#so if anyone wants to say a quick prayer for me i will not stop u

[okarasusama]

i don't think ive ever prayed this hard in my mfing life

[gurugirl]

Don't Speak

*images are for aesthetic only

priest!harry x subby!reader | soft dom!harry x bratty/sub!reader

Summary: Y/n accidentally says something in front of everyone at prayer group that gets her in trouble with the priest.

A/N: I know it's been so long since I gave y'all any priestrry but I missed him and his pet so I was compelled to write this! Hope you enjoy! And if you're tagged it's bc you are either on my main general taglist or you asked to be tagged in anything for priestrry (even tho it's been so long) just let me know if you want to be removed and I will! xoxo

Word Count: 2,692

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, religious mentions, smut, sub/dom dynamic, spanking, punishment

Forgive Me, Father masterlist

She hadn’t meant to say it in front of everyone during prayer group. It didn’t have to mean anything if no one read too much into it. She was only responding to a simple question but she said we.

We plan to eat after the meeting.

We, as in the mention of herself and Harry. The two of them doing something together. She hoped they interpreted it as her saying -with someone other than Harry. But she also looked at Harry directly when she said it. Maybe no one saw that.

But Harry certainly did. And the look she received from him was scalding. She knew she was in for it once everyone had gone.

No one followed up to ask who was the other part of this we she spoke of. She wished they would. She could say anyone and make up a little lie. Her brother. Her roommate. Anyone. But no one asked.

And she wasn’t sure if the room felt tense or if it was just her. Because after she said it, she felt like everyone was suddenly looking at her differently. And of course, the way Harry was warning her with his eyes wasn’t helping matters.

So she kept her head down and her mouth closed until the end. And when everyone began to leave, like always, she walked out of the house and to the side to wait until everyone was gone.

And even when the coast was clear she hesitated for a moment. But ultimately going back inside with Harry to face whatever kind of reprimand he was going to give her was better than waiting and wondering about what he might do. Perhaps she could plead her case.

Stepping into the living room she found Harry folding up the metal chairs and placing them tidily in their little wooden cubby behind the couch. He walked across the room without even a glance in her direction and into the kitchen with a glass. Standing still in her spot she could hear the glass being placed in the sink and then his footfalls as he began to walk back to the living room.

“Father, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I don’t think anyone noticed–“

“Go stand and face the corner. Don’t speak.”

She gulped and gave a quick nod as she scurried toward the corner of the living room and let her limbs fall loose as she waited for the priest to finish what he was doing. She wanted to protest. To tell him it was an accident and to go easy on her but she knew better than to resist.

Minutes stretched on as she listened to Harry cleaning up and moving back and forth from the living room to the kitchen before she heard him approaching behind her and then stopping.

She could feel him standing behind her but he kept silent for a beat or two before she felt his breath at the back of her neck, “Tell me what happens if someone finds out about us, Y/n.”

She inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes closed, “Well, you could face expulsion from the church. Everything you’ve worked so hard for that you love the most would be gone. Or they’d transfer you and after penance, you’d have to promise to permanently end our relationship.”

The floorboard creaked as Harry stepped in closer and she felt his warm hands at the tops of her arms, “I could lose what I love, yes. But if it came to choosing you or the church do you know what I would do, pet?”

“Father, I would like to believe you’d choose me. But I would understand if you chose the church.”

“Do you doubt how deep my love for you is?”

Y/n opened her eyes and took a deep breath, the plaster of the white wall in her view, “I don’t doubt how deeply you love me. I feel it every moment. But I also know how deep your love is for God and for your vocation.”

“I’m angry that you let it slip out like that so freely in front of everyone. But I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I want you to know that I’ll always choose you. Over everything else. Over my priesthood. Over God. You’re the most important thing I have.

A stray tear escaped her eye as he pressed his chest into her back and suddenly lifted his hands and she felt her red leather collar being placed on her neck as he adjusted the buckle, “Besides, I’ve slipped up too haven’t I? When I thought no one was watching. But you slipped up in front of many sets of eyes and ears. Let’s hope they didn’t notice the way you looked at me when you said it.”

She turned to look back at him to respond but one of his hands gripped the back of her neck, “Face the wall. I’m not done with you yet. As much as I understand it was a mistake, there are consequences for your actions, pet. Take off this dress.”

Biting her lip she silently pulled the fabric over her head and Harry noted she was not wearing panties. He imagined she did that on purpose. She often enjoyed leaving things uncovered in case they were in a situation where he could just take her. But she was cheeky too so maybe it was just to get a rise out of him.

“No panties while we were all sat here praying to our Lord. Fucks sake, Y/n.”

The first strike to her bottom had her wobbling forward, palms on the walls, and bending slightly at the waist. She was used to being spanked and when he did it with his hands it was a treat. She loved his hands on her. No matter how they were touching her.

Another open-palmed swat and then another had her dipping her head and closing her eyes as she braced herself.

She felt his hand smooth up her spine and press down between her shoulders, “Bend down further. Keep your hands on the wall, legs together. Think about what you can do to not make the kind of mistake you made today while I get your paddle.”

A big gulp was pulled down her throat as Harry stepped away. What could she have done differently? Maybe just be on top of her thoughts at all times? Never waver in front of people? She wasn’t sure. How was it possible to not accidentally slip up once in a great while? She had been so good all this time. Never doing anything that would really tip anyone off. The slip-up was bound to happen at some point.

When Harry returned she felt a kind hand rub over her bottom, “You get five on each side and no crying. Once I’ve given you five you’ll tell me what you could have done differently and if you haven’t come up with something you’ll get another five on each side. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Count for me.”

Every strike to her sensitive bottom had her keening and gasping. She counted each one, five on each side (so ten really and she would have complained but now wasn’t the time).

“Now, tell me. What can you do to make sure that never happens again? How can we avoid it?”

She took a deep breath, still reeling from her stinging bottom and knowing she was about to get five more (ten more) because she hadn’t come up with an idea quite yet.

“Uhh… I just need to think harder and not let myself really look at you… uh… I can keep my mind sharp so I don’t say things I shouldn’t on accident.”

“No. That’s not it. Count for me.”

The next round hurt more. The smooth leather landing against her sore ass had her arching her back away from him and hissing between numbers she pushed from her lungs. Every one biting a little more than before.

But when she got to her final five (ten) she thought of an answer that she felt would suffice and nearly hopped up with a grin, but knowing better she stayed in her position.

“Have you come up with an answer for me?”

“I can just not speak. I’ll say my throat hurts and keep my mouth closed the whole meeting.”

“That will only work once or twice. But every meeting, pet? You can do better than that. Count for me.”

She let her tears slip out of her eyes as she racked her brain for the answer he might want. Every number she counted got lost in her fuzzy brain and the ache from the paddle on her bum started to numb and the shift in how it made her feel manifested in arousal, which the priest did not miss as he could see her pussy with the way she was bent for him; That obvious glisten beginning to seep out from her labia.

“Tell me what you can do to avoid making comments like you did today.”

She inhaled and moaned softly, “I think that I should maybe not come to all the prayer meetings. I can stay in my cage if I’m feeling a little off maybe? Then I won’t have the opportunity to at all. And me not being at all the meetings would be good I think. Because no one is always at every meeting. Probably good for me to sit back for a while.”

The paddle fell to the floor and she felt Harry’s hands gently caressing her bottom, his fingers gliding over the raised skin left behind from the paddle, “You are so smart, pet. See? That’s perfect. Don’t move from your spot. Keep your thighs together.”

She heard the clank of his buckle and smiled to herself. She loved it when he had his way with her. She didn’t even care what he was about to do, she welcomed him wherever and however he wanted.

When his hands returned to her back and gently pressed over her bum she sighed as he leaned over and kissed her shoulder blade, “I love you. I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” she listened as he spoke and could tell he was stroking himself behind her the way his voice was wavering, breathy. “No matter what happens, you’re mine and I’m keeping you, okay?” His voice hitched up just a bit as he scraped his cockhead through her folds. She was tempted to spread her thighs but she resisted since he’d been very clear with her to keep them together.

“Yes, Father,” she breathed as she felt his smooth tip collecting her arousal, gliding up and down through her crease.

“And since you didn’t do it on purpose and I’ve given you 15 spanks as punishment,” 15 on each side, she corrected in her mind, “I’ll let you come but you may not move. I don’t want you spreading your legs to keep steady either. I’ll hold you up if you start to fall.”

The sudden slicing of his wide cock through her delicate pussy entrance had her groaning and dropping her mouth wide open. She was so wet and gushy already. She felt her arousal seep down to the back of her thigh as he began to thrust into her, juices leaking down from her opening.

Harry’s hand landed on the wall next to her head as his other clutched her hip tight, thick crown splitting her in half, and it all felt even tighter inside with her thighs pressed together. But her legs started to sway as he took heavy strokes, hips smacking against her ass. A deep moan vibrated from his chest and the way she was squeezing around him was like heaven. If he had to go to hell for his sins it would be worth it. She was worth everything to him.

When the priest noticed his pet having difficulty keeping steady he pushed into the brim, filling her completely, and gently nudged and nudged deeper into her, rutting in with hips pasted to her ass, “Being so good for me, pet. Keeping your legs together as I asked. Feels so good with you around me…”

She could hear the tightness in his voice. Her priest was enjoying her pussy. His pussy. Everything was his. All of her belonged to him. She kept her palms on the wall as he fucked into her, keeping his body tucked against her, spreading her open completely and fitting right up against her cervix like she needed.

“Want to be good for you, Father. Want to make you happy and give you everything I can. You own every single part of me.”

He groaned and rutted forward making her inhale sharply, “I do own you don’t I pet? That’s why I call you my pet. Because you’re mine and you always will be. Isn’t that right?”

No one would have ever guessed the pair stood together in the corner fucking in the small living room had the kind of secret they did. No one would have ever guessed the man was a priest and the girl on his cock with the red leather choker was his dirty secret. His divine secret. No one would know the kinds of sinful things they did together every day. If they glanced at the marks on her bare bottom they wouldn’t have assumed they were from the hands of a priest.

“Yes! Father, I’ll always be yours. I’m your possession, your property…”

They both panted as Harry’s cock worked its magic inside of her hot cunt. The wetness of her walls surrounding him and coating him was the perfect spot for him to snug into and spill his seed into.

