#like we all didn’t know. get off the stage!!!!!! silence on the blond guy. but alas. louis has the mic still so it’s blond guy central | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

no-one-fuck-a-man · 2 years

Text

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Four - (Duets) So. Many. Catholic. Jokes

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: If it’s one thing your sister learned this week. It’s that silence is worse than yelling.

Word Count: 8,366

WARNINGS: Finn and Rachel kinda being dicks, angst, we getting to the drama.

(A/N): Heheheh.

Italics = Flashbacks

-----

"All right, let's uh, let's gather 'round," Mr Schuester said, entering the choir room from his office. His voice pulled both Kurt and Brittany from peering through the high windows that lined the back wall.

The teacher moved to sit on the stool in front of the piano, facing the class. "Sorry I'm late, guys." He cleared his throat. "I was with Principal Figgins. Bad news, guys. Puckerman's in juvie."

"It really was just a matter of time," Tina assured.

"What did he do?" Quinn asked, sounding aghast.

"Well, took advantage of you while you were drunk, for one," you pointed out from your seat beside Artie, "That's considered sexual assault."

"Preach." Artie pointed your way.

"Actually, he drove his mom's Volvo through the front of a convenience store and drove off with the ATM," Mr Schue informed.

'Doesn't mean he didn't do the other thing, too'

You were amongst the ones who laughed at the delinquent boy's antics.

"A-A-And when is he getting out?" your sister stuttered.

The teacher looked confused by his student's reactions as he spoke, "Unknown."

"He might be the dumbest person on this planet, and that's coming from me," Brittany said.

"Guy's. Let's have some sympathy."

"'Sympathy'?" you stressed the man's words back to him, straightening up in your seat, "It's his own fault that he's there. There's no sympathy for someone who would do something as stupid as that. He's getting what he deserves."

"Yeah, for a guy who put his needs before the team?" Finn asked, "We need his voice and his bad-boy stage presence."

"We can't look at this as- As a crisis."

"Oh, I'm actually looking at it as a relief. An undetermined amount of time without Puckerman? Oh, the sweet relief."

Pointedly ignoring your words, Mr Schue continued, "It's an opportunity."

"For what?" Quinn questioned, waving her pen between her fingers, "Further embarrassment and humiliation?"

"For welcoming our new member, Sam Evans!" he replied, waving his finger at the blonde as he stood, then pointed towards the door, giving the boy his cue for his entrance. "There he is," he cooed as Sam jogged into the room.

"How's it going?" he greeted the teacher, shaking his hand, facing the rest of the class, "Hey, everybody. I'm Sam. Sam, I am. And I don't like green eggs and ham."

'Oh, God'

"Wow," Santana said slowly, shaking her head, "He has no game."

You nodded your head with widened eyes at her accurate statement, soon jumping up with Finn when he exclaimed.

"Okay. This is gonna be great! You're not gonna regret joining, Sam."

"Oh, good."

"Hey, Sammy Evans," You beamed in greeting, coming up to the boy's other side, patting his shoulder.

"Hey, Y/N." He looked around the class. "Where's, uh. Where's Puck?"

"Juvie." You shrugged. "We just found out."

"Can't say I'm surprised."

"Sam. You sit right here." Finn directed the boy to the empty seat beside his, leaving you to walk back to your own.

"All right. Question for the group," Mr Schue declared, writing 'Duets' on the board, "What's a duet?"

"A blanket," Brittany said.

"Close. That's a duvet."

"A duet is when two voices join to become one. Great duets are like a great marriage-"

You snorted, muttering, "You wouldn't know.”

"-The singers complement each other, push each other to be better."

You and Artie had started in on a thumb-wrestle, opting out of listening to the rest of the man's speech about duets. Only coming back to attention when you heard Mr Schue say:

"And that is what duets are all about. So, this week. I want you to pair up and sing a duet. And since you guys all seemed to love our little "Defying Gravity" Diva-Off-"

"Not all of us did." You shook your head, remembering how you were forced to sit through those performances.

"-I'm making this a competition."

"What's the winner get?" Mike asked.

"Dinner for two, on me, at Breadstix."

Gasps sounded around the room, and Tina exclaimed excitedly.

"Breadstix! Yes!"

Chatter filled the room, and you laughed to yourself when Artie raised his arms into the air and said, "It'll be a religious experience."

You were walking with Kurt once the lesson had finished. Talking about how his dad was recovering as he lead you towards your new, blonde team member.

"Hi. I'm Kurt Hummel."

"Hey," Sam said, shaking the boy's outstretched hand.

"You already know who I am."

"I just wanted to personally welcome you to the Glee Club."

"And he dragged me along."

Sam gave a light, awkward chuckle at both of you, "Thanks."

Kurt nodded at the boy silently. "Just tell me." Only for Sam to shake his head, confused.

"You keeping secrets now, Sammy boy?" you teased, not knowing what the boy was going on about either.

"Look." Kurt took a step closer to the blonde. "Maybe at your old school, you could get away with the whole "I stayed in the sun all summer" excuse-"

Your eyes flashed with realisation. "Hair does not lighten like that in the sun," you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head while staring at Sam's blonde locks.

"-But I have three gifts: My voice, my ability to spot trends in men's fashion, and my ability to know when it comes from a bottle."

"Yeah, but that's obvious, right?" You gestured up to Sam's hair.

He shook his head, "I don't dye my hair, dude."

"Yes, you do," Kurt said, as you looked at him sceptically, knowing that he was lying, "But it's just between friends. That's not natural."

"Yeah, we'll keep your "secret"." You finished by raising your hands by your face and using air quotes.

"I'm gonna go," Sam told the boy slowly, "'Cause you're kinda freaking me out."

"Wait. Wait. Maybe my instincts were a little off-"

"Buy, guys," You called, waving to the backs of the two boys who were walking behind you before heading in the opposite direction to math class. Fun, "Sam, you left your locker open!"

---

It was the next day, walking down the hall with Santana and Mercedes, when the competition for Glee was brought to your attention.

"Why would I wanna do a duet with you?" Mercedes asked the Latina. "We can't stand each other."

"Look, Wheezie. I realise I've tried to punch you a couple times-"

"What?" you asked, mildly amused.

"-And sometimes, when you're not looking, I put weird things in your food."

"What?"

Seeing Mercedes struggling to open her locker, you reached over and tugged it open for her, gaining a smile of gratitude from the girl in return.

"But it's a new year. And you and I are the best singers in this school."

"I don't get what the big deal is. It's just a free trip to Breadstix."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Santana said, insulted, stepping closer to the girl, raising a hand to her chest, "Have you been to Breadstix? They are legally forbidden to stop bringing you breadsticks. One time I brought in a wheelbarrow. And when the manager tried to stop me from filling it up, I called the Corporate Office and got her fired."

"Think that might be a little excessive there, San."

Mercedes sighed heavily. "Well, I guess our voices do sort of go together."

Santana hummed and nodded in agreement, the self-assured smile on her face showing that she had won in successfully convincing the girl. "That's right, girl. If we do a duet together, we will be the undisputed top bitches at this school."

"Who are you gonna sing with, Y/N?" Mercedes turned to ask you.

"Huh?" You shook your head. "Oh, I'm not competing."

"But Breadstix-" You cut Santana's whining voice off.

"I can afford twenty bucks when I want Breadstix."

"Yeah, but food always tastes better when It's free."

And that convinced you.

Santana was right.

"Come on, Y/N. I want some competition."

"Fine then," you sighed.

"So, who you're gonna sing with?" Mercedes smiled.

"I don't know," you said slowly, looking around the hall when you spotted a Glee Club member. Gesturing towards them, you said, "Quinn."

The two girls looked to where you just waved to spot the blonde cheerleader meandering across the hall with her Cheerios binder pressed against her chest.

"When are you gonna ask her?" Santana smirked.

"Right now. Hey, blondie!" Quinn's attention snapped to you, a questioning look in her eye, but still not making any move to head your way. "You wanna be my partner for the competition?"

She evaluated you for a second, looking you up and down. Finally nodding. "Okay." Then she was off once more.

"Done." You turned back to the two girls in front of you.

"I did not expect that," Santana said.

"Well, I saw a baby come out of her. She kinda owes me."

---

"Brittany? Brittany? Are you even listening to me-? Ah!" you let out a shout when the girl suddenly stopped in place, causing you to plough into her back. Manoeuvring around to her side, you spotted what -or rather, who- had gotten her to halt in place. "Oh, hi, Artie."

"Hi, Y/N."

"Hi," Brittany greeted the boy with that smile that she usually reserved for people she wanted to go out with. Or make out with... or fuck. "So, I just want you to know, I'm really into you."

"Since when?"

Artie looked around awkwardly, almost as if he were expecting to find someone crouched near him, who she was really talking to.

"Okay. Sorry, I'm just a little confused." He shook his head. "You've never even made eye contact with me."

"Do you even know his name?"

"I know. For a while, I thought you were a robot."

You nodded dumbfounded, slowly saying, "Right." Turning to face the boy, you mouthed your question over to him, 'What the fuck?'

"So, let me get this straight. You wanna be my girlfriend because you like the idea of... wheeling me around?" Artie asked the blonde after she had confessed her desires to him. With you being their soul onlooker.

You desperately needed a shower after witnessing that.

"I just really wanna get you in a stroller."

"That is... so creepy and weird," you whispered to yourself.

But yet, Artie still smiled.

You were walking with the two as Brittany wheeled Artie down the hall.

"So, I get to tell everybody that we're dating?"

"Yes. And I get a duet partner."

"Wait. Is that what this is about?"

Without gaining an answer, you stopped by Santana's side when she had stepped forward, looking on at the cheerleader pushing the boy in shock.

Brittany turned, looking pointedly at the girl beside you. Pointing to each of her breasts before raising her finger and shaking it at her.

"What the hell was that about?" you asked humoredly as Santana glanced around.

"Nothing," she stated, beginning to walk away from you.

"Can I join in next time?"

Santana shoved your chest playfully, quickly grabbing your arm and pulling you along with her. With you cackling the whole time.

---

"Dude, can you believe Kurt?" Finn asked, barging into your bedroom as you were pulling on your work boots.

"Dude, can you start a conversation?" you replied sarcastically.

Ignoring your remark Finn plopped down on the bed beside you, continuing his rant about your shared friend.

"He wants to sing a duet with Sam. I mean, he just joined Glee Club. This is gonna kill him. And then he's gonna leave."

You rolled your eyes, fingers still fiddling with your laces.

"I think you're overreacting, Finn. Sam seems like a really cool guy. I doubt he would care about that."

"He can't sing with a dude," he tried to reason.

"You gotta get that casual homophobia checked, bro. Or else I'm gonna have to do it for you."

"Do you really not see how this can affect the team?

With a sigh, you straightened your back. Boots now fully tied.

"Like I said before," you told him slowly, "Sam seems like a good guy. I don't think he'll care if someone thinks- Or even calls him gay. And let's be honest, that's gonna happen anyway, just with him being in the club."

"Yeah, but if he sings with Kurt, he's gonna get so much crap that he'll be forced to leave."

As Finn spoke, you stood to gather everything you would need for work.

"I think you're wrong about Sam."

"And what about Kurt?"

You peered back at him. "What about Kurt?

"You know how he can get. How he always keeps pushing when he's got a crush."

"No, that." You pointed at the boy. "I don't agree with. For obvious reasons. But who knows. Maybe he just wants to sing with him. And Kurt has grown a lot this past year. He might be better at dealing with crushes now."

Finn rolled his eyes at your reasonings, leaning back into your soft sheets, bracing himself upon his forearms.

"Are you gonna be competing?"

"Yep."

The boy smiled brightly. "Oh, who you singing with?"

"Quinn," you told him, gesturing a lone finger at his relaxed form, you said, "You better be out of my room by the time I leave the house."

You didn't see the way Finn's smile fell as you took your leave. The look of a forming plan taking over his features.

"Are you seriously going to be singing a duet with Quinn?"

'Of course, he told her'

"Can I seriously not play games in peace?"

You had had a hard day at work, and all you wanted to do was chill out and play some games while lounging on your comfortable bed before you eventually fell asleep while the game continued to play on screen.

But your lovely sister just couldn't have that, now could she?

"Answer my question."

No. She couldn't.

"Is this because you still don't like her?"

"I just don't think your voices would go well together," your sister lied, squirming around on her elbows where she lay next to you.

"Ah-ha." 'A likely story'. And your voice conveyed just how much you didn't believe her.

Knowing she was fighting a losing battle, Rachel removed herself from your bead and made to exit the room. But not before turning and saying.

"We're gonna beat you."

You would take that challenge.

---

You jumped slightly in your seat when the trumpets started blasting for Santana and Mercedes' duet.

A hand came to rest upon your leg, just above your knee, at your reaction. Following the arm, you found Quinn smiling at you. You shot her one back.

When I was a little girl

I had a rag doll

Only doll I've ever owned

Now I love you just the way

I loved that rag doll

But only now my love has grown

You chuckled silently in your seat, finding it amusing the way Artie was dancing, waving his arms around, at the front of the class.

And it gets stronger

In every way

And it gets higher

Day by day

Do I love you

My, oh, my

An arm was slung over the back of Quinn's chair, the other resting in your lap. The blonde was leaning slightly over her own lap, shaking her shoulders to the tune of the song and the girl's dance moves. A thumb braced under her chin.

Out of the corner of her hazel eyes, she spotted you doing the same things in your position. Raising the hand from your lap to snap your fingers with the beat.

With a smile, the girl lightly shoved your arm silent giggles pouring from her as she looked back at you. With you joining with her laughter not a second later.

Unbeknown to the way, your sister side-eyed the two of you and your interaction.

River deep, mounting high

Yeah, yeah, yeah

If I lost you, would I cry

Oh, how I love you, baby

Baby, baby, baby

The look on your face was the same as the one that Quinn wore in reaction to the girl’s shaking their behinds for the club, during the instrumental of the song.

Your jaw dropped as you leaned in closer to the blonde cheerleader. Hand shooting out, and the back of your palm connected with Sam's chest. The boy raised his own to grip your hand, just as pleasantly surprised as you.

I love you, baby

Like a flower loves the spring

And I love you, baby

Like a robin loves to sing

And I love you, baby

Like a school boy loves his bag

And I love you, baby

River deep, mountain high

Oh, baby

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh, yeah

"Yeah!" you yelled.

Do I love you

My, oh, my, yeah

River deep, mountain high

Yeah, yeah, yeah

If I lost you, would I cry

Perhaps not so subtly, you look at the side of Quinn's head when those lyrics were sung. The blonde caught the look out of the corner of her eye. Shooting you a quick smile over her shoulder as she continued to sway her hand to the song.

Oh, how I love you, baby

Baby, baby, baby

You applauded happily with the rest of your team.

"How are we gonna beat them?" Quinn asked you lowly.

"We're not," you replied honestly, "But I'll buy you Breadstix to make up for it."

"Ladies, nice work!" Mr Schuester congratulated the two, high-fiving them both at the same time, "What an incredible song."

"And just so you know, I've already bought custom bibs for me and Mercedes here. You know why? 'Cause we's be going-"

"To Breadstix!" They both finished at once. Ending it off with yet another high-five.

"Oh-oh-oh! You hear that, guys?" Mr Schue asked the group, "You have your work cut out for you."

"We already know you don't gotta point out!"

---

Rachel was thankful that you were on the other side of the school, dealing with the distraction that she and Finn had pre-planned.

Granted, it was only you helping the boy with his homework, but still. She thought it was pretty genius.

Which left her without the risk of you finding her and stopping her part of the plan.

That was unless Finn sent his SOS message, but that hadn't happened yet, and she didn't expect it would.

"Hey, Quinn."

The short brunette jogged up to the cheerleader when she stopped walking down the hall and turned to face whoever had called her name. Binder pressed against her chest.

"Rachel."

"I wanted to talk to you about the competition."

"Really?" Quinn's eyes narrowed at the other Berry slightly, suspicious of the girl and her intentions.

"Yes. Namely, your partner for the competition."

The girl blinked at her. "Do you have a problem with me singing with your sibling?"

"It's not that I have a problem with it." Rachel looked to the floor as she spoke, a tell-tale sign that she was up to something. "But- Have you considered what everyone else would think?"

That caught the blonde's attention.

'What would they think?'

Shifting to face Rachel better, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Glee Club would be fine with it, but if it got out to the whole school, they might start thinking that you're someone you're not. And I know just how much you value your popularity and how it's important to you. I wouldn't want you to risk it for a competition, would you?"

No, she wouldn't.

"Oh," was all she said in return.

Rachel was right.

She had worked too damn hard to get to where she was right now for it all to go down the drain. Quinn was head cheerleader again, and after the year she had, she never thought she would get that back. And she wasn't going to let anyone, or anything, take that from her.

She couldn't sing with you.

She couldn't let people know.

"Just." Rachel reached over, giving Quinn's arm a gentle squeeze. "Just think about it. Okay?"

Rachel Berry turned around then, walking from the blonde. A beaming smile on her face.

She knew that she had gotten to the girl. Quinn wouldn't be singing with you.

Everything was going exactly to the plan.

---

"Okay, guys. So, who is up first today?"

At Mr Schue's words, you leaned in closer to the blonde sitting in the chair to your left to whisper, "You know, we still need to choose our song."

Quinn looked sort of taken aback by that, an expression that you couldn't read flying across her face.

"I actually have to talk to you about that," she whispered back.

Your brows ticked down momentarily at her words, cocking your head to the side. You didn't like those words. They filled you with a sense of dread.

You reared back into your seat when Kurt spoke up.

"Mr Schue, if I may?"

"You may."

The boy stood at the front of the class, a hand on his hip as he made his announcement.

"As many of you know, I had a duet partner. But due to sensitivities, I'd rather not get into at the moment, I have dissolved the partnership."

With a quick look over your shoulder at Sam, you saw just how down the boy looked. He must be really saddened about Kurt's decision.

'Finn got his wish, after all'

"Okay," the teacher spoke slowly, "So, who are you gonna sing a duet with?"

"Only the most talented member of the Glee Club, myself," the boy boasted, "When you're different, when you're special, sometimes you have to get used to being alone."

'Oh, that's depressing', you thought. Because you knew exactly what the boy was talking about.

"I've asked a few members of Glee Club, as well as some Cheerios, to help me out."

"How can you do a duet by yourself?" Santana asked, "That's like vocal masturbation or something."

"Now that's what I call autofellatio."

"I have a car like that," Brittany told you from Artie's lap.

"I will be doing a number from the seminal classic movie: 'Victor Victoria'. It's a show about embracing both the male and female sides."

"Awesome." You smiled.

"Thank you, Y/N." Kurt nodded your way. "Watch and learn, Sanatana."

You don't know why the boy had told Brad, the piano player, to 'hit it' when you were next asked to head to the auditorium for the performance. But you just chalked it up as the boy having a flair for theatrics.

You would have sat beside Quinn. But with what had happened back in the choir room, you thought it was best to leave her seated on her own.

So instead, you sat next to Sam, directly in the chair in front of Finn, looking forward to the performance Kurt was about to put on for the club.

When the boy's song came to a close, you cheered for him, "Yeah!" Joining in on the standing ovation, with the majority of your team.

"Yeah! Yeah, Kurt," Mercedes called in adoration.

---

Quinn was avoiding you.

You could feel it in your bones that something was up. You just didn't know what.

But if you had to guess, you assumed it would have something to do with what happened over the summer.

"Hey, Y/N-"

"I'm not helping you with your homework again, Finn," you told the boy, raising your hands by your head in exasperation. It had been hell for you to deal with the last time. You needed to give yourself a break before you helped him again.

"No, it's not that. I just want to say thank you for helping me. I think Mr 'P' was a bit suspicious, but I got a 'B' anyway."

