Thank you.” You beam all sweet. Venom punctuating your smile.

“She doesn’t date jocks. Her idea of a hot date is a library group study session.” Linda explains.

Yes. That’s my idea of a blistering hot foursome, you think.

“Hey. The head librarian is a total hot fox. Maybe tonight is the night I’ll finally score.” You play around. Waggle your brows.

“Shit. You eat beaver?” Jonny asks dumbly. Laugh grazed on his voice.

You make a disgusted face. Of course that’s a sick term only a meat head jock would use.

“That would explain so much.” Linda tilts her head at you meanly. He mutters something to her and she laughs.

“Glad I can amuse.” You scathe.

They smile all bratty together, not listening to you, and then they go back to their mating ritual. She wraps her arm around his neck. Mussing those sweaty looking blonde curls of his.

They finally break apart. He’s wearing so much of her waxy pink lipstick. “I’ll swing by for you around seven- wear that pink thing I like.” He asks.

She giggles all squeaky. They kiss. Again.

You feel like you’re watching an exhibit at the zoo enclosure. Gag.

You shut your locker. You’ve heard enough. “See you in class. If you can remember to stop humping.”

They don’t even hear you. Rolling your eyes. They’d only break apart with brute force. Or if a teacher walks past and throws the safe sex advice at their backs. Telling them to disperse. This isn’t a brothel.

You start down the halls and away from hormone-and-braincell-dead central. Leaving them to it. You clutch your books and weave past people.

And you’re suddenly awfully cheered. Perked up by the sight a few locker rows down from you. Why, it’s your favourite ever metal head.

Eddie has his head shoved in his locker. Up on his tippy toes rifling through for something. Scooping his hand right to the back.

You know just from essences of his character you’d already gleaned, that his locker would be an absolute garbage tip.

Littered with trinkets and random mementos. DND dice. A pack of playing cards. A dead can of spray paint in chilli neon red. Cool pebbles or stones he’d found outside the trailer. Odd pencils and plastic figurines from cereal boxes and his Hellfire club. Loose erasers. Pencil shavings. Broken Metal cassettes.

Possibly long forgotten school text books, lost in amongst crumpled leafs of odd paper, scored with old ideas for campaigns. Old purple and red sharpies and dead ones he doesn’t use anymore but clings onto them anyway. For god knows whatever reason-

When you scoot up to his side and tap him gently on the leather shoulder. He shoots five feet in the air, like a startled firework that’s just been let off.

Bless the boy. You made him screech and jump. He jerks back and his shoulder slams into his open locker door.

He splays his ringed hand wide over his raging heart and calms when he sees it’s you. Huge puddles of muddy brown he has for eyes widened, big as saucers. Now they relax when he falls onto the shape of you.

Ceases screeching when he does see it’s you. Smile curls up the side of his mouth instead.

Cause, Holy shit, it’s you.

His voice breaks on the first word when he speaks. “Jesus fucking christ of Nazareth, Pencils.”

You flinch. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you Munson.”

He leans against his locker for support and laughs under his breath. “Holy hell. I’m not used to that. How stealthily do you move around. My god-“

His eyes fix onto yours. Eye contact that sets shimmers living inside your skin.

“I never considered myself as particularly covert.” You offer.

“Honey. Trust me. You could work for the CIA.”

You preen a little with the way he calls you honey.

“Not sure I’m entirely what they’re looking for you know.” You tilt your head and smile.

He smiles back. It’s magnetic.

Your smile just pulls things out of him. Cute sweet things like fluffy pink kittens and rose petals. He looks at you and it’s like, maybe it’s stupid as shit, but he feels like someone has finally found him.

“You didn’t die. I’m so relieved. You’re feeling better?” He asks all curious as he shuts his locker door.

Violet purple sharpie in hand. He uses the shutting of his door, as an excuse to sidle up close to your side.

You’re not going anywhere. You sought him out. Stood holding your books and talking to him and- god. This is like the fucking high school romance in some tacky movie. And he’s the lead.

You’re wearing a dress. He makes his twitchy eyes focus on your face. Because he’s so tempted to let his eyes soak and swim up and down the rest of you. And he’s trying so much not to act like a sexual slobbering deviant with you nearby.

Your hair was down. So pretty. It looked so soft. He bet it still smelled gorgeous too. Still wearing that tropical sweet bite of coconut from before. Your legs were bare and you wore your paint spattered sneakers. Sweet little red roses swirled on your dress.

“Much better actually. I had one hell of a great nurse.” You lean in an tease him a little.

“Florence.” You smile, saying it lowly.

He blushed. Dear god, how he blushed at that praise. His cheeks filled ruddy with it.

You realise you’ve caught him off guard and hooked this bizarre vulnerability out of him. Keeping him caught on his toes. Literally.

He bites his lip. “Yeah but I can’t promise I’d look good in nurses uniform, pencils.” He winced at the thought.

“I think you’d pull it off nicely.” You assume. He chuckles.

“Don’t think I have the equipment to fill it out.” He grins as he twirls the sharpie in his hand.

Nerves. Just silly infatuated nerves. He picks idly at the peeling metal stickers on his locker door with a thumb nail.

You’re stood near his locker in public, in full view of the eyes of everyone in this hallway. You’re here, you’re so cool about it. In ways he can’t be.

Stood there all cute, and there’s your perfume sneaking across to him like oranges and petals, and there’s flirting skated on your voice and your smile- holy fuck.

He didn’t think you’d want to openly come up to him in front of everyone like this. He’s so happy he’s not listening to those fetid bear traps of usual Munson anxiety littered in his head.

You want to kiss him so badly right now it’s driving you into madness. When his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You follow the movement almost hungrily. Those heaven looking lips. Now you’re feeling better, you can’t ignore it in this close vicinity.

You want Eddie.

And the look he returns back, seems like a full reciprocation on those wants.

“How’s our respective friend the dragon doing?” He asks. Otherwise he’ll just blush and stare at your lips.

He tries not to skate his eyes over your scooped neckline (he fails) He can’t help it. He’s a simple man composed of hormones and he’s dying, actually slowly crawling to a painful death, to see more of you under that dress.

“Currently wrapped around her ogre of a boyfriend.” You nudge your head over your shoulder. He peers.

“Ew. Now that’s gotta be unsanitary.” He drags his eyes down the lockers and quickly sees exactly what you meanHe puts one hand on his hip. Is very quick to focus his eyes back on you. Fuck that noise. You’re by far a prettier sight to rest his eyes on.

“They won’t need to show sex ed classes anymore. They’re one strawberry flavoured condom away from putting on a little dirty show.” You smirk. Pure horror at the notion etched on your face

Eddie smirks all wide in agreement. “And in the hallways too.” He tutts like a scandalised nun.

“Have they no shame?” He asks you in faked affronted mockery.

“Should try carpooling with her. Her hand so far up his leg it borders on a porno shoot.” You shudder.

“Your poor eyes.” He says worriedly. He does worry for them. You’d have to scrub that image away with stinging water and soap. Maybe he could help. Nurse Munson and all that-

He shoots forwards and cups the side of your head like he could pull out the foul memory by osmosis alone.

His warm hand on your head fired up so much passion in your blood. Your veins skip and pop and sing with the bliss of his touch. It’s insane.

There’s that tender eye contact again. The one that feels like the start of a wildfire in your heart. Swirls up and swells, desolated everything in it’s wake. Both bursting with things unsaid. Things you want to be done-

Undone is more like it.

You’re fully ready to admit you would like to be the one wrapped around Eddie this hallway with your horny tongues down each other’s throats. Hands crammed in back blue jean pockets. One last hickie before the class bell goes.

“Hey uhm. Do you have a free period today?” You ask him. Curious smile.

You’re shuffling things in your hands. You bring a pencil out the tucked pocket of your binder. Yellow legal pad on top of your pile.

“Mmmm. Maybe I’ve a three third. Why’s that?” He plays with you. Smiling at you with cheekiness all smug on his amused mouth.

Your smile grows to hear it. “Oh nothing big. I thought we could uh, don some rubber face masks and pull a bank job that’s all.”

He bubbles up with laughter. That straight shiny grin of his you’re head over heels for.

“Hey I call dibs on wolfman mask. Alright?”

He then howls a loud ‘Aroooooooo’ which makes the poor kid walking along next to you to stumble back into someone else, all skittish. Almost caused a pile up in the crushing throng of bodies walking past.

You both giggle about it when the poor kid can’t zoom away down the hall fast enough to get away from you.

“Another great movie by the way. I watched it so much as a kid I think Wayne thought I’d go nocturnal, sprout fur and fangs, and eat sheep on Friday nights.”

You chuckle. “Well. You know. A hobby is a hobby. He shouldn’t judge.”

“And I guess that leaves me with the choice of Clown mask or Michael Myers.” You decide. Tilting your head.

“I think you could pull it off pencils.” He flirts. “I have faith in your abilities.”

“So where we running to after this heist? I assume we’ll have to go underground. Assume new identities. Or hell. Let’s leave the country. Spend our spoils.” He narrows his eyes. Plays along.

“Ah see. I thought Tijuana.” You offer up.

He points at you. Brows raised under those bangs like he’s considering it. “I like Tequila. Let’s go for it.”

“Probably shouldn’t keep discussing it out in the open. Loose lips sink ships.” You warn.

“Honey, everyone here is not even paying the slightest attention to us. Not with Malibu Barbie and Ken putting on their National geographic reproduction special down there.”

As he turns and rants, you decide to surprise him by leaning right in and smacking a kiss right into his cheek. Up on your tiptoes to reach him. Apples and cigarettes mingled with old leather. Smoky scent of Eddie.

The look on his face: utterly priceless. Cheeks flaming red. Eyes stuck on you.

When you bite your lip still smirking and scribble on your pad of paper. Eddie thinks his heart may be about to actually fucking grind to a stop.

He needed a nurse now. Goddammit. A nurse. A cigarette. Defibrillator. A cold beer. In that order.

He thought it would be the booze or cigarettes that would get him, one day. Or the way he drives, that borders on escaped lunatic driven to maniacal suicide. But oh no.

It’s you that’s gonna get him. Gonna pump his pathetic little heart off it’s mortal coil.

Eddie, my boy. It’s always the pretty ones that will try and kill you.

He feels like his little overwhelmed heart is one large throbbing entity now ruling his entire freakin body.

Your stood so close your books almost brush into his chest where you hold them. Where you look down and scribble on your paper. You tear off the bottom of the paper and hand him the jagged slip.

“So. Maybe in your free, you can meet me. Here.” You tap the end your pencil to the paper you pressed into his hands.

He looks down at your neat loopy hand. Definitely had an artist’s slant about it. You’ve written directions on there;

Art department. Down the corridor. Closet opposite the Degas ballet rehearsal poster.

Eddies eyes flick back up to you. “Closet huh?”

He remembers with alarming alacrity what happened the last time the pair of you were in an enclosed dark space. Hands wandered and there was an insanely hot amount of making out.

He’d had that thought of you with fever hot hands on him peppered through his dreams for the last week. He may have jerked off to the memory of it a couple times. Hence why he’s just falling to pieces right here in front of you, now.

You offer a flirty look right back. Boldly you meet his gaze. “All heists should be planned in secret. And storage closets are kind of our thing now.”

“Damn. We have a thing.” He shakes his head at you. “Smooth talker.”

You blush and look down as you laugh at his crass joke. Maybe that’s exactly what you hoped.

Eddie is struggling to believe he’s the one to pull a blush out of a girl merely with his words. That’s never happened to him before. He liked the hell out of it.

“Count me in, I’ll be there.” He tucks the slip of paper in his pocket. Patting it after. Safe keeping. Breast pocket. Stuffed right close to his heart.

You nod. “Good. Because. Uh-“ You step right in and whisper those words to him. “I’ve been thinking about you a stupid unhealthy crazy amount.” You confess.

“That absolutely makes two of us.” He meets you head on in this crush.

“So I can’t be held responsible for my damages when I get you alone in the dark, again Munson.”

Eddie nearly falls over. And he’s stood leaning against a very hard, very solid stationary surface.

And he’s thought about some very very filthy shit with regards to you and darkened spaces. Things involving his bandanna tied around your eyes. Or binding your wrists. He thought about sucking and biting on your neck to hear more of those delicious yelps.

He thought about kissing you to absolute air starved death. About anything and every which way you could enjoy twisty hot n’ heavy sex, in numerous wild positions.

He swallows right now. And he really, reallyhas to fight the urge to shove his mouth onto yours, right here, and now. He wants to taste you. Slam your back to this locker and shove his tongue in the smiling cup of your mouth.

He wants under your dress. Pawing at you like a pervert. He feels like some parts of him will never recover from this. Ever.

“Goddamn pencils.” He whispers to you lowly. He almost moaned it. It shot straight to your gut. Lightning zap powerful.

Those dazzling chocolate drop eyes. He looks drunk with you. Hungry for you.

The shrill school Bell cuts into your heated atmosphere. You bite your lip and hate that you have to step back. More distance that you didn’t want or need. Fuck.

“See you there?” You step away. Voice laced with hope.

He’d tug you along there right now if he could.

“You betcha sweet lips I’ll see you there.” He grins. It’s maniacal and so sexy of him.

You join the crowds and melt into them as you walk away. Unable to resist leaving him with a smile flicked over your shoulder.

When you get back to Linda she didn’t even know you’d gone.

Eddie watches you the whole time before he had to peel his eyes away, and turn his mind to definitely less important things. Picking through crowds for you.

Mirrors on the ceiling. Pink champagne on ice. Welcome to Hotel California. Ready a room for one please-

Cause it’s sappy as fuck, he’s well aware, but he never wants to check out of or quit this feeling you leave in him. He’s scrounging for more. Always more. Hopefully come his free he can have it.

Free period better hurry it’s ass along-

Ballerinas. Where the ever living fuck were these damn ballerinas.

Eddie wanders along the arty corridors. Looking very out of place as he had done the last time. Paper scrunched in his clammy palms. Golden ticket.

When people appear walking the other way, heading for him, he ducks and squirrels it over to the nearest display. Hair whipping behind him. Wallet chain tapping his Jean thigh.

Pretends to be very seriously studying the artwork pinned to the cork boards on the walls. Graphite smudged fruit bowls. Interesting

Hands behind his back. Peering around at the people shuffling past him.

They continue on down the hall with their sketchbooks in hand. Bumping into each other and telling jokes and utterly engulfed in their conversation.

They don’t give him so much as a cursory glance. Like he’s suddenly melded as one with the walls. All the better.

He stands with his hands behind his back and leans back from his hips. Swaying to watch them walk away and stoutly ignore the lingering metal head.

When they disappear out the doors, he’s on the move before they’re even ripped out of sight. Trying to be stealthy and quick about this. He scurries along like a scampering cat. Worried a teacher is gonna catch him and then he’s gonna have to slink his sorry ass outta here.

Zips at top speed down the hallways. Nimble on his sneakered feet. Most of the classroom doors were shut. Noise happening behind them. Art classes being dictated. Creations flourishing under tip of graphite pencil scraping on paper.

The humming whirl of pottery wheels down at the end of the hall. That same smell of sticky old paint and dry clay dust. Sad pot plant table to the side again. In all its droopy unloved glory.

Posters with names of artists he’s never heard of whizz him by. His eyes pick apart every one. Blue almond branches all twisted and nutty brown. Not the one he needsthough-

“Ballerinas.” He hums to himself.

Tutus and plié’s and all that shit. Eyes speedily scanning the walls. Flicking around in the way that makes him look manic. And then-

He sees it. Inconspicuously tacked to the wall. Mouldy mustard walls on a drab background only punctuated with the milky blue light of ballet dancers. He grins as he shoves the paper back in his pocket.

His eyes flick from that poster to the door opposite. Shabby old thing. The old sign on it looked weathered. Bold printed letters that read ‘Storage.’ He bites his lower lip in a smile.

Bingo, baby.

He’s at the door like a flash. Twisting his head around shoulder to shoulder to see if there’s anyone. Hair whipping around his eager face.

He shoves that handle so hard and slips inside the closet, it’s a wonder he didn’t break the thing.

His eyes adjust to the darkness inside. There’s old drying racks. Shelves for storage. Old paint tins. Old cloth canvases. Rolled up painted scenery curtains from the canteen stage, bunched up to one side. Dusted in spiderwebs and forgotten. Some wash of blue dotted with snow from a Nativity scene. Some foggy green garden from a tenth grade Shakespeare play from long ago.

He steps forwards. Eyes fading comfortably into the darkness. And there you are.

You’d put watermelon lip smacker on. Fluffed your hair. Rubbed a little dribble of perfume at your wrists.

Biting your lip all nervous and fiddling with your skirt. Floundering on the spot at the end by a low bench table. The space seems to be crushing down on you both. The realisation you’re truly alone again comes stifling as a vice.

Behind closed doors and locked in shadows. Woven in between all these things, it seems a great burning crush is being harboured in the pair of your huge hearts.

“Hey.” You breathe. You almost sound nervous. You hate that you do.

In the half dark you can see Eddie’s eyes look stunning black. Big pretty tar pits that tug. His grin flicks into white.

“Hey.” He answers back.

Trying not to trip over where he stood. He’s certain you’d be able to hear the way his heart is pounding his ribs so hard, like it’s rattling against the barred window of his bones.

“Funny seeing you in here.” He comments. That flash of his bone dry wryness rearing its head. He picks his way through the dark to you. Hands lingering on his hips.

He sees the smirk it draws from you. Eyes glitter in the dim.

“Yeah. Often hang out in here on the off chance someone wanders in.” You shrugged. Humour laced your voice.

“Like a spider, building her clever web.” Eddie widens his eyes.

Swaggers nearer to you. Closing in. His stomach tightens in want with every step his legs eat up.

“Very metal. Very sexy.” He adds. Tilting his head and his smirk at you. He hears how that made your breath hitch.

“Guess that makes you my prey then doesn’t it?” You tease.

He’s one step away. Moving closer to you in that dancy-swirly way he does. Other people walk. You’d have to come up with a whole new word for the way Eddie Munson moves.

“Oh. Happily baby.” He drawls. He’s right in front of you.

Your breath is getting scarce. Lungs shrinking in your chest like weedy little deflated balloons.

The eye contact can only be described as the most insanely hot thing you’ve ever felt. Tugging yanking warm static bursting in your belly.

“You uh. You, look really pretty today, by the way.” He says so earnestly. Makes your heart squeeze and flip. Your cheeks are blood hot. Rushing full with it.

He gently places a comfortable hand over your hipbone. Eyes glued to yours to check this is ok. Every inch he covers he’ll always be checking that it fits safely into the parameters of your boundaries.

“Better than snoopy bed shorts?” You ask.

“I’m a fan of both. As I believe I said once, it’s not your clothes I’m looking at. It’s the girl under them.”

“That’s sweet.” You beam.

He slides fowards. Hips crushed to yours. You cup the side of his cheek. Feeling the slight push of stubble. His hands smoothed over your hips. Settled back on the dip of you there.

“Although- I’d quite like to see more of the girl under them too. Key word being, under.” He flirts boldly.

“Stop talking already and kiss me, Munson.” You laugh.

“See, your cunning plan of lying in wait worked, Ms. Black widow. You got me…”

Because even when he’s zoning in to kiss you, he still has to make noise about it. Of course. He’s like a heat lamp that never shuts up-

You shut him up indefinitely - or for who knows how long - not very long you bet - when you slant your smiling mouth across his.

Keeping him there as you smile against his mouth. Hand cupping the back of that wild haired head, the brain inside that seemingly that never stops churning.

Maybe you could make it still and calm for just a little while-

Eddie moans into your mouth and fully wraps you closer. Arms crossing over your back. Fully seating you inside the safe bands of his arms, crushed in the enclosure of his chest.

You stumble back and you pull him in with you. Arm around his neck and brushing that DIO patch. When you pull away to gasp for air, he wastes no time. Nosing at your neck to make your knees quake.

“I missed you like, an insane fucking amount, pencils.” He says inbetween mouthing at your jaw and under your ear. Kissing and sucking. Biting gently and soothing with his lips.

Your heart is slamming for attention in your hipbones. You’d let it slip from your memory how magical this boys lips are.

The night after he climbed out your window, when you woke up in the morning, alone. That hit hard. Of course you didn’t expect him to stay. But half of you wondered.

For just a second you pawed at the pillow next to you. Fingertips sinking into the worn old cotton. Still clinging with the scent of cigarettes and apples. Your chest swallowed up your heart cause- you just ached after him. Such a loud messy ball of kinetic energy that made such a pulsing groaning absence when he wasn’t there.