Her lip curled up as she coughed out a loud moan and arched her back, eyes closed and in sheer bliss from her insides being rearranged. She was weak for him and her orgasm couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please! Can I come, Father? Oh my god…”

He could feel her shaking, thighs trembling so hard he had to hold her hips on both sides so she didn’t tip over.

“Aww poor thing. It aches, doesn’t it? Little pet needs to have her release, doesn’t she? Got all stressed out after misspeaking. You can come. Give me your orgasm, Y/n. Let me feel you… want to feel you milking my cock…”

Harry’s own strong thighs were beginning to quiver as his balls began to squeeze up against his body, his release just moments away.

She cried out and tensed as she spasmed and clenched around him, wave after delicious wave of wet orgasm gushing from her until she felt his grip tighten and then his chest brush into her back, his lips on her shoulder, “Come for me, pet. Holy fuck…”

He groaned at how her walls pulsed, beckoning him to come, sucking his cock deep into her tummy with every squeeze until he growled and bit down on her skin, cock pumping and throbbing inside of her.

The priest had considered not letting her come at first. But he was glad he changed his mind because there was nothing better than to have her siphoning his come from his cock as she fluttered around him and her pretty voice whined and begged…

His hot come began to leak out of her pulsing hole as he thrusted in and when he stood back to watch as he pulled out and plunged in again he saw her cream coating him.

Her legs were still wobbly as he pulled out and gently turned her in his arms and pushed his lips to hers. She felt his warm hands on her face and she knew she had nothing to worry about with her priest. He loved her and she knew it without question. Misspeak or not, he wasn’t going to just give up on her because of an accident.

Bumping his nose to hers he whispered against her lips, “I’ll always choose you. Over everything. Don’t ever doubt my love for you, pet.”

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(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?” 

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.” 

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?” 

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?” 

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.” 

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid. 

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.” 

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.” 

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes. 

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?” 

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?” 

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.” 

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello. 

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard. 

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year. 

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own. 

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside. 

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’ 

‘Give me five minutes.’ 

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs. 

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting. 

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed. 

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it. 

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively.  “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.” 

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?” 

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.” 

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?” 

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.” 

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries. 

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.” 

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.” 

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.” 

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.” 

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.” 

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.” 

“So this was all for nothing?” 

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.” 

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.” 

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs. 

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture. 

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie. 

“Then introduce yourself.” 

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent. 

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out. 

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this. 

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.” 

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out. 

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears. 

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text. 

‘friend?’ 

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions. 

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash. 

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time. 

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left. 

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders. 

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?” 

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ. 

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing. 

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-” 

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.” 

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?” 

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.” 

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.” 

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring. 

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend. 

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious. 

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy. 

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.” 

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?” 

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.” 

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?” 

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.” 

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.” 

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.” 

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.” 

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed. 

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.” 

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours. 

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too. 

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?” 

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.” 

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged. 

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.” 

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.” 

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition. 

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny. 

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch. 

“She’s difficult and entitled.” 

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul. 

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained. 

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?” 

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back. 

“It’s so soft.” 

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?” 

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious. 

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting. 

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight. 

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion. 

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him. 

“Peter, hi!” 

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.” 

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?” 

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.” 

“I know how to hug.” 

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.” 

“No.” 

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too. 

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.” 

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear. 

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.” 

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin. 

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.” 

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink. 

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.” 

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second. 

“Which album?” 

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?” 

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.  

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?” 

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.” 

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked. 

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back. 

“Who’s that?” 

You point at yourself, “me.” 

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch. 

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.” 

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown. 

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.” 

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone. 

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.” 

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away. 

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time. 

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?” 

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand. 

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.” 

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other. 

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for. 

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.” 

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.” 

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.” 

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up. 

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body. 

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.” 

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning. 

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.” 

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs. 

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section. 

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care. 

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.” 

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach. 

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his. 

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though. 

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?” 

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.” 

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself. 

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!” 

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit. 

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move. 

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.” 

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?” 

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!” 

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.” 

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.” 

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.” 

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.” 

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second. 

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.” 

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.” 

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.” 

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter. 

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.” 

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch. 

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity. 

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work. 

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.” 

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger. 

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.” 

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now. 

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.” 

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.” 

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.” 

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?” 

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more. 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them. 

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?” 

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy. 

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.” 

“You act like one.” 

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’  You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug. 

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.” 

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him. 

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to. 

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell. 

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish. 

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more. 

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later. 

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky. 

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?” 

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter. 

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in. 

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket. 

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!” 

The good one? 

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute. 

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.” 

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort. 

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.” 

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad. 

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky. 

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored. 

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.” 

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.” 

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall. 

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him. 

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?” 

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do. 

CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

 Prince next, “Sam Mason.”  

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?” 

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.” 

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck. 

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you. 

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it. 

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color. 

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space. 

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it. 

“Right,” one step closer. 

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you. 

“And then?” 

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation. 

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself. 

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.” 

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening. 

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-” 

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip. 

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time. 

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him. 

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that? 

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading. 

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same? 

“Parker, you out here?” 

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker. 

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you. 

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.” 

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing? 

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.” 

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened. 

Just so you could keep it to yourself. 

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream. 

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball. 

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up. 

“Cheers, Parker.” 

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling. 

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor. 

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges. 

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest. 

“I bid Isaac Barns.” 

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality. 

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again. 

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first. 

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking. 

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you. 

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now. 

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch. 

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you. 

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research. 

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter. 

‘big brother season.’ 

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless. 

[cameronspecial]

Cute Pogue

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: Rafe can't stop thinking about a certain Maybank after being stuck in a room with her.

A/N: This is part two of Cute Asshole.

Masterlist

Ever since they have been locked in a room together, Rafe cannot stop thinking about Y/N Everly Maybank and has been trying to do everything he can to catch her attention. So far, nothing has worked to bring her back into his orbit. He sits in the Country Club lobby, hoping to catch a glimpse of her at work and the universe seems to answer his prayers. “Okay, remember kids. You have to talk quietly while we are in the lobby and I want to see you holding hands with your buddy,” her melodic voice calls out to the line of children following behind her. “Helene, Sweetie, your towel is dragging.” Rafe follows Y/n’s finger to see the small, maybe five-year-old, struggling to hold the giant mountain of a towel. He sees this as his opportunity and gets up from his seat. He takes the towel from the little girl in her bathing suit, wrapping it around her shoulders so it doesn’t drag as she walks. The brunette looks up at him with big eyes and a smile, “Thank you, Mister.” “You’re welcome, Pumpkin. Where are you guys going?” he questions Helene, even though it is obvious they are going to the pool. Before Helene can answer, Y/N intervenes. “Rafe, what are you doing?” He looks at her with a smile, “I hoped to see you actually. I was wondering if you were free tonight. Maybe… we can go out for dinner?” 

“Are you really asking me that while I’m at work, Rafe?” 

“Yeah, it was the only place I knew where you would be. So what do you say?”

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, “I can’t, I’m busy. Now, come on kids, it’s pool time.” Rafe stands in silence while she ushers the children to the pool. 

———

The next time he sees her is at the Wreck. She is having dinner with her brother and the other Pogues. “Hey, Mike. Do you think you can send a Shirley temple over to Y/N with this note for me?” Rafe requests, sliding over the note to the older man. Mike nods and gets to work on the non-alcoholic drink. Rafe knows Y/N doesn’t drink because of her dad and he respects that. He watches as the owner of the restaurant gives both items to the eldest Maybank.

Y/N smiles at Mike as he hands her the drink she didn’t order and a slip of paper. “Thank you?” she questions with the tilt of her head. Mike flicks his head toward her before returning behind the counter, “No problem.” The others at the table watch her with curious eyes as she unfolds the paper in her hand. Date Proposal: A picnic on the beach at sunrise on Sunday. Circle Yes or No. -Your Cute Asshole xxx. She shakes her head at his attempt. Kiara hands her a pen and Y/N circles her choice. Rafe sees her respond, standing from the bar stool to get his answer. She places the paper in his hand and goes back to her conversation. Fearful of the answer, he returns to his seat to open the paper up. Disappointment fills him as he sees the line of the pen around no.

———

The music blares through the speaker whilst she searches for her brother. He very drunkenly texted her earlier tonight that he needed her to come to help him and she was quick to hop onto her bike, hoping the Twinkie was also where her brother was so that she could get the rest of the Pogues home safely. Once she got to the party, JJ wouldn’t respond to her text, which left her wandering the party to find him. She goes down the crowded hallway and opens a random door. Her eyes fall on the toilet, reminding her she needs to go to the bathroom. Her mind is so preoccupied with where her brother could be that she forgets to scan the room for anyone else before she locks the door and sits on the toilet. Movement coming from the bathtub in front of her causes her to jump in shock. “This is not what I expected to see when I opened my eyes,” he groans, sitting up while rubbing his eyes. She rests her arms on her lap to protect her private area, “Can you not look this way?” His cheeks flush and he turns in the other direction. “Right, sorry.”

She finishes her business and when he hears the water from the sink, he stands from the bathtub and leans against the counter beside her. “Why won’t you go on a date with me?” he pouts, eyes watery and hands fidgeting. Y/N looks at Rafe with a straight smile, “Why do you want to go on a date with a Pogue?” “Because she is one cute pogue,” he retorts, a cheesy grin painted on his face. She scoffs, “Is that really the only reason?” “No… I’m just a little too high and drunk to give you an actual straight reason, but what I can tell you is that I really do like you and if you would give me the chance, then I would do everything in my power to show you that is true,” he blabs. His hand falls on hers which is on the counter and she turns her palm upward to lace their fingers together. She can’t lie and say she doesn’t feel a spark between them, but she is scared of what could possibly happen between them. However, what she has learnt in life is that she can’t gain anything if she doesn’t take risks, so she decides to take the shot. 

“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you.” A massive grin grows on his face and he picks her up in his arms. He spins her around, setting her back on the floor with a litter of kisses on her face. She giggles at the feeling and pushes him gently off of her. “Thank you for the excitement, but I have to go look for my brother,” she breaks the news. Rafe nods his hand and drags her out of the room, “Let’s go look for JJ.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @niyahwhoreworld @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

[mischiefandlies]

The answer to all your prayers

Loki x f!Reader

Masterlist

Notes: CRACK FIC!!! This was so much fun to write. Enjoy!