"Yeah, it's no problem, Finn. Just don't ask me again unless you've got something to pay me with. Namely snacks."

You were seated beside him, with the other Berry on his other side, waiting for Mike and Tina to perform the duet.

Mike had told you how nervous he was about this, considering he couldn't sing and was very insecure about his voice.

However, you told him that the team would support his bravery in trying something different, with perhaps, the exception of your sister. But you had also warned her to be on her best behaviour when it came to this performance.

"Whenever you're ready, guys," Mr Schue said, tapping his palms upon his thighs impatiently, as the whole team had been waiting for a few minutes now.

"Yeah, hurry up," Santana called out to their turned backs, "I need to get myself to Breadstix."

"Don't count on it," Brittany said, removing her head from where it leaned against Artie's shoulder, "I'm still mad at you, but you're still so hot."

"Yeah, she is." You nodded with a smile, still facing Mike and Tina at the front of the room. Releasing a soft yell, when Mike spun around and began.

See, I really couldn't sing

I could never really sing

What I couldn't do is-

Sing

Your brows rose, and your eyes lit up when Tina came in to sing the last lyric of the verse. Showing just how this duet was going to go.

I have trouble with the-

Notes

Goes around my-

Throat

It's a terrifying-

Thing

See, I really couldn't hear

Which note was lower or was-

Higher

Which is why I disappear

When someone says let's start a-

Choir

And when I began to-

Squeak

It's a cross between a-

Shriek

And a quiver or a-

Moan

It's a little like a-

Croak

Or the record player-

Broke-

What it doesn't have is-

Tone

Oh, I know what you're thinking

What a crazy-

Ding-A-Ling

But I really couldn't-

Sing

I could never really-

Sing

What I couldn't do is-

Sing

But what I lack in pitch

I sure make up in-

Power

Your jaw dropped when Mike tipped over the chair he was standing on, landing on his feet as he continued dancing.

And all my friends say

I am perfect for the shower

Mike had covered Tina's mouth at that point.

Allowing him to showcase just how tone-deaf he was. Much to the amusement of you and the group.

But still, I'm terrific at a-

Dance

I'm messing up me-

Pants

I'm a birdie on the-

Wing

But if I begin to-

Chirp

They say who's the little

Twerp

Going pong instead of-

Ping

And when Christmas comes

And all my friends go

You joined your friends in singing this inclusive line of the song.

Carolling

And it's so dishearten-

-Ing

It is so disquiet-

-Ing

It is so discourage-

-Ing

Darling, please stop answer-

-Ing

See, I really couldn't-

Sing

I could never really-

Sing

What I couldn't do is-

Once again, you followed your team's lead in joining in on the rest of the song, with Rachel practically being your and Finn's -unwanted, in your case- conductor.

Do re mi fa so la ti do

Sing, sing, sing

Sing

Mike put his all into it as he belted out the lyric, his voice cracking as he did.

Sing

Everyone applauded for the two. Proud of Mike for having the courage to do that in front of the whole team.

"Wow. Now, that is a duet," Mr Schuester complimented, "Thank you, Tina, for introducing us to the amazing voice of Mice Chang!"

"Yeah, yeah, Mikey!" you hollered, pumping your fists into the air in support of your friend.

---

"Oh, God, sweaty dudes," you groaned distastefully. Leaning your head back, eyes connecting with the bland ceiling so as not to see any of the men in the room, "Why am I in here?"

"We need to talk to Sam," Finn told you.

"Why?"

The boy, however, had found Sam and strode right up to him, ignoring your question entirely.

"You tried to kiss her?"

"What?!" Your head snapped back down now, spotting Sam directly in front of you, "Who?"

Still, you went ignored.

"Major Glee party foul, due," Finn said, holding the punching bag for the blonde.

"Look, I know I shouldn't have," Sam tried to reason, "She was just sending me these vibes. And those eyes."

"You better not be talking about my sister here."

"Quinn," he clarified for you.

"What?"

'Oh, that's way worse'

"I mean, maybe it's for the best she backed out. I mean, if that Puckerman kid ever gets out of jail, he's gonna beat my ass," the blonde said, rounding on the weight bench, beginning to slide weights onto the bar, "I'm sure you still have feelings for her, too," he told Finn.

"Ah, no. No way." He placed his hands on his hips. "I'm with Rachel now. I mean, she's shorter than Quinn, and she talks a lot-" You slapped his chest. "-But I'm in love with her."

You nodded at the boy, a small smile on your face for what he said about your sister.

"And what about you?" Sam turned to ask you.

Confusion struck you. Face shifting into shock at his sudden question.

"What about me?"

"I mean, you dated Quinn, right?"

"Uh, dated?" you asked, a cold feeling rushing up your body. Panic. "Us two? Um..."

"Are we dating?"

It was a cold night when the question had been asked. Stars littering the sky.

The hot summer sun had long since set. The blonde had already missed her curfew by a couple of hours. You had pointed it out to her at the time she was meant to be home, but she hadn't cared. Just shook her head, strands of her hair splayed across the back seat of your car, and pulled you back down to her lips. Too enthralled in the long make-out session you were in the middle of.

You had asked your question as you were both sat up and straightening out your clothes.

There was no sex.

The closest you had gotten was your hand on her ass as she ground her hips into you.

But you didn't mind.

You were in no rush to have her like that. Happy to take whatever she was willing to give.

Quinn was fixing her hair at the time, only for her to stop and look at you.

"Dating?" she asked in a cautious tone.

"Well, yeah." You nodded. Too distracted by buttoning up your shirt to face her -or notice her tone- shrugging as you did, "I mean, we have been making out practically every night since summer started. I've taken you out on a few dates, we even went to that carnival, and I won you a bear. To me, that all adds up to dating to me. But I just wanted to be sure."

Finally, you turned to face her, only for yours to fall at her hardened expression.

"Quinn?" you asked cautiously, speaking slowly, as if she were a wild animal you would spook at a moment's notice, only for her to scarper away from you, "What's-?"

"Were not dating," she said suddenly, so assured of her words. Not showing you an inch that she could even consider you two an item.

Blinking, you shook your head softly, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere.

"What?"

"You heard me. We're not dating," Quinn repeated, only solidifying the cold sinking of your heart, "I don't think you understand, Y/N. I'm not like you. I can't just come out in the world and date whoever I want."

"Why can't you?"

"Because you don't know what it's like to be me," she snapped, "To always have to be perfect, to never make mistakes, even if I can't help it. You don't know how I was raised. I can't come out and tell everyone I'm bi and dating you. Think of what would happen. You know how Kurt is treated around here. People don't really say anything to you because they know you'll fight back, but what am I supposed to do?" She had tears in her eyes now, as she continued on her rant, "I may be cold and mean, but I can't handle that. I know I can't."

"I'll be there for you."

"I know you would, and that just makes it worse. I don't want you getting hurt, or suspended, or arrested because you fought over me."

"You know I would do that anyway, right? If something was against you, homophobic or not."

She nodded, wiping the wetness trailing under her eyes.

"I know that. And I can't stop that. But I'm sorry. I can't date you. I can't come out. I can't do this anymore."

Dread filled you as you asked, "What do you mean?"

"This." She gestured between the two of you, then around to the interior of your car. "We can't make out anymore. No more dates. No more secret fooling around. No more closeness. We can still be friends, but nothing more."

Nodding slowly, you tried to hide the heartbreak you were feeling. Voice hoarse and quiet when you uttered, "Let me drive you home."

It was in the one-suite bathroom attached to your room when you cried. Unable to look at your mirror reflecting the blonde's light coloured lipstick still smeared across your lips, jaw, and neck.

At two in the morning, you took a shower to get the make-up and the lingering feeling of the blonde off you. No matter how much you wanted to hold onto that feeling of her, you knew it would only lead to it torturing you, otherwise.

You knew that this was a long time coming.

But still, you asked yourself, 'why did I have to ask that stupid question?'

"No. No, we uh, we never dated. We're just friends."

"Oh." Sam nodded. "It's just, you two seemed close back in the choir room."

"We've always been playful." You shrugged. "Even before we got close. Although, that is if you consider her pressing her hand against my face to be 'playful'."

"Yeah, Quinn's totally straight." Finn smiled dopily before his energy shifted, and he raised his hands, getting back onto the original conversation with Sam. "Look, t-this isn't about dating, dude-"

"Uh, I'm gonna leave," you said, pointing over your shoulder with your thumb in the direction of the door. Eyes glued onto the guys filing into the shower rooms. You really didn't wanna see them naked.

So, before either one of the boys could reply, you were long gone. Sliding through the door, back into the hallway.

'Well, that was informative'

---

"Are you gonna talk to me now?"

You had cornered the girl in the parking lot after the school day had finished, it had only been a couple of days that the blonde had been cold and distant towards you once again, but you had quickly grown sick and tired of it.

Her back faced you, giving you the clear view of her shoulders rising and falling with her deep sigh before she spun on her heel to face you.

"I am." She nodded, and with the almost timid and guilty look shining behind her eyes, you could tell that this conversation was not one that you would have looked forward to. "I actually have to talk to you."

"You do?"

"Yes." Another nod. "I have to pull out of our duet partnership."

Now that surprised you.

"What? Why?"

"I... kinda found a new duet partner."

"Uh, first of all, insulting. Secondly, who?"

"Sam."

'What the fuck?!

"Woah, wait. How come you're suddenly wanting to sing with him now? Is this about you not wanting people to know something about you?"

Quinn looked around hastily, checking to see if there were anyone around that could have possibly heard you while storming closer to you in hopes that you would get the point and lower your voice.

"You know that I can't take that chance, Y/N."

"So then why did you agree in the first place? It's a song Quinn, not a pride parade. I mean, Santana and Mercedes sang a duet together, and no one's saying shit about them being gay together."

"That's because they're both straight."

"So, what you're saying that just because I'm gay, people will think that you're gay too if we sing a song together- Yeah, that does seem like something that would happen in this school," you reasoned to yourself.

"Exactly. And not just the school, Y/N. Kids talk. It will get around the town and then back to my parent's ears."

Your jaw ticked. "It's just a song. I understand, but I don't like it. You and I know that this is still bullshit reasoning. I mean, JBI goes around every week posting in his blog about which member of the Glee Club is gay. You've been on it three times. Do you remember when he posted that Finn and Puck were in some torrid love affair? You really think a harmless song would be any different to that."

"But those are rumours. I can't take any chances, Y/N."

You were left to watch her stride away to her red Volkswagon Beetle, anger silently coursing through you.

She was fine with you a few days ago.

She was friendly with you a few days ago.

What in the hell changed?

---

You couldn't sleep that night.

There were too many thoughts swirling around in your head for your brain to be able to shut off.

Too many thoughts about Quinn and her sudden change towards you.

So, with only a few hours of disturbed shut-eye, you arose for the new school day. And the next Glee Club performance.

Which just so happened to be your sister and best friend's.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" you asked as the two walked through the door, "I thought the religion stuff was last week."

Come give me

Your sweetness

Now there's you

There is no weakness

'What?'

Lying safe within your arms

I'm born again

Woman, don't you know

With you, I'm born again

I was half, not whole

I step with none

Reaching through this world

In need of one

"This isn't happening," Mercedes spoke.

Come show me your kindness

In your arms, I know I'll find this

Woman, don't you know with you

I'm born again

Lying safe with you

I'm born

Again

Mike began clapping for the two, albeit confusedly, before being stopped by Tina.

However, in Mike's defence, he wasn't the only one confused.

You were looking at the couple with a bewildered expression upon your face. Stunned into silence, just processing what you had just witnessed.

"Okay. Do I even need to say it?"

"That was really rude," Sam said, coming off of Mercedes' point with a nervous smile.

"But, like, really rude," Tina emphasised.

"I seriously wanted to punch both of you," Quinn spoke next, glaring at the two.

"I..." you started, "I'm... I'm just really confused. Like, I get it was bad. I just don't know how. Like-" You turned to the club sitting behind you "-It was because that song was about sex and nuns aren't allowed to have sex, right?"

"What do you mean by 'nuns'?" Quinn asked.

"Well, that's a nun outfit, right? Just without the hat thing."

"Y/N, that's a Catholic schoolgirl outfit," the blonde continued to point out to you slowly.

You smiled, everything making sense, but just not realizing what that truly meant.

"That's a Catholic-" It dawned on you. Eyes widening as you looked back to Finn and Rachel, pointing at them. "Schoolgirl outfit-! Oh! Oh, that all make's so much sense-! Oh-!" Your fingertips came up to massage into your temples. "Too! Many! Catholic! Jokes!" Turning back to Quinn, you said, "You have my full permission to punch them both. But also-" Back to your sister and her boyfriend. "Imma need you guys to do that again so that I can see it in a fresh light."

"Absolutely not." Mercedes shook her head.

"I have to agree," Mr Schue said, rising to his feet, "It's a great duet, but what you guys did with it was really inappropriate. Your costume choice was a little insensitive."

"A little?"

"Frankly, I'm disappointed."

"What?" your sister asked.

"Are you serious? I'm-" Finn stumbled with his words.

"Shocked."

"We- We're shocked." Rachel stuttered as she continued her sentence, "I hope this doesn't cost us the competition."

With that, your eyes squinted in suspicion. They were definitely up to something. With everything that they had done and with Rachel saying that, instead of having a hissy fit and tried explaining the performance away in some shitty artistic approach. It was almost like they were actively trying to throw the competition.

"Yeah."

"Let's sit down." Rachel grabbed her boyfriend's hand and tugged him to the two empty seats beside you.

Instantly, you nudged the chair you were seated in away from the two. But finding that that still wasn't good enough, you manoeuvred from your seat and into the one next to Santana.

"Well, getting back on track, who's next? All right," Mr Schue said when Sam and Quinn stood and made their way to the front of the class.

"I thought you two were singing together?" Santana pointed out in a question.

"Yeah, up until yesterday, I thought so, too," you replied. Folding your arms across your chest, preparing yourself for the duet. Catching, from the corner of your eye, how Finn and Rachel didn't seem surprised, in the slightest, by the change in duet partners. Only causing your suspicion of the two to grow further.

"Okay, I just-" Sam started, interrupting himself as he slid the strap of his guitar over his head, "I wanna say I'm really excited and that I couldn't have asked for a better partner."

'Gross'

For the second time in the past few minutes, your eyes squinted, but for two entirely different reasons.

This time it was at Quinn reaching around the boy with one hand on his shoulder, the other coming to play a chord on the neck of his guitar as he strummed the song.

Last you checked, she couldn't play the guitar. So, this was a new development. One that filled you with sad jealousy when you realized that Sam must have taught her.

Do you hear me?

I'm talking to you

Across the water

Across the deep blue ocean

Under the open sky

Oh, my, baby, I'm trying

Boy, I hear you in my dreams

I feel your whisper across the sea

I keep you with me in my heart

You make it easier when life gets hard

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home again

You tried to hide the sneer that so wanted to pull at your face, especially when Quinn's eyes connected with yours as she performed the song.

They don't know how long it takes

Waiting for love like this

'They probably haven't tried being gay'

Every time

We say goodbye

I wish we had one more kiss

I'll wait for you

I promise you

I will

I'm lucky I'm in love

With my best friend

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home someday

Santana scoffed beside you as the two vocalized while swaying side by side and holding hands. "That's so freaking charming."

"You're telling me," you grumbled.

The club applauded them. Finn threw Sam a thumb up once the performance was over, and they dropped each other's hands.

Mr Schuester had sent everyone away, telling them that Artie and Brittany's duet would be commencing the next day. Which gave you the chance to jog after Santana.

"I don't have a pen on me, but do you wanna meet up tonight?"

She looked you up and down for a moment.

"Sure. Pick me up at the usual time. But let's not go to that one road, we almost got caught by that creepy farmer the last time." You hummed in agreement, remembering it clearly. "Now, excuse me. I've got to go talk to wheels."

"Why are you terrorizing Artie?"

However, what you didn't notice was the blonde head cheerleader, watching your interaction carefully.

---

"Okay! Since Artie and Brittany have dropped out of the race, I guess it's time to take it to a vote."

You started at the piece of paper you were given, considering just who you would vote for.

Your sister and her boyfriend? Never in a million years. Even if you thought it would be funny.

Mike and Tina? You were proud of how your friend put himself out there like that.

There was always Mercedes and Santana. You loved every second of their performance.

And lastly.

Quinn and Sam.

She had ditched you to sing a song with him instead, and even though you understood her, quite frankly, stupid reasoning. It still hurt you.

Not to mention that the boy had tried to kiss her. But that wasn't his fault. He didn't know how you felt or what went on between you over the summer.

And so, with a sigh, you wrote down your vote.

'Sam and Quinn'

For one soul reason.

Even if she had hurt you and broken your heart in the past, you still wanted to her be happy.

"Well!" your teacher exclaimed after counting all of the votes, spinning on the stool to face the class, "Even though it looks like just about everyone voted for themselves, even those who didn't compete." He looked Arite's way. Making you let out a humoured huff of breath out of your nose. "We do have a winner." Showing off the obviously printed Breadstix gift card, he announced, "And the winner is... with three votes... Sam and Quinn!"

"What?! What?!"

Your eyes widened at Santana's outcry.

'Oh, this was not gonna be good'

"Screw that!" the Latina yelled, jumping to her feet, ready to fight, "I want my 'Stix!"

Mercedes hastily grabbed her arm before she could get anywhere near the two, tugging her back to her seat as you cackled, "Let it go. Let it go."

"Unbelievable," Rachel said, in what you knew as her over-acting.

"It was mine," Santana practically whimpered.

"I don't know how this happened."

Mercedes comforted the sad girl by her side, as she covered her crying eyes.

"Unbelievable."

"Calm down," you told Santana, rubbing her arm, "I'll buy you both Breadstix."

"With ice cream for dessert?" she asked.

You nodded. "With ice cream for dessert."

---

Forget your troubles

Happy days

Come on, get happy

Are here again

Everyone could tell there was something off about you.

Yesterday you were fine, and today you looked sullen and miserable. Making them all wonder, what could have happened to you in a single night to get you like this?

You better chase

The sky

All your cares away

Above are clear again

You were sat in the back of the class, in your own little corner away from everyone, with your arms folded across your chest.

Finn looked guilty in his seat, glancing at you every few seconds. But you never once gave him the courtesy of looking back at him. Instead, keeping your eyes focused on the singing duo, with your jaw clenched.

Shout "hallelujah"

So, let's sing a song

Come on, get happy

Of cheer again

You were walking past your sister's room, texting Mike, after taking the girls out for dinner at Breadstix. When you heard her and Finn speaking through the mandatory crack in the door when he was over.

It's not like you were trying to eves-drop on them. You were just heading to your own room.

But something they said got you to stop in your tracks.

"We did it, babe," that was Finn's voice.

"I know. It was so hard to throw the competition like that. And with the added difficulty of Y/N and Quinn originally going to sing the duet. I'm proud of us."

"Me too."

Get ready for the 'Judgement Day'

Happy days are here again

The sun is shining

Come on get happy

Shout it now

The lord is waiting

There's no one

"Do you think Y/N would ever forgive us if they found out?"

Rachel scoffed. "Are you kidding? They're probably happy that they didn't need to compete."

"Yeah, but with the way everything happened?"

"We had to keep Sam around, Finn."

"I know, but-" He was silent for a few seconds. "Going behind their back to stop Quinn singing with them. Then convincing Sam and Quinn to sing together, too."

"Y/N never needs to find out. It can just be-" her voice went chipper, "-A happy little coincidence."

"Yeah," with the boy's tone, you could tell he had that dopey smile he does, plastered across his face.

To take your hand

Who can doubt it now

Shout "hallelujah"

So, let's tell the world

And just get happy

About it now

We're going

Happy days

To the promised land

And her again

Slowly, the door to Rachel Berry's bedroom was pushed open. Revealing you to the two teens.