You wanted to just listen to him breathe down the phone to you. Spend hours and hours wasting time listening to the shuffle and shift crackle of the line and his manic laugh down the other end. Just making him break into a smile turns your whole day on it’s head. Tips you inside out and throws you round.

You can’t love him small. Or quietly. And you’ve never realised that before now. And that emotion is running into you now, headlong, like a fucking freight train.

“I missed you too.” You say. Clutching at his shoulders like you needed him to keep you rooted to this earth.

And your heart clenched cause it was so true it hurt. You’re almost in agony with it.

Sensing the neediness in your voice, he wraps you up in a kiss again. Each other’s spit skated on your lips.

It’s filthy and simply glorious.

“How much did you miss me?” He grins. All playful and toying with you even though your all wrapped up into him. Seeking quantifiable terms.

You pull his face in again and kiss him in a way you hope comes across as suitably needy answer.

This damn much, you dope.

Thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Fingertips sliding into his hair. He huffs in pleasure with the dirty way you kiss. Eyes rolling back in his head.

You’re kissing him open. Licking into his mouth. Finding his tongue with your own in a way that gets him hooked.

“Eddie.” You whine against his mouth. Almost whimper his name. Pressing it to his teeth.

Okay. His heart may actually fucking explode. Top of his head is gonna pop off like a champagne cork.

His hips roll onto you. Long slow roll. Languid smooth like bourbon. Pressing the start of a very hard erection into your belly. Stiff against his zipper.

His hands slip down your waist and he claws into the cheeks of your ass. You give him another one of those delicious sounding whines.

“Fuck.” Comes tumbling out his mouth when he realises he was grinding shamelessly into you. He shifts to pull back to say something-

“Shit-fuck- sorry, I didn’t uh mean to-”

He’s not going anywhere. Your hands yank into his lapels and then there’s this moan from you that spills into his mouth. You speak the words to his mouth. Sharing the same air. You give him a tangible direction he can follow.

“Fuck Eddie. Don’t stop.”

His knees almost give way. Thankfully, he’s got you to lean into.

“Mmm god fucking fuck, pencils the things I wanna do to you…” He mumbles. His voice dipping low and breaking with need as he grinds those hips into you once again.

“Yeah?” You smile when he ducks to hungrily suck at your neck again. “Why don’t you tell me about those things. I’d love to hear them.”

You cup his head. Let him wander all over you. Mashing your lips to his with no musicality. All hunger. But just anything anything anything for that graze of friction.

You reel him in and you’re winding your pelvis in a circle against his. He almost trembles with the pleasure of it. He groans into your lips and devours your mouth as you push your hips together.

“Filthy things. Wanna grab your tits and lick your nipples. I-oh Jesus. I wanna, hmm, finger you until you wet my whole hand, baby. Can’t get enough of you. I wanna get you off again and again.” He sighs.

His reward for his filthy wants is your hand sneaking to the front of his jeans and cupping his stiff bulge. His whole body jerks like a live wire shock.

“I want all of that.” You tell him. Matching him step for step in this desire. Your fingers spread out, cupping the whole length of him. Palming his balls too. The pain of it being through the denim is like a half sensation and to his shame it turns him on more.

“You got me thinking filthy too. I’ve dreamt about what it would be like for you to work your dick into me. Stretch me open.” Cause he feels girthy. Maybe you could have a flip side to this freak nickname. Sex freak.

“Shit.” He whines.

Closing his eyes against your neck. Ringed fingers wrapping right around your wrist. You got him almost drooling down your collarbone.

“Fuck baby, yeah. Touch me.” He murmurs desperately.

Guiding your hand to rub against his cock even harder. He almost choked when you fiddled and clunked with buckles to get his belt undone and slipped your hand inside. Stroking over the barrier of his underwear. His hips rutted to you.

You met that rhythm with winding thrusts and roll of your own hips. So damn good.

“You can touch me, too.” You tell him.

Oh god. You’re a dream. He’s dreaming. Slap him awake somebody-

And then before he can ever register fully what’s happening, you take his hand and slip it right up under your skirts.

Rest in peace to his little senseless head. His brain may aswell be melting out his ears by now.

“Damn. okay. Fuck.” He bites his lip all swirling with nerves and excitement.

He was never one to deny a lady in distress. And when you place his hand right over the crotch of your sopping hot cotton panties, he can’t quite believe his heart is still ticking. His breath shudders through his throat.

His stomach physically swoops like it’s riding a tilt-a-whirl when he scoops his fingers under the barrier of your panties and finds you so slick and hot. He runs two fingertips through plump gummy lips and his dick has never been this hard- he swears.

You gasp out when he sinks those fingers deeper.

“Sorry.” He pants. He stops. Desperate black eyes shining at you. Spit coating his raw pink lower lip. His rings must have been too cold against your pussy.

“It was a good moan.” You promise in a purr. Your nipples are skipping with electricity. So hard they fully ache for touch. His fingers felt amazing. You urge him on.

He slithers them deeper, curling up and slotting deep. Muffled his moan against your shoulder. Your hand cupping his balls. Those were pretty damn big too.

He feels drunk. Pumping his fingers into you, this feels better than any damn high he’s had.

“How do you- what do you like?” He manages to ask as he eyes the way his hand is bumping through your panties and your skirts. Rolling to your pussy in a comfortable pattern. But he needs to find out what it would take for you to cum.

That fact he’s so excitable, and yet still wanting to know what it will take for your orgasm, makes you clench down on him.

He bites his lip at the feeling of your pussy suddenly strangling his fingers. Shit that was hot.

You reach for his hand. His pressure was heavenly, but you fine tune the angle of his fingers. Sinking them deeper, getting him to curl them just a little more-

Then he finds that spot that makes a yelp fly out your mouth.

He smothers you with a smug kiss to shut you up. He does not wanna get caught by a teacher in a dark closet with his fingers halfway up your pussy.

“You wanna get us caught honey? Cause I sure as shit don’t. You got an orgasm to give me.” He grins with newfound confidence making him brave.

He slows and curls and stretched his fingers. Sloppy squelches begin to get louder and louder. You’re getting his fingers wetter and wetter. It’s addictive.

“Like that?” He asks, sloppy hot against your mouth. Tongue sticking your lower lip.

“Fuck yes.” You pant. Face screwing up into ecstasy. Brows pulling up in the middle. Mouth dropping open. Eyes rolling up.

You widen your legs and let him finger the hell out of you. And holy god it was so good.

You can feel the callused tips of his fingers decadently flicking that godforsaken spot deep in your walls.

The way his rings add an extra jolt of friction and another layer of texture against the mouth of your cunt. How you must be getting those things on his fingers so wet cause you’ve never been this sloppy or loud before.

Granted you’ve only done this to yourself a few times. You’ve achieved the main goal of course- to cum. But this is so much more pleasure somehow. His fingers are bigger and he’s taking the time to explore and learn you. It’s ridiculously sexy of him.

Your hands grab for him. Whining for more, for that extra touch that is guaranteed to get you there, you take his other hand and push his thumb into the soaking folds of your mons. Guiding him to find your clit.

When you gently swirl the pad of his thumb around it, you cry out loud again and it makes him throb in his jeans. Hips thrusting forwards to him.

His stomach clenched and knotted in want knowing he’s making you writhe in bliss on the ends of his fingers.

“Take what you need honey. So fucking pretty for me. Bet you look so pretty when you cum. Couldn’t stop thinking about that.” He kisses up your jaw. Cleverly using his thumb and two fingers to drive you insane.

He’s fully ready to admit he’s thought about you flushed and naked and sweaty in his stained bed. Maybe those wet stains would be from you.

He lived with you inside his eyelids at night, picturing you naked, as he was desperately squeezing and tugging his own cock and just trying to imagine the way you’d sigh his name and the way you’d taste on the bed of his tongue.

How it would feel to have you in your hands and knees for him in his bed. Nails on the wall scratching down his band posters. Cock buried so deep you’d hiccup sobs with it. His hands clawing your hips and ass as he slammed you down on his dick and felt you cum around him, shrieking his name like a curse, toes clenching.

Something shredding loud and filthy, A little Sabbath maybe, playing on his stereo to mask the broken sound of your cries. As he curled over your back and worked his cock into you.

“Eddie.” You whine for him. Voice a weak gaspy stutter. Spreading your legs around his hips as he stands closer. Pressing right in so he can kiss you.

“So wet for me baby. Think I’m gonna get my wish of you wetting my whole hand aren’t I?”

“Yeah- yeahyeah.” You can’t nod fast enough. Poor baby he’s got you drunk on the thrust and drag of his fingers.

He can’t help it. You’re frying his brain. He has to kiss you. Wants to swallow you while. He needs touch. Needs.

He wants your nipples grazing hard on his hot tongue. Soft tits mashed in his face. Your pussy he’s cupping in his hands. Your ass. Your lips. He fully needs every part of you cause that’s just the way he wants to love you. Love you to strangling death.

Your cries intensify. You’re close. Drawing closer.

“Oh god please say you can come over to my place one night. Please, pencils. I can’t take it if you don’t.” He mumbles against your open moaning mouth. Kissing you and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

You push yours to meet it dumbly. Nodding. You break away to gasp.

“Okay- don’t stop. When?” You manage to scrape together the braincells to ask.

“Whenever you want I don’t care, oh-shit you’re so hot.” He felt you squeeze down on him.

You’ve got him so good he’s babbling. “Whenever. Come over whenever. Stay the night. Stay the whole weekend. Stay forever-“

“Keep doing this and kissing me and I’ll never leave.” You say as you clash for a kiss again. Bodies rocking.

“I can do that.” He mumbles inbetween heavy breaths. Huge great smile on his lips.

Both Eddie’s hands working you so cleverly. You will say this for the boy, he may hate school, but he’s damn sure a quick study.

He doesn’t know what’s louder. Your moans, or the sloppy squelches he’s fucking out of you.

When you start to tremble and clap your hand over the back of his, his eyes don’t know where to land. He drinks in the way your face twists into an expression that almost looks like pain.

“Close. M’so fuckin close.” You warn him. Your voice is wounded.

“Shit. You cumming?” He checks.

Your answer is in the form of a cry. You can’t even form the words. They don’t make it out your mouth. You can only cry and shudder. The shape of his name ready to come out your mouth as you clench and clench-

Eddie mashes his mouth to yours. Hungrily kisses you though the shaking whirling torrent of your orgasm.

He drinks in your delicious whines and kisses your lips raw whilst you cum hard on his hand. His thumb slowly swirls to a stop on your clit. Wringing out every last burst of pleasure that he can. Ceases the hard thrusts of his fingers.

You did wet his hand after all. He can feel your slick coating his fingers. Some splashed down on his palm between the webs of his fingers.

He doesn’t even care that he didn’t get to finish. Watching you tumble headlong into bliss - because of him - was more than enough.

“Damn.” Eddie watches in rapt fascinated pleasure as you struggle for breath and your chest heaves.

The ends of your fingers tingling where you clutched his scratchy denim shoulders. Your head shot to little floaty scrunched stars and noisy crunching static.

“Holy f-“ Eddie cuts you off. Smears into your mouth with a kiss that takes all your remaining breath. Sucks it right out your soul. Brings his hand around your back. His soaked fingers rest against your thigh.

“Fucking drenched me.” He noses into your cheek. Kissing down your jaw. He can’t resist your neck and he doesn’t. You’re sure the burning patches of wet on your skin are some pretty decent hickies.

“Not my fault you’re a quick learner with talented fingers.” You smug into a lingering peck you place on his lips.

He wiggles them into your thighs. He really was dripping. Wetly slapping your skin. “Pure magic.” He smirks.

You sag forwards into him. Ease the strain in your burning thighs.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact I just made the hottest girl ever, cum in an school storage closet.”

“Not your average Friday?” You sigh. Teasing.

He pinches your thigh for that. “Menace.” He chuckles into your neck. Holding you close. Sighing in bliss as he lays his nose into your hair and smells that coconut scent again. He’s dreamt about that too. Everything about you is delightful and he’s dozy drunk on every essence.

“So. Any plans tomorrow night?” You ask as he kindly pets your pussy one last time.

Draped your panties back to their rightful place. You bite your lip as he brushes his fingers against you through them. You were more soaked than before.

“None at all. Well, a bank heist. But that’s not til next week.” He plays.

“Your place? Scary Movies? I’ll bring pizza and beer.”

“Fine. But I’m buying the pizza baby.”

“You just made me cum. Pizza is most definitely on me.”

That draws an amazed and blushy laugh out of him. “You sure you’re real?” He checks.

“Definitely. I am no mirage.” You answer as you reach your hand around that skinny trim waist of his and cup his ass through his back pocket.

You bite your lip with glee. It makes him smile and his hips jerk into you.

“Alright. Alright. Damn. Menace. What am I getting myself into here-“ He wonders.

“I don’t know but I really like where this is heading.” You admit.

“Yeah? Me too.” He looks at you and his grin slowly climbs across his cheeks. So sweet.

You tenderly look at each other a moment and it’s like the whole rest of this world can go get fucked.

“Had you better get back out there before someone notices you’re missing?” He asks Pointing his thumb to the closet door. After fumbling with his fly and his own belt.

“Shit. Probably.” You answer glumly. Sighing as you untangle yourself and get used to your weight on your own two feet again.

Eddie smooths your skirts down. But you think it’s a cheap and yet sweet excuse to cup your ass some more. You chuckle with it and he slings your body forwards into another kiss.

Waddling you both across, joined to the door. Swaying side to side like penguins. Hands in his hair as you kiss him again. Leathered arms wrapping around your waist.

He pushes you up against the back of the closet door, kisses you so deep. It makes you smile. One more. Just one more.

“Call by around 6.” Eddie offers.

“You bet.” He pecks you so sweetly for that.

“I think you got drugs in these lips of yours you know, Pencils.” He says when he can’t pull away from making out with you. Rolls his hips into yours naughtily.

“Corny, Munson.” You smile. But you won’t pretend that compliment doesn’t make your stomach sizzle.

He scoops you away from the door and you twist to open it. His mouth sneaks to your ear. Chin resting on your shoulder.

“Tell me it’s stuck and we can stay in here for hours.” He sneaks his hands up your thighs again.

“You’re terrible.” You twist back.

He grins with lusty lidded eyes aimed your way.

“That’s not what you said five minutes ago sweetie.” He preens. Chest all puffed up with the fact he made you orgasm.

You jiggle the handle and it crunches and swings open with a creak.

“Rats. Foiled again.” He curses.

You step out into the hallway. Out the shadowed clutches of the closet. You peer around checking the coast is clear.

You creep out with Eddie a hairs breadth behind you. Chin on your shoulder. His hands comfortably on your hips again. Watching the sway of your bare legs and cute skirts.

A sudden voice to your left made you both shoot out your skin. Eddie yelped again. Leaping to pull you close but then realised that would probably be inappropriate in front of a teacher.

His hands slipped for you and then waved jerky in the air and fell away. Awkwardly fidgeting to his sides.

“Shouldn’t you both be in class?” Came the sudden and dowdy interjection.

Mrs. Clary, the ninth grade art teacher stood looking at the pair of you with suspicion through her gold rimmed glasses, linked by a shimmering chain around her neck.

She wore ankle length skirts and a brown cardigan over a beige blouse. A short sweep of a nutty brown bob streaked with silver framed her frowning face. A little frumpy in her appearance but she was a complete stick in the mud. You certainly didn’t miss any of her classes.

“Mrs Clary.” You answer her with due politeness.

She’s busy frowning at Eddie. “What are you doing here, Mr. Munson?” Her eyes narrow. Mouth pinched at the puckering corners. His rep around the school was well cemented as trouble.

“Just-“ He floundered and his head hopped around seeking for an answer.

“… came to help this lovely art student here get something out the…closet.” Is the best excuse he can come up with.

“Get what?” She presses. Looks from him to you.

You dig your nails your hand to keep from bursting into a smile. Your face is itching with the need to not laugh. You chew your lip so hard. Hoping the lie isn’t etched over your face.

“Something. Uh- really heavy. From the very top shelf.” You jump in to defend him.

“Yes. That’s better.” He shook his finger pointing at you. Then he lays on the charm real thick.

“I was wandering my merry innocent way past and I wondered if she might need help.”

He meets your eyes and how you don’t lose it, you’ve no idea.

“Mmhmm. Yep.” You agree quickly.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Mrs Clary asks. Clearly unimpressed.

“I sure as hell did.” Eddie beams like a letch.

You snicker.

“Back to class right this second.” She warned shrilly. Barking her order.

“Yes, commander.” He bows. Saluting.

You scurry away and Eddie shares a look with you before he goes. Being shooed away like a disobedient loping stray.

An ear splitting wolf whistle echoes down the corridor. It made Mrs Clary leap into the air in fright. Clutching her chest.

You look over your shoulder, with hot cheeks and catch the sight of that maniacal grin splitting his face. You can’t help chuckling.

Mrs Clary sighs in sheer moody irritation. “That boy is nothing but trouble. Steer clear.” She snips at you.

He wiggled his fingers in a silly wave and a wink as he dances out the doors. Hair flapping behind him.

If this isn’t love then you’re an absolute fool.

🕷 It may be of interest - but there’s a next part now 🕷

#eddie x female reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #i would die for this man #punkwrites #super freak series #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson my beloved #eddie my boy #eddie my beloved

634 notes · View notes

little-fairy-forest · 4 years ago

Note

i’m so annoying, mine are always so long my god.

how about the boys with famous!reader, i was thinking maybe an idol/singer for bakugou, a book/manga author for izuku and you can choose for shouto. y/n meeting their friends & others things you want to add yourself

with izuku i think it would be funny when y/n meets their friends/class 1-A and bakugou knows exactly who she is (along with most of the others) and he kinda freaks out a bit since he loves romance manga

you can self indulge as much as you’d like for any of my asks since i love others interpretations of things

i’ll stop making them so long omg - HAVE AN AMAZING DAY SWEETHEART I LOVE YOU 💗

🍀 Hello again! Midoriya will be fun to write for, whilst Todoroki will be hard. Hopefully I write something enjoyable for you! Thank you for the amazing asks so far :)

Boys with an Idol! s/o

Bakugou, Midoriya, Todoroki

Bakugou

Bakugou was a fan of yours since your debut on a popular singing competition. You made it through the rounds with ease. when you won at the end and got your own contract, he was very happy

He followed you on your social medias before you were famous so you remember the blond liking your photos and following your journey to the world wide singer you are currently

You were only in musutafu for the weekend for a small meeting regarding a concert, you wanted to try more japanese snacks so you went on a hunt for a convenient store

To your luck, Bakugou was there as well trying to find a decent drink after training

"Who the fuck drinks grape flavour? Seriously they're better options out there tch" "well I prefer the f/d, you should try it" you say whispering pulling down your mask

"No way" bakugou said "your y/n?" Bakugou was shocked, why were you in this convenience store??

"shh, I'm only here for concert reasons, don't tell anyone it's for my album tour next year...eh, you gonna buy that?" you point to the drink in Bakugous hand "hah?! Oh-no, here take it. Wait! Let me buy this erm...I like your music, it's not bad..." Bakugou hates how he cant speak, seriously he might just set off an explosion

"Don't worry Bakugou, I got our treats, you can buy our next orders at the cafe another day?" You suggest as you take his basket and walk to the cashier "you know who the fuck I am? Tch stalker"

"Sports festival" you simply say as you grab the bags and walk with him outside as you take out your sunglasses again "here take this, and these" you pass Bakugou his bag and your phone number 'call me xxx-xxx-xxx ~y/n ♡'

After this little encounter, you wanted to keep it a secret, and your blossoming relationship. You and Katsuki were like two little peas in a pod, you always face timed due to schedules, you watched him train, learned about his quirk.

He loved watching you practice. He also was able to design his own merch of the two of you on photo cards and possible even little dolls one day, well if the public take a liking to the blonde that is

Now it's just his friends to meet you. Katsuki has an idea of how they would react but anything could happen with "the small brained bastards"

Kaminari was known to have one of your collab photo cards with another rapper on the back of his phone

Sero and Kirishima were tame about you but knew who you were and your music was always on their playlists

Mina however....was a stan. Seriously this girl has everything, posters, photocards, merch, even pays to be on your private snapchat story...

So when you suggested to Katsuki to meet his friends he wasn't mad just irritated "why? They will just post about you and probably just want clout tch" "oh that's not true katsu, they seem lovely!" You say as you sit beside him on the bench "from what I've heard from you, they seem really fun to be around" you say as you start to peel your orange

Bakugou decided to let you meet them at a local korean bbq place, chill and easy

That was until Mina seen your location and you were near...damn that snapchat story...