Warnings: Smutty with no actual smut. Mentions masturbating, but there's no real description. Also, Loki has a megapenis (we've all seen that gif, y'know what I'm talking about).

You were fresh out of college when you landed a job working as an apprentice technician for Stark industries. You were exceptional at physics and aerodynamics, so ended up working on the newest designs for an iron man suit Tony was working on. Due to your position, you had ended up becoming quite chummy with the avengers.

Pepper had recently been trying to set you up after hearing about your tragic love life. The truth of it was, you had been on a spree of first dates in college, but they had all been so disastrous you had sworn off dating until you were a little older and had enough time to actually go on dates properly. This, however, had left you a little inexperienced around… sex. You had been wanting to lose your V card for a while now, but knew that if anyone was going to take you to heaven and back, you wanted it to be someone you trusted. You weren’t up for playing hide the sausage with just anyone.

Enter Loki. A handsome devil (literally), hung like a horse (literally) with magic fingers (also literally). Loki may not have been worthy, but he certainly had a hammer and he knew how to swing it. He also had Ye Olde Viking charm, quick wit, and happened to be a fairly good friend of yours. The two of you had a habit of getting flirty, then backing off and letting nothing ever come of it. You'd been safely sat in the friendzone for quite a while.

Which was how you found yourself here- lying in your birthday suit, in your apartment in stark tower, dreaming about a certain tall dark and handsome norse god. You could imagine it all perfectly. How he’d slowly crawl over, kissing your lips, prising them open to invade your mouth with his tongue. He'd slowly work his way south, kissing your neck, collarbones, chest, then further south, until he reached your dripping-

DING DONG

Who the fuck is ringing your doorbell at this time of night? And why did it have to be just as you were mid wank?

DING DONG

You stumbled around in the dark, pulling your PJs back on, ready to give Tony a bollocking for knocking on your front door at twenty to midnight. You're hoping this will be a quick conversation so you get right back to the dirty fantasies about your coworker who had done nothing but make you More infatuated since you met him.

You open the door, and are met with…

“Loki!?”

He was looking incredibly dapper in that black suit, which you immediately dreamed about ripping to shreds in a state of feral horniness. If anyone could look like sex incarnate wrapped up in a gorgeous designer suit, it was him.

“Loki! What- er, what are you doing here?”

He smiles “I heard you.”

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry the place is a mess, I wasn’t expecting company, otherwise I would’ve made a-”

He cuts you off mid-sentence, pressing his lips to yours. You immediately kiss him back with all the fervour you can muster, until reality comes crashing down on you and you push him back. He keeps you close to him, refusing to let you out of his embrace even if he has stopped kissing you. When you finally get your breath back (you appeared to have been too busy sucking his tongue to breathe) you look him dead in the eye and ask

“What the fuck was that!?”

He smiles again. “I heard your prayer.”

“My… prayer?”

“Oh yes, angel,” he says. “You’ve been praying to me for weeks. It's like I'm in your thoughts all the time. It's been hard to concentrate in those dull meetings when all I can hear is your delicious fantasies in my head. And every night my darling- you really are obsessed, aren’t you?”

You are mortified. “Loki, I'm so sorry, I didn’t realise I was doing that. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“Shh love. There's no need to apologise. I find it all quite amusing. You are rather adventurous with your fantasies. But there’s one that you keep thinking about, isn’t there angel?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “The one where I claim you. Where I am the first to have you. Where I make you mine.”

He pulls you tight against him, and bends down as if to kiss you. However, you are slightly distracted by the HUGE boner poking you in the thigh. You pull away slightly and glance down. There was a fucking great tent in Loki’s trousers. By Christ, how had you never noticed he was that big before? “Hold it Lokes. I don’t think mini mischief is gonna fit.”

He looks down at you, confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I’d love to be fucked into next Tuesday, but you’re putting the long in schlong, and I kinda need to be able to walk tomorrow.”

His eyebrows have risen to halfway up his forehead now. “Is it normal for humans to speak in riddles before intercourse?”

“All I’m saying is your bellend is going to end me. You can’t go cave diving if you don’t fit in the cave.”

He rolls his eyes, and covers your mouth with his hand. “Darling, I have no idea what your saying. Yes or no, do you want to have sex with me?”

“Well, yes, but-”

You can’t finish your sentence because Loki has thrown you over his shoulder (giving you a spectacular view of his arse) and marches the two of you to the bedroom, setting you gently on the bed.

“Now my dear, I believe as a benevolent god, I am obligated to make all your prayers come true.”

“Loki?”

“Yes love?”

“You didn’t see all my prayers, did you?”

He looks down at you with a wolfish grin.

You are so fucked (literally).

The gif from earlier btw:

[beautyofaphrodite]

What I do (almost) every day for my deities

I’m bored and thought it would be nice to let y’all know what I do almost every day to honor the deities I worship

Morning

- Say good morning to Aphrodite and Apollo specifically

- Thank Hypnos for my sleep

- Dedicate shower and skincare to Lady Aphrodite

- Dedicate choosing an outfit for the day to Her, occasionally wear certain accessories (earrings or bracelets usually) in Her honor

- Dedicate taking medication to Lord Apollo (if I remember)

Throughout the Day

-If I notice something that reminds me of a Deity, I’ll thank Them for it

- Certain days of the week I will offer more to certain Deities (Basically just Friday for Aphrodite and Sunday for Apollo)

- If I want to, I will spend time doing devotional acts for Them (usually things like practicing my instrument, singing, painting my nails, making posts for this blog- this whole thing is an offering to Lady Aphrodite)

- Depending on the time of year, some of my time is dedicated to certain deities. For example, right now is marching band season and I have practice almost daily so that time is dedicated to Lord Apollo.

Night

- When I have the energy, I pray in front of my altars to Lady Aphrodite and Lord Apollo, which are each on their own shelf. I also turn on my LED candle as an offering.

- These prayers are more structured and usually go like this:

- Quick prayer to Lady Hestia as She is honored first

- Talk to Lady Aphrodite about my day, what’s on my mind, what I’m thankful for from Her

- Talk to Lord Apollo about similar things

- Talk to any other deity I feel like I should talk to, such as if a certain deity sent me a sign earlier in the day (and I’ve already confirmed it was a sign), if I want to thank Them for something, or I have something on my mind I want to specifically tell Them.

- Pray to Lord Hypnos, offering my sleep to him and asking that it be restful

- Finish with a quick prayer to Lady Hestia as She is honored last.

-If I don’t have the energy to do all that, while I’m lying in my bed I will quickly talk to Aphrodite and Apollo about anything I want to talk about and then offer my sleep to Lord Hypnos and ask him for it to be restful.

I know I do a lot, you in no way have to do anything the same way I or anyone else does things. I only do all this because it’s a routine and I’d cry if I stopped (very slight hyperbole). It’s okay to not do much each day or even to not worship the gods every day. Everyone’s practice is different and that’s great!

[melanated-writersblock]

Confessional - A Yunho Series: Prologue

Seminarian!Yunho x Black!Female!Reader

~ You and your childhood friend Yunho promised to do everything together. But as you got older, things shifted, and you began to feel differently towards each other. Now, Yunho’s joining the church and any emotions you meant to share with him will have to be disregarded. Or will they?

A/N: I'm genuinely struggling because I have so many routes I can take this story and there are so many things that I've thought about including but idk. I don't want it to be all over the place, I want to make sure the story makes sense and reads well. If there's anything you'd like to see happen, I'm always open to suggestions, my asks are open and you can always post a comment! Written with a Black Fem reader in mind but anyone can read!

Content Warning?: Nothing going on this chapter, angst if you squint? A bit of humor, a bit of wholesomeness, BUT you do have a potty mouth🤭

(Disclaimer: I do know how the hierarchy of the Catholic church works irl and this fic DOES NOT reflect that. And if you’re a devout Christian reading this and you’re mad: 1. I’m also Christian (I kinda suck at it though unfortunately) and 2. What are YOU doing reading this? That’s not very Proverbs 31 woman of you🤫)

ANYWAYYYYY LIKES ARE COOL, BUT COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE BETTER! PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! ALSO DON’T COPY MY SHIT. I WILL KNOW.

TAGLIST!!!: @starboyyoongi @woosmaid @atinytinycat @kyeos4ng LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!

How does a little boy who would spend literal hours laying in the grass stargazing, sharing dreams of traveling the world, living life unapologetically, meeting new faces and doing any and everything all at once, turn into a man who’s shut himself off from it all?

With your head bowed, you steal a glance at a praying Yunho in the adjacent pew as your Pastor leads the church congregation in a closing prayer. Your lips curve upward at Yunho’s form. His hands clasped against his chest, body hunched over, forehead resting against the back of the pew in front of him. The same way he’d always pray when you both were little. A creature of habit.

With Sunday Service concluded (finally) you make a b-line for the door as subtle and polite as you possibly can, but the endearing nature of church family wanting to see how you’re doing and what you’ve been up to stops you dead in your tracks, much to your dismay. You rush through your interactions, finding yourself more invested in how natural Yunho looks as he speaks with the Pastor, both laughing at a funny remark one of the Deacons say in passing. Damn him for being so good at this shit. You hug your last inquiring church sister and slip out before someone decides to start asking about your dating life.

The drastic change of temperature from the inside of the warmed church to the frigid December afternoon seizes your body for a second as your common sense and critical thinking comes flooding back to you in an instant…You left your coat on the fucking pew. “You’re shitting me.” your annoyed words of condensation visible in the cold air. You stare blankly between the ground, and up at the overcasted sky, your internal battle deciding if walking back inside to face the music is even worth it.

“Fuck no.”

You straighten yourself up with what little defense you have against the cold, folding your arms across your chest and nuzzling your face deeper into your thick slouched turtleneck as you make your way towards you car near the end of the parking lot. The faint sound of fast approaching footsteps get louder as someone gains up on you from behind. You feel the welcoming weight of your coat cover your back, slipping your arms in to get acclimated to the warmth of the garment as quick as possible.