They straightened up from their lounged position on the bed, eyes wide and fearful at your presence. Waiting on bated breath for your blank face to contort and snap in anger.

"Y/N-"

"How much did you hear?" your sister asked.

"Every. Single. Thing."

We're heading cross the river

Soon your cares will all be gone

There'll be no more

From now on

Forget your troubles

Happy days

And just get happy

Are here again

You better chase

The skies

All your blues away

Above are clear again

Shout "hallelujah"

So, let's sing a song

And just get happy

Of cheer again

Happy times

Happy nights

"Y/N-" You ignored your sister's bullshit excuses, turning to Finn instead.

"Get out of my house."

"But-" You interrupted her again.

"Don't talk to me. If I could, I would kick you out, too."

And with that, you left, slamming the door to your bedroom.

Happy days

Are

Here

Again

-----

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#quinn fabray x reader #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray #original work #original fanfiction

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kitmoas · 3 years

Text

Wonderstruck, Blushing

Summary: You're part of the new recruits for the Avengers, but your mind is a bit preoccupied.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff? ig lol

Word Count: 2359

Warnings: None really. Just you being a simp for Wanda

*Let me know if I should have put real warnings lol*

A/N: Inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift. This is the moment where you meet Wanda and your best friends Peter, Kate, and Yelena. Welcome to the Avengers kid.

Part 1 of the Devil AU

It isn't smut but I would still prefer **Minors DNI** **18+**

The party was loud and overwhelming, but you knew the reputation of the Starks. Nothing was ever done small or subtly. You were being escorted by Captain Rogers, and that seemed to be making things even worse. The man was a legend, and you were so honored that he wanted you as his mentee but you weren’t one for the spotlight. All you wanted to do was correct the wrongs that happened in the past.

You were trailing slowly behind Captain Rogers, as he stopped to talk to every single person who said his name. He finally dropped you off in a secluded corner, stating that you were supposed to stay there with the other mentees until the rest of the Avengers showed up. You found yourself curled up in an uncomfortable chair across from a tense blonde clutching a knife. Avoiding eye contact after you tried to smile at her, it didn’t go well, you stare at the ground. It wasn’t long until a girl about your age was literally thrown from the ceiling onto a couch near you.

Both you and your silent new friend glance at her warily, “Hi yea I- um- yea just came from the vents. Supposed to be the best way to get around this place.” She’s awkward but bright, bubbly. You send her a tight smile but no one says anything else. Muffled applause and cheering was heard and a boy was pushed into the corner, stumbling some.

He caught himself, blushing when he saw the three girls. “Wait, Mr. Stark! Th-there’s girls!” His statement fell on deaf ears as the infamous Tony Stark walked away. The boy looked around realizing there was only one spot left, next to the ceiling girl on the couch. The bright red blush was evident as he stuttered through asking if he could sit next to her. The bubbly smile returns to ceiling girl’s face and she nods, sharing a smile with you once the boy sits down.

The four of you sat there, in silence, for over an hour. You were getting fidgety and you could tell the others were too. The boy’s leg was bouncing like crazy and he was sweating some as he determinedly stared at the ground. The ceiling girl was shaking some in her seat, and twirling her hair as she looked around hopefully. Tense blondie on the chair was…well just as tense and spinning her knife in her fingers.

You felt yourself starting to say something, anything to break the silence. Before you can though Captain Rogers walks back into the corner, a wide smile on his face. “Alright recruits, it’s your time to shine. Come with me so we can introduce you guys!” He’s clapping his hands as he urges all four of you up. His left hand lands on your shoulder, guiding you as he walks. The other three trail behind you, eyes shifting to everyone as you pass them. There’s a small stage where all six of the original Avengers stand, and your palms begin sweating. Would they see through you? Would they immediately want to throw you out and blame the Captain for bringing in broken recruits?

Standing in front of hundreds of high level S.H.I.E.L.D agents, you never felt so small. You hear the rest of the mentors begin speaking about their mentees, panic setting in realizing that Captain Rogers would be talking about you.

Natasha Romanoff introduces the tense blondie as her sister, Yelena; another widow who was considered the best of the best. A small smile is on the blonde’s lips, watching her sister.

Clint Barton speaks quickly but proudly of the ceiling girl, Kate who will be taking over the name Hawkeye. He calls her the world’s best archer, and you can see the tears in her eyes as he talks.

Tony Stark flaunts the young boy, calling him Earth’s best hero. Peter who has the abilities of a spider. The boy is bright red but is staring at Stark as though he was the only thing in the room.

You gulp as Captain Rogers starts talking about you. “Y/N the decedent of a god with the divine control over shadows, darkness, and fear”. He calls you the most powerful being and best heart to lead the next generation of Avengers.

The four mentors stand behind you as they officially name the young teenagers the future of the Avengers. The party goes back to the loud and bright atmosphere as everyone starts talking again. People started rushing the stage, excited to meet the new prodigies.

It took over an hour but you’re finally let go from the crowd, and you stumble away. The smile on your face is fake as you nod politely at the people saying hello as you pass. Eyes scan the room for someone you knew, and finally land on Captain Rogers. You slide up next to him, eyes cast down; you want to ask him if you can leave now. “Ah, Y/N, just who I was looking for. I want you to meet someone.” He says goodbye to the lower agent he’s speaking to, promising to give him an autograph later. An arm wraps around your shoulder as he spins you, and points to the person he intends to introduce you to.

His voice drowns out as you finally lift your head to see who he was pointing at. There stood the most gorgeous being you ever saw. You meet gazes and her eyes brighten, you feel safe as you look at each other. She looks like she’s flying across the floor and you’re enchanted. Captain is still talking by the time that she finally stands in front of you, the only thing that your mind registers is her name; Wanda.

Her smile stops your breath and her voice makes your heart stutter, and you know you’re staring but you can’t stop. “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You don’t know it now but those are the words, the name, that would ruin you for everyone else. Conversation between you and Wanda is easy, you’re laughing and you’re surprised how witty she is. She had ushered you towards a couch along a wall, asking you if you wanted a drink. “Just a soda please. Thank you.” Her eyes light up at the manners and she quickly excuses herself to retrieve your beverages.

Returning with a sprite and what looks to be a martini, she sits down next to you. A smile tugging at her lips, “So Y/N I realized something. I don’t even know how old you are. I assume not twenty-one since you ordered a soda.” Her eyes are sparkling dangerously, and a blush is rising up your neck.

“No, I'm eighteen. Gonna do college part time too.” Her head tilts and she’s staring into your eyes.

“You wanna get out of here? Go somewhere more fun?” She has that dangerous look in her eyes still and you don’t even realize you’re nodding quickly. Wanda’s laugh strikes your bones and she urges you to follow her. She’s running with you just steps behind. Laughter echoes through the empty hallways of the compound. She finally stops in the garage and picks a random car, opening the door for you.

You barely have time to click your seatbelt into place when she slams on the gas, tires smoking as she exits the garage. You’re watching her as she drives, going way over the speed limit. “Where are we even going? Captain Rogers wanted the new recruits at the compound at the end of the party, something about guest rooms.” You have to shout some to be heard over the loud music.

“To the moon” Her answer is simple and you can’t help but feel light and happy.

The two of you end up in an abandoned parking lot, laying on the hood of the car. You’re laying in silence, comfortable and welcome. She’s the one who breaks it though, she always will. “You’re scared.” Confusion is evident, prompting her to continue. “You’re scared that the rest of the Avengers will not like you. You’re scared you’re too broken and too evil to help?” You want to ask how she knows, but your answer comes quickly when she plays with some of her own magic; red dancing with her fingers. “Your thoughts are loud.”

Unsure what to say, you just nod slowly and stare at the moon. The two of you lay there for a while, and you feel at home. The darkness of night was always where you felt the most comfort. The only time nothing ever judged you, where you never felt scared. You don’t even realize it but you begin bringing shadows towards you, swirling above. Blocking out parts of the moon and the streetlights above you, the shadows begin forming pictures. Nothing important, just fun images of random things you can think of. You’re just playing around, as you do most nights, when red mist surrounds the shadows. The two mix beautifully before dying out quickly.

A soft sigh leaves both of your lips, “Sorry.” You aren’t sure why you are apologizing but you feel like you should. Her magic felt different causing the shadows to get confused. You didn’t fully understand your powers, though you were very good at using them. It’s’s why you were so excited about Captain Rogers.

“Do not be sorry. Your powers are beautiful. It took me a long time to understand that my magic wasn’t bad.” She’s swirling a single red orb through the air. “It took me a long time to understand how to use my magic in a way that wasn’t overpowering, and wasn't forceful.” The orb is calling out to you and you can’t help but touch it; surrounding it in the darkness that you call home. Her eyebrows raise in surprise as she watches it settle in the blackhole you created, floating at its own will. The red in her eyes clears, and to her surprise the red orb still exists floating casually in the blackhole. A bright smile is sent your way and your heart flutters. “You’re amazing Y/N!”

A blush spreads across your body and you divert your eyes bashfully. She just chuckles lightly and the two of you settle back on the car, watching the floating red orb. The magic within your black hole is strong, but it grounds you. It’s warm and you can’t help but hope you get to feel it again.

You aren’t sure how long you guys lay on the car, casual conversation interrupted the quiet of the night every once in a while. The watch on your wrist beeps indicating that it was getting late, you sit up realizing that you had to get back to the compound immediately. She sighs sadly and slides off the car, opening your door for you again. “Don’t worry, Detka, I’ll get you back in time.”

The speed and danger should have terrified you as Wanda drives you back to the compound, but you can still feel her magic in the air and you’re hooked. Her laugh is devilish as the car drifts around a corner, but her singing drowns out any bad thoughts.

You’re wonderstruck by the woman next to you. You’re staring again, but the smile on her lips says she doesn’t care. A blush rises up your neck when you feel a pressure on your thigh, looking down you see red mist settling there. Red fills the car in every way as you drive home.

The two of you separate in the garage, wordlessly. She gives you a smile as you turn to look at her once more before leaving. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her. She’s leaning against the car now, legs crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. Her hand waves you off, reminding you that you’re late.

You jump slightly as you sprint through the hallway, her voice echoing through your head “See you soon, detka”. A smile and blush is evident on your face as you skid to a stop in the common room that Captain Rogers is standing in; the rest of the Avengers and new recruits scattered throughout as well. You apologize quickly, and stand next to Cap.

He begins a lecture and explanation of your first week here, something about sharing a room until the wing that all the new recruits would be staying in permanently is finished. You follow him brainlessly as he shows the recruits to the temporary room. It’s as large as a small gym with four loft beds, desks, and random technology all over.

The original Avengers finally leave the four of you to the room with a reminder to be good. It’s only awkward for a minute before Kate bursts out laughing. The four of you settle in a comfortable silence as you pick out which bed and desk you all wanted. Peter is hanging upside down on his, a web already covering the loft. Kate is setting out each one of her arrows on the desk. Yelena is hiding things along her bed.

Your brain is somewhere else but you have to ask, “How the hell do you produce webs?” The question makes everyone laugh, even the tense blonde.

Peter starts explaining how he makes his webs and Yelena starts showing him how he could hide his web shooters better. Kate wants to design them to be cooler looking, and you want to make his suit darker.

You’re all laughing and it feels like a kid’s sleepover as the four of you settle into your beds. It quiets down naturally, and you feel safe when Yelena shuts the light off. You start to fall asleep listening to Kate’s sleep talking, Peter’s soft snores, and Yelena’s tossing. The last thing running through your mind is Wanda though. Her voice. Her laugh. Her magic. Your heart flutters and your mind races, and all you can do is pray that she isn't in love with someone else.

Other parts of AU: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part ?

Drabbles: One, Two

#kitmoas writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel wlw #marvel fanfiction #marvel #yelena belova #peter parker #kate bishop #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x you

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand.

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected.

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby.

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute.

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’.

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind.

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency.

Hizashi was not, and so here they are.

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness.

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you.

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd.

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks.

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them.

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent.

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :(

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him.

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself.

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm?

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy.

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it.

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off.

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him.

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would.

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either.

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.”

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.”

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause.

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face.

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight.

It bothers him.

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no.

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant.

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?”

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly.

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump.

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless.

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach.

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run – and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick.

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace.

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least.

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true.

It’s just not the entire reason.

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length.

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong.

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them.

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with.

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side.

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust.

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch.

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more.

He wants all of you.

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them.

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder.

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own.

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too?

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them.

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open.

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you.

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy.

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue.

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants.

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss.

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

#yandere bnha #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #shouta aizawa x hizashi yamada x reader #tw non con #tw pregnancy #tw breeding kink #tw age gap #oh my god it's like 5am why do i keep doing this to myself

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demonsandmischief · 3 years

Text

Doubts

A Chris Evans Imagine

Chris Evans x Female Reader, 1.1K Words

Angst Alert

-Doubts-

A female actress mentions having a relationship with your boyfriend, Chris Evans, and doubts begin to form.

----

"I'm here with Lindsey Jordan and Chris Evans who are the lead roles of this upcoming movie," the talk show host says into the camera.

You couldn't help the small smile that automatically formed on your face as you caught a glimpse of your handsome boyfriend. He had been so busy lately, so you took any chance you got to see him, even if it was through a TV.

Lindsey Jordan was a beautiful brown haired, blue eyed actress who could honestly be a super model. Chris had briefly mentioned that she was pretty nice to work with.

You continued washing your dishes, not fully giving the interview your attention.

"Now Lindsey, what was it like working alongside Chris?"

"It was amazing. Chris is such a sweet guy, and I think we really formed a connection," she had a perfect smile plastered on her perfect face.

"You know, I think a good friendship is what makes the on-screen relationship so realistic," Chris said, easing the doubt that was winding in your gut.

Lindsey gave a beautiful laugh, placing a manicured hand on Chris's shoulder. "He's downplaying. But yeah, we really hit it off."

The interviewer smiled, "I have some pictures here. I have to say you guys are the cutest couple."

The plate you were holding dropped into the sink with a loud clatter.

Pictures appeared behind them on the stage. It was Lindsey and Chris kissing on set. It looked more for the movie.

Another was one that looked like a paparazzi photo of them walking hand in hand in LA.

Your heart plummeted to your feet.

"That's all the time we have. Catch their movie in theaters-" you shut it off.

You knew your relationship was too good to be true. How long had this been going on for?

The talk show was filmed in New York City, and Chris should already be on his way back home to Boston. He would probably want to see you. What were you going to do? What were you going to say?

Even if he weren't in a relationship with Lindsey, you were holding him back. You were just a nobody.

You brushed away the first set of tears and swallowed the sob that threatened to break free.

Your phone buzzed with a text message, waking the screen so the lock screen photo of you and Chris being all cuddly was visible.

You loved him with all your heart. He was such a sweet, down to earth guy, and you trusted him.

There was something different about this though. It was putting your worst fear into light. Did Chris even think about how you would feel when you saw it? He knew you liked to watch his interviews. He could have given you a heads up.

He always texted or called you when he was traveling. The radio silence only added to the fear that was digging its claws into your chest.

You decided finally after some more years that you just wanted to be left alone. You silenced your phone and made your way to your bedroom.

The sounds of the TV playing old reruns of your favorite show comforted your fragmented mind. You wished you could just turn your thoughts off and sleep the rest of the day.

You were startled from your light dozing to knocking on your front door.

You groaned, tempted to ignore it, but decided to get up. You had been ignoring your phone after all. What if it was an emergency? Except, you knew full well who it was.

Chris Evans stood on your doorstep, looking casual and handsome as usual. His blonde hair was ruffled and his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses that he pulled off.

"There's my girl," he smiled a sweet smile that melted and broke your heart. "I tried to call but you didn't answer." He reached for you but you took a step back.

"What's the matter? Are you sick?" His smile dropped to concern as he took you in. "Have you been crying?"

He reached for you again and this time you let him as the sobs you had been holding in finally released into one big breakdown.

His warm arms pulled you to his chest as he rubbed your back. "What happened, baby?" he whisper, shushing and rocking you gently. "Shh, it's gonna be okay."

The sobs lessened to hiccups and Chris wiped away the tears with the pads of his thumb. "I've never seen you cry like this, Y/N. Please tell me what's going on."

"I saw that interview with Lindsey," you tried to pull away from his embrace but he held on.

"Then you saw how I was trying to deflect her advances, right?"

"But the pictures," you protested. "You were holding her hand." It sounded stupid and insecure, even to your own ears. You wanted to curl up under the blankets and hide away.

"Come on now, she saw the paparazzi and grabbed my hand. It was a publicity stunt, that's all. That's why I can't stand LA."

You pulled away again and this time he let you. "I thought you said she was nice?" you mumbled, wiping the tears with your palm and you gave a sniffle.

"Doesn't mean she didn't have other motives," he shrugged. He moved towards your couch and you trailed behind him.

"I missed you so damn much. Come here," he demanded, giving a yawn as he stretched out.

You moved closer and he didn't hesitate to tug you to his chest.

"I wouldn't be mad if you wanted to be with her though," you whispered, not able to meet his eyes.

Chris sighed, "Nobody even compares to you. You're my everything."

He played with your hair as he continued to speak, "Don't doubt my feelings for you, baby. You know I wouldn't cheat."

"I know that, but you're on, like, the top ten hottest men list. It makes me doubt."

He chuckled, kissing your cheek with an affectionate nuzzle.

"You don't need to worry. All you have to do is talk to me, you know that? I love you."

"I love you," you said back as he brushed his lips with yours.

You settled on his chest, your eyes drooping as your body lagged from the stress of the day. Why were you even worried in the first place?

"You shouldn't ignore your boyfriend. It isn't very nice," he pouted after a moment.

"I'm sorry," you craned your neck to kiss his jaw.

"Why are you looking at the top ten hottest men?"

You giggled slightly, meeting his loving and shining blue eyes. "Who's having doubts now?"

----

Masterlist

Tags: @nyx2021 (general) @bklynxbaby (marvel) @missroro (marvel actors)

A/N: Remember engagement is my encouragement to keep writing! Please give a like or reblog or tell me what you think. I'd love to hear from you. :)

#chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #steve rogers #angst #chris evans fanfiction

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 || dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right?

word count: 10.3k (yes, OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS OF FILTH what is wrong with me)

warnings: noncon smut (incl. anal, oral m and f receiving, dp, and spitroasting), bondage/restraint (and a gag), some mild violence, lots of slapping, pussy spanking, forced orgasms, degradation/derogatory language, kinda kidnapping, a touch of stockholm syndrome?, very brief breeding kink, period-typical sexism (this is set in the late 60s but you wouldn't really be able to tell aside from that and the lack of technology)

a/n: the song that plays on the radio, and the song that just so happens to be the title of the fic, is by john lee hooker in case anyone wants the proverbial vibes

You needed a chance to clear your head every once in a while, that's what camping in the woods was for. It was the perfect time of year for it, too; the leaves were changing, the woodland animals were beginning to prepare for hibernation, and the weather was almost warm with a refreshing breeze that promised to bring the winter chill soon enough.

It was far from your first time in these woods, you knew the drive like the back of your hand by now, just as well as you knew how to hike down to the best places to set up camp.

You set down your pack and took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. No sounds except for the wind in the trees, the trickle of the creek, and your own thoughts which you found pleasantly blank. You'd chosen a spot by the creek, where you could spearfish on evenings that you felt especially adventurous, with a nice dirt patch perfect for a fire. The most dangerous thing about camping in the fall was that the dry leaves could catch flame so easily, so one of the key stages of setting up camp was raking away any foliage from your firepit, lest it become unintentional kindling.

The next order of business was finding a few dozen smooth stones to surround the fire, along with some logs and sticks to burn.

A knife and flint was just enough to speed up your firebuilding so that you had something solid going by nightfall, shedding your jacket to better feel the warmth as the flames grew and the sun set.