"Listen up idiots, if you scare off my s/o your skin will be my new spring coat-" katsuki was cut off my you sitting down beside Sero across from Katsuki...

All.hell.broke.lose

"Oh my god." "*gasp* I cant scream but I want to!" "Ahh look at my phone case I love your music! Hey- theres no way you and Bakugou are dating?? Him really-" Kaminari was cut off my a deadly look from Mina "I have so much to say and ask but since were in public I wont freak out, maybe, but please can I have an autograph??"

"Piss off extras let them eat in peace tch we dont need you scaring them off" Katsuki was nervous you wouldnt like them. Katsuki was also afraid they would leak where you are and paparazzi would ruin the mood

"So what's it like training as future heroes?" You ask the group, hoping to get some insight to what being a hero really is like since Katsuki makes it look easy

"There are some hard days but once you keep up your routine it's not that hard" Kaminari says as he sips his drink "but!- we would love to know more about your music career, who's the most famous person you know personally??" Kaminari asks with excitement hoping you have some celebrity gossip

After Kamianri was able to break the ice a little bit, you told them what it was like being a singer, how you met Katsuki (since apprently he hadn't told them) and a little bit about your personal life

After the meal was paid for (Katsuki insisted he played for you aswell ♡) you all went your separate ways

"So~ can I meet your friends more often they seemed so nice especially shark teeth!" You say holding Katsukis hand "you mean shitty hair? Yeah maybe more often just wait till they get too comfy around you then they are gonna be your shadow and not leave you alone"

You loved his friends and they loved you :)

Midoriya

Your manga was a small series only a few people have read it, you enjoyed your audience interaction since you didn't get much of it

You loved to see what people speculate what will happen next, a certain username always seemed to be commenting and posting theories

Mini_might : I wonder if the author knows what will happen to the main character?? Is that an all might references on page.34??

Midoriya wanted to go to one of your very small signings in a local library not too far from Musutafu. Midoriya was excited since know one knows what the author looks like, not even hinting at their name,age, nothing!

So when he heard he got the latest volume 3 days early, meet the author and a small goodie bag full of exclusive merch?? Yes. Take his money

When he arrived and was waiting in line he swear he say someone with blond spikey hair not to far ahead, "oh must of been one of kaccans cousins in town, must let him know" izuku says as he takes out his phone to look at his newsfeed

When it was his turn to meet you...

Wow

This.boy.was.hooked

Your eyes? Gorgeous, your skin? What's your routine, and your outfit? Someone call fashion runway. This little boy wanted to know everything about you.

So he took his phone, opened the notes app hoping to ask some questions before his turn was over

"H-hey I like your series a lot actually, I've been following since the earlier releases, do you have time for some questions???" Izuku was sweating like a little dog in the sun

You agreed to answer a few questions, and you asked Izuku a few as well. You really liked how fast this boy could write...maybe you could hire him to help with the social media aspect of promoting this series? Maybe even write a few scripts?

After Izuku almost had a meltdown when you gave him a hug after his picture he stayed in contact with you since you gave him the job offer

He really like the way this was a chance to make some pocket money. I mean hello hero merch doesn't buy itself!

After a few months of being by Midoriyas side you asked him out, he started to cry from happiness since he didnt have the courage to before

Midoriya values friendship so he wanted you to meet his class mates. You loved the idea until you remembered that would be 20 new people... :')

You settled to meet a few of his closest, he told you about Bakugou so you were to look out "for a spikey blonde near a spikey redhead"

You heard everything about his friends, you loved the stories they had and memories they made together and hopefully you could make some in the future :)

As you stepped into the dorm building hand in hand with Izuku, a brown haired girl bounded over "hello, I'm Ururaka! This is Asui, nice to meet you" she said all bubbly and happy. You were happy that they were also excited to meet you

"Hello, nice to meet you I'm L/n" you said as you took your shoes off, swapped them for slippers and made your way to the common area beside Izuku

You looked up to see a tall boy with blue hair and another on the couch with half white and half red hair, 'are these Iida and Todoroki?' You though to yourself

"Hello there I'm Tenya Iida and this is Todoroki" Iida said moving his arms with a smile "hello" Todoroki said quietly

"We heard so much about you *kero* seriously I think Midoriya could go on for hours how much he admired you *kero*" Asui spoke as she sat down near you passing you tea

"A-ah Tsuyu please don't embarrass me" Izuku turned bright red "Don't worry L/n he makes sure to keep his notebook about to away from Bakugou incase he gets any ideas" Todoroki says as he sips his tea enjoying egging on Midoriya

"Okay, well em, Izuku has told me lots of lovely thing about yous all, I'm very impressed with how far you have come. Izuku showed by the notes he keeps on your progress-" you got cut off by a loud bang behind in the kitchen

Bakugoh couldn't believe it.. he knew "Dekus little s/o" was meeting some of the class, but he did not expect you to show up.

"How the fuck did the nerd get them to date him" Bakugoh whispers as he tried to pick up his now spilled drink "shit" he realised it was about to get his manga wet

Oh wait, your manga... Bakugou is annoyed, no pissed that you are giving attention to Deku and not him, seriously have you read the reviews and suggestions giving to you by "L0rd_explodo_king"

After you all had a small lunch and tea together, you were asked to visit everyday by Ururuaka since you had a lot in common, Tsuyu wanted to read your manga and Iida was interested in your schoolwork. Todoroki was just happy you mentioned you liked soba :)

Bakugou however...let's just hope you give him an exclusive keychain for his birthday

Todoroki

Ah the famous y/n l/n, the amazing model known for their natural beauty and helping others express themselves without medias influence

Your brand helped models who were turned away for "not meeting the criteria" or whatever bias that was

Your magazine promoted the smaller business in the business and fashion world

Todoroki seen who you first were when Fuyumi asked him to pick up your latest issue, Todoroki was happy that someone was bringing light to something that people normally skip over, he liked your idea behind promoting models who may not be "perfect" in modern society

Todoroki understands to a certain level about living up to standards and needs, with being the "prize possession" of his father.

Shouto contacted your model agency to see if they could get him in contact with you, not only does shouto want to help your organisation, but also take part in showing people with scars can be pretty, gorgeous, handsome no matter what the "trend" or "beauty idealists" are

You were so happy that Shouto agreed to model for your next issue of your magazine. You wanted to promote people with visible scars who want to tell their story or who simple want to express who they are. You personally know a few people who feel like then should either be ashamed or should hide their scares for others. You want people to express themselves however they want.

Shouto arrived to the venue ready to help out, he also wanted to get to know you better since you never once mentioned his father or his last name. Shouto truly thought you were doing gods work by helping him embrace his scar after all these years

"Ah Todoroki glad to see you could make it, Love the shirt. Here is the schedule hopefully this shouldn't take too long since there won't be any hair or makeup since its meant to show off natural beauty this week" you say as you carry a camera "anytime l/n. I also want to donate to the charity's linked in your last issue. They are for a good cause and I want to help" Shouto says as he hands you an envelope

As you took Shoutos photos you took in how handsome he was naturally...like seriously. Not only that he was so polite to everyone around him. You respected his privacy not to ask where he got his scar from or ask him if he wanted to tell his story

But you did ask for him to go out with you some time, he agreed since he wanted to know about you more, you seemed so generous and amazing

After a few months testing the waters since Shouto has a little hesitant about a relationship, but once he was comfortable he wanted you to meet his friends. He knew if anyone would enjoy your company it would deffiently be Midoriya & co.

You were excited to meet his friends. You met his siblings not to long ago and that went smooth as hot butter- so you hope it's the same experience

You agreed to meet them for a picnic in a local park due to cherry blossom season. You brought your camera incase you seen inspiration

As you made you way over the the picnic bench, a green haird boy waved, you both waved back and a brown haired girl turned around and waved aswell

"Hello Todoroki, hi l/n, nice to finally meet you. I'm Midoriya, but Deku is fine as well" Izuku spoke but he was a little flustered as always "hello I'm Ururaka, your really- *gasp* wait?? L/n did you say, as in y/n l/n??" Ururaka said as she realised who you were

Asui smiled as she recognized you aswell, Midoriya filled Iida in on who you were and your magazine

As Ururaka started to immediately asked about your organisation and about yourself, Shouto was happy to indulge in some soba :)

The conversations with the little group was lovely and you really enjoyed their company

"So l/n any room for a few models?" Ururaka asked as she ate some Mochi, "oh course, Shouto is going to be the front page of my next issue again. I would love if I could get a few shots during your training and what each of your bodies endure" you say as you take a sip of your water

"I'd love to *kero* make sure you get my good side" Asui joked "Its amazing what you do l/n, I'm happy it's all for a good cause" Iida chimed in

Shouto was happy his friends enjoyed you, I mean who wouldn't? But he finds it hard to make friends so he cherishes the ones he makes.

At the end of the day you are happy you made more friends ans Shouto is happy he got some soba :)

I apologise for this being so long and not being ready when I thought it would :(

Honestly I was contemplating if this was too long...let me know if these should be shorter I have no idea if these are too long or people are happy with this length

-> masterlist

467 notes · View notes

myherokatsuki · 3 years ago

Text

The Plus Ultra Holiday Special | {Part 2}

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x oc (Ji-ae Yeong), Kirishima Eijirou x oc (@super-predictable98‘s Alma Iwazaki) Warnings/Tags: aged up characters, talk of pregnancy, violence, home invasion, knife/gun mention Word Count: 4.5k a/n: Flor and I wrote a super self indulgent holiday fic and though it’s a bit belated, I have the second part! Featuring Katsuki & Ji-ae’s son, Iradachi + Eijirou & Alma’s daughter, Toshinori.

{ Part 1 }

"Where's my princess? Do you need daddy to cut anything for you?" Kirishima asked, following the others to the table.

"No! I never ask you to cut anything for me!" Toshinori grumbled, blushing furiously.

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for a little help,” Ji-ae pointed out, glancing at her husband, glad that he’d finally learned that lesson himself.

"It's okay, let daddy help," Kirishima got her plate, happy to spoil her and oblivious to why she would be embarrassed. "I know you're a big girl, but one day you'll stop needing me and I'll cry."

"Don't remind me," Alma sighed as she joined them.

“Unless you have another kid,” Bakugou murmured under his breath so only Eijirou and Alma could hear.

"Exactly!" Kirishima agreed. "That's what I said!"

"Stop giving him stupid ideas! Kacchan, the day you push a freaking baby out of a hole way too small for that, you'll understand," Alma hissed, glaring at him.

Bakugou merely shrugged, ruffling Iradachi’s ash blonde hair as he brought more dishes to the table. “Sounds like he already had the same idea.”

"What are you talking about?" Toshinori asked, already having her suspicions. "Is it adult talk? I'm great at adult talk."

“Aw, it’s nothin’ kiddo,” Bakugou chuckled, taking his seat next to her.

“Just Uncle Katsuki being difficult,” Ji-ae added, giving him a pointed look followed by a tiny smile.

"He's always difficult, that's what mama says," Toshi laughed, “but I don't think so, I like the way he and Dacchan–" Before she could finish, the girl nearly flipped the table when her body left the chair, floating aimlessly until Alma caught her.

"Puta madre..." she jumped, quickly giving Toshinori the necklace from around her neck. It would be hard to go without it, but she had more control than before.

“Oh my gosh!” Ji-ae exclaimed, catching a glass as it nearly toppled over while Iradachi gaped at Toshi.

“What was THAT?” he exclaimed, having never seen that part of her quirk before.

"I don't know," Toshi asked in alarm, looking at her mom for an answer.

"Oh, well... I guess I always knew this day would come," Kirishima mumbled, tearing up with pride.

"It's normal, baby, you float when you... think someone looks nice," Alma explained the best way she could. "But don't worry, the necklace won't let that happen."

“Does that mean you think I look nice?” Iradachi asked.

"I– it's not–" Toshinori looked away so he wouldn't see how red she was. "Maybe I do..."

“I think you look nice too,” Dachi exclaimed earnestly, as if it were no big deal.

"Thank you," she grinned, feeling a little better knowing that.

"That's so cute, I can't," Alma squeezed Ji-ae's hand. "He's so sweet, I'm gonna cry."

"Luckily he takes after his momma," Ji-ae whispered, grinning at her friend.

"Dad, this food is SO good!" he exclaimed, moving on to the next subject without a thought.

"Right! It's amazing," Kirishima agreed, as if it wasn't obvious by the amount of food he piled up on his plate that he was very excited to eat Bakugou's cooking again.

"Kiri, take it easy, you're gonna choke," Alma teased.

"You can have as much as you want, you don't have to rush it," Ji-ae said, giving her friend a pointed look across the table.

"Yeah, you're right, sorry," Kirishima sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "I just really missed it."

"You make it sound like I don't feed you," Alma laughed.

"Daddy's food is the best," Iradachi exclaimed, and Ji-ae tried to stifle her laughter at the scandalized look on Alma's face.

"And to think I give you cookies before dinner when you spend the night... bet your daddy doesn't do that," Alma narrowed her eyes.

"It's so funny when uncle and mama fight," Toshi clapped excitedly.

"C'mon guys, it's Christmas, no fighting~" Ji-ae exclaimed, glancing between Alma and Katsuki.

"That's how we show we care, right?" Alma winked at him. "We hate each other with love. I wouldn't have set you two up if I didn't trust Kacchan."

"You set us up?" Bakugou scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Who do you think had the idea to do that double date, invite you, and make you think it was your idea? Obviously the mastermind of UA..." Alma gloated.

"Oh yeaah, I remember that, you wanted to Parent Trap them," Kirishima mused.

"And it worked," Ji-ae exclaimed, but Bakugou frowned. The look on his face made it clear that he was deep in thought and bothered.

"What's wrong, why do you have that face like I just punched you in the gut?" Alma asked. "Jicchan is right, it all worked out in the end."

"Hmph. Yeah," he muttered, averting his eyes, not looking at either woman. "Who wants dessert?" he asked, hastily clearing his throat and standing.

"I do!" Iradachi exclaimed, raising his hand.

"Me too, uncle!" Toshi called, glowing brighter than before.

"Need some help, man?" Kirishima followed, still feeling like something was wrong.

“Sure,” Bakugou muttered, picking up several empty plates to take back in with him.

"What's up with him?" Alma thought out loud. She thought he knew about the whole plan, it was so long ago anyway.

"I can tell you're upset," Kirishima murmured once they were alone. "What is it?"

“I coulda got her on my own,” Bakugou insisted, his hand clenching into a fist.

"You could've, but at the time you didn't wanna admit you had feelings for her," Kirishima pointed out. "There's nothing wrong with getting a little help from your friends."

Bakugou’s brows furrowed further. “Yeah, but—“ he cut off with a growl, shaking his head. “I would’ve eventually,” he insisted stubbornly.

"You know Todoroki had a crush on her back then? What if he had asked her out first?" Kirishima asked. "Plus, this way you saved time and got to be with her longer, isn't that good?"

Bakugou’s brows shot up and he turned to gape at his friend. He hadn’t known that. He didn’t wanna think how different things would’ve been if Shouto had gotten to her first.

"Right? If I had waited longer, maybe Alma would be married to Shinsou right now." Kirishima winced just thinking about it. "Alma thought of you as one of her best friends, she just wanted to help."

Bakugou nodded. “I didn’t know how close I was to… to missing out.”

"No need to lose your sleep over that, you got the girl," Kirishima picked up a pile of plates and spoons to bring to the table. "Todoroki is happy with Yao-Momo, everybody wins."

“Hm, yeah,” Bakugou grunted with a nod. “So, uh, I heard you guys say somethin’ about another kid?”

"Yeah, I really want another one,” Kirishima admitted. “Maybe a little boy to protect Toshi, not that I think she'll need it..." he chuckled. "But Alma wants to hit number one first."

“Hmm,” Bakugou mused. “What if she doesn’t hit number one?” he murmured.

"Then I guess we'll have bigger problems than having another kid... it means so much to her. She wants to start teaching, but only after becoming the new Symbol of Peace," Kirishima sighed. "Are you planning on having another one?"

“I’d like to…” Bakugou admitted, glancing back through the door to the dining room where their wives and children were talking animatedly. “I think Ji-ae does too. After last night, we might already be on that path though,” he snorted.

"Oh, that’s great, Bakubro! Seems like you got your Christmas present early this year," Kirishima nudged his arm. "I can't wait to be a godfather again, that's gonna be awesome!"

Bakugou grinned, his heart swelling at the thought of Ji-ae carrying his second child as he gazed at her across the room. “Yeah, but Christmas ain’t over yet,” he said, nudging his friend back. “C’mon, don’t wanna keep those kids waiting.”

"Hey you," Alma smiled, noticing Bakugou seemed to be in a better mood. "Why do you both have those silly grins on your faces?"

“No reason. Nosy,” Bakugou huffed, setting down the cake she’d made before taking his seat and slipping his arm around his wife’s waist.

"Sweet as always," Alma stuck her tongue out while getting herself a slice. "Nosy... it wasn't me who infiltrated almost every single slumber party we had."

“He just wanted to spend more time with me,” Ji-ae murmured, leaning against his shoulder as Dachi happily ate his cake, barely paying attention.

"Yeah, I guess so," Alma exchanged a look with her husband before laying on the table. "But sometimes I wanted to kick his ass."

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Ji-ae laughed, lifting her head as Bakugou speared a piece of cake and held his fork out for her.

"Heeey," Kirishima exclaimed, taking a spoonful of frosting to offer to his own wife. "Cheer up, come on, do you want me to feed you too?"

"Mama is too old for that," Toshi said, imagining she would be just as embarrassed to be treated like a kid.

"You're never too old to be spoiled," Alma grinned, opening her mouth.

Iradachi frowned as he watched his dad feed his mom and his uncle feed his aunt. “It looks like they like it,” he whispered.

“Taste good?” Katsuki asked as Ji-ae chewed, licking her lips.

“Mhmm! Alma, your tres leches cake is so yummy~”

"Thank you," she replied, taking another piece for her husband who'd been too busy feeding her. "It was my dad's favorite."

“Do you want some Kats?” Ji-ae asked, sticking her finger in the frosting.

“You know I’m not a fan of sweets,” Bakugou muttered, “unless it’s you,” he added, grabbing her wrist to pull her hand closer, sucking her finger clean.

"Right in front of the kids?" Alma gasped dramatically, even though it was obvious the children couldn't care less, too busy with their own issue. "And you always liked my cakes, quit being a pain."

“What?” Ji-ae giggled. “We want Dachi to see that his parents being affectionate is normal.”

"I know, I'm just messing with you," Alma smeared frosting on Kirishima's cheek. "You know I'm the most affectionate person in Japan, I would hug and kiss everyone if I could... well, almost everyone."

"I don't see the big deal,” Toshinori mumbled with a frown before copying the adults. “Say ahh," she said, holding her fork for Iradachi to take a bite. "See if you like it."

Iradachi opened his mouth and accepted the bite from Toshi. “It is really good!” he exclaimed. “But I don’t get it… I got fed as a baby, but why would dad feed mommy?”

"I think you do that for someone you like so they don't have to go through the trouble of moving to eat!" Toshinori concluded after careful consideration. "It's not a baby thing, it's a boyfriend-girlfriend thing."

“Ohhhhh,” Iradachi exclaimed, nodding sagely. “In that case, can I feed you?” he asked, blushing slightly.

"Yeah, okay," Toshi opened her mouth expectantly. If it was anyone else asking she would tease them to no end and joke around, but she wanted to try.

“O-okay, here,” Iradachi exclaimed, awkwardly holding out his fork for her.

"Thank you," Toshi chirped, taking the cake and giggling at how hesitant her friend was even though it had been his idea.

"Look look," Kirishima whispered, poking Bakugou's shoulder and pointing at the kids.

"Oh my God," Ji-ae murmured, clutching at Katsuki's arm. "It's like monkey see, monkey do," she giggled softly.

"I wanna be jealous, cause that's my little baby, but they're so innocent, it's too adorable," Kirishima said, leaning against Alma's shoulder.

“What are you looking at?” Iradachi demanded, finally noticing the adults staring at them.

"Nothing, you two are just cute, that's all," Alma explained while Kirishima laughed against her chest.

“Do we get to open presents now?” Dachi asked, wrinkling his nose, quickly changing the subject.

“Yeah, yeah, ya little brat, just lemme get the table cleared off,” Bakugou huffed, pushing up from his chair.

"Yaaay, I can't wait to see your little faces," Kirishima cheered, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows to help his friend, but Alma held him in place. "What's wrong?” he asked, frowning.

"I'm feeling too light right now," she murmured, her quirk activating.