“Now, you and I both know that wasn’t a good idea.” Yunho now joins you, walking in step but still a little winded from the run. “I wasn’t trying to go back in there to get bombarded by them.” You both continue towards your car, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” “Yeah it kind of is.”, “How so?” “Really?” “Well, I know but I was just wonderi-“ “Look babe, my relationship with God isn’t as tight as yours, and I’m sorry that I don’t get as much of a kick from being in church as you do” you fish your keys out of your bag to unlock your car, “not like I used to, at least.” Yunho opens the driver’s door waiting for you to get in, his eyes downcast in thought. “Then, why do you come every Sunday?” you sigh, defeated, “Not every Sunday, I only go when you’re back in town.”

You don’t know what inspired him to do it, but there was some sort of paradigm shift when you both hit puberty that made Yunho change the trajectory of his life. One minute you’re up all night watching tv and playing video games, doing each other’s class work, planning to go to the same university, get matching tattoos, share an apartment together, get careers in similar fields so your jobs can line up that way you probably end up at the same workplace, use your paid time off and sick days at the same time so you can travel and go on vacations together…he even bought you a fucking bracelet.

He bought matching fucking bracelets.

He said gold compliments the warm glow of your skin.

He got his in silver.

He never told you how much it cost, anytime you asked, he was always avoidant.

Feeling a familiar sting in the brim of your eyes, you steal yourself for a moment.

One minute it’s all this, the next, he’s going off states away to some Christian University bible college. Then when you think the war is over, he turns right back around and goes to fuckin’ seminary school to become an ordained priest. You didn’t quite understand it, but whatever makes him happy you guess.

“Whenever you tell me you’ll be back in town I come to church to see you.” “But we still hang out even outside of church? I don’t get it.” “Oh my God Yunho, just don’t worry about it.” somehow, he got you to laugh at the situation. You put your keys in the ignition as the car hums to a start. Yunho finally closes your car door, leaning on your newly rolled down window. “Do you still want me to come by later?” He earns another laugh from you, “Why do you keep asking questions that you know the answer to?” “You’re acting like plans can’t change, what if you actually had to do something!” “You know I’m not doing anything later though!” “Okay but what if you-“ “Don’t piss me off.” “Alright,” he smirks, backing away from the vehicle as you reverse out of the parking space. “Text me when you make it home safe.” He calls out as you pull out of the church parking lot, the rest of the congregation finally starting to file out of the sanctuary. Yunho smiles to himself, heading to his vehicle to leave for the day.

To be continued…

YALL OMFG the way I STRUGGLED just to get this out!?!?! Anyway I’ve decided the interactions will happen in time jumps and the tag I use for Yunho and what he’s been ordained as will reflect that.

Also, please be active. If you like the story (and you would like the other chapters to see the light of day) please let me know. Share your thoughts and stuff, you can comment and my asks are always open! And reblogs do a whole lot more than likes!

- Lai✨

[drinkingcoffee-inthedark]

disobeying orders

❗️🔞⚠️ smut, minors dni ⚠️ 🔞❗️

azriel x reader

word count: 1029

okay but imagine being one of az’s spies and going against his orders and putting yourself in danger. he’d be so mad. and once he made sure you were okay, he’d have to punish you for disobeying him.

he’d take you back to the camp you two had set up in the forest and bring you into his tent. he would get you on the ground and straddle your hips.

azriel would pin both of your hands above your head with one of his, and he’d wrap his other hand around your throat with just enough pressure to make you wet.

“don’t you dare go against my orders again,” he’d growl in your ear. the sensation would send a shiver up your spine. “do you understand me?” his hazel eyes would be filled with a mix of rage and lust.

“y-yes, sir,” you’d say, looking into his eyes. he’d dig his hips into yours roughly, making you yelp.

“good girl. remember who’s in charge here.” he would smirk as you tried to buck your hips up into his, needing the him to ease the pressure between your legs.

“you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you? did you pull that stunt just so i’d punish you?” you’d shake your head. you didn’t mean to go against him. you just wanted to do what you thought was best. the punishment was just an added bonus.

he’d just chuckle darkly, clearly not believing you. he would release his grip on your throat and wrists and make quick work of removing your leathers, then his own. leaving you under him in just your bra and panties, and him in just his boxers.

azriel would kiss your neck, then nip at it, leaving little marks all over. you would groan at the particularly rough bites, squirming under him for some relief from the heat pooling in your core. you would feel his own arousal pressing against your body, making you moan softly. he would make his way down your chest before finally removing your bra.

he would need to take a minute to stop and let his eyes roam you body. “so beautiful,” he’d breathe softly before kissing your breasts. his skillful mouth would work over your nipples, sucking and biting softly just the way you like. you would moan loudly, causing him to put one of his large, scarred hands over your mouth.

“do you want everyone to hear what a little slut you are for me?” he’s hiss. cassian and rhys had their separate tents around your own.

you would look at him wide eyed and shake your head. you had a reputation to uphold and you didn’t want anyone to see what a writhing mess you became at the shadowsinger’s touch.

azriel would smirk at you before making his way down your body and ripping your panties off. he wouldn’t even give you the chance to react before kissing your clit softly, making you arch your back desperately needing more contact. az would hold your hips down and completely devour you.

the spymaster would have to cloud you both with his shadows to muffle the sounds, knowing that the threat of people hearing you couldn’t stop the noises falling from your lips.

he’d add one finger, then two, then three inside you while his mouth went to work on your clit. he’d smirk against your sensitive skin as you clamped your thighs around his head and ground your hips down, fucking yourself on his fingers. azriel would curl his fingers just right and it would have you reeling. he wouldn’t let up until you came hard, chanting his name like a prayer.

he was so good with his mouth and his hands, but you would need more. need him inside you.

“please” you’d beg, “i need you to fuck me.”

the shadowsinger would look up at you with glazed, hungry eyes, his mouth still wet with your release. “get on your hands and knees. i’m going to fuck you like the slut you are. i’m going to give you just what you deserve.” and you’d scramble to climb on your hands and knees like he said. you would open your legs and offer yourself to him. and he’d take it.

he’d enter you slowly- he’s big. he doesn’t want to really hurt you. you would would cry out with him completely inside you, stretching and filling you to the brim. teetering the line between pain and pleasure. “az,” you’d moan his name softly, “please move, i need it.” you would tell him when you were adjusted to his size. that would be all the encouragement he would need.

he would fuck you rough and hard, the force making you brace yourself with your hands and grit your teeth. his thrusts would be fast and brutal making you moan his name loudly.

azriel would grab your hair and pull your head back towards him so he could growl in your ear, “you take it so well, pretty baby. you look so good when i’m inside you.”

you’d cry out and slam your hips back against him, nearly sobbing at the sensations, “you fuck me so good, az! so good, so fucking good!”

he would snake his hand around you and rub your clit and you would come completely undone. you’d come hard, screaming his name. hearing his name from your lips as your pussy clenched around him would send him over the edge. he’d grit his teeth and come with a growl, filling you up. the spymaster would let you catch your breath before pulling out of you, making you groan softly.

azriel would clean you up, then help you into his cot, where he’d lay down at your side. he would pull you into his arms and wrap his wings around both of you.

“i’m sorry,” you’d whisper into the darkness, “i shouldn’t have gone against your orders. he’d look at you with his hazel eyes going soft, looking at you with such adoration. so much love.

“don’t do it again. please. i can’t lose you.”

you’d nod and he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling him even closer.

[kepler-station]

౨ৎ.𖥔˚ stormbringer cookie — crush and relationship hcs

— 𝜗𝜚 incredibly self indulgent, theres too little content for my sky god wife huhu

• ໑ৎ ׁ  ׅ♡ tw !! — gn reader. unspecified characteristics.

• i don't think you'll be able to get her attention if you were any ordinary cookie, you'd definitely have to be someone unique enough to get her attention or bold, strong, and powerful enough to challenge her to get her attention

• either way, you got her attention and it was clear, alright...

• let's just say lots of storms and lightning in your area, to the point that the other deities had to stop her at some point from flooding your area completely and triggering an evacuation due to the storms

• your prayers would always be answered and eventually it was odd because it seemed like no one else's were being answered compared to how often yours were

• to stormbringer, it was just admiration and fell into denial once she was informed by one of her three deities that maybe she was in love but soon grew content with it as her heart raced more when she saw you or spied on you from the heavens

• i honestly have no idea how she would confess exactly but it would be extravaggant and you'd certainly know she's fallen for you by then, i have a inkling that her pride would get in the way ("the sky god, falling in love? excuse me?"), but she was so easy to read to the deities

• when you two got into a relationship, all the sudden you were both feared and revered?, after all you were the lover of the sky god — an insult or bad look directed to you is a death wish to the sky god herself!

• things would be a little rough at first, and it's certain she may have hurt you here and there without realizing it

• her deities would either have to push her to apologize (respectfully, of course!) or she'd realize how badly she messed up by how you didn't show up when she wanted (demanded) for your presence with her

• after this, she stops flaunting her power and fights and victories every time you're with her, but there's an underlying tone that she's still flaunting her power and she enjoys putting it over your head that she's more powerful

• she enjoys teasing and that she's the only one who gets to see you get all red and shy hehe

• her petnames for you are all related to lightning and storms so things like "(her) thunder)", "(her) storm watcher", "(her) stormcloud", and would be delighted if she got petnames in return as well — petnames that enunciate her might and power as the sky god but also are lovey to show your love for her

• she isn't always able to be with you because of her duties as the sky god ofc, but dates can be anything from chilling with her eating candied clouds on a storm cloud to visiting your home while a storm is happening (preferably appearing as lightning strikes just outside your home/balcony if you have one!)

• very flirty and is not the type to shy away when showing her love for you — anyone who disrespects you disrespects her too, and just a bad look directed at you is enough for a vengeful storm to start stirring up in the area!

• quick to jealousy but in a good way — she just wants to have her storm and will throw a tantrum up in the heavens if she is unable to interfere due to her duties (resulting in a storm naturally appearing, directed at whoever made her jealous), but will tease you if you got jealous over her

• she takes it as a sign that you love her so much to the point you want her to be yours, and she's flattered! rest assured, she's yours anyway!

• discreetly grants you a wish every once in a while, big or small, you'll get !

• make sure to say hi to her when a thunderstorm appears !! 👋🏻

[kkeidawrites]

Decision

The quiet conversation between captain and adopted son was whispered around the medical bay, the unbelievable story told in great detail. Y/n caresses Maisie’s coils of hair a worried look to the injured girl and thoughts of prayers to her healing.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Maisie was hurt and now Red is in captivity, being dragged behind the ship like some kind of show pony.