Sure, the woods could feel a little… creepy, at night, for lack of a better word, but it was more tranquil than anything. Most of the wildlife that was so active during the day stilled and silenced, bar the occasional owl’s hoot, so the loudest sounds were the crackling of your fire and the ever-present trickle of the creek. You heated your kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, something to help you get to sleep on the admittedly uncomfortable sleeping bag in your canvas tent.

The mug warmed your fingers as you filled and held it, and the steam warmed your face as you took a sip; but the contents warmed your chest, and your soul, as you contemplated the flavors; is it possible that tea tastes better when enjoyed in the quiet woods, mid-autumn?

You were already yawning by the time the mug was finished, so you set it aside and crawled into your tent, shedding the excessive layers and slipping between the fluffy down-stuffed layers of your bedroll. It was chilly at first but you knew your body heat would make it toasty all too soon, so you ignored the way you shivered as you fluffed your pillow and laid it under your head.

It was dark with only the fading light of your fire seeping in through the thick-weave canvas; and it was quiet, being the middle of the forest and all. One sound you didn’t expect were distant sirens, barely audible, which made you wonder if something had happened, but you couldn't know what so you didn't pay it much mind as you drifted to sleep.

The next morning came early, of course; as early as the sun rose, warm sunlight flooding through the canvas of your tent.

You enjoyed staying in the bed for a while, not so much because it was very comfortable (it wasn’t) but just because you wanted to relish having no need to get up yet. No job, no cleaning, no chores… though you were pretty hungry so that inspired you to get up and see about breakfast.

Slipping on a few more layers to protect yourself from the morning breeze, you opened your tent and stepped out into the woods, finding your fire had been reduced to a pile of embers meaning that you would need to find more wood to get it going for breakfast-cooking purposes. And that’s what you were about to do when you heard a snapping of twigs echo through the woods, making you glance up to the source of the noise.

Your back straightened instantly at the sight of two men, one with short blonde hair and the other’s dark and nearly to his shoulders, walking down the hill nearby just across the creek. They were still pretty distant, and yet they were much too close for comfort; close enough to see that these were not men one would want to encounter while alone in the woods.

They had new clothes— baggy and loose, almost certainly stolen— but it wasn’t enough to hide where they must��ve come from. They might as well have still been in jumpsuits with numbers on their chests.

The prison, just over five miles away. Had they really hiked this far? You kicked yourself now for ignoring the sirens last night.

You froze as they turned and caught your gaze, the three of you locked in a stare for a brief moment before one of them took a step forward: that was all the cause you needed to run like hell, turning on your heel and starting so fast you nearly slipped on the leaves beneath you. You heard them call out, chasing after you, but you focused on staring ahead and trying to remember the path back home, or at least to the road where someone might drive by to help you.

A root nearly caught your foot but you kept running, hating that you could hear them gaining on you since it didn’t actually seem to help you run any faster. You looked back and saw them much too close for comfort, but when you looked back ahead it was too late to avoid the tree right in front of you; you swerved but it still made you slip and almost fall.

But you didn’t fall. Someone caught you, and grabbed you, and pulled you into his oppressive form.

His arms held you painfully tight as his hand covered your mouth. "Gotcha," the man growled against your ear, licking the shell of it as you struggled against his grip.

Everything everyone had told you about why a lady shouldn’t camp alone in the woods suddenly flashed in your mind, your eyes squinting shut as you wished you had listened. All you could do now was kick wildly, swinging your legs in the air which didn't even do anything.

"Pretty little thing, aren't ya?” he purred as you saw the second man come into view— the blonde one, so you knew it was the one with long, dark hair that must’ve been holding you, giving you such a twisted compliment. “Just beggin' to be fucked right."

"Don't look so scared, sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you…” the blonde man explained, “just play nice and we will too."

"Speak for yourself, Rogers," the man holding you snarled. "Been a long time since I got to feel a pussy, I wanna tear this little bitch up."

You sobbed and writhed as the one apparently called Rogers hushed you soothingly, trying to calm you. "Hey, just do what we say and it won't hurt alright? Just take it easy."

He stepped closer, reaching out towards you while you grunted and whined with every kick, smiling in a way that would’ve been soothing in nearly any other situation. He motioned to his partner who slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, and though your instinct was to scream you just heard yourself panting and whimpering instead.

“Did you hear me? We’re not gonna hurt you. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet… I’m Steve, and this here is my cellmate— uh, friend— Barnes.”

“But you can call me Bucky, dollface,” the man behind you added with a little smile that you could hear and feel with him pressing up so close to your face.

“See, he and I just came from an awful, terrible place—”

“I know where you came from,” you cut him off with a snarl. “You’re criminals! You’re scum!”

Bucky just laughed and held you tighter until your arms started to ache from struggling against him.

“Hey now, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve corrected firmly— not angry, but stern. “I was framed, I served seven years for something I didn’t do. You’re innocent, too, right Barnes?”

“No,” he instantly answered, making Steve look disappointed. “Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, I was framed. Real sob story,” he suddenly decided, not sounding like he was trying that hard to convince you.

“Point is, we were all alone for a long, long time, and we thought maybe you’d wanna be nice and take care of us, huh?” Steve offered.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Bucky whispered playfully.

“Let me go,” you demanded as Steve’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, anger finally coming out when he suddenly grabbed your chin and held your face to look up at him.

“Let me make one thing very fucking clear,” he explained, nearly whispering so you were forced to stay still and quiet to hear him. “You don’t get to pick what you want. But you get to pick if you’re gonna make this easy, or difficult.”

You spat in his face; he slapped you for that, so hard that your ears rang for a moment while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Difficult it is,” he announced with ill-restrained loathing, coming even closer as Bucky covered your mouth again to muffle your screams of protest. “Buck, I’m goin’ first.”

“Fuck you, pal, I was in longer and I saw her first,” Bucky replied frustratedly. “I’m not gonna take long anyway, you can go after me.”

“I just got spit in my face!” Steve reminded him. “And the breakout was my idea!”

“Your idea?!” Bucky repeated incredulously. “What, you think you’re the first guy to think ‘hey, what if we just left prison?’ because trust me, if it wasn’t for my screwdriver—”

Their argument caused Bucky’s focus to slip, that must have been why the hand on your mouth loosened and you could speak again.

"You won't get away with this, my father's a sheriff!" you yelped, interrupting their negotiation.

They both laughed darkly and you instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, sweetheart, your old man's a cop? That's too bad,” Steve sighed. “You know what they say: sins of the father…"

"Fuck the daughter,” Bucky finished with a cold, hollow laugh as he suddenly bit down on your ear making you wince and shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks already.

He tossed you down and pinned you to the ground, his strong, heavy body on top of yours knocking the wind out of you as he began to tear at your clothes and, annoyingly, not seeming to find them much trouble at all. You whimpered when you felt your pants torn down your legs, hating how exposed and vulnerable you felt, hating the undeniable fact that you couldn’t stop this.

You tried to get up when he reached down to open his belt and jeans, but Steve’s boot came down on your shoulder and held you still again. Bucky was rushed and brutal as he pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against your ass, guiding it between your legs as you hissed and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

He pulled back briefly to spit on your hole, spreading the forced wetness with the head of his cock before suddenly pushing into you as you gasped and choked on a sob.

"Oh, that's it baby,” he groaned, “scream if you want, nobody can hear you but us."

Already he was thrusting with wild abandon, his hips slapping into your ass as his hot breath came down against your ear and neck, his face pressing yours into the cold ground.

"Fuuuuuck,” he moaned lowly, “so tight, Jesus Christ… fuckin' missed this, went almost ten years without burying my cock in a wet little cunt like this. Shit, it's even better than I remember."

You just cried and bit down on nothing, pain making violent shivers run up your spine as the width of him split you open, pushing deeper than you’d known anything could go.

Each thrust seemed somehow rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you further past your limits, making your toes curl inside your boots. He was unabashedly using your body, treating you with less care than some men might a blow-up doll, moaning loudly as he split you open with every moment.

So why did it almost begin to feel good, now that the worst of the pain had faded? Why was the ridge of his cock brushing over your g-spot just right each time he moved?

He pinned more of his weight on you as he changed his angle slightly, enough to add just that much more brutality to every stroke, the loud slapping of skin echoing through the desolate trees. You could tell he wasn’t lying about how long he’d been celibate in prison, because he fucked you with every ounce of pent-up frustration, hissing through his teeth and holding you tight enough to bruise.

Everything he did, he did enough to bruise.

“Yeah, take it, bitch,” he moaned when you made a particularly pained noise.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take long,” Steve remembered, staring down at the two of you from where he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.

“I’m almost done, you waited this long you can wait five more minutes,” Bucky dismissed, voice a little strained as he kept fucking you.

“Just stop and give me a turn and then you can get back to it,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, no fuckin’ way,” Bucky laughed, “feels way too good to stop. Trust me, Stevie, this pussy’s worth the wait.”

“Get her on her knees then,” Steve instructed as he came closer to you and kneeled in front of your face; Bucky manhandled your hips into place while Steve pulled your hair until you yelped and brought your head up. “I wanna fuck this pretty little throat.”

He cut off your protests with another hard slap to your cheek, tugging your hair again as you struggled to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

“Gonna teach this mouthy bitch a lesson,” he explained as he hit you again before using one hand to open his belt and jeans. “You know what’s gonna happen if you try to bite me, right? I’ll just knock you out and fuck your throat anyways. So you’d better make it good if you wanna breathe.”

You tried your best to nod with his fist tugging your hair, gasping slightly when he pulled his cock out and stroked it right in front of your face.

“Come on, baby, open up— this is the most you’ve kept your mouth shut all day,” he laughed, tapping the swollen head of his cock on your lips until you finally opened them. The flavor of his skin on your tongue made your lips curl in disgust but he held your jaw and pushed deeper, quickly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, so warm… come on, suck it, make it good for me.”

“She’s gettin’ wet,” Bucky informed Steve with a chuckle. “She likes it— don’t you, little whore?” he prompted as he slapped your ass suddenly, making you cry out around Steve’s length. “You like choking on a cock like you deserve?”

You made some sort of gurgling sound, and apparently they took it as a ‘yes.’

"Aw yeah, fuck, gonna fill up this little cunt,” Bucky promised. Funny thing is, you weren't sure if "this little cunt" meant your hole, or you.

“You’d better not, m’supposed to go after you,” Steve reminded him.

“Fuck, I dunno if I have the heart to pull out,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, slapping you on the ass to make your walls suddenly clench around him. “I know a sweet body like this just needs to be bred.”

Your sob was louder around where Steve’s girth stretched your lips, making Bucky laugh darkly.

"Oh shit honey, what would Daddy Sherriff say if he found out you got knocked up by a couple'a criminals, huh? By murderers?"

Steve pulled his cock out just enough to let you sob weakly before shoving back in and penetrating your throat.

"Yeah, you like it don't you?” Bucky continued to taunt you. “You like being bred by some strangers who caught you in the woods… dirty bitch."

Steve's head fell back as he started to thrust into your mouth faster and harder, the base of his cock flexing against your tongue. You assumed it was a sign that he was close and it made you hopeful that this would be over soon, but he suddenly pulled out with an exhausted laugh.

"Oh no you don't," he breathed, "not gonna come yet, still need to feel that tight little pussy of yours… if Bucky would hurry the fuck up."

"Fuck, I'm close, I'm close," Bucky rasped. "Shit, babydoll, this wet cunt is gonna make me come, aren't you so proud?"

Steve held your mouth open and rubbed his cock on your tongue, occasionally shoving two fingers in with it which were salty with his sweat.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Bucky hissed, "oh god, fuck, I'm—!"

He pulled out suddenly, rubbing his cock against your clit as his seed shot onto the ground beneath you. You sighed with relief although you hated the way your body was actually disappointed, craving more and clenching around nothing in protest.

Bucky was hardly even finished when Steve reached under your arms to pull you up and flip you onto your back, groaning as he settled between your legs and rubbed his cock over your folds. He didn't waste any time pushing into you, and apparently being fucked by Bucky wasn't enough to warm you up for Steve because you hissed at the sting as he filled you.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down beside your head. Already he had begun to pull back only to spear into you again, reaching deeper inside you than Bucky had until you were gasping and choking on nothing.

Bucky stood up and stepped back, pulling his jeans up as he watched you two on the ground.

"You got any cigarettes back at camp, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and it was hard to focus on his question but you shook your head. "Damn," he breathed, pondering for a moment before coming up with his next question. "You got any candy bars?"

"Do you mind?" Steve hissed, still thrusting into you— a bit slower than Bucky but not exactly more gentle. "We're kind of busy here."

"No, I don't particularly mind," Bucky smirked.

"Can't you just entertain yourself for a few minutes while I finish this?"

"Why should I entertain myself when I've got this pretty little thing to entertain me?" Bucky smirked, kneeling down beside you as Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Wanna help me out here, dollface? I'm still hard…"

He freed one hand from Steve's grip and brought it up to the front of his jeans so you could feel the hard bulge there. He opened them for you, reaching in and pulling his hard cock out to wrap your hand around it.

Feeling the thickness of it in your palm now, you couldn't imagine how it ever fit inside you.

"Yeah, that's it, I'll teach you how to stroke it right…" he groaned. "You know how many times I had to do this to myself, just imagining claiming a little slut like you? Your hands are so much softer, sweetheart…"

His hand tightened around yours and guided every movement, which was good because you had no chance of focusing on anything while Steve was slamming into you and moaning right by your ear.

"So wet," he whispered to you, "so warm. All mine…"

You felt your insides grip him harder and he smiled, lips tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, you like bein' mine. You like being owned, I can feel it. I can feel that this is exactly what you needed. Is that what you were hoping for when you came out to these woods all by yourself? That a big strong man would show up and stretch out this pussy? Well I'm here now, angel, and I'm just about ready to fill you up real good."

A few more thrusts, faster and harder than ever, were enough to send Steve over the edge as you felt each pulse warm you from the inside out. Steve groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, painting his come right onto your cervix while you gasped at the sensation.

Bucky stopped moving your hand and looked down at Steve. "Are you fucking serious— did you just come inside?"

Steve took a moment to catch his breath before answering: "duh."

"How come you get to come inside but I don't, huh?"

"Cause I went second!"

"Yeah, that's some bullshit," Bucky scoffed.

"Will you just leave now, please?" you whimpered weakly from the ground. "You got what you wanted, now just go."

"Oh, sweetheart, we are nowhere near done with you," Steve promised, sighing as he pulled out of you slowly.

You wanted to try to get up, but your limbs were weak and numb, and your head heavy with confusion. It made it easy for Bucky to scoop you up and carry you back the way you'd run, your tent quickly coming into view which made you realize how pitifully short your chase had been.

“Looks big enough for the three of us,” Steve noted as he tilted his head to look at your camp.

“We’re not going in yet, I think somebody needs a little creek bath first,” Bucky smiled as he started to set you down on your shaky legs. “Go ahead and strip, doll.”

You shivered, considering resistance but deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble as you started to peel off your shirt and jacket, then your boots and slightly torn leggings.

They both smiled and watched you, Bucky snorted a little when he saw how hard your nipples were. “It’s chilly,” you defended meekly.

“Sure it is,” he nodded, “don’t stop, get in the water when you’re done.”

You nodded slightly as you tossed the clothes aside, trying to cover yourself with your arms as you slowly walked into the stony creek, wishing the water weren’t so clear so it would cover you better.

You made a weak attempt to clean yourself, watching goosebumps cover your skin from the cool water.

"Wash yourself up good,” Bucky instructed firmly. “I don't want any of Rogers' jizz still in you when I take that pussy again."

With a grimace, you washed between your legs and winced when your touch reawakened the sting of soreness there.

“You’re gonna have to push it out, honey, it’s real deep,” Steve grinned pridefully.

You did your best to clean up, not for Bucky’s benefit but for your own, because you hated how it felt to have Steve’s spend still within you.

“How am I supposed to dry off?” you asked nervously as you looked around, knowing you hadn’t brought a towel as you hadn’t really planned on a full creek bath during your trip. You hadn’t planned on any of this during your trip, shockingly enough.

“You can drip dry,” Steve suggested.

“So you want me to stand naked in the cold for an hour while I dry?” you realized, irritated but still scared.

“Something like that,” Bucky confirmed. “Unless you want us to keep you warm…”

“I’ll freeze,” you decided, stepping out of the water as Bucky snatched your clothes away to make sure you couldn’t dress. “Gimme those!”

“Come and get ‘em,” he challenged, leaving you to huff and cross your arms, teeth chattering as the wind picked up.

You couldn’t imagine why they cared so much about testing your will when they’d already proven that they could take you however they wanted. Perhaps it was just that they wanted to know you’d accepted that. Better yet, they probably hoped you would participate willingly if you understood that you never had a choice.

Closing your eyes didn’t help, you could still feel their hungry gaze on you; rubbing yourself with your hands didn’t help because it just spread the cold water around on your skin, rather than actually warming you up.

It was probably less than a minute but it felt like half an hour before you relented, walking up to Bucky and looking down to avoid his stare as you meekly requested, “can I have my clothes, please?”

“But I can think of so many better ways to keep you warm,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, Steve moving behind you to press his chest against your back. You sighed with relief because even this was already making you feel better, the warmth of their bodies taking out some of the chill while their size blocked you from the wind. You mewled, ever so quietly, when you felt Bucky’s lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as your head fell back onto Steve’s chest.

They showered you in gentle touches and teasing kisses as they picked you up and carried you into your tent, the small space beginning to warm quickly with the heat of three people inside— or was it just you that was getting hot from what they were doing to you.

Steve was groping your tits and pinching your hardened nipples, while Bucky focused most on sucking your neck or biting just beneath your ear. It was overwhelming, and impossible to ignore though you wanted so desperately not to be aroused. There were only four hands exploring your body but it might as well have been a hundred because you couldn’t tell the difference, they were touching you everywhere all at once.

"Now, are you gonna behave or do we need to tie you up?" Steve asked quietly.

You shook your head wildly, tensing up just imagining that. "Then say it," he instructed.

"I-I'll be good," you promised weakly.

Bucky grinned and slid his hand up your thigh, and though you didn’t mean to, when Bucky reached between your legs you tried to shut them and squirm away, it was instinct.

"Ah ah ah," Steve tutted. "You said you'd be good."

"Think we oughta tie her up," Bucky nodded, feigning disappointment.

"No, please, I'm sorry—"

"Too late for sorry, dollface," Bucky smirked, grabbing a shirt from your pack and tearing it into strips like it was no effort at all.

Steve held your wrists together for Bucky to tie, and they even tied your legs up bent and spread wide, finishing it off with a gag in your mouth.

Now you were helpless to Bucky pinching your clit, circling it with his thick and calloused finger, applying pressure to it until your eyes watered. At first it was exploratory, delicate, but once he’d found the most sensitive places he began to rub your clit hard and fast, laughing every time you moaned and flicking the sensitive bud to make your body jolt.

"Yeah, this little cunt's getting all wet, y'like having your pussy played with?" he smirked.

He accentuated his question with a few sudden spanks to your clit that made you jerk and yelp. The worst thing was that each slap made a wet sound that made you sure you were soaking by now.

“I know you want it so bad, don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna make you wait anymore…”

He caged you in and opened his jeans one more time, the process going much more quickly since he didn’t have to hold you down— you could squirm and cry, but that was about it.

With a little grunt, he pushed into you, and with how wet you were it actually went it much more easily. It was by no means painless though, especially since he was already moving and giving you no time to adjust.

"Yeah, that's better," he sighed, grinning as he watched you whine into the gag. "Now I can really take my time with you, show you how good I can make you feel."

He was certainly more relaxed than the first time, his pace measured and calculated as he made sure his hips met with yours fully at the end of each stroke. His width wasn’t as challenging in this position but his length certainly was, bumping into your sore and delicate cervix until you were forced to bite down onto the gag to cope.

But, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, something deep and strong was forming inside you, tightening and twisting until it took all your effort not to let it spill forth.

He reached down and roughly rubbed your clit again, forcing a muffled scream from your throat as he grinned down at you. “Close already, huh? Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.”

You almost heard Steve scoff beside you, but it was hard to hear anything when your ears felt like they were full of cotton, only your own echoing heartbeat ringing louder than anything else.

"Yeah, I wanna feel you fuckin' come,” Bucky growled. “Bet you get even tighter every time."

As much as you wished not to, you fell over the edge, back arching until your chest bumped into Bucky’s where he hovered above you. He coaxed you along in his words and movements, your walls clenching in a nonsensical rhythm. More than anything you just wished he would stop moving so you could catch your breath, but his pace never faltered and it felt like you’d never stop coming if he never stopped fucking you.

“That’s it, good fucking girl,” he groaned, “makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I? Answer me.”

You hesitated, and sniffled, but finally nodded.

Even worse, your clit was so swollen now that he didn’t even need to rub it with his thumb anymore; his cock rubbed against it with each movement, the ridges of his shaft massaging you there until it felt like every part of your body had become the most sensitive place possible. You shook violently beneath him, each wave of pleasure stronger than the last until you felt like you had lost all sense of time, and space, and really anything that wasn’t being fucked in this tent like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Get outta the tent, Steve,” Bucky instructed suddenly.

"Why?" Steve protested with a scoff.

"I can't come with you starin' at me!"

"I'm not looking at you, dumbass,” he sneered, “I'm lookin’ at her. So pretty when she cries…"

"Whatever, either way, just go outside please?"

Clearly irritated but relenting anyways, Steve grunted under his breath as he got up, stepping unceremoniously over both of you. Bucky sighed with relief when Steve zipped the tent flap shut behind him, turning his attention back to you. “That’s better, isn’t it? Just me and you… way it oughta be.”

“I heard that!” Steve called from outside.

“Then stop listening!” Bucky suggested through his teeth before leaning down to whisper in your ear, holding your hips tight so he could fuck you harder than ever. "I don't give a fuck what he says, I'm coming in you this time. Not pulling out until I know every drop is in you, wanna see this pussy stuffed to the brim with my come… you want it too, huh?”

Another electrifying pulse inside you made your channel flutter around him, and how cruel that the moan he made actually turned you on more.

"Fuck, that's it, squeeze my fuckin' dick, honey. Wanna milk all the come outta my cock, don't you?"

You nodded again, hearing him moan in that perfect way one more time before you started to feel him pulse and swell within you, streams of hot come pouring into you. The amount was pretty impressive since he’d already come once, although you didn’t exactly feel ‘impressed,’ so much as horrified and confused. And numb, from coming so many times.

Bucky smiled down at you with an exhausted sigh, smacking you lightly on the face a few times to try to rouse you from your blissed-out state, but all you could do was hum sleepily into the gag.

“M’gonna untie you now, you’re too out of it to try anything,” he explained, releasing the gag first before working on your wrists and your legs. A rush of warm come oozed out of your abused hole when he pulled back, making your face heat up as he smiled and held your legs up to see it better. “Yeah, filled you up real nice,” he informed you. He gave a reassuring pat to your thigh before getting up and getting out of the tent, leaving you to stare blankly into nothingness for a while.

Eventually, you knew you had to face the world again, though you were more sure than ever that you weren’t prepared for it. Grabbing a blanket from the floor of the tent and covering yourself with it, you took a slow breath to try to stabilize yourself.

For how slow time seemed to have passed so far, you were surprised to see the sun setting when you opened the tent flap and stepped outside. You realized, with a sick feeling in your chest, that they had been using you nearly all day now. And considering they were waiting for you around the fire, giving you a glance up and down as you emerged from the tent, they still might not stop for a while.

In fact, they’d made themselves very comfortable from the looks of it. The fire was burning stronger than ever, three logs positioned around the sides of the firepit to sit on; a pot was over the fire, and you recognized the contents as some of the food supplies from your pack. Best of all, Steve had found your battery radio and adjusted the station, blues quietly playing from the speaker as he used your hunting knife to whittle a stick.

Serves you right to suffer, the smooth voice crooned from the broadcast, serves you right to be alone...

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence as you took in the scene. But when the wind changed and the heat of the fire no longer reached you, you remembered you had business to attend to.

“C-Can I have my clothes back now?” you asked Bucky quietly, seeing them draped over the side of one of the logs.

“I think if you get dressed you’ll try to run again,” Steve mumbled, not even looking up at you.

“No, I won’t, I’m too tired,” you explained. “I just don’t want to be cold.”

“Fire’s hot enough,” Bucky dismissed. “Why don’t you just lay down a while, hm? Get some rest. You earned it.”

You weren’t just tired physically, but mentally, which is partly why you didn’t put up more of a fight before going over to the log and laying beside it, the blanket around you protecting you from the cold ground while you used your clothes as a sort of pillow on the log.

It couldn’t have been that you were asleep, because you could still hear the fire and the radio and Steve’s whittling (a constant reminder that he had a knife), but with your eyes closed and the darkness getting darker it was almost like sleep. A draining, restless sleep that did nothing to shelter you from the memories of what you’d become.

So, you opened your eyes, staring into the flames instead and venturing the occasional glance at Bucky or Steve; the former always met your stare, the latter would only look up if a sound got his attention.

“You gonna take a turn?” Bucky asked Steve casually, motioning to you by cocking his head.

“Not yet, need a while to... you know, build up some energy,” Steve explained.

“Mind if I have another go then?”

“She’s all yours,” Steve approved, making Bucky grin as he got up and circled the log you were slumped over.

“Y’hear that, dollface? All mine,” he cooed, picking you up and adjusting you until you were bent over the log, facing Steve and the fire. Your clothes kept your naked torso from rubbing against the bark, thankfully, but nothing could spare you from Bucky’s incessant touch, running up your back, over your butt which he spanked a few times for good measure, and finally to your entrance which he pushed two fingers into first. “Mm, we stretched you out pretty good… you’ll be back in shape by the mornin’, but until then, I just slide right in…”

And he proved himself right with one long stroke that pushed his cock to the deepest parts of you, pushing your hips forward into the log as you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

He was uniquely quiet this time, still moaning and grunting occasionally but otherwise sparing you from the constant taunts and filthy whispers. Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to look unaffected, but the subtle adjustment of his legs along with the increased vigor of his carving made it clear he was distracted by the sight in front of him.

Bucky’s strong hands on your hips were sure to leave marks, fingertips digging into your curves and pulling you back onto him, spearing you on his length.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed, “gonna come.”

And it was actually a relief because this was going to end (for now), which was definitely the only reason you moaned in response. He got more talkative after that, smacking you on the ass a few more times as he chuckled darkly behind you.

“Fuck, take it, doll… take all my fuckin’ come.”

It was sort of a meaningless instruction, since you had to, but he seemed to enjoy reminding you that he was about to take his pleasure from your body one more time. He made a weak little moaning noise, almost pained, as he filled you once again, slumping down on top of you and for the first time really showing signs of exhaustion after coming three times in a day. You were so out of it that you hardly noticed his weight on you, or the little kisses he gave to your ear, whispering praises that tried your best not to hear.

He pulled out and came back around to look at your face again, pulling you up slightly by your hair so you looked up at him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned. “Open your mouth sweetheart,” he instructed, spitting onto your tongue as soon as you’d done it, then lifting your jaw to make you close your mouth and swallow.

He tugged your hair harder before he kissed you, more possessive than affectionate, but unexpected regardless. His tongue tangled with yours as he reached down to circle his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse but not going so far as to choke you.

A little groan from Steve caught both his attention and yours. "You wanna fuck her, Stevie?"

"Oh god, I want that ass, I want that fuckin ass," he answered through his teeth, making you gulp as Bucky laughed.

"Go for it, man," he encouraged, and only a second after he stood up you both heard and felt Steve appear behind you, one calloused hand spreading your cheeks; you whimpered from embarrassment when you felt a finger circle your tight rim, before slowly pushing in.

"Fuck," you whispered, and it sounded much more like a curse of pleasure than you intended.

"Yeah, you want it don't you?" he asked through his teeth, giving you a hard spank that made you cry out. Bucky slapped you when you didn't answer, grabbing your jaw roughly.

"He asked you a question," he reminded you firmly, the sound of Steve spitting into his hand and coating your hole and his length distracting you slightly.

"Yes, yes, I want it!" you sobbed.

"Where?"

"In my ass!"

Your body put up significant resistance against his swollen head, but it was no match for his rough thrust forward, the tip of him popping inside and stretching you painfully. You bit your lip but it was impossible to stay quiet when he slid the rest of the way in.

You cried out as he moaned with satisfaction, already moving so much faster than you could handle (which, to be fair, was a low bar).

"Oh my god," he breathed. "So fuckin' tight…"

The pain was sharp, and it felt like the base of his cock was impossibly thicker than the rest of him since you whined every time he pushed in.

"Aw, does it hurt baby? That's my cock ruining your little hole, sweetheart…"

"Stop," you rasped, "please… please stop…"

"Nah, I think you like it… I think what you really needed was just to be put in your place, fucked in every hole so you know exactly what you're meant for."

Bucky appeared in front of you again, stroking himself in front of your face, still slick from behind inside you.

"See what a mess you made on my cock, dollface? I think you need to help me clean it up," he groaned, holding your jaw open to stuff his cock into your mouth and stifle your sobs. The taste of your and his come was potent and musky on your tongue, his head pushing right into your open throat when you tried to gag.

Steve held you tighter as he thrusted a bit more vigorously, Bucky simultaneously using your throat as he stroked your hair and cheek.

You couldn’t remember how to do anything but just take it now. At times their paces synchronized and you felt like you were being filled to the brim at both ends. Other times they were in a syncopation where one pushed in just as the other pulled out, meaning you had no real breaks at all.

Bucky was too weak to come again, that much was obvious, but he was happy to choke you anyways; and Steve, well, Steve was moaning more now than he had from your mouth or pussy, apparently trying to hold himself back even though he had no reason to try to prolong this— unless he actually wanted to see you in pain more than he wanted to finish?

“You want me to come in your ass?” Steve interrogated you with a spank to your thigh. “Beg for it.”

You shook your head around the length in your mouth.

“It doesn’t stop until you beg me for it, isn’t that what you want? You want it to stop, right?”

Had you really fallen into his trap that easily?

Bucky pulled back to give you the opportunity to meet Steve’s request, and you sucked in a lungful of air before finally whimpering: “Please, Steve… please come…”

“Where?” he pressed, ever-determined to make you remind him where he was fucking you.

“Please come in my ass…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he snickered before starting to thrust faster and more erratically, chasing his peak which you prayed was close. It was, thankfully, though never close enough, and you forgot that the swell of his pulsating cock would stretch your tired hole even wider.

And, you forgot that he had no reason to pull out just because he’d come.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “that was good.”

You tried to kick him away but it was impossible with how hard he’d pinned you down to the log.

“Just stay still and keep my cock warm in this pretty ass of yours, alright?” he instructed, all the while Bucky stared down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, combing your hair a bit with his fingers.

“You’re tired, huh?” he noticed. “We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“Will you leave?” you instantly returned.

“We need somewhere to make camp for the night, too. And since there’s already a perfectly good camp right here…”

“No,” you whined, “no, you’re never gonna leave me alone, are you?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” he offered.

It was truly a testament to how physically exhausted you were that you managed to fall asleep squished between your two personal monsters.

Bucky was behind you, essentially spooning you while Steve had an arm draped over your chest. And even with the heavy weight on you, physical and metaphysical, you would’ve slept through the night easily if it weren’t for the feeling of Steve running his hands over your body, groping you wherever he could reach.

You opened your eyes but it was still pitch darkness, giving you no distraction from the physical sensations of Steve's fingers delicately grazing over your skin. Behind you, the quiet stability of Bucky’s breathing made it clear he was still asleep and unaware.

“Steve,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” he soothed below his breath, right by your ear. “He sleeps like a rock, we’re not gonna wake him up with a little fooling around.”

Amazingly enough, that wasn’t exactly what you were worried about. But you discontinued your dissent as he lightly suckled the lobe of your ear, fingers tracing abstract shapes over your hip. You heard your own breath catch, and he must have too because he smiled and nibbled on your neck.

You shivered when he started to pull you closer, laying you back to reach between your legs and toy with your overly-sensitive folds. His fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow circles, making you writhe and jolt as shocks of pleasure shot through you.

“So sensitive,” he praised darkly, pushing against you harder. “Gettin’ wet, honey? Want you dripping before I put my cock in you.”

Bucky stirred beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep though Steve kept a strong hold on your lower half. It was nearly claustrophobic being sandwiched between them like this, made even worse when Steve adjusted your hips and you felt his cock rub against you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear, cradling your face in his large, rough hands.

“I— I want it,” you whispered back, biting your lip to stay quiet when he pushed in. You were still sore, but the wetness helped ease his way as he filled you to the brim, groaning softly and thrusting much more gently than you expected. It was all very relaxed, and languid, and… sleepy. It was so much easier to pretend that you wanted this when it was gentle and patient like this, when you couldn’t see his face

“You two got started without me?” Bucky interjected, making you both gasp.

"You seemed pretty busy snoring over there," Steve explained with an unamused tone. “You know, Barnes, I actually broke out of prison so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as you for the rest of my life.”

“Leave if you want, Rogers, I’ll keep the girl and you can take her battery radio, ya limpdick.”

“Limpdick? Were you not here for the past twenty-four hours?”

“Yeah, I was fucking this sweet little thing while you were out there by the fire doing your arts and crafts.”

And just like that, your sweet and gentle sex was gone; Steve was determined to claim you now, fucking you harder and faster until you couldn’t hold back your broken moans. "Yeah, you like that?" he growled against your ear. "You like gettin' fucked? Say it."

"Y-yes, I like it," you gasped.

"We're gonna be on the run for a while…" Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder, "sure wouldn't mind takin' you with us, keeping our own little pet to fuck whenever we want."

You tried not to stop breathing entirely when he said that, distracted by Steve slowing down slightly, offering some reprieve.

"Been so long without touchin' a woman," Steve added huskily, "I don't know if one day is enough."

"Yeah, plus we've already got you obedient, trained, fucked braindead and full of come," Bucky replied, biting down on your skin to make you whimper and he chuckled happily.

"Are you sure you can share, Barnes?" Steve pressed. "I know if you had it your way she'd be ripped to shreds by now."

"Whatever man, you're the one who tore her ass up."

Steve scoffed slightly, while Bucky continued.

"You wanna come with us sweetheart? We'll be real good to you, keep your holes wet and full for a couple months straight at least. You won't have to worry about a thing, won't have to lift a finger, just keep your legs spread and you'll be peachy."

"Hey, that's what we'll call you: Peach," Steve decided. "It's perfect, isn't it? 'Cause you're sweet… and soft… and I could just eat you up," he purred.

"Wanna be our girl, Peach?" Bucky prompted.

"No, please…"

You expected anger, you expected them to hurt you, but you didn't expect them to laugh. "Looks like our sweet little Peach hasn't had a chance to realize how good it's gonna be with us," Steve announced.

"Yeah, let's show her how much she wants to be our girl," Bucky snickered, holding your hips as Steve started to move inside you again.

Bucky, meanwhile, was grabbing handfuls of your ass and groaning as he rubbed his cock against you. One finger explored your rim and slowly pushed in.

"Looks like you're still a little loosened up from when Stevie here gave it to you, huh? He was real mean, wasn't he?"

You nodded, clutching harder into Steve's chest as he fucked you faster.

"Then taking me should be a breeze."

Truly, you had no idea how this was possible. I'm the dark it all felt like a fever dream, but when Bucky pushed into your available opening while Steve was still fucking you… it was definitely real, the feeling was too overwhelming not to be.

'A breeze' was definitely an exaggeration but it was undeniably easier, especially since being half-asleep made your body so much more relaxed. You still hissed when Bucky's hips met your ass, you still choked on a breath at the feeling of two cocks buried all the way inside you, but it wasn't from pain as much as being full beyond your wildest dreams

"You were right about this ass, Rogers, goddamn…" Bucky moaned, holding your hips tight and beginning to thrust.

"Fuck, can hardly believe you're takin' both of us," Steve sighed against your ear. "I know you love it, Peach, I know you love bein' so full…"

Your lips fumbled with the desire to moan a name but not sure whose to say; so instead you just babbled mindlessly, sounded just as dumbfounded as you felt.

But they weren't having any problems speaking, in fact they were more talkative than ever, each whispering in a different ear and making shivers crawl up your spine with every word.

"You're making us feel so good, such a good girl, aren't you Peachy baby?"

"Such a perfect fucking whore, so wet already just from being used."

"Want us to come inside, huh Peach? Wanna be full of come?”

Each time you arched your back, it only somehow pushed them both deeper, so deep you couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Bucky was moving at a much slower pace than Steve, such that they would only occasionally thrust all the way in at exactly the same time— and when they did, you heard yourself moan but refused to believe it was you making the sound because it sounded nothing like you, it didn’t even seem like something you would do; enjoying this that much, that is.

“You’re close, huh? Gonna come for both of us?”

You found yourself nodding, even though they couldn’t see it, but Bucky must have felt it against his shoulder because he laughed a little, grabbing your face and turning you back to kiss you hungrily. When he moved his kiss down to the back of your neck, Steve captured your lips instead, less dominating than Bucky’s but no less intense. The moan that undeniably signalled your orgasm was nearly lost against Steve’s tongue, but they both heard it and began to pump into you faster, keeping you suspended in your pleasure.

Steve lost it first, spilling into you with a choked groan and a tight grip on your arms that was sure to bruise. Bucky was close behind, panting with each hurried thrust until he finally moaned and filled your ass with ropes of hot come, a sensation you never could’ve imagined, let alone predicted you would experience twice in one day.

Bucky rubbed your thighs while he caught his breath while Steve peppered your face in tender kisses, both of them showering you in affection you had no idea how to handle.

“Whaddaya say, dollface?” Bucky prompted as he kissed just beneath your ear. “Y’like bein’ our little Peach, don’t you?”

You stammered over a few different responses, none of them very good, until Steve finally instructed you: “say yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated instantly.

“I can tell you do, you soaked my cock real good,” Steve praised with a grin you could feel against your cheek and hear in his gravelly voice. “We’ll head out in the morning, alright? Soon we’ll be somewhere where nobody knows who we are, what we’ve done… doesn’t that sound nice, Peach? A chance to start over?”

A fresh start never hurt anyone, right?

Months on the run made the night all blend together, you didn’t even know what state you were in anymore and you couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was definitely harder to hitchhike with three people, and a disturbing amount of truckers offered to take you alone but not your companions— and obviously they would never allow such a thing. At this point, you were better off with the devils you knew, anyways. At least with them you knew what to expect.

Specifically, you could expect Steve to be aloof and brooding until he occasionally snapped and became possessive over you again, asserting his dominance over you and Bucky however he could manage— usually by covering your body in his marks and every once in a while by covering your face with his come. You could expect Bucky to taunt and mock you, cornering you into consenting to his relentless barrage of pleasure and pain, over and over again watching you struggle to maintain your sense of denial and disgust, reminding you that you loved being fucked just how he wanted.

In fact, today was a pretty typical day while the three of you crashed in a motel, Steve staying silent and distant while Bucky kissed his way down your stomach that rose and fell shakily with each breath.

“Bucky, p-please,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could more easily pretend it wasn’t you begging him for more.

"What's that, Peach? Want me to lick up your juice?" he grinned.

You shuddered and he chuckled as he knelt down between your legs to give a long, slow lick over your sex. Your entire body jolted when his rough tongue slid over your swollen clit, so he focused there until your legs were quivering and your head fell back.