"From me rolling up my sleeves? You're so easy," he chuckled, leaning in to steal a kiss.

Ji-ae snorted in amusement, ushering the kids to the living room before following her husband to help him. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, babe,” she purred, setting the dishes in the sink before wrapping her arms around his waist.

“It was nothing,” Bakugou grunted, turning to pull her into his arms as well. “Though you look good enough to eat,” he murmured, his hands slipping lower to grab a handful of her ass.

"You know, after the kids go to bed, maybe I can give you my special gift," Kirishima whispered teasingly. "I know you're supposed to leave milk out for Santa, but maybe this Santa can give you some milk instead."

"You're not helping!" Alma groaned. "Stop that, I can't think about that right now..."

“Don’t tempt me,” Ji-ae moaned breathily, pressing her face into his chest.

“After the kids are asleep, I wanna unwrap you and have a taste,” Katsuki drawled teasingly, his head snapping up at the shrill scream that came from the other room.

“Dachi!” Ji-ae gasped, her blood freezing at the sound.

"Toshi!" Alma jumped, hoping to find a scraped knee or something simple that could be easily cured with a band-aid and a kiss. "Toshinori, what happened, baby?"

She found the children hiding under a table, the window open and the curtains completely torn apart. "Kacchan! Kiri! Jicchan!" she screamed, taking both kids in her arms. "Someone came in through the window, or tried, I don't know..."

Bakugou was the first through the door, his hand open, ready to aim an explosion at the intruder, only to find the room empty other than Alma and the children. Growling under his breath, his quirk crackled as he clenched his hand into a fist while he scanned the window. “What did you see?” he asked, his voice softening slightly as he turned to the kids.

“It was the same monster I saw in my closet!” Iradachi cried. “I told you it was real!” Bakugou’s eyes widened in shock before the sound of Ji-ae’s quirk could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a startled cry.

“Ji-ae!”

"He had a gun I think," Toshi whimpered, still holding her friend. She figured her quirk could probably stop a bullet if the man tried to shoot.

"Alma! Bakugou! A little help?" Kirishima grunted.

"We don't know if he's alone, but if he had a gun that means he doesn't trust his quirk," Alma mused. "Can you two stay in the closet? Don't make a noise, stay inside until mommy is back. If someone else tries to open, blind them, explode them, punch them, I don't care, I'll deal with the commission afterwards."

“Coming!” Bakugou snarled, rushing back toward the kitchen. The sound of dishes breaking could be heard over with the fizzle and snap of Ji-ae’s fireworks.

"Is everyone okay?" Alma called, following after making sure the kids were safe.

"So far so good," Kirishima growled, his eyes glowing red in his unbreakable form.

"Now who’s the asshole crashing our Christmas dinner?" she grunted, grabbing one of the villain's legs as he tried to escape to another room.

“Ji-ae?” Bakugou called, not finding her in the kitchen. “Kiri, where’s Ji-ae?” he asked, though as soon as the question was out of his mouth, he heard her scream from the bedroom. Tearing into the room, he froze, Ji-ae held captive by two masked men, one of them holding a knife to her throat as the other pointed a gun at Bakugou. “Not a step further Dynamight,” the one with the knife rasped, his blade pressing into her skin, drawing a dark bead of blood to the surface. “Not unless you wanna watch your pretty little wife die,” he added, laughing as he took a deep breath, smelling Ji-ae’s hair.

“She’s even prettier in person. I got a good eyeful last night as I hid in your closet. You’re a lucky bastard.”

"Dynamight!" the man Alma was holding called, which only made her even more upset. "Hey, I'm right here! I guess for now Vibe and Riot will have to do," she joked with a smirk, stomping his elbows until his bones gave out, and banging his head on the floor until he fainted. "Can you take care of him, baby? I'll see if there's anyone else in the house."

"That was so hot..." Kirishima breathed, taking the first villain over his shoulder.

“You got a death wish, asshole?” Bakugou hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your hands off my wife,” he growled, his voice menacing.

“Shut up! We’re the ones in control here!” the intruder barked. “This is for our leader, who you locked up the other day! You’re gunna be sorry you messed with our gang!”

"Okay, so the kids are okay, Kiri is okay, that guy can barely move..." Alma mumbled, running up the stairs. "Jicchan! Where are you? Kacchan! I couldn't find anyone el- fuck," she stopped by the bedroom door.

“Don’t you get it?” Ji-ae muttered, struggling in the intruder’s grasp. “You’re outnumbered now, your friends aren’t gunna help you.”

“Sh-shut up bitch! Keep your damn mouth shut, or I’ll cut you up!”

“Katsuki, this is stupid, fuck ‘em up!” Ji-ae exclaimed, hissing as the blade cut into her more.

“Don’t move, dumbass!” Bakugou growled, his hands shaking.

"Jicchan! Just stay there for a second, I'm he- we're here," Alma had to control herself not to scream and scare the kids. "Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way, gentlemen, the only difference is that with the easy way, you get to keep all your teeth," she murmured before she started to hum a song, quietly powering up.

Bakugou glanced over at Alma, already formulating a plan. She was surely going to use her Blinding Love attack and once the villains were blinded he could get in there and free Ji-ae. The only problem was the gun.

“Oi, Red Riot!” he called, drawing his friend to the room. If he could shield Alma from any stray bullets Bakugou’d feel a lot better about this plan.

"Yes sir," Kirishima dropped the man he was carrying by the door and immediately stepped in front of his wife when he saw the gun. "Now let's not panic..."

"Close your eyes, sweetie," Alma whispered, holding her hands out, even without her light directing gauntlets it would work. "BLINDING LOVE!" she screamed before her brightness swallowed the room.

That was Bakugou’s cue to move, thrusting his hands behind him as he let out a controlled explosion to propel him forward. Ji-ae was already struggling against her captor by the time Bakugou got to them.

Meanwhile Kirishima jumped towards the gun, knocking it out of the villain's hand just as one shot was fired, lucky the bullet didn't even crack through his hardening. "Vibe, I got the gun!" he exclaimed and Alma dimmed her glow, running to help Bakugou.

"Knives are child's play," she laughed, knowing she couldn't get hurt.

“Ji-ae, duck! FucKING DIE!!” Bakugou bellowed, pulling Ji-ae to his side as he swung his right hand to set off an explosion right in the villain’s face.

"I called the cops, they should be here soon," Kirishima kicked the gun away, while throwing punches left and right. "They probably have lame quirks, no decent villain needs this shit. It's not manly at all!"

"Jicchan, are you okay?" Alma asked, taking a good look at her friend, searching for any serious injuries.

Ji-ae took a shaky breath as she shook her head. “Just where he had the knife to my throat,” she said, gingerly feeling how deep the cut was. It was long, but not deep, but as she pulled her hand away it was covered with blood. “Don’t let Dacchan see me like this,” she said, swaying slightly, the rush of adrenaline leaving her lightheaded. “I don’t want him to worry.” Before her legs could give out, Katsuki was behind her, catching her and holding her tightly against his chest, his face tense.

"Son of a bitch! I should kill you!" Alma kicked the man who did that to her friend for good measure. "It's okay, the kids are totally fine. I'll take the trash out and let Kiri handle the police. I won't let anything bad happen to them." She gently kissed Ji-ae's forehead and tapped Bakugou on the shoulder before piling up the villains on her shoulders, leaving through the window just as the cops pulled over.

“Come on,” Katsuki said, his voice hoarse as he easily lifted Ji-ae, carrying her to the bathroom. “Kats, I can walk—“ she argued weakly, but one look at his face was enough to quiet her.

Setting her down carefully on the counter, he quickly washed his hands before reaching for the first aid kit. He cleaned the blood from her skin and disinfected the wound before covering it with gauze, his brows knitting together as he focused.

“Kats... Katsuki,” Ji-ae murmured once he finished, her hand going to his cheek, caressing his warm skin with her thumb. “It’s alright, I’m alright,” she insisted softly.

Bakugou caught her hand, covering it with his as he leaned into her touch. “Seeing you like that, with that knife to your throat…” he cut off, shaking his head as his voice failed him.

“I’m sorry,” Ji-ae whispered, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I don’t ever wanna see you in that position again,” Bakugou exclaimed.

“I can’t promise I’ll never be in a position like that again, but—“ Bakugou cut her off as his lips collided with hers, all his relief pouring into the passionate kiss as he crushed her to his chest.

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he whispered fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you too, babe,” Ji-ae murmured, losing herself in his embrace for the moment. “I should probably change into something clean,” she suggested, plucking at her blood stained top. Bakugou nodded silently, helping her out of the blouse and going in search of a fresh sweater—something with a high collar to hide the bandage on her neck—before they went down to check on their son.

After leaving the villains outside to be arrested, Alma ran to the living room. The window was still open, it was dark and completely silent. She closed the window and knocked on the closet door. "Hey Toshi baby, it's mommy."

"If it's really mommy, tell me something only mommy would know!" a little voice came from inside.

"Hmmm, your favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry?"

"That's mommy," Toshinori whispered as if no one else had that information, slowly opening the door. "What happened?"

"We caught the bad guys, like we always do."

“Where’s my mom?” Iradachi cried, rubbing at his nose, sniffling.

"She's okay, she's upstairs with your dad, they're coming down soon," Alma held him even tighter. "No need to cry, I love you two so much."

"Is daddy upstairs too?" Toshi asked, she didn't look like she’d cried, but her dress was tear stained.

"He’s outside, talking to the officers."

"All sorted," Kirishima closed the door behind him once the police left and Toshi ran at full speed into his arms. "Careful, you're stronger than you think."

"It was so scary, daddy! But I was brave like you!"

"Look, Dacchan! It's mommy! Go give her a hug, but be gentle, okay?" Alma warned before laying on her back, taking a deep breath to keep from crying.

“MOMMY!!” Iradachi cried, hurrying over to her as Ji-ae dropped to her knees to embrace him, Katsuki gently stroking his hair. “Mommy are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m alright, baby,” Ji-ae replied, kissing the top of his head and gently wiping the tears from his cheek. “Thanks to daddy and Alma and Eiji,” she said, lifting her face to smile at her friends.

"Yeah well, nobody messes with my best friend and leaves without a few broken bones," Alma exclaimed.

"I wanna be a hero too! So next time I can help fight the bad guys," Toshinori skipped all the way to her uncle and auntie, holding out her arms so Bakugou would pick her up.

"You can do that, but only when you're older and have a license."

"Oh, you waited until you had your license, Vibe?" Kirishima teased.

“You’ll be a great hero some day,” Bakugou whispered to Toshinori, grinning down at her as he lifted her easily.

"Yessss, I'll be... the Killer Hero, Face Punch!" she giggled.

"Okay, now you sound like your uncle, it's a bit worrying," Alma sat up. "Let's open your gifts before you decide to become Princess Murder or something like that."

“Hey, sounds like a good name to me,” Bakugou teased, winking at Toshi as he set her back down. At the mention of presents, Iradachi disentangled himself from his mother’s arms to run to the tree, pulling gifts out.

“PRESENTS!” he cried in his excitement, forgetting his fear from earlier.

Wait for me!" Toshi followed. "Open this one first, it's from me, I chose it all by myself, it's a pair of roller skates like mine so we can race!" she pointed at the big box with All Might wrapping paper.

"Usually we wait until the person opens the present to see what it is," Kirishima laughed.

Iradachi tore the wrapping paper to shreds, still excited even though Toshinori had already spoiled the surprise. “These are great!! Thank you!” he cried, hugging the skates to his chest before grabbing one of the gifts to thrust at Toshi. “Now you open this one!”

"Okay, to make things fair, you get to look at it before I do," Toshi closed her eyes as she unwrapped the gift carefully, the complete opposite of her friend. "So... can I look?"

“Mhmm! It’s the newest Dynamight action figure! Now you have a full set!” Iradachi exclaimed excitedly. Ji-ae snorted, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What? It ain’t fair that she’s got a Vibe, a Red Riot, and a Youngblood, but no Dynamight,” Bakugou growled under his breath.

"Talk about a narcissist..." Alma teased.

"Oh my gosh! Thank you so much, I love it!" Toshinori said, nearly hypnotized by the gift, analyzing every detail of the costume. "I'll put it next to auntie on my shelf, so you'll always be together."

“Aren’t you sweet,” Ji-ae cried, getting a little teary eyed as she leaned into Bakugou’s side.

"Can we do this every Christmas? Without the bad guys coming in part. Just the dinner and the gifts part?" Toshi asked, opening a box with a little All Might onesie Alma picked for her.

"Of course we can!" Ji-ae exclaimed while Bakugou nodded, smiling softly down at his friend's daughter.

#bakugou katsuki x oc #kirishima eijirou x oc #bnha fic #mha fic #oc: ji ae yeong #oc: alma iwazaki #otp: bakuae #joz.collaboration

21 notes · View notes

bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

Text

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

153 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 3 years ago

Text

The Magic of You - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

This was supposed to be sweet and fun and easy, and it is the first two I hope, but it was not easy and now there’s a part 3 in the works, so. Oopsie. 😆

Some sexytimes in this one, slightly less off screen than usual but still not detailed or explicit, and should be fairly easy to skim past.

“You’re in trouble,” Juleka sighed, leaning an elbow on the table and looking at him through the curtain of her hair.

Luka didn’t answer her, humming as he replaced the strings on his instrument. He normally carried his gittern on his trips to the meadow, because it was small and light, but he had a mind to play his lute for Marinette tomorrow.

“Luka.” Juleka kicked his foot. “Say something.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Juleka.”

“Tell me you’re not falling for a girl who’s not even your species.”

Luka didn’t look up, but he knew she could see his lopsided grin. “Can’t. Sorry.”

“You barely know each other.”

Luka hummed. “I’ve never heard a song as beautiful as hers. I know her, Jules. I don’t know a lot about her, but I know her...deep down, the core of who she is. She’s sweet and kind and...vibrant…” He trailed off, lost in thought, until Juleka kicked him again.

“She’s a literal snake, Luka!”

Luka frowned, finally looking directly at her. “She’s not a snake.”

“Half-snake,” Juleka snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he said, and his clipped tone made Juleka’s eyes widen slightly. “She’s not half snake. She’s not half anything . She’s not a snake and she’s not human and she’s definitely not half snake-half human. Don’t make her sound like some kind of construct, like two things somehow got mashed together in some weird magical accident. She’s not a freak, she’s just...herself. A complete being meant to be as she is.” He turned back to his work. “And she’s beautiful, just like that.” He pressed his lips together, jaw tight.

Juleka sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Luka’s tension eased, and he glanced up at her. She got up from the table, placing her palms on it as she leaned over to look him in the eye. “Also, you’re hopeless.”

Luka chuckled as Juleka stalked off. “Fair.”

***

“Girl, you are in so much trouble.”

“I am not,” Marinette protested, lashing out with the end of her tail. Alya dodged the half-hearted blow and giggled.

“You liiiiiiike him,” Alya teased, twining around her friend with both tail and arms to hug her. “Admit it.”

“Like him? Yes.” Marinette leaned into the embrace for just a moment, and then slid away. “Of course I like him,” Marinette huffed, coiling back on herself with her nose in the air as Alya made herself into a loose coil in the corner, draping her upper half over the angled rock there for that purpose. “He’s sweet. Very polite. He’s interesting, and I want to know more about his magic. His music is beautiful. He’s handsome for a human.” Marinette shrugged. “Maybe I have a little crush, but that’s all.”

“Mmhmm. And if he was a naga?” Alya leaned her chin on her hand and gave a fangy grin. “Would it still be a little crush then?”

Marinette flushed deep red. She couldn’t deny that she had thought about it. Imagined what Luka would look like with a sleek black scaled body instead of legs, or what fangs would look like in his knowing smile. Maybe she’d fantasized a little bit about eyes in that exact shade of deep blue, with slit pupils slowly widening into near-circles as she teased and tortured him—

It hadn’t felt right, though, imagining him as something other than he was. The fangs spoiled the gentleness of his smile, and he would move differently if he had a tail, and she loved the soft, content expression in his eyes when he looked at her. Luka had a quiet strength of his own, but there was nothing predatory or dangerous about him. He was fearless without being threatening, and Marinette found that very, very attractive. There was none of that contentious, dominating element of naga courtship that she had never before managed to navigate. Luka had made it clear from the beginning that he respected her and what she could do. She’d never had to prove to him that she had the strength to bear and protect a clutch, nor establish that she would not be dominated or intimidated by a mate, and his own easy confidence in her presence convinced her of his strength—of power and character, if not of body. With a jolt, Marinette suddenly understood that without realizing it, or likely even intending it, Luka had slipped past her guard and straight into the sweetest part of courtship, the learning and the teaching, the teasing and the wooing, and she suddenly realized that this little crush she had been indulging might be more serious than she had meant to let it get.

“I’m in trouble,” Marinette sighed, sinking down onto her coils to mope. Alya patted her back sympathetically.

***

She felt a little shy the next time Luka appeared in her meadow. She tried to greet him with the same cheerfulness as usual, but he still looked at her with those knowing eyes, tilting his head slightly.

“Is everything all right?” Luka asked, leaning toward her a little. He reached to tuck a lock of her hair behind her pointed ear, and though the touch was light, the feel of it lingered on her cheek and ear.

“Yes,” she breathed, and then blushed, looking away. “I’m just...happy to see you.” She glanced back at him to see his reaction, and the grin that spread over his face was gratifying to say the least.

“I’m always happy to see you,” he said, and then seemed to hesitate. “In fact, I was wondering—would it be all right if I came to see you more often? Not for the magic. Just to see you. I’d...really like to spend more time with you, if that’s okay.”

Marinette held in a very undignified squeal, and gave him a broad smile, fangs fully in evidence. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Luka smiled back at her. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Heart pounding, Marinette could feel a giggle bubbling up. She launched herself forward at striking speed and coiled loosely around Luka. He started at the sudden movement but otherwise just looked over his shoulder at her, chin tilting up as she raised herself to look at the instrument strapped to his back. “This is new,” she observed, fingers hovering over the wood. She felt shy of touching it without his permission and drew her hand back.

“I thought I’d play something different for you today,” he said, and she tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. His voice had gone deeper, and there was a pink tinge to his face, like he had been out in the sun too long. Except he wasn’t even out of the shadows of the trees yet, and…

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, and felt a flutter in her belly.

“I like different,” she dared, sinking down again, but making no move to unwind from around him.

She saw his little tongue come out to wet his lips as he turned forward again. “Me too.” Marinette decided she liked that deep voice very much. She let the giggle escape this time, and swept around him to take his hands.

“Then come and do your work so you can play for me,” she said, slithering back and drawing him with her.

“I can do my work and play for you,” he smiled, following her lead willingly.

Marinette let go of him and made herself comfortable by the rock, but instead of lounging on it as he usually did, he took his instrument off and lowered himself onto the grass with his back to the rock, then tilted his chin at her in invitation. A little shyly, Marinette shifted herself to bring her torso next to him. “That’s better,” he murmured, his long fingers drawing the first notes from the strings, checking the tune. He paused to lay out his little line of crystals beside him, and Marinette leaned over him.

“Does the magic work with any kind?” she wanted to know.

“Not any kind, but many,” Luka replied, seeming unbothered by the way she had draped over him to look, even when she ever so casually rested a clawed hand on his chest to steady herself. “Some work better than others. Some regular customers have favorites that they like to reuse. Some mages find that certain types of crystals work better for them. I can work with most things, but some are easier than others. Mostly though, we just get whatever my sister, Juleka, can buy for us when the miner’s guild rep comes through.” He shrugged. “When it comes to business, I have to work with the supply.”

“That makes sense,” Marinette said, easing back. “Sorry. For interrupting.”

“No need,” he smiled, strumming again. “I have all day, and excellent company. I am in no hurry.” He held her gaze for a moment, and Marinette would have sworn that her heart stopped. She hadn’t realized she was still leaning so close to him. She drew back a little, and was glad when he shifted his gaze and let his eyes fall nearly shut as he sank into the music and the magic. She needed some time to compose herself, before she did anything else foolish. She would have to think of a way to get back at him for being so...so charming .

And she’d have plenty of chances, because he was coming to the meadow more often. He wanted to see her more. She gave an excited little wiggle that rippled down the length of her body, and then glanced at him to make sure he hadn’t noticed. His eyes were still closed, and she took a moment to admire him openly. Yes, he was plenty handsome, just as he was, and his aura radiated peace and comfort.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the life she had imagined for herself, but if it was like this...she crushed that thought before it could go any further. She reached for the workbasket she’d left on the ground beside the rock, and pulled out some leatherwork she’d been meaning to get done. She glanced at Luka one more time and smiled.