“I see. That’s some story Jacob,” Captain Crow says nonchalant and Y/n turns to tune in to their conversation.

“The hunter befriended a beast. Huh. What took me dead light. What am I supposed to think of you Jacob?” Crow asks leaning in.

“That thing…and I, we had an understanding.”

“You had a truce with a beast? Whatever happened out there is nothing compared to the centuries of war.” Crow seems that he was always somehow educating Jacob and it looked as though this time his son wasn’t getting it.

“But you weren’t there. The beast has done more to help the three of us during these few days. Even when Maisie got hurt, the beast came over to her, not to eat her but to comfort her.” Y/n speaks up.

“A beast do not give comfort. They take it and if you can’t see that girl then you’re a mindless as those beasts.” Crow quips.

“Those beasts took ya’ dead light. Would you like the other one go too?” Y/n threatens with a hand on her sword. Crow only gives Y/n a sideways glance before turning back to Jacob.

Y/n stands to the side of Jacob, feeling that his talk with Captain Crow was getting a bit testy.

“I know what I be, Jacob. I’m the son of a captain, who was a son to his captain. And if our birth is to fight then by God, we will fight. To be tested and find our greatness.” Crow is a bit closer now to Jacob.

“So, I ask you Jacob, my son…are you my enemy?”

Jacob’s eyes search the ground, an answer he had yet to even bring himself to have ready to give. Was he an enemy now? He was unsure.

Without anyone watching, Maisie is springing from her bed, grabs her knife and makes a beeline to Crow’s upper body. Her intentions were clear, but Jacob is quick to stop her, the excitement is quickly died down as Maisie falls to her knees in exhaustion.

“Let her go.” The little girl demands, tiredly. Jacob moves the knife away from Maisie and looks back up at Captain Crow.

She was still very weak. Y/n is quick to kneel next to Maisie and placed a hand on her back. The girl begins breathing heavily, obviously still tired.

Crow chuckles and stands to leave the sick bay.

“She’s all vinegar.” He spoke and grabs his hat and coat from behind First Mate Sarah Sharpe.

Y/n follows Jacob as he picks up Maisie and puts her back on to the cot. Maisie squints up at Jacob, determination still in her glare to make sure he paid attention to her next words.

“You have to save Red. She’s our friend.” Maisie breaths out weakly and Jacob sighs quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her and Y/n looks at Jacob with pleading eyes.

“Jacob…” Y/n says in disbelief.

“She needs her rest.” The doctor interludes and Jacob nods.

“I’ll get you back home to Guelston. You’ll be safer there and you will live a long good life.” He promised her, Maisie only turns away.

“We first need to appear in Castle Whiterock, we have a date with the king and queen.” Crow says and Jacob looks back at Maisie with a conflicted look, then makes his way to Crow’s side.

Y/n steps in front of Jacob, halting his slow stride.

“Jacob, you can’t be serious? You can’t do this, you know it’s not right!” Y/n tells him but Jacob says nothing.

“Red is our friend. Why can’t you see that this isn’t what you want?” Y/n questions.

“Enough, Y/n. There’s nothing to be done.” Jacob affirms as he walks around her to grab his weapons belt. Y/n is right on his ass.

“Yes, there is! You just won’t give into the temptation that what you’re doing is wrong! This ain’t you, Jacob.” Y/n grabs his wrist, halting him again.

“Jacob, please…I’m just begging ya’. Do the right thing.” She begs and Jacob gently shrugs her wrist off his to walk alongside with Crow. The captain puts an arm around his shoulders as the two leave the medical bay.

“I imagine you could use a drink my boy.” Crow comments but Jacob says nothing turning to look back at Maisie then Y/n who was standing there with her arms crossed and a furrow brow.

Y/n returns to Maisie and holds her small hand a sigh leaving her lips.

“Y/n…how could Jacob do this?” She questions weakly.

Y/n sighs again and places a hand on her head to card through her coils.

“Rest now, Maisie. I will be here when you awake.” She tells her and a tear streaks down the girl’s cheek.

🌊🌊🌊

Reupload!

[steddieas-shegoes]

the freak and the hair and lex

it's time for the weekly fic rec, where i give the top 3 (to me) fics by some of my favorite authors. please always check out their masterlists/works because these authors may have stuff you love even more than what i put here! as always, check tags before reading and leave kudos and comments and reblog whenever possible to support writers!

this week is @thefreakandthehair and let me tell ya, this was one of the hardest weeks to narrow it down to my top 3. i have gone back and forth on lex's works for three days trying to narrow it down (and also realized at some point i missed a few posts so i'm about to do a binge read oops). lex is so talented and does so many things for the fandom, so everyone go celebrate her gifts to us!

lex's tumblr | lex's ao3

rounding third, sliding home Rated E | wip/big bang fic The much anticipated big bang fic is in progress and it's SO GOOD. I don't even like baseball, but Lex is proof that I can and will like any situation these boys are in. Massage therapist Eddie!!! Hello!!! I don't have to go into detail to let you know how that's going. Favorite part: Honestly, since it's a wip, I don't wanna give one yet. But I will say that the overall premise of a massage therapist being able to do what trainers and doctors couldn't makes something really happy in my brain.

ice is made to melt (so is my heart) Rated M | 1,507 words It's hockey. I sniff out hockey fics like a hunting dog. I mean it's literally just hockey fan Eddie and I'm eating it up like I've been starving for years. Favorite part because these are possibly word for word things I have screamed at my television at the Bruins whomst I love with my entire heart but would beat with a hockey stick if given the chance: "Are your blades dipped in fucking butter?” “The puck goes in the net!” "You can't shoot for shit, just like you can't grow a decent mustache, huh?" “Your job is to use your big ass body to stop the teensy tiny puck from getting around you and that’s a Hell of a lot easier if you stay in the fucking crease!” 

Livin' On A Prayer  Rated E | 17,915 words It's the classic idiots in love but don't realize it even though they basically have been boyfriends the entire time trope and I cannot get enough. It's like a slow-fast burn in the sense that they're dumb, but this is still short enough to binge in one relatively quick go. Favorite part which is kinda a spoiler so: “And I know myself well enough to know that I would die before letting anything happen to you, especially after nearly losing you once already, so I felt like being here was safest. And I— I don’t mean the same way that I love the kids or Robin or really anyone else. I’d die for them too but that’s— that’s not my point. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I know this is one sided or whatever but I just, I’ve been wanting to tell you just to get it out of me because carrying this around alone for months and months has been wrecking me… I think I’m in love with you.”

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Truth or Dare (6)

Summary: What started off as an innocent game of truth or dare between two noble born sisters, Y/N and Margaret “Peggy” Carter, quickly turns south when Y/N meets Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes. 10 years later Peggy is getting married reuniting the bunch, tensions rise as the sisters engage in truth or dare one more time before Peggy is married.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not Beta'd. Sorry for the long wait. If you want to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment saying so below. Let me know if I missed anyone.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

Each thud of the horse’s hooves hitting the dirt below reverberated in the open meadow. The sound was a stark contrast to the duke’s usual return. Typically, when returning, Bucky didn’t care about drawing attention to himself. No one paid him any attention anyway. This time was different.

Beyond the cloud of dirt, Bucky could make out the shadow of a man leaning against one of the horse stalls. Gently pulling the reins, his sleek black horse slowed into a trot. The cloud of dirt faded behind them. Drawing closer, Bucky could make out the honey locks and strong jaw beyond the rich fabrics clinging to the man. Steve. Bucky wasn’t sure if he recognized the man because he wore the face of his old best friend or because of the status that came with the clothes he now wore, the clothes Bucky once wore.

When he arrived at the stalls, neither man said a word as Bucky dismounted the horse. Bucky made quick work unfastening the saddle while stealing a glance at the new prince over the horse’s back. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, putting Bucky on edge. He didn’t know why Steve had been waiting for him, watching him.

Sensing the silent judgment radiating off Steve in waves, Bucky’s control burst. Stomping around the front of the horse, he snarled, “If you have something to say, just say it.” His words were hard, but his hands were gentle as he removed the horse’s bridle. The horse blinked back at Bucky, unfazed by his loud outburst.

Steve kept mute, wondering if Bucky would confess something if he remained silent long enough. In return, all he got was a lot more stomping and grunts as he closed the wooden door, sealing the horse behind it.

Lifting a hand to block the sunlight from his eyes, Steve asked. “Where’d you go?”

Bucky shrugged, wiping the dirt from his leather-clad palms. “You came all this way just to ask me that?”

Steve frowned, folding his arms across his chest. ”Just answer the question, Buck.”

“What are you doin’ here?” Bucky countered.

“Can a guy just check in on his pal?”

While Bucky’s mouth remained frozen, his eyes scanned Steve from head to toe, searching for a tell. Growing impatient, Steve pushed himself off the wall, taking a step forward. “Where’d you go?” He asked again.

Bucky ran a gloved hand along the stubble on his chin. “Out for a ride.” It wasn’t a lie, but Bucky knew that didn’t answer Steve’s question. Bucky stalked away from the horse stall and headed straight for the castle.

Bucky got three feet before a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Bucky, stop.” The brunette spun around, knocking Steve’s hand off his shoulder in the process. “I know.” Bucky stilled, his eyes cold enough to make Steve freeze. Ignoring his chilling gaze, Steve sighed. “Tony sent word that you’ve been lurking outside of his house. It’s bad enough he lost Pepper in the war. You have to stop this obsession with him and Gail.”

The duke straightened his shoulders, clenching his fists. His mind pressing rewind on the moment Tony took a flail to the arm of his last statue. The moment Gail looked at him like he was the bogeyman. They deserved each other.

“I know you, Buck. You’re going down the wrong path all on your own this time. Whatever you’re plotting has to stop. Now.”

I do. I do. I do.

The two words ghosted on Peggy’s lips in a silent prayer. Cast back at her through her wine glass, her scarlet-stained lips wrenched into a grimace. Had the youngest Carter been marrying a gentleman without status or of equal status she would have been fine. Instead, she was marrying the forthcoming king. As a countess, Peggy was already under the spotlight, but her engagement added more pressure. Like sand descending to the base of an hourglass, every wedding planning event taunted her, a countdown until she would lose her privacy and be expected to produce an heir. She needed a proper send-off to her youth, to up the stakes of truth or dare.