"Mm, so sweet…” he cooed. “Come getta taste a’this, Steve.”

“I’m busy,” Steve refused, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bucky sighed, standing up straighter and leaving your pussy ignored; you whined a little, but it fell on deaf ears. “I’d love to see what you’re reading that could possibly be more interesting than this.”

“There’s an article about us,” Steve answered sternly, looking up from the paper to meet Bucky’s gaze, before glancing to look at you. “All three of us.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving you naked on the bed as he crossed the room to tear the paper from Steve’s hands. His eyes scanned the page until he landed on the part Steve must have been referring to. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Look, Peach, you made the papers!”

He brought over the article for you to read, and you sat up straighter when you saw that a photo of yourself had been included alongside the mugshots of Steve and Bucky.

Two escaped prisoners, one missing woman, spotted in woods near Schenectady, NY...

“When is this from?” you asked nervously.

“The paper’s from today, but we were in Schenectady two weeks ago,” Steve explained. “They aren’t anywhere near us.”

It brought back memories of TV broadcasts you’d seen in hotels, radio news Steve had turned off before you heard too much. Phrases like ‘statewide manhunt,’ ‘federal investigation,’ and ‘trafficked woman,’ which had once been foreign to you, now represented your deepest anxieties.

Bucky saw the fear on your face and knelt down on the bed beside you, stroking your face gently. “Aw, Peach, don’t be scared… they’re not gonna find us, I promise.”

“If they did… what would happen to me?” you asked weakly. You truly had no idea if you’d be returned home and treated as the victim of a crime, or if you’d be arrested and charged as a perpetrator, as a collaborator who aided in the escape and continued flee of two violent criminals. They’d already gotten you in on a few robberies, even one bank— could you defend yourself by saying that you were forced to do it?

“Nobody’s gonna take you away from us,” Bucky assured sternly, not quite answering your question but making it clear that was all you were gonna get. You reached up to rest your hand atop his where it held your cheek, letting your watery eyes fall shut before you looked back up into his enrapturing gaze again.

“Kiss me, Bucky, please,” you whispered, making him laugh and shake his head.

“No, Peachy, I would but I know where that mouth has been. Steve woke you up in the middle of the night to choke on his cock, thought I wouldn’t hear, huh?”

You gasped a little and Steve crossed his arms where he sat in the chair. Bucky turned his attention back to Steve with a look of challenge on his face. “She’s scared, Stevie, won’t you come over here and make her feel better?”

Steve sighed but relented and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the bed and stare down at you. For a moment you didn’t know what he intended to do, until he knelt down and grabbed your hips, pulled your spread legs closer to the edge of the bed where he latched his lips onto your slick and swollen folds.

“Oh god,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair, his tongue pushing inside you right away, twisting and thrusting and licking right over your g-spot until your eyes rolled back in your head and your back arched up off the faded quilt. Bucky grinned as he watched you, leaning down to kiss your neck, then suckle on a hardened nipple, then lick over your hips until finally he bit down on the inside of your thigh. You yelped a little and felt him smile against your delicate skin.

“I told you we’d take care of you, babydoll,” he mumbled, voice all deep and throaty like it got when he was about to spend an hour reminding you who you belonged to.

Sometimes you dreamed of the life you had before this, of the person you were when you only belonged to yourself, but that life was gone forever and it wasn’t coming back. Each day you mourned it in a different way. At first it was just the loss of dignity, then it was the loss at any chance of gaining that dignity back. You missed your friends and family, but you realized they wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms after this long.

You realized it was well and truly over the first time a man on the news called you an accomplice to the ‘rampant crime spree’ of Bucky and Steve. Just a few weeks later, the stories changed from two prisoners and their kidnapping victim, to three prisoners. And yes, you were a prisoner, but the police didn’t see a difference between you and them anymore. You had no reason to run, no motive for escape. They were the only thing keeping you alive and free now, even if this freedom wasn’t exactly overflowing with liberties.

So, you accepted as quickly as you could that this was your new life; every morning you banished the memories of who you used to be, and every night you prayed that your lovers wouldn’t be caught. And it wasn’t so bad of a life to have, even if it wasn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself— there was something nice about it, really, never very calm but still having its moments of peace and domesticity. Like falling asleep in the backseat of a stolen truck while Steve played blues on the radio. Like sitting in Bucky’s lap as he told you all about the beautiful tropical islands they’d take you to someday. Like when Steve robbed a jewelry store and told you he’d picked that one because they had the ring he’d seen in a magazine ad, the ring he decided he wanted you to wear from now on. Like being Mrs. Barnes when Bucky introduced you to his criminal connections, and being Mrs. Rogers when Steve did the same the next night.

Maybe you’d forgotten how to be anything else but their sweet, quiet, obedient Peach, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad wrap after all.

#dark!stucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!stucky noncon #dark!stucky smut #dark!stucky au

2K notes · View notes

let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot.

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best.

A bonafide, absolute idiot.

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out.

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning.

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time.

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight.

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word.

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession.

There's no way you think this one looks bad.

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck.

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features.

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too."

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter.

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all."

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier.

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday.

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool.

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend.

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door.

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh.

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week.

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…"

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees.

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling."

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests.

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways.

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies.

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair.

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks.

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again.

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this.

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you.

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here."

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before.

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile.

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side.

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes.

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?"

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down.

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing.

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away.

But alas, she doesn't.

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight.

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes.

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see."

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality.

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner.

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying."

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you.

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation.

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people.

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks.

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party."

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?"

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one."

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?"

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me."

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip.

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!"

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks.

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter.

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me."

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer.

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets.

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else.

You can get your own revenge.

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them.

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you.

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion.

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away.

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes.

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later.

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen.

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers.

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her.

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall.

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge.

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun.

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are.

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover.

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path.

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up.

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you.

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you.

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be.

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers.

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!"

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting.

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now.

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath.

"What's wrong?"

There's that voice again.

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it.

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me."

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like."

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches.

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas.

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads.

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little.

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled.

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters.

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs.

When did that happen?

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you.

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you.

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment.

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy.

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her.

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against.

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time.

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now.

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly.

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to.

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out.

"I'm Lisa."

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease.

"Likewise, beautiful."

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced.

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips.

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing.

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again."

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire.

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes.

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise.

"That sounds wonderful."

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever.

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close.

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed.

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off.

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up.

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors.

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof.

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you.

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over.

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself.

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away.

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window.

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now.

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building.

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations.

She does a twirl, looking around.

"It's gorgeous."

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up.

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out.

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms.

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her.

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months."

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself.

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking.

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains.

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters.

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh.

"Maybe, but it's the truth."

"Sure, Lisa."

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms.

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace.

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song.

Turning Page, you recognize it as.

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites.

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too."

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud…

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it.

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you.

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is.

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush"

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly.

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you.

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second.

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss.

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping.

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up.

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck.

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late.

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey.

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too.

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her.

"Please…"

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more.

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go.

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there.

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before.

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there.

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask.

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.

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stuckybarton · 3 years

Text

Happy Family vi

Summary: The plan had been simple for Steve and Bucky to finally start a family of their own; neither seemed to realize the implications that came with meeting a woman who made them question what they would have wanted from her at the start of their agreement. They desired a child, a bouncing baby with Steve's blonde hair and ocean blue eyes, or Bucky's brown hair and baby blues, but instead received Y/N Stark, a train wreck. Characters: AU! Established Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes; Stark!Reader x Stucky Warnings: Profanities. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] Words: 2,043 A/N; Finally able to update this~ SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | Join the Taglist

VII: Family Matters

Cancer. Stage Three.

Peggy Carter even in the last leg of her life was still the strongest woman you had ever had the privilege of knowing in your life and it saddens you to know such information.

“You okay, Boss?”

Turning your attention towards your team, a part of you wanted to seek comfort from them, but you knew that Peggy had told you something no one was to ever find out until she wishes for it to be known. It brought a far too dangerous weight on your shoulders and you were uncertain what to do with such information.

“Yeah, you know how Tony and his cohorts could be.” You spoke hoping no one could see past your lies.

“If you need anyone to talk to, we’re always here, Y/N.” Maria assured with a smile.

You could only smile in reassurance.

For the past five hours, everyone was busy with their plan, Tony’s intern, Peter Parker was actually of good use to you aside from the great coffee he was bringing, he had also genuinely helped with any files that you would be needed for your reports.

With how invested each and everyone of you were, it was Pietro’s stomach that brought you guys out of focus and all simultaneously turn towards the clock to see the time. Groaning at the sight that fell towards you all. It was nearing midnight and there was no way any of you could get dinner at this hour unless it was takeout.

“Maybe that intern is still here.” Sam smirked once again taking advantage of the kid.

“I made him head home hours ago, Sam.” You groaned slumping onto the coach besides Wanda that was half-awake at this point now. “Think we could head out or something?” You inquired accepting Wanda as she had now pulled you in as her little spoon.

“I think I can order something, how long do you think we still need for this?” Sam inquired.

“God knows how long while Rogers still has a stick up his ass.” You muttered, still unaware if he was still in the building.

After your walk with Peggy, you had to face the man and his never ending nitpicking at your work and you didn’t have the heart to actually do actually anything after what you found out. Was he aware of Peggy’s condition? If he was, why was he still here acting like nothing was the matter.

Then you come to realize maybe people have different ways of mourning, this was Rogers’ way—an asshole way, but still a way. It was the reason that as much as you wanted to say what was on your mind, you fell silent. All the retorts and comeback had you thinking of Peggy instead. There was still love for Steve that Peggy doesn’t show often but you see it, you see the same in Steve’s eyes. You used to see it in your parents’ own before your father decided cheating was the way to go.

“We can head home if you guys want. I’m gonna check to see if Count Cuntula is still in the office for the report.” You muttered gently slipping off from Wanda’s hold. Pietro was quick to replace you on the coach.

Stretching the kinks in your limbs, you straightened the blouse and skirt you had on before making your way out of your office and straight towards the elevator that would bring you right back up to your brother and his cohorts floor.

In the silence of the ride, you were once again brought back to your conversation with Peggy and the opportunity she was more than willing to give to you. Even as the idea slowly tried forming in your head, a part of you knew you couldn’t do it to your father. No matter what you say or what you do to Tony, at the end of the day, you couldn’t really leave even after what they said and done to you.

As soon as the door opened, darkness was the first thing to welcome you—the only form of light you could see was the single light above the reception table where Nat would often be in but was left unoccupied and the light of the door ajar to Steve’s office.

Walking closer to the door, you could hear two voice inside, with gentle movement, you opened the door at the last thing you would have ever thought you would see in your life.

Steve Rogers in a full make out session with Bucky Barnes.

“What the fuck are you doing in my father’s company?!” The filter on your brain halted before you realized you voice that out.

Pulling away, the disgust lingered in your body. You could care less if they were dating or whatever, but after everything you’ve dealt with Peggy and what you’ve found out, things were slowly coming together and anger for Peggy having to deal with all of this overcoming the last brain cell you had in your head.

“Now I know why you two were kicked out of SHIELDS.” You spat shaking at what you were seeing, the lack of guilt in either of their faces.

“Watch your fucking tone!” Steve’s voice boomed shaking you to your core.

“Or what? Who are you gonna tell me on? My brother?” You dared him. “You two are fucking sick! How could you do this to Peggy?!” You screamed shoving Bucky that was closer to you now.

You fought for the tears but after everything the tears had slowly fell before you know what little control you still had.

“Keep her name out of your fuckin mouth, you entitled bitch!” Steve hissed, held by Bucky as he plans on walking closer to you.

“You keep her name out of your fucking mouth you traitor. How could you do this to her?”

“You know nothing about us. So stop. Butting. In.”

“Steve. Please no more.” Bucky pleaded turning his attention back to you. “Y/N. Please, just—go.”

“If for a fucking second I would let you or Rogers destroy everything my father had worked his life for, you’re wrong. One way or another, I’m taking this company back, whether Tony likes it or not. If you thought I’d let you two fucker do what you did to SHIELD happen here, you’re fucking wrong.”

“What are you gonna do? You are just a temp, hired for a project and I’ll make damn sure Tony cuts you off after. Someone needs to kick you out of your pedestal and I’m gonna do it if Tony can’t.”

“Got to fucking hell, Rogers.”

“I’ll meet you right there, Stark.”

“I’m sorry but, Tony’s kept a tight seal on the shares.” Rhodey had sighed handing you the last contract you had with regards to your shares for the company.

30% of the shares were under your brother’s name. You only had 25% percent under you name that Tony had constantly dangled above you just to get the kick out of it. Rhodey or anyone else involved in the company had refused to tell you who were selling their shares and you perfectly know why at this point.

“Can I void my contract now?” You asked wincing as you realized the ink has barely even dried when you signed your days away.

“If you’re more than willing to pay the 10 million penalty, then be my guest, Y/N.” Rhodey sighed turning his gaze towards each and every single member of your team still busy for the upcoming meeting you had with Tony in a couple of hours, all hands were on deck and you were all ready for what was to come. “What’s this about, what wrong?”

“I don’t have confidence in Rogers and Barnes’ leadership—at all.” You admit. “It’s not just because my own father chose them over me, it’s more about their track record with SHIELD.”

“We all did. Even Tony has his doubts on the two, but the turn over with them since Howard died was rising. But now as exponential as we’re used to seeing when your Dad was still alive.”

“I don’t see the growth in the company and gaslighting me isn’t gonna change my mind.” You called him out of it. You know the data. It was always one step forward and two step back and it shows with how SHIELD and ARK was progressing. “I really want to stay here to save what my Dad worked so hard for, but I can’t when those two are here.”

“The only way you could kick them out is if you’re the majority share holder.”

“And I can’t be the majority share holder because my own brother has placed a persona non grata on my name.” You spat.

“I really can’t help you with this, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

You sighed, nodding.

“You still smoke?” Rhodey inquired and this peaked your attention. Back in the day, this was your secret code with Rhodey at any moment that neither of you wanted to deal with Tony’s shit or of anyone else in the company. It also meant that both of you wanted to be as far away from anyone’s hearing.

“Same place?” You inquired a smirk playing on your face.

“Tony made some changes to the rooftop with the railings but it’s quiet enough for us.”

You nodded letting him leave first before you turned your attention back towards you team that were all hard at work with the newest proposal you had come up with before the meeting.

“Any problem, Boss?” Sam was quick to inquire once Rhodey had left the office. Trust Sam to be the most cautious one in the team when you were lacking in that department.

“Family problems more like it.” You sighed slipping out your pack of cigarette and lighter from your desk drawer.

“Thought you stopped smoking?”

“Being in the same environment that caused my smoking habits does that to me.” You muttered. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Holler if you need anything, Boss. Take it easy.” Knowing Sam for as long as you did, you know he wasn’t convinced by your lies at this point, but after everything, you could care less anymore what he worries about.

“Love you, Sam.” You called out before slipping out of the office and just for the hell of it, made your way to the fire exit to climb up to the rooftop and hopefully avoiding stumbling into anyone you were so keen in seeing any time soon.

The memories of your first time working in the company brought you back to the happier parts of your life. How things had been more simple, no complication and no setback if you make a mistake. But now, you know the mistake you could make would possibly dispel the failure of your father’s blood, sweat, and tears.

As the familiar ache on your legs continued to spread, you were reminded of every little thing that had made you believe you were a better fit that Tony had it not been for the fact that he carried the family name, the doubts that your father always had for Tony taking over the company—the trust he had that you would be the one to help him every step of the way. How neither of you would have ever thought you would do the complete opposite and walk away and have a hand in actually ruining the company because of your own spite.

Opening the door, the cold air of New York nearly fifty stores above ground was what welcomed you. The familiar cold that prickled your skin and quickly had you slip a cigarette between your lips even without realizing you weren’t realty intending on smoking it initially.

Rhodey was waiting with his back facing you. The smoke lingering meant he was also smoking already.

“So what’s the truth, Rhodes?” You teased finally coming to stand besides your friends, handing him the rest of your pack.

“We’re in a sinking ship, Y/N. And the Captain has more ego than braincell at this point.”

“Not if I can stop it, Rhodes.”

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sciderman · 4 years

Photo

Was going through some old writing files (of which there are hundreds!!) and stumbled across a high school AU I was writing a while ago! (an actual one! not a tantalising dream-sequence involving cheerleaders, though we all know I love those...)

I don’t know if I’ll resurrect it, but there’s a bit of fun to be had - Peter’s anger issues are something that I’d like to see explored more in spideypool fic, and I just... I love high school AUs okay...

Read some of it under the cut!

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

“What’re you in for?”

“Something stupid.” Peter grumbled.

“Love it.” The boy said, grinning. Peter noticed a missing tooth. “I hid a frog in the student counsellor’s desk. You should’ve seen him scream.”

Peter was quiet, but his lips quirked.

“Immature”, he eventually said.

“The guy’s a dickhole. And,” the blond rocked on his chair, buzzing, “technically, I saved a life.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Saved the frog from one of the labs. They were gonna slice him open. Imagine you’re just sitting on your lily pad one day. Chilling. And then some jackass scientist scoops you up and cuts you open. Starts prodding inside you. Gross.”

“Okay, yeah, gross.”

“My name is Wade, bee-tee-dubs.”

Wade. Peter remembered. He’d only joined the class at the beginning of last semester, and sat near the back of the class. He hadn’t recognised him by his face because he’d always had his hood up. Not that Peter had ever paid enough attention to his peers to remember them by face anyway.

“Uh.” Peter said, eyeing the hand he was being offered as a greeting. He didn’t return the handshake, but he responded with a simple “I’m Peter.”

“Cool.” Wade nodded, looking at his feet, heels bouncing off the linoleum floor. His shoes were scuffed and worn.

A moment of silence passed. Both boys turned their attention to the floor, as though it were suddenly the most interesting feature of the room.

Peter side eyed his company, in the moment of quiet. There were shallow craters on the boy’s face, Peter noticed, like chickenpox scars that hadn’t fully healed. Wade definitely seemed conscious about it, with his hood being nearly always drawn, and his shaggy hair that often covered his face.

“Peter Parker.” The principal called, peering through the door at the boys. The principal glared at Wade, who put up his hands in response. Clearly Wade was a regular.

A wave of smugness came over Peter, who leant in close to Wade.

“I broke Flash Thompson’s arm.” Peter whispered, before standing up to enter the principal’s office. For a second Peter saw Wade’s face light up, like that was the coolest thing he had ever heard.

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

“Mr Parker, I recognise you’re going through a tough time – And I’m sorry.”

Peter sank in his chair, eyes fixed on a hole puncher sat on the desk.

“I understand you must be going through a lot of emotions at the moment, but you,” the principal wrung his hands, “you hospitalised one of your classmates. Eugene Thompson –”

The principal’s voice faded in and out of Peter’s attention. As usual, he stood alone on Planet Peter Parker.

He thought about Aunt May. Her eyes, pink and puffy. Thin hands trembling as she held them by her mouth, recounting all she remembered about that night to the police. The police, who with empty looks, mechanically took down notes. Jaded. Like a family hadn’t been just destroyed. Like a good man hadn’t just been murdered in cold blood.

Peter's uncle was a humble man. Simple, but good. He wasn't ambitious, or gifted, or clever. But he was wise.

Clever. Wise. Peter hadn't understood there was a difference between the two.

He took him for granted, Peter admitted to himself, as he cried that night, and the days following. He cried for the first time in months. Months of distancing himself from the world, before the world decided to stage a head-on-head collision with him.

“Peter? Peter, are you listening?”

Peter at last looked up, and with the movement, a tear managed to escape his eye. He brought the heel of his palm up quickly to wipe it away.