***

Juleka was right, and Luka knew it. He was hopeless. His hands shook slightly as he made the walk to the clearing on his next free day. This would be his first purely social visit to Marinette, without even the pretense of work to hide behind. He was here, purely and simply, because he wanted to see her, and he’d made sure she knew it, and now he would see...he thought he would see, if this was indeed the first step of shifting their relationship toward something more than friendship.

He put a hand against his heart, feeling it flutter in time with the butterflies in his stomach. This was what he had always loved about love, the way that it quickened his breath and sharpened his senses, but there was more to it than that with Marinette. She was so vibrant and alive, bubbling with curiosity and creativity and with such a unique way of looking at things—he could listen to her talk for hours and never get tired of her stories and her ideas, nor did he tire of answering her questions about himself and his family. He wanted her to know him, and he treasured up everything he learned about her in a heart that had begun to ache for her presence when they were apart.

And he thought...he thought that maybe she...

He took the last few steps from the trees into the meadow, and Marinette, draped over the great couch-like stone in the middle, immediately looked up. Her face lit up like one of his glowing power crystals the second she laid eyes on him, and his heart soared and he opened his arms instinctively even as he tried to quash the rising hope in him. Marinette’s scales whisked along the grass and then she was colliding with him hard enough to knock him off his feet. That surprised her, and they both went down in a heap. Marinette managed to catch him in her coils in such a way as to protect the instrument strapped on his back, and for a moment they both blinked at each other. Marinette smiled sheepishly, one fang poking out adorably between her lips. “Oops. I...forgot you were human.” She winced. “I mean, of course I know that, it’s just—well, we’re a lot harder to tip over.”

Luka began to laugh, one hand reaching up to cradle her cheek as he lost himself in her eyes, eyes that should have been strange and foreign but to him, were simply beautiful. “Forgiven.”

Marinette smiled and tightened her hold on his arms, and then Luka wasn’t exactly sure what happened. It reminded him of being on his mother’s boat when the water was what she called “sporty.” It only lasted a moment, though, and then he was sitting upright on the grass in the curve of Marinette’s serpentine body. He had a giddy moment of disorientation; he always forgot how big she was compared to him, because so much of her body was often hidden in the grass and she tended to carry herself lower to the ground, so that she was shorter than him. Clearly no matter how lost his heart was, his head still had some work to do on remembering that she was not human.

“Better?” she asked, sliding her hands down his arms and looking him over. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Or your lute?”

“I’m fine,” Luka smiled, carefully catching her clawed hands as they began to slide away. “I’m happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you too,” she said shyly, and he felt her shifting behind him—curling closer, he thought, and tried not to jump as the tip of her tail curled up over his thigh. “What did you want to do today? Since you don’t have to work.”

“Anything,” Luka smiled. “What do you do when I’m not here invading your meadow?”

“Miss you,” she said coyly, and then blushed, and quickly unwound herself from him and slithered away. “Come on, it’s too cool here in the shade.”

Luka was frozen for a moment, caught off guard by her sudden boldness. Only when she curled around the base of the rock where he usually sat and propped her arms on it, peeking shyly at him over them, did he manage to move.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Luka told himself as he got rather unsteadily to his feet . They were, after all, very different, and a summer romance, or even just a summer flirtation, might be the most that could ever happen between them.

Oh, but he wanted at least that much, if she was willing to give it to him, so he went to the rock and laid down on his belly, folding his own arms under his chin as he blinked slowly at her.

She giggled. “Now that’s almost the proper way to lounge on a sunning stone,” she teased him.

“Not so convenient for playing though,” Luka chuckled, and had to swallow at the way her eyes softened.

“Well,” she said, lifting up a little, and tracing random patterns on the stone with her fingers. “You don’t have to play, if you don’t want to. We could just...talk. Or enjoy the sun.”

Luka hummed. “You don’t seem like the type of person who just lounges in the sun.”

Marinette turned her nose up. “I”m a nagi. I spend a lot of time lounging in the sun, for your information.”

“Of course,” Luka agreed. “But you don’t just lounge, do you.” He leaned a little over the side of the rock and looked pointedly at a basket resting at the base. He looked up at Marinette and smirked, his face inches from hers.

Marinette’s cheeks went pink. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping busy.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” Luka smiled, propping his chin up in his fist.

“You think you know me so well,” Marinette pouted.

“Not yet, but I’m hoping to,” Luka said, his eyes on hers. “Will you show me what you’re working on?” he asked, breaking the gaze.

Blushing hard, Marinette bent to pick up the basket that had been sitting on the grass and set it up on the rock to show him the leatherwork she had brought to do in the sunny meadow. He watched her, content and happy as she described her plan for the jerkin that was in pieces in the basket, a gift for a dear friend.

“Will you...play for me?” she asked, settling down with her work at the foot of the rock. “If you want to. If you’d rather take a break for today, that’s okay too, I know you must play a lot so it’s completely up to you—”

“I would love to play for you,” he interrupted gently. “What would you like to hear?”

Marinette blushed. “Could you play...me? I want to hear...what you hear. If that’s okay. Like you did the first time you spoke to me.”

“I can’t play you as you were then,” he smiled. “But I could play as you are now, if you don’t mind me touching your mind as I did before. Your feelings, as I said, not your thoughts.” He saw her hesitation, and added, “Or I can play something else. It’s up to you.”

Marinette considered, and finally said, “I don’t mind. I’d like to hear it. I’d think I’d like for you to hear the way I feel right now.” She ducked her head a little, and Luka chuckled.

“Music is often simpler than words.”

“Especially when you use magic to sense emotions,” Marinette snorted, and stuck her tongue out at him. Luka laughed at the way it flickered in the air, but quickly sobered again.

“There is something I should probably tell you about that,” he said, looking away for a moment before he gathered his courage to meet her eyes again. “When I first meet someone, I have to be tranced to hear anything, and I have to work to find their song out of all the ones I’m hearing. But, the more I get to know somebody, and to know their song, the easier it is for me to pick it out. I’m already very aware of you just from coming here so often. Eventually, if we keep spending time together, I won’t have to trance at all to hear you.”

Marinette seemed to take that in. “So...you’ll be able to read my emotions all the time?”

“If I listen, yeah,” Luka nodded. “I can try not to, but it’s...difficult sometimes.” He felt his face flush. “Especially if it’s someone I feel strongly about. Sometimes I don’t realize that I’m doing it.” He hesitated. “Is that...does it bother you? I mean, if it’s a problem, I can...I can stay away. I’ll understand, if you would rather not—”

Marinette placed one clawed hand over his, and he stopped, swallowing, at the way she was looking at him. “I don’t want you to stay away,” she told him, low and earnest. “That’s not what I want at all. This sensing, it’s a part of you, so I’m not afraid of it. I trust you.”

Luka turned his hand over to take hers, and lifted it to press his lips against her palm. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not everyone is so understanding.”

Marinette blushed, and butted her head against his shoulder, hiding her face for a moment.

Luka cleared his throat. “Shall I play for you now?”

Marinette looked up, and smiled shyly. “Please.”

He settled back, played his key tune, and sank into the magic of the meadow and of Marinette beside him. He found her song in the meadow’s symphony, and began to play along with it—not to replicate it, exactly, for it had a richness that he didn’t think his simple instrument could capture, but to follow the flow of her feelings and the underlying melody of Marinette herself. He smiled, slightly, pleased at what he sensed from her. Happiness, hopefulness, affection, and a sparkling thread of nervousness and anticipation that matched the feeling buzzing along his own veins.

He lost himself in the music and the energy of Marinette and this, her place, and began to explore the way his own melded with it. His attention returned to Marinette when the tune of her mood shifted. He shifted with it, following the new feeling with his music, and he found himself playing something richer, warmer, more rhythmic—his eyes flew open wide and his trance shattered. He looked at Marinette, but she was looking very intently at the embroidery in her hands, seemingly not paying attention to him at all...but he could see her peek at him from under her hair and away.

“What were you thinking about just then?” he asked, as if compelled, though he knew it was none of his business.

Marinette flushed a deep red, and he watched in fascination as it spread down her neck and down the exposed V of skin above her collar—he snapped his eyes back up to her face and swallowed, and hoped she hadn’t caught the trend of his gaze.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” she lied blatantly, and then her eyes darted toward him, giving him a look through her lashes that quickened his pulse. “I was just...admiring your playing.”

Oh . He licked his lips unconsciously, and saw her own tongue flicker out as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

He cleared his throat and put his instrument hastily away. “May I see how it’s coming along?” he asked, sliding over to the edge of the rock to get a look at her work. Marinette rose up, coiling her body under her so that she was effectively sitting beside him, and let him admire the pieces. If he leaned a little closer than necessary, she didn’t seem to mind, and they spoke in quiet, intimate tones, even though the clearing was empty besides themselves.

It seemed hardly any time had passed when Luka looked up at the sun and sighed. “I must go,” he told Marinette regretfully. “I will come again—if you still wish me to.”

“I do,” Marinette replied with a smile, making no move away from him, though they had been sitting quite close.

Luka’s heartbeat quickened, and his gaze flicked down to her full, pretty lips. With an effort, he tore himself away, turning to pick up his lute and strap it to his back. “Then I shall come as soon as may be,” he said, picking up her hand instead and cradling it for a moment in his own. Farewell for now, Marinette. Be safe, until I see you again.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Marinette grinned, baring her fangs.

Luka chuckled. “Nothing in this forest could keep me from coming back to you,” he told her boldly, and smiled at her blush. “Until then.” He squeezed her hand, and got to his feet, giving her a little bow as he took his leave. He felt her eyes on him until he disappeared in the trees. Only then did he fully let loose the dreamy smile he’d been trying to keep under control. When he pressed his hand over his heart, it was pounding instead of fluttering.

***

Luka was true to his word, and came often now. The days without him found Marinette pouting and discontented, though she always had plenty to do. She spent hardly any time in her lair, but that was hardly remarkable in summer, when her meadow was so pleasant and beautiful, full of growing things, and beginning to show the marks of Luka’s presence even in his absence. She treasured those little proofs, the marks of his heavy boots in the grass, or the wood shavings from his whittling while he spoke to her, the quill plectrums he occasionally left behind.

She was growing more foolish by the day, and yet Marinette couldn’t quite help herself. The more time she spent with Luka, the more she wanted to coil around him, rub up against him, tempt him into touching her with those rough fingers that played so beautifully.

Luka didn’t seem to mind, and even seemed to welcome her attentions as much as he was able, though she doubted he really understood the signals she was sending. Still, the way his hands brushed against her scaled body in little, encouraging touches spurred her to further boldness, and no matter how often she got flustered and retreated, he never teased her about it.

She wanted him. She thought she might...love him. Even Alya had stopped teasing her, watching her now with a worried expression.

If she wanted the life she always thought she’d have, the life everyone expected her to have, the smart thing to do would be to send Luka away.

But Marinette couldn’t...and part of her wondered if that was her answer.

***

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, looking at the bolt of soft grey doeskin leather he’d laid in her arms. “This is beautiful.”

Luka watched her face as she touched the soft leather, basking in her happiness. “You like it? It’s yours. I brought it for you.”

Her lovely mouth opened, but nothing came out, and Luka’s grin widened.

“Your smile is all the thanks I need,” he told her, curling his fingers under her chin. “You have a beautiful smile.”

She blushed, and Luka held her gaze for just a moment before dropping his. He picked up her hand and kissed her palm, and then pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips. Her hand curved to cup his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, dragging his fingertips lightly down the inside of her arm.

“I should put this somewhere safe,” Marinette murmured, and Luka made no protest as she moved away, only sighing as he lounged back on the sunning rock. His instrument and packs were set aside for the moment, but for once, he didn’t want to play—only to listen as he watched Marinette pause on her way back to examine some of her flowers. He admired through half-closed eyes the colors in her serpent scales and the graceful arc she made as she bent to look at the blossoms. He started slightly as she made one of those quick movements that always surprised him, doubling back on herself to glide back to him over the grass.

“You know,” she said, rising up around the sloped side of the rock where he was leaning, so that he had to look up at her. Her hair fell around her face and tickled his temples. “This is my sunning stone you’re always lounging all over.”

“Perhaps you should come and join me then,” Luka suggested, raising his eyebrows slightly. “I think there’s room for us both, if you don’t mind being close.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment, and then she shifted up and over the rock, turning until her human torso pressed next to his, and the rest of her body followed, draping beside and around him. He shifted the little bit he could to make more room for her, and watched in fascination the play of muscle rippling along her length as she tucked her body next to and around him.

Carefully, moving slowly, Luka slid his arm around her human waist, tugging her nearer, and she relaxed against his side with a quiet hum of contentment. Her slit pupils went wider, rounder, as his fingers stroked her lightly.

“Not so bad, is it?” Luka asked with a smile, and she pressed closer against him, smiling back.

“I could get used to it,” she sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re warm.” She poked him in the belly with a knuckle. “Because you stole my sunning rock.”

“It’s a good rock,” Luka chuckled, and then arched up slightly with a gasp as Marinette’s hand slid across his chest and she settled more fully against him, making a sleepy noise. He raised his eyebrows. “Marinette?”

“Ssssleepy,” she hissed, and he bit his lip, though his chest shook under her with his chuckle.

“You should have told me you were so tired,” he chided softly, though he didn’t think she would hear him.

“Not tired,” she mumbled. “Just warm. Comfy. Sleepy.”

Hmm , Luka thought. Must be a naga thing . Not that he minded. He was more than happy to cuddle with her, feeling privileged to hold her as she slept. He could think of worse ways to spend a beautiful afternoon than napping in the sun with his...whatever they were. But then, whatever he was to her, she was his beloved, and he was only waiting for the right moment to tell her so.

Her steady, even breathing told him that now was not that moment.

Chuckling, Luka dropped his free hand to fish in his clothes for a handkerchief. He finally found it, and let his head fall carefully back against the rock. He put the handkerchief over his face to shield himself from the sun, and sighed, stroking Marinette’s waist gently, fingers running over skin and scales. It was pleasant here in the sun, with Marinette soft and supple against him. She roused slightly, shifted, and swatted at his hand.

“Stop that,” she complained sleepily.

“Sorry.” Luka stilled his hand. “Ticklish?” He was close enough to sleep that her song teased the edge of his consciousness, sultry and... oh —his eyes flew open under his cloth, and the song slipped away. It didn’t matter though because he felt the vibrations of Marinette’s laughter in his chest, as her hand slid teasingly down to rest lower on his belly.

“No,” she murmured. “Definitely not ticklish.”

He swallowed. “Oh.” She giggled again, and he felt her tongue flick against his neck, and her nose nuzzled his jaw.

“You smell good,” she sighed, cuddling closer, and then she was asleep again.

Luka picked up her hand, moving it back up to his chest and breathing slowly as he tried to calm himself after that unexpected discovery. He would have to be more careful how he touched her. He had no idea that he was touching a sensitive place. He was lucky she hadn’t shoved him off the rock, but...she hadn’t. He’d been touching her intimately, turning her on, and she hadn’t done anything more than tease him about it. She hadn’t even really made him move his hand away, just insisted he stop moving.

He was glad she was asleep, because his heart was suddenly pounding beneath her hand. She shifted slightly even as he thought it, which didn’t help matters. He closed his eyes and did a breathing exercise, shifting his focus to his magic, calling the song of the meadow into his mind. It took some time, but he managed to calm his body, and then, focusing on Marinette’s deep breathing and the scent of her hair, to drift off into a light doze himself.

He woke at the soft brush of the handkerchief sliding off his face. Blinking, he found Marinette’s face inches from his. She was propped up on the slope of the rock next to him, but she was half on top of him, folded arms leaning on his chest as she looked at him. He smiled slowly. “Hi.”

Marinette giggled. “You snore.”

Luka snorted, amused. “So would you, with your head tilted back that way.” He made a face as he tilted his head, stretching his stiff neck. “Ow.”

Marinette made a sympathetic noise, and nuzzled his jaw, which woke him up considerably and reminded him of what he’d been thinking before he fell asleep. “It was a lovely nap, for me,” she said. “You’re very comfortable.”

“High praise,” Luka sighed, and smiled at her, taking a breath as he gathered his courage. “May I ask you something? About nagas. I’ve been reading, but...human texts, you know. Biased.”

She made an inquisitive noise, toying with the lacing of his shirt. “Ask.”

“Do nagas kiss?” he asked, and fought to hide his amusement as Marinette’s eyes widened slightly in surprise and her cheeks pinked. She looked away for just a moment and then fixed her gaze on him, shifting a bit higher so that her face was level with his, leaning an elbow by his head. She was so close he could have counted the pale, barely-there freckles across her nose, if he could’ve made himself look away from her eyes.

“Yes,” she chuckled, “But maybe not quite like you.” She winked at him and flicked her long tongue out, and he felt his own cheeks flush.

“Good to know,” he said, and had to clear his throat.

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Do you want to kiss me?”

If he hadn’t been blushing before, he would be now, but he kept his eyes on her and admitted, “I really want to kiss you.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, and so did the slits of her pupils, and he felt her go tense all along her long body, everywhere it was pressed against his. Moving slowly, he brought his hand up and cupped her cheek. A quick tremor went down her body, and her hands flexed against his chest as she leaned into his touch. “May I?” he asked,

She nodded, and he drew her to him, leaning up to meet her as much as he could while she was still leaning on his chest. He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips against hers, and then kissed her again, still softly but firmer and more lingering. He felt an intense thrill at the feel of her fangs behind those plush lips and kissed her harder without meaning to. He drew back, relishing the sound of the soft click.

He watched, enchanted, as Marinette’s eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, a shy smile curling her lips. Luka was fighting the grin that wanted to spread from ear to ear, trying to keep it to something sane and not frightening, when Marinette’s face fell slightly. Cold fear settled in his stomach as her brow furrowed.

“Humans,” she paused. “Humans kiss family, right? Friends? It’s not—I mean—you don’t—”

Quickly Luka picked up her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Humans kiss friends or family like this,” he murmured, and then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Or this. Or…” He kissed her temple, and then her forehead. “Like that. But this—” He kissed her lips again, harder and longer than before, the hand still on her cheek sliding back into her hair to tilt her to a better angle. “That,” he breathed, “is for lovers. Or...people hoping to become lovers. Courting couples.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, cheeks pink and lips reddened, and he watched that beautiful mouth as it opened slightly and then formed to make her quiet, “ Oh. ” Her tongue flickered nervously, distractingly. “Are we courting?”

Luka forced his gaze back up to her eyes. “I am definitely courting you,” he said with a grin, and then sobered as he watched her flustered reaction, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and the sudden, restless shifting of her serpentine body. “Should I stop?” he asked, as gently as he could, though his pulse was pounding in his ears.

“No,” she whispered, leaning closer, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. “Don’t stop.”

Relief made him urgent as he pulled her back and kissed her again, wrapping an arm around her back to keep her close. He felt her own arms slide up around his neck, her body pressing him back against the stone. Her tongue flickered against his lips, and he parted his lips to return the gesture. Her tongue filled his mouth before he could do anything, and he made a rather embarrassing noise. Marinette drew back and looked at him, adorably pink except for her reddened lips. “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Did I—”

“You’re fine,” he told her. “You’re amazing. Do it again?”

Giggling, Marinette kissed him again, and this time her tongue flickered in his mouth and made him chuckle. “Hold still?” he asked, the next time they broke, and Marinette did as he pressed his mouth to hers, and then slipped his own tongue inside her mouth, mindful of her fangs. The noise she made and the way her hands flexed against his chest were ample compensation for the danger as far as Luka was concerned. She held absolutely still until he withdrew, and then she came alive with a small whimper, wrapping her arms around his neck as her body slid into his lap to bring her closer.

The kissing went on, a soft, slow, sensual exploration. Luka flinched and Marinette froze at the taste of blood on her tongue.

“Oh no,” Marinette gasped, brushing a thumb over his lip and looking at the bright smear on her thumb in horror.

Luka just laughed quietly. “It’s okay, it’s just a scratch.”

“But I hurt you,” she said, clearly upset. Luka caught her hand and twined his fingers through hers, reaching up to cup her cheek in his other hand.

“We could as easily say I hurt myself,” he teased. “It’s not as if I wasn’t an active participant. It’s okay. It’s probably going to happen. I don’t mind. I think it would feel too much like a dream otherwise.”

Marinette just stared at him unhappily. Luka sighed, and then smiled at her smiling as he lifted the fingers of one hand to his lips, and hummed a quiet tune. In a flash of blue light, the cut was gone.