Steve would never approve of such a risky game, not when the fate of their kingdom relied on him. Peggy didn’t want to sneak around Steve, but her need for an adventure was too great. If she couldn't find the excitement she craved, settling for living through others would suffice. The countess’s grimace turned into a mischievous grin. Clink. She tapped her wine glass against the glass bottle. Cheers.

A sea of green and pink swarmed Y/N’s vision as she entered the queen’s garden. The orchids were in full bloom this time of year, but the queen’s statue in the center remained the main focus. The carefully etched marble eyes followed Y/N throughout the garden. It didn’t matter that Y/N wasn’t alone. As soon as she caught a glimpse of the queen's icy stare, she realized she was under scrutiny. The silent judging eyes and pressed lips were an expression Y/N had become familiar with. It was a mask Amanda Carter wore around her daughter. It was the same expression Peggy or Steve had adopted at the mention of Bucky. Like everyone else, Y/N was sure the late queen would side with the majority on an introduction to her son; it was a bad idea. Despite the warnings attached to the former prince's name, Y/N wasn’t worthy of an official introduction to her son.

Walking through the queen’s garden with another man hadn’t been on her to-do list, but the prince insisted. T’Challa’s presence the past few days had been welcoming. His kindness had been a slap in the face. It was genuine, not a front in the public eye like her parents often reverted to. Given time, she could envision herself falling in love with the prince. If only Bucky would stop invading her thoughts.

“She’s beautiful.”

The comment caught Y/N off guard. Her eyes sliced toward the prince standing beside her. She scanned him from head to toe. His eyes remained trained on the statue, his face contorted in admiration. The back of his right hand rested in his left, clasped behind his back. T’Challa was a tall man, but between his rigid posture and monochrome black outfit, he grew a few inches with one glance.

“A marvelous queen,” he continued.

“Was,” Y/N corrected.

T’Challa’s lips curved into a tender smile. “In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping off point.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it,” Y/N hummed. Making eye contact with the statue once more she wondered if that was true. Did Bucky have anyone in his corner, looking out for him?

Making eye contact with the guard pursuing them, T’Challa extended his elbow. Accepting the silent gesture, Y/N latched onto the prince’s arm. His gait turned brisk, creating a massive distance between the guard and them.

“I am not foolish enough to think you love me,” T’Challa began. Y/N's eyebrows skyrocketed. Before she could open her mouth to protest, the prince continued, “Nor do I love you.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, but part of her was relieved. Sure, her mother would be disappointed she wouldn't marry a prince like Peggy, but it wasn’t what Y/N truly wanted, who she wanted.

T’Challa chuckled. “The king’s son, you fancy him.”

Her attempt at ripping her hand from the prince’s arm failed. Wakanda’s prince held his other hand firmly over hers, maintaining the appearance of a couple. He could hear the faint sound of metal rattling behind the pair. With enough distance between them and the guard, T’Challa reassured her. “Don’t fret. Your secret is safe with me.”

Y/N's shoulders dropped, her eyes trained on the cobblestone beneath her feet. “How did you know?’

“The way the two of you evade one another in public. It’s the same way my friend Nakia and I perform in public.”

A gasp tumbled beyond the woman's lips. The lighthearted way he spoke, as if there were no consequences for their actions, had her head spinning.

“Why are you telling me this?” Y/N whispered.

T’Challa glanced at the woman beside him. “I like you, Y/N. A marriage between us would be profitable to both kingdoms. Between you and your sister, the alliance between our kingdoms would be powerful. An alliance by blood. Since we are in identical situations, I figured we could have our own partnership.”

Y/N's heart thrummed beneath her bodice. She tentatively opened her mouth to speak, her shaky voice betraying her, “What do you propose?”

T’Challa smirked at her choice of words. “We wed. We honor the marriage when it comes to politics and the eyes of the public.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“We are free to see whoever or do whatever we want.”

Mulling over the idea, she frowned as the castle came into view along with other lively bodies. So many things could go wrong, but her focus remained wholly on what could go right. This might be her only opportunity to have something with Bucky. If her parents married her off to anyone else, she was confident they wouldn’t offer her the same arrangement.

After gnawing at her bottom lip, Y/N asked, “Is that a formal proposal?”

Y/N stood motionless at her bedroom window. The imaginary rock on her finger weighed her down more than she had anticipated. As a child, the idea of wearing a ring from the love of her life excited her, but now, when she imagined a ring on her finger, she saw nothing but a shackle. One her status would trap her in. Forever stuck in a loveless marriage. It would be the performance of a lifetime, for a lifetime. 

An image of the dark-haired duke flashed through her mind. Would Bucky accept the terms of this new relationship? He didn’t seem to mind Natasha’s career choice, although her performance was exceptional. He had snuck backstage to fuck her. Was that what Y/N had condemned herself to? A life of sneaking around?

A knock at the door had Y/N stepping away from the window. She had only taken a few steps when the door swung open.

“Y/N!” Peggy shouted, racing toward her. The costly fabric of Peggy’s skirt bunched between her fingers.

Bracing herself for the impact, Y/N was able to keep the two of them upright when her younger sister collided with her. Y/N gasped for air crushed between Peggy’s arms.

When Peggy finally pulled away, her hands trailed from Y/N’s biceps to her hands. Pulling both Y/N hands toward her chest, Peggy squealed, “Congratulations! Mother just told me the good news. Steve and I are so thrilled! T’Challa is a great choice.”

Y/N froze. She knew? “What?” Y/N asked exasperated.

Peggy tipped her head, staring at her sister through her eyelashes. “T’Challa asked Father for your hand. Father accepted.”

Y/N gulped. “And Steve knows?”

Peggy rolled her eyes, “Of course! Mother has become the town crier, alerting everyone that not one but two of her daughters will be queens one day.”

Y/N’s stomach churned. It was idiotic of her to think she would have a chance to break the news to Bucky when she couldn’t talk to the man in public. If her mother hadn’t told him, she was sure Steve would.

“The kings are going to sit down soon and discuss the terms of the alliance. Steve and T’Challa will modify it when they are kings.” Noticing the faraway look on Y/N’s face, Peggy squeezed her hands. “None of that matters. I’m just glad you’re going to be taken care of.”

Y/N wanted to ask Peggy if she and Steve had the same arrangement, but she couldn’t without giving her and T’Challa away.

Wide-eyed, Y/N replied, “T’Challa hasn’t even asked me yet. I haven’t said yes.” Y/N knew it was a pointless argument. Her father had accepted the proposal on her behalf. She would be engaged to T’Challa by the end of the week.

Peggy led Y/N to the bed decorated in rich fabrics. When her sister sat beside her, Peggy sighed, crossing her legs. “I know it’s a lot of pressure, but it will be worth it. Trust me. You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.”

Y/N stared blankly back at the younger Carter.

Peggy inched forward. “Truth or dare?”

Y/N huffed a laugh. If there was one thing that could keep Y/N distracted, it was a dare from Peggy. Without missing a beat, she replied, “Dare.”

Peggy licked her lips before a devilish grin overshadowed her angelic features. “I dare you to visit the pleasure house.”

Dumbfounded, Y/N hissed, “The whore house?! Margaret Carter, have you lost your mind?”

The brunette shrugged and then collapsed the rest of her weight on the mattress. She gazed at the ceiling, kicking her dangling feet like a schoolgirl disclosing a secret at a sleepover. Then she rolled onto her side, propping her head into her hand.

The older Carter resembled a fire-breathing dragon. Peggy swore she could see the steam seeping from her sister’s ears.

“Not as yourself, of course.” Peggy rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing. “Look,” she narrowed her eyes. “I overheard the help discussing that the prince will be there.”

“T’Challa?”

Peggy squeezed her lips in a thin line. “Steve.”

Squeezing the bridge of her nose, Y/N moaned. “You want me to spy on your fiance?”

“Some of the guard’s garments are in the washroom. I’m sure something will fit you.”

Y/N scowled. “You’ve gone mad. Why don’t you spy on Steve yourself?”

Peggy pushed herself into a sitting position, twiddling her thumbs. “He’ll recognize me. We’ve spent too much time together. He’ll never expect you, let alone recognize you.” A coy smile graced her lips, “Unless you surrender.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @supraveng @kandis-mom @xycnsstuff @mcu21lover19 @saltedcoffeescotch @unaxv @raven1234321

[goodnitedrdead]

god only knows

Horacio Carrillo x reader

Summary: who would've thought his ex-wife would ask God to send Horacio an angel? To fill the space she couldn't fill, and to do what Horacio wouldn't even do for himself.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Divorce. Horacio being head over heels for reader. Fluff. Love. All that fun stuff.

Author's Note: quick little something I wrote before bed because I rly miss my favorite soldier and because I needed a break from school. Might make sense, might not. I did state that one of my new years resolutions was to write at least one piece of writing for each month so I am doing this before the month ends. Mistakes and errors are all my own, I didn't have time to check it. Let me know what you think :3

Composed. Collected. Calm. That’s what made Horacio an excellent soldier and an even better Colonel. Ever since his training days at the academy, he was an exemplary student. A promising star who was meant to be a leader. 

And a leader he became.

He’d set the tempo, and everyone else would follow the rhythm of his steps. His family talked wonders of the honorable man he became, to anyone who would listen. It was no surprise that the women were fawning over him, and much to his family’s constant pestering of finding the perfect wife, he found Juliana. 

Together, they found a mutual and tranquil love. Maybe the kind that develops over time, but certainly not one to last forever. 

If Horacio were to match Juliana to an animal, he’d say she was a doe. Skittish, gentle, docile. She was a good wife to him and always fulfilled her duties. She’d have three meals a day ready for the family. She’d stay home and focus on the children. She’d be devoted to her husband forever. 

Just as tradition states.

Horacio was to fulfill his duties as a husband too. He’d go to work, dedicate most of his time to it not only because he wanted the best for his country, but he wanted a safe place for his children to grow. He’d come back home and sometimes have dinner with his family. He’d be devoted to his wife forever.

Just as tradition states.

Tradition didn’t talk about divorce. Tradition didn’t talk about intruders and third parties shaking the very core of an honorable man’s beliefs.

Tradition never changes.

Tradition was broken when Julianna eventually got tired of Horacio’s lifestyle. It was broken when fear crept into their home, and found a host to latch on to. Fear was deeply rooted in Julianna’s heart from one minute to the next; fearing that every day that passed would be their last with Escobar on the run.