“Look, son, I want you to see the student counsellor tomorrow.” The principal said, taking down a note. Peter scowled at the pen, as it scribbled. “It will help, Peter. I want you to see the counsellor every Tuesday and Friday, last period. We’ll keep track of your healing process.”

Peter took the note when it was offered to him, and pocketed it without a word. He turned to leave.

“Peter. I didn’t dismiss you.”

Peter sighed, turning back, red-eyed and tired.

“I’m sorry about your uncle. But when Eugene returns, you will apologise.”

Peter swallowed, voice quiet when at last he spoke. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Whether that was true or not, Peter was still undecided on.

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

The school day dragged at an excruciatingly slow pace. Peter couldn’t hear the teacher. All he could hear, all day, were the whispers amongst his peers. Right now, Peter wished the walls he built to keep the world out were soundproofed.

“Did you hear? He put Flash in the ER.”

“Puny Parker? No way.”

“He’s an absolute freak.”

“He’s probably really screwed up right now, guys. I think his like, Uncle died or something.”

Peter snapped his pencil.

“Can I be excused, miss?”

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

Peter ran as fast as he could out of the school doors, gasping in air as deeply as he could. He was at his breaking point. If everyone in class saw him crying, he’d really never hear the end of it. He’d be seeing the school councillor until he graduated.

The air was cool but his face was scalding hot, tears streaming down his cheeks. He buried his face in both hands and screamed. With all the effort he could afford he tried to steady his breathing. In and out, in and out, until he started to feel lightheaded.

He could’ve broken the school doors off its hinges. He could have slammed his fists so hard on the walls, until they crumbled, or he did.

He threw a kick so hard on a nearby trash can that it flew across the courtyard.

He hated this school. He could’ve tore it down right where he stood.

“Dude.”

Peter turned so fast his head nearly knocked off his shoulders. Wade stood, back against the wall, casual as anything. He had a cigarette in hand.

“You’re an animal, dude.” Wade said, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Peter’s mouth hung open, finding it difficult to find words. He brought up a sleeve to wipe up his face.

“I, just. I –”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I hate this place.”

Wade nodded, a calm demeanour about him that almost served to calm Peter by osmosis.

Peter Parker was always a very rational boy. Quiet. Reserved. He never lost it like this. He’s never –

“I heard – about your uncle.”

Peter’s eyes were exhausted from crying, he couldn’t afford anymore tears. Peter’s entire body felt it was going to sink through the earth. And Wade could see it. Wade could see it on Peter’s face. He looked to Wade for mercy. To let him fall off the planet’s surface.

��Listen, if it were me I’d – I’d kill him. I’d kill whoever did it.”

Peter was quiet. Wade’s words felt like an electric jolt, sobering him up.

All the hollow words of consolation had left him numb, but this rang through Peter’s ears.

Eventually Peter found his voice again.

“You’d kill him, but you’d save a frog?”

“Yeah.” Wade said, as if it were obvious. “The frog didn’t do anything wrong.”

Silence followed. Peter couldn’t look up from the ground. His hands formed fists at his sides.

All the way home, Wade’s words replayed in Peter’s head. I’d kill him. I’d kill whoever did it.

The police were apathetic. Crimes go unsolved. And that made Peter’s blood boil hotter than it ever had. The thought that someone – out there – would be getting away with it.

That Aunt May might always carry that hollow, broken look in her eyes.

Later that night, Peter threw on a red hoodie, pulling the drawstrings tight. He snuck out his bedroom window, like he did every night.

News reports tell of an escaped robber cornered in a building downtown.

#spideypool #fanfic #high school au

783 notes · View notes

hxnmantii · 3 years

Text

Draken and Naoto comforting their s/o

tw: fluff

Requested by: @cryingblueogre

A/n: I’m really nervous posting this ngl since this is my first time actually posting for Tokyo Revengers as well writing a drabble so creative criticism would be very much appreciated! Reblogs are appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

tagging: @kazutoraholic

Draken (Ken Ryuguji)

Rain was a natural indication, encouragement to stay and cuddle with the person you love but it had the opposite effect on you, seemingly pushing you further into your unforgiving head. You stare at your computer in a daze, a mass of considerable useless information flowing past your eyes and ears as your attention is really focused on your cruel thoughts. Of course Draken noticed, he always did. He noticed the little sighs, and the dark circles, the new over/under sleeping schedule and the constant “I’m fine” s. He noticed all of that and trusted that with time and patience, you would come talk to him. But today, right now, It was very apparent that you were not going to, so Draken had taken initiative to “ask” about it. He treads lightly to your sitting figure, draping himself along your back like a cover before kissing your forehead softly. His arms tighten around your waist essentially pulling you closer to his chest so he can put his head in the crook of your shoulder and rub your tummy. You hum, acknowledging his presence but other than that you sit in silence, a comfortable norm for you guys. He sighs softly. “Whatever’s happening right now, whatever you’re going through, just know you’re not alone. I'm here with you so let me help you.” He says softly. One hand interlaces with yours, the other grabbing your chin so he can place a sweet kiss on your lips, hoping that it conveys how much he loves you.

The kiss took your breath as does all of Draken’s kisses and with the pitter patter of the rain, it felt as if you were melting in his embrace, fully soaking in his abundance of love and trust for you. But as soon as he pulled away, the day dreamlike state disappeared and you were brought back to reality of your current problems on this dumb computer. “Thank you for worrying about me but honestly i’m okay, Ken so don’t worry about me.” He stays silent for a couple of minutes before moving back and standing up, walking away to whatever. The lack of warmth really makes you realize that even the love of your life couldn't possibly understand what you were going through, a fact that only made you feel more alone. You wrap your arms around yourself and continue to look at the computer screen when a cup slams down next to you. You look up to see Draken holding his old cardigan and a cover, dropping it on the couch behind you and crouching to your level.

“Is everything on this computer backed up?” he asked

“Yea why-”

He slams the screen shut before you can even finish your sentence, chucking it into you guys’ bedroom.You look at him with a frown on your face. “Can you not? Break my laptop please?” He ignores you, placing his cardigan on you. His smell fills your nose and makes you at ease. Draken picks you up before flopping on the couch, setting you up comfortably on his chest before he once again wraps his arms around you, dragging a cover over your body. His smell, his warmth, his strength, the effort he puts in to make you comfortable, you can't help the smile that adorns your face as you snuggle closer to this chest.“You had that same expression,,,,,you don’t think I would understand what you’re going through. I might not but how do you know if you wont tell me? We’re supposed to be in this together, aren’t we? Let me help you.”

“Thank you Kenny. I will tomorrow, okay?”

“Yea, that’s fine but for now relax, sleep, play on your phone, I don't really care what you do but you’re not leaving until you feel better.” he says, not knowing that you were already feeling x10 better thanks to him.

Naoto Tachibana

Y/n, I’m home”

Naoto walks through the door, briefcase in one hand and cup of barely warm coffee. He looks around, expecting a vibrant you to be mobing him at the door with a smile brighter than the sun like you usually do. He sets down his belongings and walks briskly to the bedroom, a strong sense of worry feeling his chest. It only gets stronger when he sees that you haven’t moved from the curled up position he left you in, 7 hours ago. He sits down by your side and gently rubs up and down your arm. “Y/n, love what’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?” You groan and roll over, away from him. He was too loud and you didn’t need him judging you over your problems, not that he ever actually did so but your thoughts were cruel.

“I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.” You can feel him get off of the bed so you close your eyes and pull the cover over your head to fall deeper into your thoughts. Except he doesn’t accept this answer and walks around the bed to face you again. You feel his presence without him having to say anything and peek from the comforter to see your boyfriend hovering over you, arms crossed and a frown on his face. “Naoto what’s wrong? I said I was okay?”

“You can’t fool me y/n, you’ve been in the same spot since I left for work. C’mon get up.”

“No” you say, throwing the comforter back over your head. Your dark, warm coven suddenly gets a lot brighter when Naoto rips the blanket off your body. “You play too much, give it back.

“I’m serious. Let’s go take a walk, it’s nice outside and i've doubt you’ve eaten so we can just get something while we’re out.” You groan again but nonetheless get up, swinging your legs over the bed and putting on the first clean pair of clothes you can find. He’s already by the door with his hand held out, an invitation to hold hands. As soon as your hands connect, you guys are out the door and into the fresh air. At first you guys walk in silence, the first goal on his mind is to find you something to eat and when that’s checked off the list, he’s finding a bench right in front of the sunset. He’s not the funniest person, he knows this but he tries to tell you stories of this little blonde kid who used to be obsessed with handshakes to the point where he had accidentally held his hand, reaching for his sisters. His objective wasn’t necessary to divert from the main subject at hand but to make you more relaxed to talk about what’s been bothering you although his heart still soars with pride when he sees you let out a little smile.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” he says, his eyes filled with uncensored adoration and a slight tint on his cheeks. He turns his attention to the sunset although he’s very conscious of your reactions and movements. “I’m worried about you. I know lately, it seems as if life, itself, has been against you but it gets better, I promise. There’ll be a time in the future where you’ll be happy and successful and you’ll look back at this stage of your life and realize you were worrying for nothing. So trust the process and focus on your goal, love. It will work out, it always does.” he places a soft kiss against your hand before interlacing them once again before sitting in silence, a comfortable silence. In that moment, you were not only able to soak in the sun’s ray but his unconditional love and respect for you. “Thank you, Naoto.” you whisper. He doesn't respond but you see the little smile on his.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #draken x reader #ken ryuuguji headcanons #draken headcanons #tokyo revengers naoto #naoto x reader #naoto x you #naoto tachibana #black!reader #princess’s garden

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chaos-burst · 3 years

Text

direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this... how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

#doriax #critfic #exu fic #critical role #dariax zaveon #dorian storm #exandria unlimited #exu #fanfiction #screeching into the void #text #this has an M rating on ao3 jsyk #we have ~9k of practice kissing/college au magical realism here my guys #dorian #dariax

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a-second-hand-sorrow · 3 years

Text

We'd Better Get Cracking (Simon Kalivoda x Reader)

WC: 1322

Warnings: Language, semi-suggestive content (this warning will make more sense after reading lmao)

Summary: Night shifts at the grocery store can be so boring, but Simon always finds a way to mix things up.

A/N: Jesus Christ it's been so long since I've written anything, but the lack of writing for the Fear Street movies really pushed me back into it. I hope you guys enjoy this, I know I had fun writing it

Why the Shadyside Mall’s opening hours stretched so late into the night had always baffled Y/N. The sheer amount of crime in Shadyside was one reason she always questioned the opening hours, but also the fact that the whole mall was dead after 5pm, despite being open until 9pm. Manning the grocery store on closing shifts was always incredibly dull given the lack of customers, save the occasional high schooler coming in to sheepishly buy condoms or some other random item. The only thing that kept her shifts interesting was Simon Kalivoda.

The two had been friends since they were kids, and they were both ecstatic when they got jobs at the same place. By the time they’d started working closing shifts together, Simon realised just how boring it could get and took it upon himself to always make them fun. This promise was the reason why Y/N was currently watching her best friend since childhood stage some very provocative scenes using the remaining fresh produce they had in the store.

“For the love of God Simon, I want to know what happened in your mind to make you think that soft-core fruit porn was the way to go today.” Y/N said, shaking her head as she watched Simon’s intense concentration break before he turned to her.

“Would you rather a repeat of last Thursday night?” Simon said, raising his eyebrows as Y/N recounted Simon’s boredom-breaker from last Thursday.

“Simon, what the fuck are you thinking?” Y/N hissed, watching as Simon dropped a watermelon in front of the bread-slicer.

“Well, I’m thinking that everything else I’ve tried has gone through pretty easily, so why not try go for the gold medal of the ‘random shit in the bread-slicer’ Olympics?” Simon said, his eyes gleaming with absolute chaos.

“If you break the slicer there’s no way we’ll have jobs tomorrow.” Y/N said, looking around to make sure no customers had walked in. Although she always condemned Simon’s crazy behaviour at work, she loved seeing all the different ideas he would come up with each closing shift.

“I’ve been employee of the month for the last six months straight, management couldn’t get rid of me even if they wanted to.” Simon said, shooting Y/N a somewhat cocky smile that the girl just scoffed off. She watched as Simon fiddled with the different buttons and switches on the bread slicer, laughing when he jumped at the noise that signalled the machine was on.

“It’s showtime.” Simon said, his poor imitation of Beetlejuice earning a groan from Y/N. The pair locked eyes, and Y/N noticed a hint of softness in his eyes that almost stopped her in her tracks. Before she could think about that look for too much longer, she was rudely brought back to Earth by the sound of Simon’s gold medal attempt.

“Jesus Simon!” Y/N exclaimed, watching as the watermelon slowly made its way through the slicer. Simon let out a manic laugh, clearly shocked his plan had worked.

“I am never letting you doubt my genius ever again, Y/L/N.” Simon said, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N scoffed, unsure as to why her cheeks suddenly felt so hot.

“I never said I doubted you Kalivoda.” Y/N muttered, relishing in the proud look Simon gave her. Simon opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly shut it, widening his eyes when he looked at the slicer.

“I think we may have a problem, Y/N.”

“Yeah I fully thought we were gonna get fired after that so fruit erotica doesn’t seem so bad now. Please, proceed with your masterpiece, Kalivoda.” Y/N said, jumping off her seat on the check-out counter to move over towards Simon.

While Simon had his back towards her, Y/N took a moment to observe Simon at work. He always carried a crazed sense of joy with him no matter what he was doing, and Y/N had always loved that about him. He paused for a moment to survey his scene, and Y/N took note of the way he furrowed his brow and bit his lip. She suddenly felt the urge to turn away, her cheeks flushing almost immediately.

Simon quickly went back to work arranging a peach and a carrot in a manner that was certainly not safe for work. As she watched him Y/N came to a crushing realisation she had known was true but been fighting for quite a while. She had it bad for Simon Kalivoda. She cursed under her breath, realising that Kate’s incessant teasing was now annoyingly based in truth.

“Y/N, my masterpiece is ready. May I present to you, the fruit of my loins.” Simon said, his smile growing after the groan Y/N let out. He gestured towards the set up with a flourish, and Y/N instantly burst out into laughter.

“I gotta hand it to you Simon, that’s some impressive fruit porn. You take a class or something?” Y/N said through her laughter, examining Simon’s work closely. He laughed, looking over her shoulder at the assorted fruits.

“No baby, that’s all natural talent.” Simon said, and Y/N jumped at his sudden proximity. She turned around to face him, hyper aware of the limited space between them.

“Can I ask you something?” Y/N said after a stretch of silence, and Simon nodded, trying to keep his eyes from drifting any lower than her face.

“Why do you do all this?” She asked, and Simon cocked his head in confusion.

“Do what?” He said, and Y/N took in a deep breath.

“All the crazy shit every closing shift. You always have something whacky, and I certainly appreciate it but why? It’s a whole lot of effort Si.” Y/N said, and Simon’s stomach started to fill up with butterflies.

“I, uh, it’s for you.” Simon muttered, and suddenly Y/N was the confused one. Simon never mumbled, he was always open and outspoken.

“What was that?” She said, and Simon sighed, running a hand through his blond hair.

“I do it for you.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him with eyes like saucers. She didn’t say anything, so he kept talking to fill the silence.

“I remember how bored you got on that first shift, and I just hated seeing you like that so I decided that I wasn’t going to let you go a shift with me and be bored again. I’ve always liked seeing you happy Y/N/N.” Simon admitted, and although he never explicitly told her how he felt, he prayed to God she could pick up on the subtext.

Y/N gasped softly, and Simon could feel his heart thudding in his chest. “You’re such an idiot, Simon.” Y/N said, and before Simon could respond, Y/N was kissing him. His brain almost short-circuited at the feeling of her lips and hands on him. He pulled her closer to him, taking note of how perfectly she fit in his arms.

They broke apart, and Y/N rested her forehead against Simon’s, the only sound in the store their heavy breathing. “I have a terrible feeling we owe Kate some money now.” Y/N muttered, relishing in the sound of Simon’s laughter.

“I think she’ll just be glad she doesn’t have to hear me pine over you anymore. I swear she was this close to locking us in a closet together until we made out.” Simon said, and Y/N snorted at his comment.

“You realise we still have to close up shop right?” Y/N said, and Simon groaned, hugging her even tighter.

“Surely we can go home and if anything happens to the store then we can just skip town.” Simon said, placing soft kisses to Y/N’s head. She reluctantly broke away from him, pulling a face at the puppy dog eyes Simon shot her way.

“The quicker we close up, the quicker we can be making out at your place.” Y/N said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Well, I guess we’d better get cracking then.”

#simon kalivoda #simon kalivoda x reader #simon kalivoda imagine #fear street #fear street 1994 #fred hechinger

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

Streetdogs and Chest Compressions // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Reader reconnected with her estranged younger brother in the cruelest of ways as the 118 is called the scene of three young men suffering after eating streetdogs. Unfortunately, this is how Buck meets the future brother in law he had no clue even existed.

Warnings: Swearing, family problems (aka estranged), withholding personal information, angst, medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 4.7k

A/N: This fic is a crossover between Julie and the Phantoms and 9-1-1 in which Luke, Reggie and Alex eat the streetdogs in modern times. Don’t worry, someone still dies. Reader’s nickname is Spitfire

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It seemed Los Angeles was taking pity on the 118 with not even a single fire to be put out or medical needed. It was slow. Painfully slow, and you weren't even halfway through the twenty-four-hour shift. Hen and Chimney had taken the circular table for a card game, Bobby was reading a new cookbook. Eddie's Abuela had brought Christopher to the firehouse for his online schooling, the Diaz's wifi was malfunctioning. Buck and you had snuck off the bunk room to catch some sleep.

"Lazy movie day?" Buck asked with his arms tightly wound around your hips. Your form almost rested entirely on his front due to the narrow bunk.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." You replied to the content man underneath you. You could only hum as he shifted to kiss the top of your head, "Now shh. I want to slee-"

The bell sounded before you could even finish your sentence, "And what I didn't want to happen just had to spite me."

Buck and you hurried to quickly pull on your turnout gear before hopping into the respective seats you used. Eddie across from you, Buck driving with Bobby in the Captain seat. Hen and Chimney in the ambulance tailing you.

"We have three males in their late teens. Ate hotdogs in an alley before collapsing in the process." Bobby informed his team all the while he watched the road, "One is profusely puking, one's unconscious, and the last one is stable."

"Thinking it's food poisoning? That sudden?" Buck inquired with a swift glance from his position of driving. Bobby shrugged in response just as Buck eased the fire truck to a half near a crowded alley.

You were the first one out of the firetruck with your medical bag and halfway to the alley before the team could get out.

"Make some room!" You shouted among the heavily populated area, curious about the medical emergency.

Everything slowed down as you pushed between the last two people into something you called your worst nightmare. Three teenage individuals settled on their sides in unconscious states had been a fixture in your youth. Your eyes stayed pinned on the prone figure of your little brother.

It was like being underwater. Nothing could be heard, and it felt like you were in the process of drowning. It was the first time seeing Luke since you stormed out of your family home back when you were eighteen years old.

It was the same old unchanging story playing for months now with only the new addition of an audience. It was the middle of a blistering summer in Los Angeles, but it was the most heated in the Patterson household. You'd been at the movies with your best friends while your mother, Emily, was putting your laundry away.

Emily's hand had bumped your dresser by accident in her process of closing your socks drawer. The Patterson matriarch and her husband would never invade their children's rooms, but her keen eye had noticed the pamphlet; nothing serious like teen pregnancy but it was surprising.

Emily was holding a recruitment pamphlet for the Los Angeles Fire Department marked with your handwriting. Her heart dropped in sync with the front door slamming shut.

"I'm home!" You called out from the entrance. You didn't hear as your mother wandered into the open space. Her eyes flaring in both anger and fear; when a person is scared, they lash out.