“See?” he grinned. “Now will you kiss me again?”

Marinette moved towards him, but hesitantly.

There was nothing hesitant in the way Luka kissed her, though, and after a moment she melted back into him with a helpless noise that shot straight down his spine.

It was hard, leaving her that day, even as he whispered promises to come again soon between sweet, soft kisses from already bruised lips. He could hear, faintly, her song, swelling with her joy—joy to be with him , to be cared for by him, and his own soul sang with it.

Juleka took one look at him when he got home and groaned. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to hear it,” she grumbled.

“Oh, it’s so romantic though,” Rose sighed.

Luka ignored them both.

***

There was a lot of kissing, after that day. They spent hours tangled together on the big rock, sleeping, kissing, and talking in turn. Sometimes he teased her and Marinette chased him playfully around the meadow, reveling in his laugh and the joy in his voice. He brought a ball one day and set up a frame with sticks, and they had a day full of laughter as they tried to adapt the game he knew into something she could play. He kept tripping over her tail and eventually they just ended up tangled together in the grass, laughing so hard they were breathless even before the kissing started.

He brought her more gifts. It was a custom among courting humans, he said, which made Marinette blush when she thought of the gifts she had left him before they officially met. He’d brought a package of his favorite sweets for her to try, some dye plants that grew in one of the other places he drew magic from, and flowers that she had never seen before from a garden he’d visited. All of his gifts were thoughtful and precious, and Marinette felt rather spoiled.

She came up with a plan, and worked eagerly on it on the days he didn’t visit her. He’d complained to her before that the pouch he used for his magic crystals had a habit of slipping from his belt if he wasn’t paying attention, and she had noticed it was rather worn. Marinette was delighted at the way Luka’s jaw dropped when she presented him with a new leather pouch, with sturdy loops to hang on his belt and a fold over flap that buckled so he didn’t have to remove it to open it. She had embroidered it all over in the blues and greens he seemed to favor. She had only been slightly annoyed when the silly man wouldn’t stop kissing her long enough to put it on.

It gave her a little thrill to see him wearing it now, and the little smile he wore whenever he opened it or stowed his crystals away made her heart flutter happily, especially when he looked up from it to gaze softly at her.

That almost always led to more kissing, and that was just a bonus.

They were napping together on the rock again, after trading lazy kisses and touches that had been growing steadily bolder. She no longer moved away when his rough fingers played along the transition between scales and skin, setting her nerves alight, and he permitted her touch anywhere she dared to bestow it, whether with her hands or lips or her body. She quite enjoyed teasing him, and he made it clear that he enjoyed it too. She took a special delight in the way he tensed when she slid across his lap, and the way his big hands flexed on her, the slight jump of his hips. Not that she was any better when he stroked his big hands along her body, looking at her with an intensity in his eyes that melted her on the spot.

Marinette woke first, and roused herself with a stretch, before settling back against Luka’s chest. She had made him a little pillow to go behind his neck, to keep him from hurting himself in their little naps, and he wasn’t snoring now. She slipped away the bit of cloth he always covered his face with and admired the lines of his nose and jaw. She reached up to play with the strands of his hair. In sleep like this, he looked so delicate.

Delicate he may seem to her physically, but the strength of his character was more than enough to satisfy both her heart and her instincts. Those instincts were growing harder to resist by the day. Alya had given Marinette a horrified look the other day, when she found Marinette humming and sewing pillows to line the rock hollow where she slept—pillows that a naga had no need of.

“I like the feeling,” Marinette lied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re nesting ,” Alya had accused with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t be silly,” Marinette had sniffed, and turned her back, and refused to answer anything else.

Because if Alya knew...oh if Alya knew the kind of urges Marinette was fighting when she was with Luka...well.

Marinette reached out one clawed finger and ran the back of it down his temple and across his cheek, causing him to stir slightly. His hips raised up against her, where she was draped across him, and he moaned softly. Marinette slid her body up his and kissed him, softly at first, and then deeply when he woke and began to respond to her, his hands going to her waist, and then sliding up to her ribs. He moved against her again, and his arms tightened around her.

Marinette pulled back, pushing Luka back down as he made to follow her. He blinked at her sleepily, lids heavy with sleep and, she was sure, desire.

He desired her.

“I could kill you,” she murmured, her fingertips stroking lightly down his face. His eyes, though half-closed eyes, were focused on her. Luka lifted his chin so that her fingers slid down onto his throat. She felt his pulse under her fingers, only the thinnest of barriers between her claws and his life’s blood pounding through his veins. If she slashed, he would not even be able to sing himself well. Yet he lay there, calm and unafraid, yearning towards her instead of cringing away. Gods, she wanted him.

Marinette’s breath quickened and her pupils broadened. She laid her forehead against his and her tongue flicked out of its own accord to scent the scent air between them. “Fool,” she whispered harshly, with just the slightest tightening of her fingers.

Luka chuckled, and she felt the vibration of his voice against her fingers. “So I’ve been told.”

Did he know what he was doing to her? Should she tell him? This was dangerous territory, far more than the harmless flirting, the little chases and the touches that could mean anything or nothing, even the kissing that said they were more than friends, even more than the spiraling tension between them that made her insides heat and made her crave his hands and mouth on her. She couldn’t let him make gestures like this as if it were nothing.

Especially when she didn’t want it to be nothing. She didn’t want it to be meaningless. It was wrong of her to let this happen. She didn’t need to mark him to satisfy the desire burning between them. She didn’t need to claim him, but...

Even as she thought these things she was lowering her head. She felt him gasp as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. She shifted slightly, opening her mouth and feeling her fangs come forward to hover over his skin.

He was breathing hard beneath her, but she scented no fear on him, only…

What she scented made her eyes dilate further, her coils shift and tighten with the urge to wrap around him. As she struggled with herself, Luka’s hand slid up from her waist, up her back to twist his fingers into her hair as his body arched against her, and her tongue flickered again, bringing in that intoxicating scent. Luka moaned as it tickled his skin.

“You should be frightened,” she breathed against neck.

“I’m terrified,” he rasped, and his thick voice sent a shiver through her. “You frighten me more than anything in this life.” She felt him swallow. “Because I love you, and the more time I spend with you, the more terrified I am that I will never be happy without you again.”

Marinette keened into his neck, a shiver going down her whole body. “I want to keep you,” she admitted roughly. “I shouldn’t, but I want to.”

“You already have me,” he said roughly, his grip on her hair tightening. “I don’t need promises. We don’t have to decide forever right now.” The hand on her waist moved away, and he gently pulled her clawed hand from his throat and twined his fingers through hers. “I want you. If you want me—”

She surged up, fangs finally settling back, and kissed him fiercely, filling his mouth with her tongue. “Yes,” she panted against him, finally letting herself wrap around his waist.

“Then we need to get the hell off this rock,” Luka laughed into her mouth, tugging on her hair to bare her throat where he could lavish kisses along it. He nipped her lightly with his blunt teeth and she jolted and let out a moan of her own. “Right now.”

Marinette giggled, and flipped them off onto the soft grass, cushioning him with her body.

“What shall I do with you?” she teased, hovering over him, and her tongue flicked out rapidly, tickling his ear and the line of his jaw and the hollow of his throat. He let out a little moan.

“Anything. Everything. Just don’t rip my clothes,” he chuckled. “I’m going to have to walk home eventually.”

Marinette laughed, rising up above him as she tugged loose the laces holding her vest closed. “What makes you think you’re still going to be able to walk?” she asked, as she slid the garment off her shoulders and dropped it carelessly in the grass.

Luka, staring up at her, could only make a strangled noise in reply.

Marinette swooped down and kissed him, pressing herself into him as she buried one hand in his hair and drew the other firmly down his chest to rest low on his belly. “Now take these off,” she ordered, claws flexing against the cloth. “Or I make no promises about ripping them.”

Luka caught her face in his hands and pulled her back into a fierce kiss that had her moaning against him. “Let me up,” he growled, and she did, sliding off of him and backing up until he had the space to stand and unlace his shirt and pants. Marinette watched him undress hungrily, his eyes burning her in return. Yet, when he held his arms out for her, she felt suddenly shy, and glided up to him, not with reluctance, but with something like reverence.

“You are beautiful,” she sighed, fingers tracing the lines of muscle down his chest. She sank lower as she ran her fingers along his hips and down his legs, fascinated. “You’re shaking,” she observed, tongue flicking out, but she still tasted no fear on him. She looked up at him as his fingers combed through her hair, and the look he was giving her sent her own pupils wide and round.

Luka’s knees buckled and he sank to the grass in front of her, catching her face to pull her to him in a fierce, hungry kiss. One hand reached to stroke the place on her waist where scales met skin, while the other guided her hand back to his leg. She pressed her fingers into his warm, soft skin, mindful of her sharp claws. He was strong here, muscle hard beneath his skin, flexing under her touch as he moved against her. Her head tipped back and her lips parted, and he moaned as she rubbed up against him. She sank back in the grass with a needy whine, pulling him with her.

There was some fumbling, and some adjustment, and some breathless, helpless giggles that melted into messy, deep kissing, but when they got it right, when they found the rhythm...it was magic. Shuddering and writhing, Marinette remembered just in time to dig her claws into the ground instead of his shoulders, and the cry he made seemed to sink into her soul, and she had just enough wit left to wonder if it was the magic of his voice or just the sound of his pleasure that shot through her, before she lost herself completely with a cry of her own.

Her coils loosened and relaxed where they had tightened around him, and slipped down to puddle inelegantly on the ground. The two of them lay in a heap, quivering and panting. They squirmed around until they could hold each other, and then gave into the weakness, laying there in blissful contentment.

Marinette reached up, and brushed a hand along her neck. The skin there was tender, but not broken. Not marked. Not claimed.

Of course not.

But she felt claimed, when Luka’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on her, and he smiled. She felt bound, as he lifted himself up on one quivering arm, to bend and press his lips softly to hers. He bent to rest his forehead against hers, and it felt like home.

“I think I love you too,” she breathed, and he pulled back just enough to blink sleepy eyes at her and smile. He lifted one of her hands and kissed the knuckle of each finger, and then pressed his lips to her palm, and then pressed her palm to his heart as he leaned closer and kissed her tenderly.

If she stayed with him, she would never have the kind of mate bond that her parents had, that Alya and Nino had. There would always be compromises, always. Challenges.

She didn’t want to think about that. Luka had said she didn’t have to, so Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him. He curled his arms around her and returned the embrace, squeezing her tight. Marinette closed her eyes and tilted her chin up, and Luka nuzzled under it, kissed her neck, and bit lightly at her already tender skin. For a moment, she let herself pretend that the soft press of his blunt teeth meant more than it could.

“I love you,” he sighed against her skin. “My Marinette.”

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #the magic of you #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #pro lukamari #fantasy au #naginette #mage!luka #nsfwish fic

37 notes · View notes

brinconvenient · 4 years ago

Text

Green Egg and Fam

You know what? I'm just gonna go ahead and do this...

So a few years back, I was talking to another trans woman who is very familiar with the DC Universe and we were trying to figure out who is Actually An Egg, and after a few suggestions back and forth, I galaxy-brained the answer. She heartily agreed and we talked about it a bit: 1. Artsy 2. Serial Monogamist who is a Relationship Disaster (Big "Do I want to Be With Her, or Be Her?" energy) 3. Becomes best friends with every ex-girlfriend 4. Noted Respecter of Women in Very Terrible and Awkward Ways 5. Chronically allergic to self-reflection and introspection, but also addicted to it in much the same way lactose intolerant people talk about how they can't give up cheese. 6. Just a complete and Utter Messy Agent of Chaos. 7. All too willing to adopt Other People's Expectations and internalize them as a Sacred Duty. 8. Just constantly Marked By Tragedy - both external and self-created.

It's Kyle Rayner, kids.

Torchbearer,

Honor Lantern,

Erstwhile Ion/avatar of the power of will

Kyle "I will be the Last of the Green Lanterns and yet keep trying to ressurect this entire Corps of Space Cops that I didn't even know existed until some Blue Dude showed up to give me jewelry and I guess marry me into the Corps? Because I guess that's just my job now and that will become my whole personality" Rayner.

After the conversation, this - the only fanfic I have literally ever written popped out of my head fully formed. It's intended to really be Chapter 1 of Several which are basically conversations between Kyle and one Ex-Girlfriend per chapter as Kyle finally accepts herself and transitions.

Eventually she reveals that the name "Ion" comes from her real name "ImOgeN" because she read Nevada and Was Impacted and she's just that extra.

But, honestly, despite getting started on the Alex chapter ages ago, I never have drawn the energy to go back and finish and/or write more, so I'm just gonna share the first chapter of what I am calling:

"Green Egg and Fam"

Putting the actual content behind the Read More because I've already rambled too long.

“It’s just exhausting, you know? Every few years it seems like I have to pick up the pieces of my life, my memory, my self and figure out who the hell I am! Every time I get a handle on things, someone or something comes along and shakes up the snow globe,y’know? I’ve tried to talk to Diana about it and, like, she’s compassionate and cares and offers sympathy, but most of the time, my whole relationship with her is just one more flake in the globe and I never know who we’re going to be to each other. Somehow, though, you’re always my favorite ex-boyfriend. It’s weird, right?”

Kyle patted Donna’s arm reassuringly. He glanced from Donna’s face to the view over Lake Michigan. There was no more beautiful view of the lakeshore than the roof of the John Hancock Building. He could just about make out the lights of the small shore towns across the lake in Michigan, and he could see the industrial Indiana towns along the round tip of the lake.

“I’m not positive I like that descriptor of our relationship, but I am happy to be some kind of constant for you,” he said with a rueful smile. “Donna, you are one of my dearest friends and I always want to be here for you. I know you didn’t need my help with Dr. Psycho here, but I’m glad I was Earthside to help you out anyway.”

They’d taken the diminutive psychic menace to the Chicago Special Crimes Unit, who had training and facilities for telepaths and telekinetics. They found this perch when Donna said she just needed a little bit to settle down before heading back to the Titans Tower in New York.

“No, I had him just about handled - a Lasso of Persuasion is pretty useful, after all - but I’m glad you swung through, all the same,” Donna said. “I’m glad to have a friend here. Psycho was really messing with my head this time. He kept dredging through my memory, pulling out bits and pieces of lives lived and people lost. He made me relive the loss of Terry and Robert and Jenny, over and over, replayed the tortures of Dark Angel, dragged me through that whole mess with the Titans of Myth, and I’m actually not sure which of any of those actually happened in this reality anymore.”

Donna’s breath was getting ragged and tears were falling down her face, twinkling in the moonlight.

“You told me about Terry and the kids when we were dating, so since I still remember them, they must still have existed and they still loved you and you still got to love them. I’m a little fuzzy on the Titans of Myth, so I can’t be sure about that stuff. But you’re here now and that’s what’s important right now. Just take a sec to enjoy this moment, this view, this night and see how you feel, ok?” he said.

They sat in the quiet, next to each other, watching the waves reflect and distort the moonbeams. Donna’s breathing calmed down and she straightened her back, half a head taller than Kyle even while sitting.

“Thank you, Kyle. I’ll be ok now, I think. I appreciate you listening. You have a good heart. If you’d only learn to actually fight without that ring, you’d make a pretty decent Amazon. Well … if you weren’t a man, of course.”

Kyle coughed and thanked the stars that Donna couldn’t see him blush. Suddenly Kyle felt like there was lava beneath his skin and he couldn’t sit comfortably.

He didn’t want Donna to catch on, so he stifled his squirming and whipped up a quick construct of a miniature green Kyle in an Amazonian uniform, breastplate, Spartan skirt and calf boots. For added effect he made sure to widen his shoulders and used Hal Jordan as a reference for a jaw far more square than Kyle’s real life chin.

“I’m not sure I can pull off the uniform. Guess I’ll stick with green and black for now. Ha!” he said. He hoped it didn't sound as forced as it felt.

“Oh I don’t know. You’ve got great legs, Kyle! Maybe you should start wearing shorts when in uniform. Besides, you had those over-the-knee boots for the longest time. I think you’d be just fine!” Donna said, laughing.

“Give me a hug, Dick just texted me to meet him in Blüdhaven. Take care and fly safe back to Oa!” she said.

After a quick, warm embrace, she turned eastward and flew off over the lake. Kyle watched her fly out of sight. He looked down and saw little Amazon Kyle, slowly spinning in the air. He drew the construct up to eye level and returned the shoulders and jaw back to his more slender and softer reality. It didn’t look that bad actually.

He’d been trying to make Donna smile, and deflect from … something before, so he exaggerated those features to highlight the incongruence, but he didn’t hate this more realistic image.

He continue to finesse the construct’s features. Like most artists, he never really considered a piece finished, he just stopped working on it. He smoothed the musculature, narrowed the shoulders a little further, pulled the hips out just a bit more, and left the waist alone. The ersatz Kyle’s face got softer still, the brow less pronounced, the nose narrower, the chin just a bit more rounded. He watched the chest muscles soften and breasts form to fill out the breastplate better.

Finally, he lengthened the construct’s hair to shoulder length, adding some wave and curls like Donna’s somehow-always-perfect hair.

And there she was. The woman who’d been haunting Kyle’s dreams as long as he could remember. Slowly spinning in the air was a woman who could easily have been Kyle’s sister, wearing Amazonian garb (or at least what he remembered from seeing Donna’s while they were dating so many years ago).

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he started fiddling with the image, and he didn’t know how long he’d spent staring at the final form. Sister. Yeah, right.

With an angry wave he flashed his hand through the construct, dissolving and dispersing the light particles that he’d given form. He hastily looked around the roof to make sure no one had seen him or, specifically, seen the construct. The burning sensation of shame returned instantly and he immediately flew into the sky until the buildings looked like so many light-speckled building blocks.

He took himself through a calming exercise he learned from Kilowog to help him center himself and sling his ring “like he wasn’t a complete Poozer and deserved to wear it.” Kilowog had no appreciation for just how hard it was for other people to feel calm when he was around. Still, Kyle found it helped when the pink giant wasn’t breathing down his neck.

“My will is strong enough to carry the torch for the entire Green Lantern Corps, I can stop these feelings. I can make all of these thoughts go away. I can stop this. I’ve got too much responsibility to keep indulging this … this nonsense” he thought, trying to ignore the sting of the tears fighting their way free to fall down his face, ignore the pain in his heart.

“I don’t want to lose my friends - what would Donna say? Would she think I was a pervert, or making fun of her somehow? I definitely don’t want to lose Hal’s and the guys’ respect. I don’t want to lose my whole life just because I’m some kind of freak. Get it together, Rayner. No one else is feeling sorry for themselves because they don’t fit in.”

He pulled a hand down his face and pointed his right fist with it’s gaudy, shining green ring on the middle finger toward the Milky Way and flew into space. He hoped the cold solitude of the transluminal conduits would help him regain his composure before he faced Guy, Hal, John and Kilowog for the Honor Lantern meeting. For the millionth time, he wished he could just be more like them, have just a sliver of their easy and effortless masculinity. They made it look so simple.

“Bet they don’t spend half their life trying to figure out what is wrong with them,” he thought. He tried so hard not to envy them, but it was really hard sometimes.

Especially nights like tonight where his resolve had failed him yet again and he gave in to his most hidden thoughts. He entered the transluminal conduit between Saturn and Jupiter and closed his eyes.

He traveled faster than light, but it still took time to reach Oa, so he tried to sleep and hoped that his dreams wouldn’t betray him again.

30 notes · View notes

hale-13 · 3 years ago

Text

Detached

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 25 Prompt - Isolation

Truth is, Peter didn’t do the best alone. He was an extrovert at heart and probably had some repressed abandonment issues he’d rather not think about right now but this was fine. He was fine.

Words: 3213, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark

TW: Depression, Delirium, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Descent into Madness

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Peter groaned, squinting his eyes shut further instead of trying to open them. His head was throbbing and his thoughts were sluggish and dizzy. He could tell he was lying down but everything seemed to be spinning around him making him feel nauseous – he swallowed down the bile attempting to rise in his throat and took deep breaths through his nose. Mind over matter and all that. Once he felt a little more steady, Peter took stock.

The floor he was lying on was hard and cold and he was positioned awkwardly with his arms folded under him, tingles running through them painfully from the compression of veins and arteries. Carefully, Peter cracked his eyes open. The room he was in was dark and the air had the damp quality of somewhere underground and Peter blinked his eyes shut again. Yeah he had no idea where he was or how he got here.