She went against her duties and beliefs and did what she saw fit. Bags packed, a new home far from Medellin, and divorce papers were her top three priorities for a few weeks. Eventually, she did the first two, but she couldn’t bring herself to give the papers to Horacio herself. She prayed, day and night, for guidance on what she should do but at the end of the day, her and her children’s safety were her number one priority. Horacio would be able to fend for himself. 

That never stopped her from reciting a quick prayer for him every night before bed. As she found herself far away from Medellin and Horacio, she’d pray for the safety of her ex-husband. After all, she still had a fondness for him and he was the father of her children. She shared many years and a home with him, it was someone she couldn’t just forget about overnight. 

She prayed to God to send Archangel Michael and his soldiers to watch over and protect Horacio from harm. Whether it may be from self-harm or others, she prayed for his safety. Send him your fiercest angel, the most courageous and brave one to keep him from harm’s way.

Horacio never knew this, for if he had he would’ve thanked Juliana for her wishes and prayers. Because if it wouldn’t have been for her, he wouldn’t have found you. 

You came into his life like a goddamn lightning bolt. He’d feel you in the air, the startling feeling jolting him as soon as you’d walk into the room. Unapologetically yourself and nothing else. You’d make a friend of anyone that crossed your path, but he’d also seen the rage within you. If there was someone he’d fear, it would be you. 

You were quick on your feet, and somehow quicker with your gun. He wasn’t sure why the DEA didn’t make you a sniper, but you were awfully good at your job. And yet, you were unapologetically gentle. You wouldn’t think twice about taking a bullet for him, and it made him laugh at times. A woman of your stature stepping in front of him, to protect him from harm’s way. A woman who was breaking tradition day by day and night by night. You weren’t quite like anything he’s ever seen before, and he loved that about you.

He loved how, despite igniting fear into even his soldiers’ minds and hearts, you wouldn’t budge. He could yell and scream and bark orders at you and you’d remain with the most serene energy he’s ever seen. Your eyes fixed on him, the storm brewing within you. Horacio wasn’t scared of many things, but he was scared of you.

How is it that you, someone so tender yet menacing, could have that balance within? He was scared of the way you would keep your innocence despite the amount of deaths and blood you’ve seen this city shed at the hands of Pablo Escobar. The way a smile would come so easy to you. The way a laugh was so easy to coax out of you. He was absolutely enamored by your very being.

Something he had never truly quite felt.

The time came when he lost everything he ever thought he was. Horacio started to lose his composure. He’d start to notice the way his heart would threaten to jump out at the sight of you. The way his pulse would quicken by just being by your side. The way his mind would seem to forget about every word to ever exist when you were speaking to him.

He started to notice how clumsy he would unwillingly become. How he’d stumble over his words when you were in the room. How his hands would betray him and drop the items they were carrying, because it would somehow elicit a giggle out of you. How he’d blush whenever you focused on him, as if he was the only person in the world that mattered.

Tradition was never supposed to change, right?

Yet you continued to prove that you didn’t care what tradition said. You approached Horacio first. You asked him out first. You kissed him first. You weren’t worried about what anyone else would think. You didn’t even care about what Horacio would think. 

It’s not like he never wanted to start anything, he was just too busy being consumed by your presence. You had a light within you that was blinding, but all Horacio wanted to do was look at you even if that meant he’d lose his senses for the rest of his life. 

It was only when you became a couple that he realized you were the protector. No matter how much he tried, you were always one step ahead of him. Ready to attack at the slightest moment anyone got too close to him. Ready to give your life up for him. 

Ready to fill his life with the most pure and sincere love he’d ever felt. 

It was as if God himself picked you to be placed on his path. 

[vigilskeep]

ok here's the ostagar ambient dialogues i was talking about for anyone who didn't stop by to hear them all! i was having trouble uploading video so i've just written transcripts real quick :)

briefings

Look carefully, men. This wretched thing is a darkspawn. They're strong and cunning and smart, but don't listen to those old wives' tales. They can be killed. Stick them with your sword enough, and they go down. Their blood is black as sin and poisonous. Don't even touch it. You get tainted with that blood and you may as well slit your throat. We've lost many dogs already, had to muzzle them to keep them from biting. It's a long and painful way to die.

There are lots of darkspawn, different kinds. We're getting reports of things we've never even heard of. Our short friend here for instance is something called a genlock. They're pretty common in the horde, but we've seen others much larger. We don't know where these new darkspawn are coming from, or what they can do. All I can say is to use caution. There aren't any we've seen that won't die once they bleed enough.

I want this nonsense talk stopped immediately. What are you? A bunch of nattering fishwives, spreading gossip until you brown your smallclothes out of terror? We've seen nothing to suggest that the darkspawn drag our people underground to eat them. And I want this talk about darkspawn enslaving survivors to stop immediately. Keep your minds focused on the battle, you fight for Ferelden, and for your king. Remember that.

two soldiers conversations

Female Soldier: This is supposed to be the battle that sends these darkspawn back underground. You believe that?

Male Soldier: I don't know what to believe. We've won every battle, but there's more of them each time.

FS: Makes you wonder if them Grey Wardens are right.

MS: I don't want to think about that.

FS: [sigh] Sounds like the perfect time to get drunk, if you ask me.

*

FS: The last scouting party made it back last night. Barely.

MS: What do you mean?

FS: Only two of them made it. And one was minus a leg. Said they encountered some darkspawn that was ten feet tall, with horns as long as your arm. The injured one died last night. They said his blood was already turning black.

MS: Maker's breath! Where are they all coming from?

*

FS: So there's supposed to be more of these Grey Wardens coming, I hear.

MS: Petran said they were Orlesians, coming with a whole army of them fancy Orlesian knights.

FS: If my pa wasn't already in his grave, that'd put him there.

MS: You think they'll leave once this is done, if we ask them nice?

FS: If they don't, then we keep on fighting, I guess.

MS: I'd rather fight them painted fops than the darkspawn. That howling of theirs... gives me nightmares, it does.

sermons

We stand here in this hour, good folk of Ferelden, and we contemplate the death that may await. Death is no failure, my friends. Should it find you, you will not have failed your king. You will have served your Maker. Die in this battle and when you stand before the Maker in the land beyond the Fade, he will not find you wanting. Go not into death gladly, but with the knowledge that evil has been held at bay by your spilled blood. And if you go to stand beside the Maker, go with our blessing. For you shall not be forgotten. My friends, let us bow our heads and remember those who have fallen and those who have yet to fall.

Maker above, hear the prayers of your sons and daughters. We who betrayed your prophet Andraste now beg your forgiveness. Do not abandon us in our darkest hour. Watch over the valiant king Cailan and guide him as he faces this terrible evil. Watch over Teyrn Loghain and give him the wisdom to bring us victory against the scourge of shadow. Watch over Ferelden, the homeland of Holy Andraste. Keep her people safe from the darkspawn. Let us bow our heads and offer prayers to the Maker, that he might find us worthy.

Soldiers of Ferelden, my sisters and gentle folk, we stand here on the eve of battle. Let us consider the evil before us. In their pride, the mages of the ancient Tevinter Imperium sought to open a portal into the heavenly Golden City itself. They tainted it with their sin and they were cast back into our world as darkspawn. They are man's sins made flesh, an evil that spreads like an illness across our land. To face them, we must first face the evil within ourselves. Let us bow our heads and beg the Maker's forgiveness. Let us not be proud, so we may take courage against the darkness.

[absolutelybifurious]

fuck it friday

tagged by @sibylsleaves

obviously i'm still doing this 4 million word au and i will hopefully have a chapter up today but anyways

“You’ve told me a thousand times, Cap, numbers don’t lie.” “They don’t,” Athena said. “But you haven’t entered the Drift with anyone, Buckley, not since… well. There’s more to it than the mat and a simulation.” Funny – it always felt like that was the end of the story for everyone else. “What do you mean? You have criteria, and we met it – we passed so...” He jerks his head back to Eddie, hoping for some semblance of backup, but his words die in his throat. Eddie is pale, staring at the number on the screen like he’s going to throw up. Is he that horrified of being partnered with Buck? Sure, it’s been up and down, but they had a connection – their sparring was… fuck, it was transcendent. There’s no way Eddie’s that staunchly opposed to… No, Buck stops himself. Maddie’s lectured him enough times about making things about him that aren’t, and he remembers the prickle of fear, of horror, of agony that went through him, through Eddie, during that simulation. No, Eddie isn’t resisting Buck. Eddie isn’t scared or Buck. He’s scared of the Drift. It’s not uncommon for cadets to be uneasy about it. Buck’s only properly entered it once, and well, that was a fucking nightmare. Eddie’s got trauma, obviously. Trauma that even Buck’s shitty childhood can’t match. He eases forward, catching the spot above his elbow, on his right side – because he’s not about to repeat the same mistake. “Hey…” His voice is soft, even softer than he meant for it to be. “Hey, you good?” “I…” It comes out of Eddie like a croak, like he’s dying. “Buck.” There’s so much in the way he says it. His name on this man’s lips has kaleidoscoped through him a dozen times since he first heard it, but this is different. It’s a million things unfurling into a million more. It’s a plea, a whimper, a prayer – an apology. He’s sorry. He’s hurting. He’s… “Eddie,” Buck says gently, and this drags Eddie’s eyes to him too quick. “Hey.” The sergeant and Bobby are watching them, and Buck gets the sense he ought to be embarrassed, should at least let go of Eddie’s arm, but he can’t bring himself to do anything but stroke his thumb down Eddie’s arm. “It’s a start,” Sergeant Grant finally declares. “But this jaeger is nothing to fool around with – I want you two playing Peter Pan and his shadow with each other for the next week. I want you to find out everything you possibly can about the other, then we’ll talk about a proper trial.”

that was longer than i thought it was but anywayyyy

tagging @inell @coldbam @cafecitoeddie @sunflower-eddiediaz and i'm not gonna go crazy this time bc last time took years off my life, sooo yeah. but pleeease use my name if you wanna do it and feel like you need one.

[pigeonwhumps]

Memorial

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes @rainbowsandwhumperflies @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Gemma and Joseph attend a memorial for the victims of the boarding schools for powered kids.