That's what Emily did.

"What is this?"

Your eyes found the item in her hand that genuinely made your blood freeze in your veins. This was not how you'd wanted her to find out about your career decision.

"I'm applying. I graduated high school, and hopefully, I'll be train-"

"Like hell, you will! You're going to college and getting a real job! This won't take you anywhere Y/N Y/M/N Patterson!" Emily snapped just as Mitch came through the back door with your ten-year-old brother Luke.

"What's going on?" Mitch questioned as soon as he felt the tension between mother and daughter. Luke was quiet amongst the adults speaking.

"Your daughter isn't going to college. She's going to be a firefighter.

"Spitfire?"

A smooth hand startled you with the clap on your shoulder and Hen looking at you, "Are you okay?"

"I-" You shakily attempted to speak but alas had to be gently settled on the ground before you keeled over and hurt yourself. Your uniform, long sleeves this time, felt constricting as the guilt nearly swallowed you whole.

"Hey, Cap? I think I know why those three are like that." Buck called out from a sketchy grill by an even sketchier condiments table. The table being a rusted Oldsmobile manned by a greasy dude and his girl.

Even from a distance, you could smell the chemicals wafting off the unsanitary set up that would put a health inspector in a casket.

"One's waking up!" Chimney spoke from the slump of pink and denim fabric. A curtain of blonde '90s style hair mussed on his head.

"Look, Y/N, I need you to dig deep to help these three boys. They have long lives ahead of them and need our A-game." Hen spoke with her hands, already checking one of the teens for broken bones.

Your eyes closed with a deep breath before you moved towards the boy on the other side. Eddie shifted to allow you room to check him over.

"Strong pulse. Breathing is good." You clinically informed your team, "Eddie can-"

"What happened?" The gruff voice spoke from behind you. As expected, Alex's voice had deepened in the years you'd gone without seeing Luke or his friends.

"You got this one?" You asked Eddie without waiting for a response; you were by Chim's side with a soft smile. Alex's eyes widened momentarily, "Hey Alex."

"Y/N?" Alex nearly gasped in shock. His shock seemed contagious as your entire team from the 118 caught it, "What's going on?"

"You ate some bad hotdogs and needed our help. We're gonna get you to the hospital. I'm worried you ingested battery acid." You spoke, understanding that Alex would prefer details instead of the lack thereof. Even from an early age, he'd been anxious.

"Oh. Are the guys okay?" Alex softly asked with his eye blinking as a strand of his blonde hair caught in his eyelashes. You slowly nodded in response without really knowing the status of Reggie and Luke.

"Eddie, Buck, can you get him loaded in the ambulance?" You called over your shoulder once you'd finished your thorough examination of Alex. The sound of boots on the hard ground appeared before they appeared.

Eddie and Buck swiftly loaded him on a gurney, but Alex's eyes widened, "Why are there two hot guys touching me? Oh my god. Do you see the cute guys too?"

You snickered as Alex's failed attempt at a stage whisper, "Yes. Alex."

"I've been blessed as a gay man." Alex breathed with a cute little grin plastered on his face, "Maybe I should eat more streetdogs-"

"NO!" Eddie, Buck, and you collectively shouted in response to Alex's delirious comment. He was loaded into the ambulance beside Reggie's gurney.

"I'm gonna jump in with the other guy in the ambulance." You quickly informed your boyfriend and Eddie. Each shared a look before Eddie slammed his fist on the back of this ambulance. It rolled away, and you jogged to the one Hen was driving.

Buck was there giving you a hand into the back of the ambulance with one of the other paramedics. You couldn't meet his eye when you were staring at the unconscious but thankfully alive body of your little brother. Your eyes couldn't be pulled away even as the ambulance started driving away.

Buck momentarily stared after the leaving vehicle until it turned a corner leaving him with his crew and questions. Eddie kept by Buck's side on the return to the firetruck in unusual silence. It wasn't often that Buck was quiet.

"What do you think that was about?" Eddie inquired as the truck pulled onto the street to follow the ambulances to the hospital, "Y/N knew the conscious one-"

"-and the one in the ambulance she jumped in. Kept staring at him like he'd disappear out of her sight." Buck supplied, staring out the window to the passing buildings. His blue eyes are unable to focus on the looks Bobby was sending.

Bobby attempted to bring Buck into a conversation, but each attempt was a failure. Neither Bobby nor Eddie knew how to make him feel better or why he was feeling off.

Whereas you kept a hawk-eye on your brother's stats the entirety of the drive. The ambulance had only just entered the parking lot when his stats dropped. A long beep sounded, alerting you that Luke's heart had stopped.

"Goddamnit." You swore as you started leaning over Luke to start compressions. In order to continue compressions, you clambered into the gurney as the back doors opened.

"Hold compressions!" Eddie exclaimed once, seeing the situation, "No pulse."

You continued even as the gurney entered the hospital, and a doctor was there, "We got it."

You did as the doctor had subtly implied by climbing off the gurney, leaving the medical professionals to continue. You followed your brother's unconscious body to the surprise of the 118; you had never tried to follow the patient. It was more of Buck's issue.

"Y/N, our job ends here. You know that." Bobby spoke with Hen, Chimney, Eddie and Buck flanking his sides. Your e/c eyes shifted between the brown of your Captain's eyes and the blue of your boyfriend's eyes.

"It doesn't end when I just did compressions on my little brother." You informed him, "Write me up. Suspend me if you want, but I need to be in there."

Bobby's eyes softened, "Your shift is almost over. Just come in early on your next shift; you can make breakfast."

"Thanks, Bobby." You softly informed the man who'd become both your boss and a pseudo father. He only nodded in response with your friends beside him with different expressions, "I should get in there."

Without waiting for another response, you'd already entered the ER through the ambulance bay sliding doors. You went straight to the nursing desk with sure steps.

"Hi, I was in the ambulance that brought in a young male teenager. Shaggy brunette hair, caucasian. He was in a separate ambulance from his two friends." You spoke once the head nurse had turned his attention to you, "He was getting compressions on his way in. Name Luke Patterson."

"Are you asking as a paramedic?" Jude questioned with his fingers tapping the keys of the computer.

"No. He's my brother." You sighed, bringing the sympathetic brown eyes of Jude to look at you. The look changed a degree when he read the sentences on the screen.

"Are you aware your brother ran away from home? There's a social worker on her way."

Your jaw dropped in surprise, "Ran away? He ran away?!"

Jude flinched at the screech of words you accidentally released to both your and Jude's horror in the quiet ER. Jude turned the screen to show a digital missing person's poster with your brother's face on it.

"He's awake." Jude supplied, having deciphered and guessed correctly you'd gone a while without seeing your brother, "I'm off shift now, but I can bring you to him. I'll let the social worker know."

The nerves grew each step closer to the room your brother was stationed in for the time being with Reggie for comfort in the neighbouring bed. Part of you wished Luke would be asleep to avoid the confrontation about to happen. Only Luke's hazel eyes turned to see him in his pause of puking.

"Hey." You softly breathed into the quiet room. Luke's breath caught in his throat, "You ran away?"

"Guess we're more alike than we thought. We both run when it gets tough." Luke's words were all snark and poison to your heart. His hazel eyes glaring into your own eyes with anger that covered up the pain, "Hope this is just a delirious episode."

Your eyes squeezed closer, "Luke-"

"What? Are you gonna apologize for abandoning me? The only reason you're reaching out is that you happened to be the medic!"

You could physically feel your heart clench, "No. I tried reaching out. Mom and dad don't answer the phone. You didn't have a phone, and like hell, they'd give me the number either. The letters and-"

"Excuse me? Ms. Patterson." Both Luke and your attention shifted the entrance. A well put together woman stood with a clipboard, "I'm Beth. A social worker and I'm afraid you aren't allowed to speak with Luke alone."

"I'm his sister."

"Barely." Luke hissed, avoiding looking at you by looking over at Reggie, "I'd like to be alone."

"I can respect that. Here's my number if you need anything, Luke. Seriously, night or day, I'll answer. I know how it was living in that house, but you have someone to run to. Me." You firmly told the stubborn teenager, "Listen to Beth. You can't live on the streets Luke, it's not fair to you or anyone else. I'll ask my friend to keep an eye on you."

Had you not noticed Luke's jaw clenching, you'd have thought he hadn't heard you, "Whatever."

"Beth, have Reggie or Alex's parents come yet?"

Beth nodded, "I'm not supposed to reveal that, but yes Mr and Mrs Peters are talking to the doctor. Alex was moved into a room. They'll all make a full recovery."

You cast one last look at your little brother curled up in the hospital bed, a stark similarity to the night you returned home, only for your things.

It wasn't an accident you chose to return to your childhood home on Thursday night with the schedule on the fridge memorized. Every second Thursday, your mom attended the PTA meetings for Luke's school. Your father would be home but most likely asleep in his recliner, but if he was awake, it wouldn't be bad.

Your father was more lenient than your mother, even if he shared the same mentality.

"I was wondering when you'd come back," Mitch spoke from his recliner with the side table holding his drink. A glass of your mom's homemade lemonade, "Your mom-"

"I'm not staying." You firmly spoke on your way to the hallways where the bedrooms were positioned. You could hear the soft steps of your father's well-worn slippers.

"What?"

"Look, Dad, you can't leave the house, but I can. I'm not staying in this place with her stifling ideas. This is my life. Just because she decided to be a stay at home, mom doesn't mean she gets to make my decisions and live through me." You informed the man while shoving clothing, items, toiletries, among other things, in the suitcase.

"Y/N, firstly, that is not how to speak about your mother. She sacrificed to take care of this family. Luke looks up at you, don't give him a bad impression of our family."

"No."

"If you walk out that door without apologizing, then you are not welcome back until you do so." Mitch's voice came out in that fatherly authoritarian tone. The no-nonsense look in his eye nailing the coffin in your decision.

"I'm not apologizing for choosing a career of helping other people. Of being a step for someone to live and not die. So what if it's not a teacher, a lawyer or some other bullshit 'acceptable' career. I love you, dad. I love mom too and Luke. But I'm not subjecting myself to a desk job with no drive in it."

"Where will you stay?"

"I have a place. I'll call to talk with Luke. I won't 'poison' his mind with ill thoughts of mom. But I won't lie to him either."

Mitch was stock still as you glanced into the bedroom next to your childhood bedroom. Luke's room was still decorated with spaceships and stuffed animals. Your eyes watched the rising of Luke's back as he breathed from his curled up position.

You couldn't help but walk to kneel at his side. Your hand brushed his soft hair from his forehead. You drank in the look of pure content and innocence on his sleeping face.

"Y/N?" Luke mumbled with his bleary eyes blinking, "You're home."

"I have to head out. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Luke spoke mere seconds before his breathing evened out once more.

That was the last night you'd been in the home. Luke sat next to the landline phone the next night, waiting for a call that never came. Your parents had unhooked the line. Luke sat on a stool beside it for weeks before his hopes soured.

If only you'd known leaving your parents would mean souring your relationship with your brother. Than maybe you would have reached out for his benefit and your self-proclaiming selfishness

"Thought you'd need a ride," Buck spoke from his position leaning against the wall still in his uniform. There was definitely a new tension in the air between you and him, "We'll grab our things from the house than go home."

"Thank you." You softly spoke to Buck. The weight of keeping your family secret dragged your shoulders down. You couldn't help but wonder if this was gonna cause a fracture in your relationship.

"No matter what. I'll always be here." Buck told you with his arms coming to wrap around your shoulders. He led you through the ER, you'd waved at the shocked parents of both Alex and Reggie, "Who-"

"Luke's friends' parents."

"Okay, so your family lives just outside of the city in Los Felix?"

"Feliz. They live in Los Feliz, from what I know. I haven't been back since I was eighteen." You chuckled, "I want to stress that my parents are abusive or neglectful. Not even bad, but my mom had this idea of what my life should be like."

Buck hummed with his right arm around your waist, and his left casually balanced on his outstretched leg. A bottle of beer loosely gripped in his left hand.

"How old is Luke?"

"He'll be eighteen in August. When I left, he was ten." You mused, leaning into Buck's side, "I think that's why Maddie and I get along so well. We're both big sisters with a significant age gap to our brother."

Buck hummed, "Why did you keep it from me?"

"It hurt. It still hurts just thinking about it. They unhooked the landline the night after I went back for my things." You recalled the agony at having an olive branch snapped off, "I promised to call Luke, and I wasn't able to; they'd disconnected the landline. Imagining the look of hurt on Luke's face was enough to keep me from physically reaching out."

"I wish you had trusted me." Buck finally admitted with the last swig of his beer in the middle of his words, "We're engaged. We're looking at houses, but you never told me about your parents. About your brother. Above your life before the 118."

"Buck. I trust you with my life." You urgently informed the firefighter. Your hands cupped his cheeks to ensure his eyes focused on yours. You wanted him to see the truth, "You are the most important piece of my life. You and the 118 made me feel at home from the moment I joined. Buck, you are my family."

That look courtesy of his parents' actions faded ever so slightly from his eyes, "You guys are my family too."

"I'd like you to meet my little brother when we can reconcile." You announced into the cool summer night. Your drink had been long gone in the process of working through seeing your brother again, "I never thought I'd see him as a patient I'd have to help. Seeing him pale and unconscious nearly destroyed me."

"But he made it."

"He texted me 'didn't die' with the rock 'n roll hand emoji." You deadpanned, recalling the emotional two days for news. You were kinda shocked that Luke had even reached out at all.

Buck couldn't have successfully hidden his laugh if you weren't currently leaning against his body.

"So Albert found an apartment. He won't be moving with us." Buck changed the subject with the same ease he'd always held at knowing you. This was just another one of the moments you were thankful for having him by your side.

"So now there's not a reason to search for a bigger house?" You questioned with a crease between your eyebrows.

In the last two years, several significant changes have been impacting all areas of your life, especially the personal aspect. Buck had proposed during a picnic hike about a year ago with the mutual agreement for a long engagement; his parents didn't believe it was for anything other than pregnancy. Additionally, working in the same firehouse made planning difficult and then your apartment lease bringing the conversation of houses.

Originally Albert would rent part of the home out, so it needed at least three bedrooms.

"I mean, we don't have to not look. We've talked about children and settling down." Buck softly offered with a hesitant smile on his face, "I wanted to talk to you about it, but do you think we could talk about a possible time to start trying-"

"Y/N?"

The two adults went on high alert as Luke wandered into the gated garden your apartment building had. Buck's arm slid off your body as soon as you climbed to your feet at the sight of Luke.

"Luke?" You softly gasped, revelling in the sight of your little brother. Physically he looked fine with the addition of bloodshot eyes, "What's wrong?"

"I-I didn't have anywhere else to go." Luke choked out, sliding the battered old backpack off his shoulder onto the duffle at his feet. Luke's hazel eyes glimmering in the setting sun, "I got into a fight with mom and dad."

"Please tell me you didn't run away again." You heavily sighed in your movement to grab his backpack from the ground. Buck was quick to grab the duffle bag from the ground.

"I'll get the air mattress. Let Albert know not to bring his date home." Buck murmured in your ear low enough only you could hear, "I'll heat up the leftover Chinese."

The Patterson siblings watched as Buck entered the opening to the back of the building's secured backyard. Luke's backpack slung over his shoulder, and the duffle in his right hand.

"How did you find where I live?" You asked the emotionally seventeen-year-old with those puppy dog eyes. The eyes with the colour you wished you had inherited instead of your e/c.

"I saw 118 on the inside of the ambulance. I found the firehouse, and after procuring 'evidence', one of the paramedics told me where to find you." Luke shrugged, "I would have gone to Bobby's garage we use as a studio, but...he bailed on us. Reggie tries to get away from his place, and Alex's are assholes."

"The Peters are still married?" You scoffed, recalling the tense moments between little Reggie's parents. A cloud followed the couple around everywhere they went together, and Reggie was always caught in the middle.

"If-if this overstepping, I can find another place-" Luke began to respond on the walk down the inside hall to your apartment door.

"And make my struggle with the cursed object redundant?" Buck joked from the kitchen with a plate filled with warmed up food. Maybe the universe had a plan when Buck accidently over-ordered food from the restaurant.

"Luke, just stay here. You can have something to eat and rest up. But we need to talk about this. Running away is never a solution to your problems." Your stern voice reminded you of your mother when you broke the rules, "You need to let mom and dad know you're crashing at my place. They don't know my address."

"We got your back." Buck cemented to the quiet teenage boy that he saw a lot of himself in. A little kid living in the shadow left by an older sibling, only Luke's still lived.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a shake of your head, "I'm sorry. Buck, this is my little brother Luke. Luke, this is Evan, my fiance."

Luke's eyes widened at the title, "Hi."

"Everyone calls me Buck."

Buck, Luke, and you shared stories of your lives in the times you'd gone without each other while Luke ate. By the time he shovelled the last bite of chow mein in his mouth, you'd caught up enough for the time being. He used the shower and settled into the air mattress sheets on the floor a fair distance from the couch Albert slept on.

"So I guess we'll be finding that house anyway?" Buck inquired under the stream of water from the showerhead. His hands massaging the shampoo into your scalp, the action intimate without a sexual motive behind it.

"How-"

"I could see it in your eye. We can see if your parents would be willing to meet up to talk about Luke. Maybe have him stay with us temporarily, give them space without your parents not knowing where he is." Buck murmured as he caressed your sides with his calloused hands. His forehead leaning down on your own forehead.

"I haven't been home in years. I'm not sure how they'd take us stepping on their toes."

"Then we tell them how it is. Their decision drove their youngest child away, and that almost killed him. He's almost eighteen, and then he can make his own legal decisions. Be the person we both wish had been there when we were his age."

And that's what you did. Buck and you met up with your parents at your childhood home to your horror and Buck's delight. He'd never gotten to see pictures of a younger you, but Maddie had brought his baby pictures for you to see the first time you met her. While your mom had fixed some of her lemonade Buck had toured the photos hanging on the wall.

The conversation itself was tense and combative, but in the end, your parents agreed that they'd prefer Luke to be safe than missing. Life was looking up.

"Hey," Buck murmured with his arms wrapped around your midsection. His blonde scruff scratching your cheek as he slumped over you, "Is that-?"

"Evie's babysitter?" You supplied with a raised eyebrow towards your now husband's laser focus on your brother.

After your relationship with your parents started healing, you had walked down the aisle in white to Buck. You had settled into the dream house with Luke taking one of the bedrooms. The other bedroom put to use when you got pregnant with Evelyn, Evie for short, to your shared joy.

"He likes her." Buck teased, watching the interaction between the two young adults on the main floor of the 118 fire house.

Eight-month-old Evie chewed on a rattle in the arms of her careful hold of her babysitter, but Evie's eyes watched her uncle. Luke, however, was focused on the beautiful and smart girl he knew from high school; they knew of each other but never acknowledged each other. Luke had already graduated when they first came into each other's worlds. Julie threw herself into babysitting to distract herself from both music and her mother's death.

"She's why the band doesn't practice in our garage?"

"It's a whole thing." You mused with a shake of your hand, "She lost her mom and music. By complete chance, he walked in on her, singing a song to settle Evie. One thing led to another, and Luke formed Julie and the Phantoms with her, Reggie and Alex."

"They formed a band?" Buck beamed, hearing the recent news, "I thought they'd never find their way back to it."

Around the time of your wedding, Bobby had a family emergency involving his uncle Trevor and his cousin Carrie. You'd gone back to work shortly only to be called to the scene of a fatal accident, the victim being Bobby Wilson.

"Julie is Luke's ideal girl. Good with kids, kind, smart, shy, and shares the same passion for music. They bring out the best in each other. They brought music back to each other." You informed your husband with that lovesick grin that was resigned solely for his impulsive ass.

"Kinda like us?"

"Yeah. Like us."

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