With effort, he rolled over to lie flat on his back but made no attempt to try and sit up yet. The last thing he remembered was getting up for school. It was Friday and he was looking forward to going to Ned’s after school and spending the weekend having movie marathons and building the newest Star Wars Lego kit Ned had picked up with his birthday money. He remembered getting ready to leave, pulling his Spider-Man suit from his bag and hiding it in his closet (he had promised to take a break since he had been overdoing just a little over the last few weeks), he thumbed past a text from Mr. Stark – he didn’t want to read anything from him right now, fighting stressed him out and he didn’t want to deal with it…

He left his apartment. He was going to walk to school instead of taking the subway because it was hot out and he was feeling a little sensitive today and he wasn’t sure he could handle the smell. His Spidey sense had been tingling since he had gotten up that morning but it had been doing that off and on for days since his fight with…

He was walking to school. Everything was fine.

But now he’s here? How did it happen? Peter’s head throbbed lowly and threateningly as he tried to wrack his memory for the answer so he stopped and tried to make himself relax. He was probably kidnapped right? He had been kidnapped a couple times before and he knew how this worked. Once his assailants realized he was awake and semi-aware they would come in to highlight their terms, probably rough him up a bit and then Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes would track him down and break him out.

But… would Mr. Stark really come to get him now? After everything.

‘Don’t think about that Peter,’ he told himself. He was already about five seconds from a panic attack and that just wouldn’t do. He needed to keep it together. If his captors thought he was breaking so early things could get so much worse. He was fine. Just some deep breaths.

Peter opened his eyes again. The room was almost too dark to see anything, lit only by a small red emergency light in one corner that left strange shadows and distorted shapes and colors. The room was small – maybe ten feet by ten feet if he was lucky – and mostly empty. There were three large cases with water bottles and a few boxes of crackers in one corner and a metal toilet was in the other. A haphazard pile of ratty looking blankets that smelled like mildew were a few feet away from Peter.

This was new. He was almost never provided water or food in the few times he had been taken before, not that he was gone long enough to need anything.

Something felt off.

Using every bit of strength he had left, Peter levered himself up and leaned heavily against the wall while his vision span in circles and nausea crept back up his throat. Whatever he had been dosed with must have been pretty potent to leave him feeling like this. So plans. He would wait to see what the people who took him wanted. He would let his metabolism work off the drugs. Maybe he would crawl over and grab a bottle of water once he felt a little more steady and hope that they hadn’t been tampered with.

It was all a waiting game.

————————————————

Okay so this was weird.

Peter took another sip of his - up tampered thank god – water and swirled it around in his mouth. It had easily been at least a few hours since he had woken up and no one had come through the solid metal door that Perter had yet been able to break through. Someone always came in to monologue.

And it just proved that whoever took him knew he was Spider-Man since he wasn’t able to break out.

“This is fine,” Peter said out loud just to hear something. “They’re just working on a longer timeline is all.”

Truth is, Peter didn’t do the best alone. He was an extrovert at heart and probably had some repressed abandonment issues he’d rather not think about right now but this was fine. He was fine.

More time passed.

And more time.

Pulling one of the blankets around his shoulders and wedging himself into a corner Peter curled tightly around his legs. He was tired and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the drugs or if it had been that long he had been trapped here. Regardless he figured he may as well take a nap. Hopefully it would encourage some asshole into bursting into the room to wake him up and, if it didn’t, maybe sleeping would help clear the remaining fog from Peter’s head.

His sleep was anything but easy though. He woke up continuously as if startled and it took forever to relax enough again to doze. He had nightmares; little nebulous things that made little sense and faded the second he woke up but left his respiratory rate elevated and his heart thudding in his chest. It took time but he eventually was tired enough to sleep deep enough not to dream.

When he woke up the room was completely unchanged and Peter gulped. His mind was spiraling and taking him to dark places and it wasn’t the time to go there yet. He hadn’t even been here for that long he didn’t think. Maybe not even a full day. It wasn’t time to freak out yet.

Peter distracts himself by grabbing another water bottle and a pack of the peanut butter crackers. He eats three of them and saves the rest of the pack for later. Washes it down with a few sips of water and tries to ignore the aching and cramping in his stomach as it growls. Something is telling him to ration his food and water. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to be stuck here after all but it can’t be that much longer right? Mr. Stark will come to get him. He wouldn’t leave him here.

The ‘day’ passes slowly. Peter paces the full length of the room, he searches every nook and cranny for cameras or microphones. He tries to take apart the emergency light but its completely sealed and he doesn’t want to tamper with it and potentially leave himself in complete darkness. He counts his water bottles (one hundred forty-eight since he already drank two) and his crackers (forty-nine and a half packs) and organizes and reorganizes them. He paces some more and practices his breathing exercises.

He falls into an uneasy sleep.

“Okay time to come up with a plan,” Peter tells himself the next day. “A feasible plan.”

He comes up with nothing. He likes brainstorming but he’s always needed to write things down to properly organize anything and he has nothing to write with but blood and nothing to write on but the wall. He’s not desperate enough to do that.

Instead he does fifty push up and sit ups. It feels good to do something physical so he jogs around the room for what’s probably a few hours. He stops when he drains a full bottle of water in a second and he can’t do that. He doesn’t know how long he’s here and he has to ration and what if no one comes to get him and he’s stuck here forever and he runs out of food and water a human can only go without water for a few days and…

Peter gasps and collapses to his knees, bowing his face down to rest his forehead on the cool stone floor as the room spins from lack of oxygen and he tries to control his breathing. Four-Seven-Eight. He remembers that from his, very few, therapy appointments after Ben. Four-Seven-Eight. Four-Seven-Eight.

It’s not working.

Peter sobs brokenly and his throat feels like its closing, his vision is spinning and dimming his muscles are weak and-

He wakes up with a gasp and a cough some untold amount of time later. His head hurts from the panic attack and he lets himself cry quietly for a few minutes. He’s alone. He hates being alone.

How long has he been here?

The laugh that bubbles up from his chest is a little unhinged and that just won’t do. Peter needs to lock it down and get his shit together because he can’t just sit here and lose it because that is flat out unacceptable.

So he gets up and walks around the bare room. He does some yoga that he had been learning from Pepper and May and focuses on his breathing since breathing is important in yoga. When he’s done he does some cool down stretches and feels a lot better. More steady. He eats the other three crackers in the pack he opened up and drinks some water. He’s tired so he curls back up in the corner with his blanket and pillows his head on his arm.

He wakes up and the room is unchanged.

Again.

How long has he been here?

Peter’s stomach feels like its actually eating itself so he eats a couple crackers and indulges in half a bottle of water. It does nothing to make him more full but he pretends it does. He feels a little weak and out of it this ‘morning’ and he stumbles as he walks laps around the room. He hasn’t gone this long without a decent meal since he was bitten and its freaking him out a little.

The yoga worked yesterday. He’s going to do more of that he thinks.

His limbs are shakier than yesterday and he gets out of breath on some of the more advanced poses so he slows down and really takes the time to work through each new position and hold it before slowly transitioning to the next. He’s exhausted when he finishes and can barely do a short cool down due to his painful muscles so he just lies flat on his back for a while and breathes through it.

His head itches from the sweat he’s worked up and when he scratches at his scalp his fingernails come away with little balls of dead skin and blood under them and he crinkles his nose. He hasn’t gone this long without a proper shower in… a long time and he hates it. He wants to be clean. His hair is greasy and flat and flopping into his face.

He could use some of the water. He doesn’t have soap and its not the same as a shower but…

No. He needs to save the water. He can handle being dirty for a few more days. A week tops. He’ll be out of here soon. Maybe he should take a nap to pass the time? He is kinda sleepy from his workout, a nap would be nice.

When he wakes up again he doesn’t bother moving. He’s really tired and its not like he has anywhere to be so what’s the point?

He closes his eyes again.

He’s only eaten two full packs of crackers since he got here so Peter decides to gorge himself and eat a full pack of six and drink a full bottle of water. His throat is dry and his tongue is sticky and tacky in his mouth from dehydration so the food and water are like nectar and ambrosia to him. But…

He had more water right?

Peter counts the bottles and comes up two short. That’s impossible, he’s alone and he didn’t drink two extra bottles so where did they go? His breath is coming out in hasty pumps as he panics and counts again. No! He’s missing three bottles! How is this happening?

Peter stumbles up and goes to the door. Someone has to have come in while he was asleep and taken the water so that means the door was opened. He scrabbles at the edges, tearing his nails to shreds and smearing blood everywhere as he tears at the hinges to try to get it opened. It has to open!

His breath is coming too fast and his lungs are burning and his eyes are burning and he’s choking and falling to the floor and-

He wakes up curled in a ball by the door feeling out of it but more in control. He drags himself back to his pile of water bottles and, very carefully, counts them again.

And once more.

He isn’t missing any after all, he just didn’t count correctly. Peter wants to laugh. Peter wants to cry. He does neither. His muscles are tight and on the verge of cramping so he does some light stretches to try to work everything out. It helps a little but he feels too tired and out of it to do laps around the room or yoga and he’s afraid to meditate so he curls back up in the corner again. He’s hungry but he doesn’t dare eat anymore crackers since he had a full pack already today.

Or was it yesterday?

He decides it doesn’t matter – he can’t eat them right now. What he can do is sleep so he does.

His dream is about May. About sitting in the kitchen and listening to classic rock and pretending to do his homework but really gossiping about his classmates and her about her coworkers while she burns pork chops in the oven. They laugh while they fan the smoke away from the blaring fire alarm and out the open window and pull out a take out menu at random from the drawer. They aren’t picky eaters and they’re curled up on the couch watching Stranger Things with tacos. May jumps and launches her taco toward the ceiling and they spend the rest of the night cleaning avocado off the popcorn ceiling.

He wakes up with silent tears leaking down his face and a feeling of desolation eating up his insides. It feels like his heart is clenching and like his chest is closing in painfully and his stomach doesn’t ache from hunger for once but feels like a tightly clenched back hole instead. Peter doesn’t bother wiping his face, just turns over to face the wall and curls up even tighter. It’s too hard to move.

It’s a few days later that his legs start cramping whenever he moves them too suddenly and he feels like screaming from the resisting burning pain. He isn’t really hungry anymore but he forces down a couple of crackers everyday and tries to drink at least half a bottle of water. He’s losing weight as his metabolism eats at his minimal fat stores before starting on his muscles and he panics again when he notices his stomach is starting to become concave.

How long has he been here?

Peter supposes it makes sense though. Why would Mr. Stark come for him now? After what he did? His mentor may be the very definition of a helicopter parent but he wasn’t strict and if Peter would have just listened to him… but now he’s alone.

Peter sniffs loudly. He’s cried a few times since he’s been here but he hasn’t let himself break down. He’s tried to keep it together but is it really worth it? He’s alone. No one’s coming for him.

He’s going to die here. Alone.

He sobs. He wants to cry but the tears won’t come so all that’s left are painful, hitching breaths and horrible whining sounds. He doesn’t think he even sounds human anymore and maybe he isn’t. He doesn’t feel human.

He doesn’t make the effort to eat or drink that day and the next time he wakes up he’s too weak to even crawl over to the pile of water bottles and crackers. He decides that it’s a good thing. He can feel himself losing it, can feel himself falling apart and at least this way he’ll go quicker. He can’t stand this. He can’t stand being alone. He wants May. He wants Ned and MJ. He wants Mr. Stark. He doesn’t want to die and he really doesn’t want to die alone.

This isn’t fair.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair it isn’t fair it isn’t fair it isn’t-

He didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. He hadn’t seen May in two days before he was taken due to her schedule and now he’d never see her again. He was the last of her family and he was being selfish and leaving her alone. He’d already taken away he husband and now look at him? He breaks everything he touches.

He’s tired. He’s so tired. Peter lets his eyes close. He’s just going to nap.

“Kiddo? Rhodey he’s not responding he looks… fuck Rhodey clear me a path I’ve got to get him out of here! Peter, its me kid. You’re okay I’m going to take care of everything now so you just relax alright? Rhodes I swear to god if you don’t handle it.”

Peter frowns in his delirium. That voice sounds like Mr. Stark but that’s impossible. Peter’s dead. He was dying. He gave up right?

“I’ve got you buddy you’re going to be just fine,” the voice says again and it sounds a little robotic – just like Mr. Stark does in the Iron Man armor actually. He feels like he’s floating. “You’re aunt and I have been worried sick Petey, you didn’t even send a postcard!” The voice is trying to be humorous but is falling flat. It’s nice though. It’s been a long time since Peter has heard anything but his own thoughts.

“Just a quick little flight Webs,” he’s told, the ground rocking under him. It almost feels like being carried and it warms him just a little. His brain has been sabotaging him at every turn but at least its making his death peaceful.

“No no buddy,” the voice sounds a little frantic but its like listening through a pool of water. “Stay with me Peter, you’re going to be okay just stay with me.”

He hates disappointing the voice but he’s tired.

So tired.

Peter drifts.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump25 #Prompt: Isolation #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

14 notes · View notes

angelkurenai · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine you and Dean being unable to stand each other, but it’s only because you get often jealous. The unresolved sexual tension makes Sam lock the both of you up until you solve it out.

“I'm gonna kill him.” Dean grumbled, his agitated tone only managing to make you more angry yourself - as if you weren't already on edge.

He was practically glaring daggers at the door and, even though that too seemed to get on your nerves, it was of the least annoying things he could do compared to his constant pacing and grumbling. It felt like his footsteps, the echo in the otherwise silent room, the useless talking and the constant mumbling as Dean could barely hold his frustration after any attempt of opening the locked door had failed miserably, even the constant huffing was a testament to your patience. And after a mostly unsuccessful hunt - or trail of the right monster at least - your patience could only take so much, even if the man didn't do anything you'd still start getting pissed by his mere presence (which wasn't so unheard of as, obviously, the ones who had locked you in the room knew real well). It was probably him not having done much, or having done the exact opposite of what he should, during said case, that had started making your patience slip away and the more you thought back to everything the worse it got.

You tried to keep yourself under control, though, because all the arguing was what had gotten you both in this position in the first place.

“I'm so going to fucking kill.” he repeated, bringing you back to harsh - more like annoying - reality “He's going to come back to life, naturally, and then I'm gonna kill him again.”

“Will you remember where you've put your gun this time or am I gonna have to help you again?” you muttered, mostly to yourself, the bitterness and agitation slipping into your tone - much as you tried to hold it back - and as expected the man caught on it.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with a frown, his head snapping in your direction.

You should back off, you knew it and it really was the best choice in this situation, but with Dean looking at you in that challenging way, his firm jaw clenched, his full lips pursed, his stunning eyes looking at you fiercely, his muscles stiffening and his broad chest puffing out as he held his breath, a vein so much ready as to pop, all of it serving to make him look darker in a way that almost made you think he could easily push you against the wall and just have his way with you already. Almost. Not entirely. Those thoughts were left for when you were left in the silence of your own room, alone, and not fuming at the memories still fresh because of the stubborn man in front of you.

“I don't know Dean.” you pursed your lips, holding his gaze stubbornly so “What do you think? Or maybe it would be better ask the werewolf we almost got- Oh no wait, it turned out to be a vampire! My bad, in the middle of all this I almost forgot.” you glared right back, and his lips parted to speak but you didn't give him the chance to “Just like you forgot you part of this team that almost became vamp snacks because you were busy doing Chuck-knows-what with that bi-” but you stopped yourself before you could indulge. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction to let him know, even so suspect, how his nightly adventures had you feeling. You huffed, straightening “Just shut up and sit down. Stay quiet, for once in your damn life Winchester do the right thing and listen to me, so we can get out of this mess the soonest possible. I have no plans to stay locked in here for more than a few hours.”

“First time I'll agree with you.” he grumbled, taking a sit on the bed with a heavy sigh “And for that, I apologized to Sam. It's not my fault you can't seem to accept a simple apology like any other person. I got a bit carried away, yes, but you had it mostly under control!”

“Mostly, key word, thanks for saying that! Because it very clearly states how we nearly died because of you and you-” you scoffed a bitter laugh “Apologize is all you do and think everything's fine all of a sudden! You can have things your way whenever you want, like throwing yourself in danger's way, going for the monster however you like, banging that waitress in that bar, bring them over in the hotel room, stay out till late at night and all that while Sam and I do the work and suddenly when you realize you messed up - because you do mess up, every single time - you apologize and everything, magically just like that, is ok. Well, guess what, Dean? It's not ok! But you were always used to having it that way, that now that I am here and finally someone calls you out on your shit, it is annoying or even worse I'm not able to accept an apology. I am on the wrong, talk about some real bs there.” you huffed at last, satisfied to get it out of your chest but only temporarily because you knew the man could very easily and very fast find new ways to torture you.

He laughed, but it was angry just like his eyes. His entire body held so much frustration that you could see him practically struggling to hold back “Well, it ain't me that starts every damn fight, is it? If you could just leave me be, do my thing, then we'd both be much happier. I honestly don't even understand what you get out of all this fighting. If getting off on me being pissed 24/7 or having my mood ruined the whole day is not included that is. And now to top it all of, here we are. Locked in a fucking room like we're a pair of kids, to learn to get along or whatever Sam meant to say. I hope you're freaking happy with the result, cause I'm damn sure you're suffering too.”

“And who's to blame for that too?” you snapped back, eyes going hard because of his attitude “I am not the alone in these arguments you see. You certainly don't miss a chance to snap back, Winchester. Honestly, the mere fact that you want to blame this all on me when I clearly had every right to be angry shows just how unbearable you are. Maybe if you, for once, decided to act with that's between your ears instead of what's between your legs everything would be so much better and my days so more calm!”

Dean himself let out a sarcastic laugh “Because you help so much in that.” he mumbled, though you had a hard time understanding what he really meant, and after a few seconds of thinking he obviously decided to not comment on it any further “Whatever, there is no point in arguing. It will only earn us more time locked in here. And I for one don't want that. If it's peace Sam wants from us, we have to be convincing.”

You only scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him, more agitated by him now “It takes locking you up to come to your senses after all? What's next, being tied down to act like a rational human being for once too?”

“Oh sweetheart-” he smirked but it wasn't coy or easy, if anything the dark look in his eyes was there much as it could be considered very distracted “You have no idea what I'd do while being tied. In fact-” his pride only seemed to grow more “Few women have had the pleasure. They consider themselves lucky, trust me.”

“Lucky about which aspect, Winchester?” you smirk grew, challenging in a way that was far, very far, from the first time and in a way that one could only describe as full of meaning and sexual tension but you'd beg to differ, thank you very much. You added “Being lucky that it all ends within five minutes or that they won't get to experience such a thing ever again? Oh oh or maybe nearly dying of laughter? I get it, life is hard, we all need a good laugh once in a while.”

“Why yes, all the while seeing stars.” he shrugged, still too smug “But I guess you can go ahead and make up whatever little story you, it's impossible to get a real answer from them.”

“Oh how so? Was that easy to forget? I wonder what desperate measures all of them must have gone to forget such an experience.”

“Cute.” he laughed, short, sharp, bitter or was it tense? There was something more to those eyes, the way he was looking at you that made you shift in your place and your smile, as much as you tried to keep it up, to flatter a bit. “But no. They're simply still unable to speak. Not like there are no words that could describe it. Ore in bed in general.” he shrugged, going back to casually sassy.

His posture changed, though the look in his eyes didn't and that was what made you frown.

“One would beg to differ but I suppose there are enough women desperate enough out there. Hell, why would a woman fall for the 'Boy, this coffee's hot. Just like-'” you mimicked him, pointing at him with a wink as he'd done to the waitress, before rolling your eyes “If not out of desperation or boredom. How can any of that be attractive or even enough to promise a remotely goo night? Maybe they even take pity on you.” you shrugged and he laughed, but it was dark and much deeper, a hidden tension coming through.

“You know, some women can use their imagination.” his voice was deep

“That must be quiet a wild imagination right there, let me tell you. And then, of course, the harsh reality comes crashing down on them and they see you don't live up to their expectations.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” he chuckled darkly, getting up to make his way to the liquor he kept in his room “Sure, go ahead. Since it seems like it's the only thing you do.”

“Wouldn't that sound ideal to you?” you actually laughed “But no, not quiet. Sleep and the barman from Illinois is what I've been doing.”

If you had known that those were the key words to get a reaction out of the man then you surely wouldn't have held them back. Dean's entire body stiffened, you could clearly see his muscle freeze and harder even as he had his back to you. And if all that wasn't indication enough, the silence that followed after your words was a clear indication to the impact they had on him.

He slowly turned to look at you, his jaw clenched so tightly you were scared he might break it or pop a vain, or both. His eyes however quickly drew your attention to them, effectively making any hint of a smug smile fade from your face at having achieved a small victory in pissing him off. Shivers ran down your spine at the piercing look he gave you, making you feel and want to be exposed in a way that wasn't normal.