Joseph and Pat belong to @i-eat-worlds

2.1k

CWs: past death and loss, grief, past minor whump, implication of past alcohol addiction, past institutional whump, intrusive journalists, past blackmail

Gemma leans against the back wall of the small room and breathes out a long, slow breath. She needs to keep it together. She can’t blast holes in the building without her goggles.

Not that she would. There’s innocents here.

But seriously. ‘Thoughts and prayers’ are not going to erase the fucking torture she went through at that place they called a school. Nor are they going to bring back the people she’s lost. And she cannot stand to be around people who either think that or are callously pretending it’s true for another second.

She desperately wants a proper drink. But that would be a stupidly bad idea.

She hears the sound of movement from just outside the room and tenses. If that's a journalist, looking for innocent victims to use as fodder for their puff pieces about memorials and thoughts and prayers and oh, aren't the politicians sorry, and they're trying so hard, she's going to…

Well. She's not sure what she'll do. But it won't be pretty.

Fortunately for everyone, the man who stumbles in looks nothing like a journalist. No press pass for starters. Red eyes, tripping over his own feet, he looks far too upset for that.

He stops dead upon noticing Gemma, a few steps after entering. He's white with brown hair, dressed in INSUPA formalwear that she's sure would've been less unkempt earlier. He narrows his eyes.

“Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorts. Just because he doesn't look like a journalist doesn't mean she's going to risk it.

“Joseph. No, wait, I… oh, fuck it.”

“Who are you here under?”

“INSUPA. You?”

“HAL.” Even after retirement, they still managed to drag her into this. “Fuck them.”

Joseph continues to stare. “Who’re you?”

“Gemma. Formerly Solar Flare, formerly a student of one of those fucking schools.”

“Fuck.”

That about sums it up, Gemma thinks.

“What about you? Why are you here? I assume you're not INSUPA’s official representative.”

“Whatever gave it away?” says Joseph dryly. Gemma snorts. “I… I'm not sure. Pat… she died. Six years ago. And she wouldn't have… but I don't know. INSUPA told me about it, I thought I should, but this place is just… what right do they have, to stand there and proclaim that the government is sorry, when the schools were partially run by them and they never would've shut if it wasn't for campaigners? What right do they have to talk about reparations and mourning when they killed people? Fuck!”

Gemma slides down the wall, clenching her fists. She needs to keep her anger inside. There's no training rooms or punching bag and she doesn't want to blind anyone by losing control.

But, damn.

She looks up at Joseph. “Pat. Tell me about her.”

Joseph sinks down and leans back against the opposite wall, closing his eyes. “She was brilliant. So alive. She was 17 when her school closed and she came to us, and she… she was amazing. Traumatised to hell, too. She was so young, y’know? She was so… you know. You must. Apologetic. Polite. Hurt. But she was incredible.” Tears are streaming down his cheeks, but he doesn't bother wiping them away. Maybe he knows there's not much point. “But her powers were dangerous. To herself most of all. And she pushed and INSUPA pushed and she… she had four years of freedom before INSUPA’s greed took her away.”

Gemma does a quick calculation. “21?”

“21,” Joseph confirms. “21 and she died because INSUPA wouldn't pull her out despite the knowledge that her next powers usage would likely be her last, because I couldn't save her, because nobody in authority cared enough about her, only her powers. She never got a childhood, she never got to be a teenager, her life was just getting started, and then she died and it's something no-one should've ever let happen. I should've done more.”

And, well. If Gemma knows about anything it's misplaced guilt. “It wasn't your fault.”

“Maybe not entirely. But she was my responsibility.”

“No. You did the best you could, I'm certain of it. It's the fault of the assholes who locked her up for seven– six years and then still never stopped using her. That's not you. I don't know how they even dare show their faces tonight.”

Joseph wipes his nose and looks at her blankly. “Because they're assholes. Assholes who have no shame.”

“Bet they think the schools should've stayed open too.”

“Some of them definitely do. Which is why I can't stay down there, because one more second around that counsellor who we know is working with the Costellos on that anonymous campaign to put more regulations in and fuck up more kids’ lives and I will be in prison for murder.” Gemma stares at him and he shrugs. “I have a friend monitoring the campaign. Just in case. They found out a few things.”

“We could blow up the building?” Gemma suggests. Joseph snorts wetly but she isn't joking. She could do it, she's sure.

“Maybe not. Maybe we leave the killing for another day.”

Gemma nods, barely able to see Joseph through her tears. Maybe.

“I should go back downstairs,” he croaks. “I should– oh, god, I need a drink.”

“Stay,” says Gemma, voice wet but calmer than she feels. “Fuck those assholes. They don't deserve any of your time.”

And Joseph doesn't move. Gemma can't see now but she doesn't need to to plot the brutal, bloody death of all the staff from her school and everyone else who's ever hurt someone she loves.

She doesn't know how long it is before she finishes that. There's a lot of them. But she breaks out of grieving for the scared and confused newly-enrolled 11-year-old inside her and the 21-year-old who died just as she was starting to become free and the childhood of the 14-year-old on the streets who'd had to hide so carefully to avoid being forcibly re-enrolled instead of being a teenager and Lian's dad –

Well, she breaks out of grieving all of them at once to Joseph's voice.

“I need to go. I can't stand it. This building, this memorial. I… I said I'd pop my head in, and I have. I can't stay for the unveiling. I don't want marble, or whatever the fuck that memorial is, I want Pat back.”

Gemma nods. She understands the sentiment. She'd rather have her childhood and her friends back than a memorial. They've apparently collaborated with ex-students for it, but that doesn't mean it's any good. She knows what the officials’ actions are worth. How much they actually listen.

“You have somewhere safe to go tonight?”

Joseph nods. “Aa– a friend, he's rented an apartment for a few nights. Get away from INSUPA for a bit.”

“Good.”

“What about you?”

She takes a shaky breath. “Staying with family. Let's get out of here.”

“Front entrance. The back's quieter but I'm not skulking out like I've done something wrong by actually grieving.”

“Okay. Okay.”

She lets Joseph pull her up and they head towards the sound of voices and clinking glasses. Typical politicians, schmoozing and networking during a damn memorial. She glances at Joseph and sees he's wearing the same disgusted look she imagines is on her own face right now.

For a moment, the sounds of glasses and obvious drinking remind her of her younger days, and– but she didn't drink it by the glass, did she? She drank it by the bottle, and–

No. No. She's been sober 22 years, she won't be derailed now.

They reach the door to the busy main hall and Gemma takes a deep breath.

“Ready?”

Joseph clenches his fists.

“Ready.”

And they head out into the crowd.

It's not that loud, but there's too many people. They're almost immediately identified, correctly, as some of those who lost people, probably due to their unkempt clothes and red-rimmed, puffy eyes. No-one here but survivors and relations (blood or otherwise) would look so upset. Maybe they should've taken a few seconds to tidy themselves up but she hadn't even thought about it. They're accosted from all sides, and somewhere in the midst of fending off politicians and journalists and the city’s ‘great and good’ she loses track of Joseph.

She stops, scanning the room. Where… ah. Over there. Attempting to fend off a journalist. But she can't get to him.

“Excuse me.” Gemma spins around, realising that in her search for Joseph she completely missed someone approaching. “Oh. Apologies for startling you. I just wanted to say sorry for your loss.”

Gemma looks the woman up and down scornfully. Well put-together, face set in a professionally upset expression, red and gold lanyard just like–

She squints at the ID card (why the fuck is the woman even still wearing it? It's not like a press pass) and her blood boils. She recognises that name, and even if she didn't she knows the logo, spent years working under its name. Fuck, no.

“HAL management, yeah?” The woman nods. “You found out that my friend's son was predisposed towards developing elemental powers and blackmailed him into going undercover in exchange for not getting his son sent to one of those fucking schools for having ‘dangerously unstable powers' as soon as he was old enough. You got him killed. More than that, you knew those schools were shitholes or you wouldn't have threatened him with one. So fuck you and your crocodile tears. Get the fuck away from me and don't come near me ever again or so help me.”

She takes one last, satisfied look at the woman's dumbstruck face and spins around, heading towards Joseph. She gets within earshot just in time to hear him say, “...and that's not a question you should ever be asking. Fuck you, you don't get to pry and find out who I've lost when you clearly don't care about the victims, you're just a predatory leech out for gossip, now get that camera and microphone out of my face.”

Gemma, unsticking her feet from the floor after listening to that satisfying answer, grabs Joseph's arm and tugs him towards the exit, barging past people as she goes.

“Come on. Let's just go. Before we get into any actual fights.”

They seem to have caused a bit of a scene, and people are hurriedly moving out of their way now. She drops Joseph's arm as soon as they get outside.

There's a bright flash from opposite the building. Joseph curses under his breath.

“More journalists.”

Gemma flips them off with both hands.

“I know where we can go,” mutters Joseph. “There's an alleyway to the side of the building, leading around the back. We can get to the surrounding roads from there.”

Gemma nods and follows him, the two of them walking briskly until he turns sharply into an alley, and then around another corner, and then onto a busy street. Her vision’s blurred with tears.

Fuck all of this. This isn't the memorial her friends would've wanted. It isn't much of a memorial at all, just a smokescreen to fool the public into thinking they care. Fuck all of them.

He stops, suddenly. “No-one will pay attention to us here. Trust me. Are you alright?” He pauses. “Stupid question. As alright as you can be.”

Gemma nods. “The woman… she blackmailed my friend and got him killed. That's all. It's…”

She doesn't know what to say, how to finish, but Joseph nods, like he understands anyway. “Reporter asked about who I'd lost. Like that's okay to ask, like I wasn't clearly distraught, like I'd ever spill the details of Pat’s life. They all just want juicy stories. It's disgusting.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, eyes glistening. “Still. At least it's all over for now, right? All the public shit anyway.”

She gives him as much of a smile as she can manage, not answering directly. They'll both be in deep shit for tonight, especially Joseph. He still works for INSUPA, he's wearing their uniform.

She guesses Joseph knows that though. So she goes with something else instead.

“My friends and I, we have a memorial garden. Well. Memorial allotment. If you ever want to plant something, or just sit there… let me know.”

Joseph nods, then clears his throat. “Thank you. I should… I need to… good luck.”

“And you.”

Gemma watches as he walks off into the night, shoulders hunched, definitely not in a straight line. He'll be okay.

And she needs to go back to her family. Aisling, Luiza. Her parents. People who she won't leave alone tonight, and who won't leave her. It's time to mourn away from prying eyes.