“You did what?” his voice was so deep and rough, you felt your breath get caught in your throat.

“I-” why had your mouth gone dry all of a sudden? That drink he was holding seemed appealing, so you got up to make your way to him- no, to the drink and get a glass of your own “You know-” you shrugged “One would assume after that punch from you and you all but pulling a gun on him that the guy wouldn't even want to be near me but some men do risk it all, defy all odds, and keep pursuing. Unlike some I know, he wasn't one to back down and quiet frankly he was even more adorable after that. So I suppose I can say...” you paused “Kiss it better is what I did? That and so much-”

But you didn't get the opportunity to complete your sentence, or even get your glass of whiskey as it slipped from your grasp the moment Dean took firm hold of your arm, forcing you to face him, all in a split second as he pressed you against the wall and held you there firmly yet not anywhere near painfully.

“You slept with him?” he still asked though you were sure he wasn't expecting a direct answer. You even didn't know if you wanted to give one, not sure of what his reaction would be or maybe fearing it wouldn't be the one you deep down hoped it would be.

You shouldn't push for it, you knew it. And yet you did.

“You mean did I fuck him?” you narrowed your eyes at him and watched both as his eyes hardened and felt as he pushed you harder against the wall, as a response.

And you pushed again more.

“I'm sorry, you're just making it hard for me to understand you Dean. You have to be a bit more specific. Did I let him push me against the hall and have his way with me, you mean?”

“Quit playing around, (Y/n). Answer my fucking question. Did you really do it?”

“Why, Dean? Why does it even matter to you? What difference does it make?” you hissed “Isn't that what you do all the time? Am I somehow not allowed to do the same? Why? Because you did all that? Because you do what you simply do to me? You can piss me off all you want, you can try to get me back for all the fights, ruing my days and damn you... you can have that effect on me all you want but I will not let it-”

“And you?” he growled, loud and angrily enough to cut you off effectively “Do you know what you do to me? Do you have any freaking idea what you're doing to me, (Y/n)? You ruin everything for me, that's what you do. You've ruined every fucking woman for me. I try to pick 'em up and all I think about is you. I try to and I always end up comparing them to you. I pick 'em up and when I am lucky enough, they will look at least a little bit like you but then again? I always go for the ones that look like you. When I am really lucky enough to go on without you in my mind, hell if that's hard, I wake up to realize I had been dreaming about you too. And that waitress?” he scoffed a laugh, pressing you harder against the wall “I called her by your name. Yeah, fucking great, isn't it?”

His words did earn a gasp from you but he didn't let you say a word, instead kept going, as if his words hadn't already turned everything upside down as it was “Of course, I didn't realize it or the fact that it wasn't actually you until she slapped me. It hurt, but hell it didn't even match up to your punch. Sometimes I feel like I want to argue with you just to make you angry enough so you can punch me again. What a fucking masochist I've become huh? Don't you think? That's what you do to me and fuck if that doesn't make me want you more.” it was only when you felt his hips push yours against the wall that you realized he had his entire body caging yours and you couldn't lie, not to yourself at least, that you liked the feeling more than you ever imagined you would. And imagined you had. Plenty of times.

“So there.” he huffed, as if a big weight was lifted off his chest – not all of it but most – but he was still very tense, his gruff voice proof that the proximity had more than one kind of effects on him; he rested his forehead against yours “You have it. You see what you do to me. You see the effect you've had in me ever since I met you. Take pleasure in it all you want. And now-” he took in a deep breath “Tell me to get away. Push me back. Scream at me and start an argument.”

“Why?” you finally breathed out, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Why? Because it's all I'll ever get from you.” he scoffed a laugh, bitter but filled with tension just like every other word “Tell me to back off, (Y/n). Push me back or else, I swear, I don't know what I will do.”

“Then-” you leaned closer, as if there was even any significant distance between you to begin with “Why don't you try and figure it out big boy? I'd like to see if it's better than your arguing.”

And you needn't say another word before you felt like he was pushed off the edge and his lips crashed to yours, no longer holding back.

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot

459 notes · View notes

thewildwaffle · 4 years ago

Text

Haunted Houses

“You know the translators don’t work for written word right?” Danro grunted, eyeing the small tablet screen his human companion held out to him. It was displaying several small human glyphs.

“It’s just a waiver saying you’re okay with coming in, and that if you have any bad effects from the flashing lights or spooky stuff they use, you can’t sue them because you chose to be here willingly, blah blah blah.” Human Addy again held up the tablet. “Basically it’s just the legal-ese version of everything we talked about earlier. I can read through it for you if you really want.”

Danro let out a growling hum. “Just look through it and make sure there’s nothing in there that wasn’t what you told me earlier.”

“No prob.” Addy pulled the waiver back and scanned over it quickly, mumbling to herself under her breath as she read. Danro looked at the human working behind the check-in counter who was doing their best to not be obvious that they were gawking at him. Not that that bothered him or anything. Standing head and shoulders above most other humans and covered in long light brown and white fur, he certainly stood out from the gathered crowd.

“We’re good to go, everything checks out!” Addy declared, handing the tablet and stylus to Danro. “You just need to write a signature at the bottom and we can go in.”

“But I don’t know how to write in your language,” Danro glanced dubiously at the screen.

“Just take it,” Addy pushed the stylus into his large hands, “You can write in your language, it doesn’t matter.”

Danro doubted that. He sighed. Humans and their contracts. They were obsessed with them, and honestly, the more he got to know of their race, the more he started to understand why. Humans, for all their ingenuity and seemingly lovable natures, could be quite underhanded. They could think their way around and through most obstacles, especially when those obstacles were well-established but loosely-defined rules and expectations. Many a treaty or trade agreement had been swung wildly in favor of the party consisting of or including humans. It was like they lived for loopholes and variable interpretations. Intersystem lawyers have been scrambling to learn from and replicate the style humans wrote contracts. After all, only a human contract could (at least somewhat) confidently bind a human.

He scribbled his name in his own familiar letters, figuring that would have to be good enough. He trusted Addy when she said it was just a liability waiver after all. She had already signed one herself. After handing the tablet and stylus back to the kid working the booth, they were off.

As they walked around the entrance gate, Danro’s mind immediately went into overdrive trying to take in and process the scenery. The surrounding buildings creating the quad the event was hosted in were lit up with orange, purple, and green lights. Queues of patrons stretched along the concrete sidewalks that ran between buildings. They were watching costumed dancers in the middle of the quad as they waited to enter the “haunted” buildings. What looked like old metal trash cans had fires lit inside them with small crowds of humans and the occasional alien figure huddled around them. There were smaller lines in front of a few trailers and booths that looked like they were selling very aromatic foods and drinks.

An approaching figure caught Danro’s eye. It was almost as tall as him, draped in a raggedy shawl, and had a grotesquely disfigured face with lacerations running from the top of its head and across one eye. Danro sniffed. He saw blood, but he didn’t smell it. This must be a human actor in a costume, something Addy had warned him of beforehand. They were likely wearing stilts as they were almost eye level to him.

“My my my, what have we here!” The actor’s voice was both screechy and gravely, a combination that made Danro’s fur prickle slightly. "I've seen many a ghost and ghoul in these mansions, but I've yet to encounter any of the likes of you two." They made an exaggerated show of looking between Danro and Addy, as if sizing them up. “What do I call you two apparitions?”

Addy gave a small chuckled and gestured to herself. “I’m Addy, I’m a human. And this is Danro, he’s a kexi biet.”

“Mortals?!” The mask wobbled a bit as the actor stepped back dramatically and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’d keep that information to yourselves while you’re here. Who knows what lurking terror might overhear and decide to snack on your bones!”

Danro smiled indulgently at the costumed human. They were certainly well in character.

“We’ll be sure to not mention it again,” he nodded.

“Be sure that you don’t!” the mask rose up so that the fake, glossy eyes were almost level with his own. “You are a brave biet, Danro. Brave, or perhaps foolish. I do hope you and your small companion survive. Come.” They turned and led them towards the center of the quad. They paused and waited for them to catch up next to one of the trash can fires. “Have either of you been here before?”

Addy nodded, “Yeah but it’s been YEARS.” Danro shook his head.

“What a treat, then.” They pointed to one of the closer buildings with a purple light out front. Danro noticed that the actor’s costume was detailed down to the largely uneven stitches on their sleeves. It gave their arm an odd shape. Or at least, he hoped the odd shape of their arm was just part of the costume.

“Each of these buildings is haunted, some more than others. They are color-coded by the lights of how ‘dangerous’ they are.”

“So is that one the safest?” Addy dipped her head to the building being pointed to.

Their guide only laughed ominously. “Present your passes to the attendants by the door. No running, no pushing, no flashlights or video, no explicit language as it disturbs our… residents, and keep your hands to yourself if you’d like to keep your hands.”

And without another word, their guide ambled off. Addy shuffled a little closer to the fire and grinned at Danro.

“Alrighty then! Which one do you want to do first?”

Danro looked around at the quad. The dancers finished their song and were now walking and milling away to tents to warm up or rest, smallish humans were carefully nibbling on a pink puffy food on a stick that looked suspiciously like hair. The buildings themselves loomed around them, lit by their colored lights and the flickering fires around the quad. Their boarded up windows gave no indication of what was inside, although they couldn’t quite muffle the occasional scream from within.

“I’d prefer it if we could find the one that’s the mildest first,” Danro admitted. “Kind of ease myself into this, if you will.”

“No worries, bud.” Addy started towards the building with the green lights. “I think that would be this one. Green usually means easy, or mild, or good or whatever.”

That’s not what green was usually associated with on his planet, but hey, trying to scare yourself as a method of amusement and recreation wasn’t really a thing back home either. This was all very new to him.

The line in front of the green building moved pretty quickly. As they approached the front, Addy put a hand on his arm and looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks again for coming. These things aren’t nearly as much fun alone.”

Danro smiled. “Thank you for the invite.” Addy had invited a few more from their crew once she knew they’d be planetside on Earth just before what she claimed was one of her favorite holidays. He had been the only one to accept. A few others had gone to a “corn maze” with another human from the crew. Apparently, it wasn’t “haunted” and so appealed to more crewmates. Danro accepted the invitation because it saddened him to think of Addy going somewhere scary alone. That, and afterward it would be known across the ship of how much more brave he was than those who were too afraid to come.

The attendants at the door reminded them of the rules, marked their passes, and opened the doors for them.

Once inside, the doors shut noisily and Danro could feel the confidence he’d held on to outside drip away. His senses were being thrown off in here. The lights were dim, which isn’t too bad, he didn’t have great night vision, but it was alright. But there was something wrong here. He couldn’t tell why, but he could feel it. As Addy started down a narrow corridor covered with cobwebs, he took a deep breath and told himself it was just his nerves. Or maybe, he thought as they continued down the winding corridor, it was all this smoke stuff. It wasn’t real smoke, it smelled different, like minerals instead of burned materials. That was also throwing him off. The first time he saw an amputated human arm dangling out of a bag, he nearly freaked out. It was only when they passed right by it that he realized he didn’t actually smell any blood. He clutched Addy’s shoulder ahead of him as they walked by.

Danro muttered to himself. “It’s not a real arm. It’s not real. It’s not real.” He was really just saying it to himself, but from the way Addy looked back and up at him, he knew she must have heard him.

The next room was divided by a series of ripped and filthy “curtains.” As soon as they entered, Danro growled. The lights here were flashing strobe lights, making it difficult to see. There were human-sized figures standing in the room. As they passed by, he realized they weren’t human, but some sort of mannequins. Good, he sighed. Some of them looked grotesquely mangled and mortally wounded. He was glad they weren’t actual humans. As they were deep into the large room, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that some of them were moving. No, he thought, no, it had to just be a trick of the strobe lights.

Near the exit of the room, one definitely moved. The figure jumped out at them with a gravely yell. Addy screamed and jumped back. Danro froze momentarily and had to remind himself to not attack. They weren’t in danger. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t-

Addy scampered through the exit without him. Danro did his best to maneuver after her. The figure that had scared them stared at him with white eyes. That… that’s not normal. Humans have colorful and/or dark eyes. They smiled at him, baring their teeth. Even when normal humans smiled like that, Danro found it disconcerting, but this was on a whole different level. This felt genuinely dangerous.

Addy was waiting for him in the next room.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Didn’t mean to leave you behind back there.”

“Their eyes,” he whispered loudly to her, as if worried they’d overhear and come after them from their room.

“I didn’t even see their eyes. Were they creepy?”

Danro nodded.

Addy smiled, without baring her teeth, Danro noted appreciatively. “This place has really stepped up their game since the last time I was here.”

They continued through, warily watching out for hiding figures, walking through narrow maze-like halls, over uncomfortably soft and uneven ground, and through a tunnel where the walls looked like they were spinning around them. He nearly lost his balance off the walkway. He could have sworn the ground was moving. Even after they passed through that and went up a flight of stairs, he could still feel the dizzying effects. Coupled with his sense of sight and smell being confused around nearly every turn, he was starting to feel the tendrils of dread creeping into his mind. As they rounded a turn, he immediately noticed a dark figure moving in the corner. They looked like they were climbing the walls. After a few heartbeats of analyzing its movements, he realized it was mechanical. Good, it was just a prop then. As they walked through the room, bright lights strobed and the figure on the walls flew at them. Addy screamed again and ran to the door. Danro jumped up and fell back on the ground. The figure jerked to a stop in the air a pace or two away, and slowly retracted back to the wall. As Danro scrambled back up to his feet, he noticed the folding metal lattice mechanics that moved the dark creature. As terrified as he was, he had to admit that that was quite a creative scare.

There were several other rooms they walked through with no actors inside, just creepy dolls and mannequins or unsettling objects that made Danro’s fur prickle. There was a long hall with poor lighting and a very low ceiling that even Addy had to duck to get through.

“I hope nothing tries to scare us in here,” Danro muttered as he squeezed through the narrow passageway. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away very fast.” “I don’t think there’s anything in here. Or at least there wasn’t when I came through here when I was in high school. I think this part’s mostly “scary” because it’s supposed to make you feel claustrophobic.”

Danro scanned the bare cinder block and exposed dim light bulbs along the narrow passageway. Well, he thought, it was certainly claustrophobic in here. He could feel his heart rate increase the longer they walked through here and was incredibly relieved when they reached the end. Addy helped him watch his step as he climbed down from the small exit and into the dim cellar-like room.

"Are you okay?" She carefully brushed some fake cobwebs from the fur on his arms.

“I’m fine. There aren’t any more small tunnels like that though, are there?” Danro, much like many biets, did not enjoy tight spaces.

“I think there’s another one in one of the other buildings, but it’s nowhere near as constrictive as that, or as long.” She looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Is that alright? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Danro smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I got through this so far, I can handle it. Plus, it’s more fun to do these things together, right?”

Addy’s smile was worth any fright this place could throw at him anyway.

They pressed on and got a few more screams out of Addy and a few more alarmed jumps from Danro. As they rounded another corner and entered another dark room, Danro paused, senses alert to the scene before them. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place the reason why. His fur stood on end and he swore he could see his and Addy’s breath. He could see places where actors were likely hiding in wait to scare them, but that wasn’t where his attention was focused. There was something different about this room and it made his heart rate skyrocket.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision, but when he turned his focus there, expecting to see an actor sneaking towards them, there was nothing. Addy slowly crept deeper into the dark room ahead of him. Not wanting to be separated in a place like this, he tried to stay close. Halfway through the room though, he froze. Did he really see… he swore mentally. Was that a chirnu? What was a thing like that doing in a human attraction? What was it doing here at all? It had no right, no right to exist outside biet folklore and nightmares. The living shadow, or the fang of the shadows, depending on who was telling the story. Danro closed his eyes instinctively. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it and it might not look at you.

“Danro,” Addy whispered, realizing she no longer felt his hairy bulk behind her.

He said nothing but willed her to remain quiet. The chirnu might hear her if it hadn’t already.

“Danro, we’re almost at the end, just a little further.” She reached back to put a hand on his arm.

A loud shriek and rush of movement made them both jump. Danro swept Addy into his arms and ran. To gadring with the rules! He ran! He could hear laughter behind him and taunting voices that may or may not have been human, at this point he didn’t know nor care. He could smell fresh air ahead and it seemed to be like a beacon of hope to him.

“Danro!” Addy cried out but was cut off by a loud growl to their left. A figure jumped out from the shadows, donned in a ripped cloak, and holding a weapon that Danro later realized was a human tool used for cutting lumber.

How the heck had this maniac gotten in here with that?! Danro dodged to the right. Addy screamed and held on so tightly to Danro’s fur that she might have pulled a few tufts loose. The maniac with the saw laughed and gave chase.

This was a mistake! This was a mistake! This was a mistake!

Maybe if he could just make it outside where the crowds were, they could lose their pursuer. Surely he wouldn’t give chase into public?

Danro barreled through the final door and out into the chilly air outside. Relief! The roar of the saw was still right behind, and so he kept up with his pace. Thankfully, their pursuer didn’t seem to be able to keep up and eventually stopped a ways outside the door to laugh and Danro and Addy ran around the corner of the building and back to the crowded quad area.

Once he was absolutely sure they were no longer being followed, he stopped only long enough to set Addy back on the ground before he started again for the main entrance.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Addy bounded after him.

“We need to let someone know. They need to be warned before someone gets killed!”

“What? Wait, do you- do you mean the chainsaw guy?” Addy was now at his side, but struggling to keep up. “That’s just part of the whole thing, it’s a classic end to a haunted house. There’s no actual chain or blade or whatever, it’s safe.”

Danro slowed and turned to face Addy. He studied her face. She was smiling and didn’t seem at all worried that they had almost been killed by a psycho with a “chain saw.” He took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. “It’s not real? We’re fine?” He finally managed to ask.

Addy smiled and nodded. “We’re fine. So, first time through a haunted house, what did you think?” Danro looked back to the building they had just run out of. He stared hard at it, trying to make sense of the whole experience. Or mostly, trying to make sense of what he had seen in that last room. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Danro? Are you okay?” Addy’s worried tone snapped him back.

“I thought…” he was almost embarrassed to ask now. Admitting that he had seen what would be to her an alien monster, a mythical alien monster at that, seemed to be a bit laughable now that they were back in the safety of the quad. Addy continued to look at him though, expecting him to finish his thought.

“I thought I saw… a chirnu in there in that last room,” he admitted quietly.

Addy blinked. “Chirnu? What’s that?”

He grimaced. It was said that talking about them could help them hunt you down later. As briefly as he could, he described the monster that terrorized biet folklore.

Addy listened intently and nodded. When he was done, she hummed. “That does sound pretty bad. But I’m pretty sure we’re okay. I don’t think what you saw in there was a chirnu.”

Relief flooded Danro’s system. He felt silly even entertaining the idea that chirinu were for one thing, real, and another thing, here on Earth. Although, that did leave one question.

“Then what did I see?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That last room was definitely creepier than the others. I think it’s genuinely haunted.” Danro tilted his head and Addy laughed. “Although if I had to venture a guess, from your description I’d say it was probably a giant rubber spider. That room did kind of have a spider theme if you didn’t notice.” “Spider theme?”

“Yeah, I think the whole building kind of had a “phobia” theme to it. Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders. Lots of people have it. I just didn’t know biets had it too.”

Danro straightened his back in mock indignation. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

Addy laughed. “Okay, then you were just pretending back there?”

Danro frowned, but the human’s happy energy was too much and he eventually cracked and smiled back. He looked around at the other patrons, mostly humans, who were waiting anxiously in line. They came to be scared. They wanted to be scared. How odd. And yet, Danro could feel himself still riding the high of his fight or flight senses. From what he understood, humans experienced a similar feeling, heightened by the production of a hormone called adrenaline. He could see how places like this might seem attractive to those seeking that rush.

“Well,” he responded airily, “I thought the whole point was to pretend to be scared.”

Addy laughed and teased. He teased back, recalling and imitating her many screams. They continued doing so while they waited in line to buy a bag of what Addy called “popcorn” and two caramel covered apples. Addy said they were some of her favorites, and caramel apples were a fall tradition. Danro enjoyed both. He smiled as he listened to Addy continue on about things she loved about the season and upcoming holiday before they went to wait in line for the building with the orange light.

That night became, quite possibly, one of his fondest memories. Humans are weird. They think getting scared on purpose is fun. Maybe Danro was a bit weird too because he whole-heartedly agreed.

#stay spooky #halloween #humans are weird #aliens #humans are space orcs #haunted #writeblr

91 notes · View notes